Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

[MARCH 2035]

“Faster,” Ricky pants out.

His body is pressed against the glass window, his labored breathing slowly fogging his view of the bustling Shanghai street below him.

He’s cold. Naked from the waist down, and his silk shirt bunched up around his waist, leaving the cool air of the penthouse apartment to cut through his skin like knives.

The skin slapping on skin is echoing through the room, loud enough that Ricky can drown out the abandoned TV program that had been left playing as the night had become more heated.

“Ricky-ge,” The boy, Gangyu, behind him is breathing heavily, unrelenting in his pace, “Can I come, please?”

Gangyu is grasping on to his waist tightly, his large hands spreading across Ricky’s stomach tautly. He can feel Gangyu falling out of his rhythm, probably losing his edge now so close to coming, but is waiting for Ricky’s word, is always so eager to please.

“Go ahead.”

He stills and shudders inside him, the condom filling with hot liquid, his grip on Ricky’s waist finally loosening as the boy releases. 

“Can, I?” Gangyu breathes out, wraps his hand around Ricky’s cock and starts tugging.

His hands are rough, not quite enough pressure on the tip where he needs it most, but he squeezes his eyes shut, lets out a stuttered moan and lets his cum splatter across the window and paint the skyline white.

“Thank you,” Gangyu sighs, startling a laugh out of Ricky at the absurdity of thanking him for such a thing. 

He pulls out slowly, removes the condom and ties it seamlessly, Ricky drinking in his sweaty and fucked-out expression. 

“You won’t be thanking me when you’re sore tomorrow,” Ricky quips, scowling in disgust when he looks down and realizes the mess they made, cum on the window and lube dripped all over the marbled floor. 

“I won’t be. I’ve been doing extra conditioning.”

Gangyu is tall. He watches his lithe figure cross the room and open the linen closet, already knows where Ricky keeps his towels, and wipes himself of sweat and cum.

He still has that boyish charm to him despite being twenty-four, six years younger than Ricky, his brown hair flops messily across his forehead, has big, brown eyes that seem to somehow grow wider when Ricky says something especially bold. He likes teasing him, seeing how much he can push him before he snaps. It’s fun, easy, and Gangyu never asks for more than what Ricky offers him. 

“Gimme that,” Ricky grabs the towel from Gangyu’s hand to wipe the floor and window. 

The cleaners will come tomorrow, but cleaners are also known to be the first to talk. 

“Are you not staying the night?” Ricky asks as he watches Gangyu pick his discarded clothes from the floor and begin dressing himself. He doesn’t wait for the answer however, crosses to his bedroom to find his own favorite robe to wrap himself in. 

“No,” Gangyu calls out from across the apartment, “Have a schedule early in the morning.”

Gangyu is an idol, the Chinese entertainment industry being an unrelenting beast, so he’s almost constantly busy. Ricky misses it sometimes. Sees Gangyu performing at an award show or making an appearance with his group mates and aches a little. But then he sees the bruises on his knees and tiredness in his eyes and remembers why. 

Ricky stares at himself in the mirror that sits across from his bed. He’s lost a bit of weight, his cheeks are sharper and the divots of his waist are more pronounced, especially with his robe fastened around him. He doesn’t look tired like Gangyu, doesn’t look sad or happy either, just looks like—him. He’s gotten so used to his reflection, used to his face in general, he sees it constantly on billboards and magazines, and yet he wishes he could see himself through someone else’s eyes, could see if they see the same monster.

“When will I see you again?” Gangyu had snuck up behind him, wrapped his arms around his waist and murmurs into his ear, makes Ricky jump a little bit. 

“Depends,” Ricky replies, leans into the touch as Gangyu starts leaving wet kisses down Ricky’s neck, pulls him flush against him. “You’re the one with a busy schedule.”

“Mm,” Gangyu muffles, moves down to his collarbone, “I’ll make time for you next week ,Ricky-ge.”

“Sure, sure, just text me.” Ricky pulls out of Gangyu’s grasp and starts shuffling the boy towards the door. It’s already late, and they don’t have time to get lost in each other again.

As he’s leaving, Gangyu kisses him once on the mouth, smiles down at him brightly with a soft goodbye.

Maybe he’s getting in too deep with him.

The house is quiet without the younger boy’s presence. Even if he’s not speaking, Gangyu’s constant fidgeting and unkempt energy seemed to create a soft undercurrent of noise that Ricky had grown accustomed to. 

Ricky sighs, searches for his phone, anything to distract him and stop the reeling thoughts.

The screen flashes open, and Ricky’s heart drops into his stomach, feels the phone slip from his hand and clatter to the floor, breaking the heavy silence. 

No.

Ricky’s hands shake, tries to gulp down a breath of air as his lungs constrict. He places a hand on his ribs, adds pressure.

How did he end up on the ground?

The lights in the room feel too bright and the cold room is somehow stuffy.

Did he imagine it?

He crawls across the floor, manages to pick up his phone again and look properly. The notification is still there—an email—taunting, pulling, stabbing him in the stomach and twisting until blood splatters.

Even with a knife lodged and his ribs cracking open, he swipes to open it before it disappears. 

It’s been a while since he’s read Korean, wills his eyes to stop blurring, waits for the words and the vocabulary to slowly come back to him. 

FROM: [email protected]

 

DATE: March 11, 2025

 

SUBJECT: when i met you

 

ricky,

 

i found this website, it lets you write emails to people in the future. i thought it would be fun to send it to you ten years from now. can you pretend it’s just as romantic as sending a love letter? haha

 

i know we will still be together, but i will ask you questions anyways: do you still have dyed hair? what’s your favorite k-drama right now? do you still make me cut your food for you? i think i’ll know the answers but please turn and tell me anyways.

 

i was thinking about when i met you. i wish i had written it down then so i could remember exactly how it felt. you were wearing a mask and had the biggest eyes i had ever seen, i thought i was going to drown in them lol. i was so awkward i think? i didn’t know how to talk to you, but im so glad i did.

 

i think i will keep writing these to you. these are memories i don’t think i will ever forget, but just in case, i want it all written down. our love deserves to be expressed in every way and i’ll tell you again and again.

 

yours,

gyuvin

[SUMMER 2020]

“Do you want to eat?”

It’s asked earnestly and in English, the boy motioning eating with his hands while asking, his eyes wide, a mask covering the remainder of his face.

Ricky nods, picks himself off the practice room floor to follow the boy. 

He had been introduced to him three days ago—Kim Gyuvin—sticking to the tip of his tongue among the sea of other words, still getting lost in the rapid-fire Korean that was spoken between the other trainees.

The hour is late, the sky turning a milky black as they had rehearsed so late into the night that they were the only two trainees left. It’s surprising that Gyuvin was still here. With monthly evaluations drawing near, everyone is on edge, especially Ricky, who knew the trainers were expecting a big improvement from his last abysmal performance. Gyuvin on the other hand was the newest trainee, exempt from the evaluation, and yet was practicing until dawn anyways. It was odd, and Ricky felt wary. 

When they push outside the doors of the training building, they’re met with the sticky heat of summer, so repressive that the air feels heavy around them.

“Do you like…ice cream?” Gyuvin asks, still in English. He’s not sure where the boy got the idea he only speaks English, but he goes along with it, thankful that he’s wearing a mask to cover his smile.

“Yes…should we get some?”

“Yes!” Gyuvin says it excitedly, bounces on the balls of his feet as they make their way down the empty street towards the convenience store.

Inside the store, the clerk greets them, and Gyuvin bows, says hello in response, Ricky trailing after him.

Polite, he thinks. 

They huddle over the ice cream freezer together, Gyuvin pointing and doing his best to translate each one into English, and Ricky wondering if he should tell him he understands enough to know, but his voice is soothing in a way that makes all the muscles in Ricky’s body relax after being tense for so long. 

“We match,” Gyuvin says softly when they both pull the same strawberry-matcha ice creams from the freezer.

Ricky swipes the ice cream from Gyuvin’s hand and marches over to the clerk, leaves the boy in astonishment before he can realize what is happening.

“Just these two,” He says in his accented Korean, swipes his card before Gyuvin can protest.

Now Gyuvin is the one trailing after him, squawking that he could’ve paid, that Ricky didn’t need to do that, but Ricky ignores him, pushes back onto the street. 

They wind their way away from the main road, sit side-by-side on the curb to eat.

Gyuvin removes his mask to eat, and it’s the first time Ricky has seen the boy’s face fully, the ice cream he was holding to take a bite of pausing mid-air.

He’s beautiful, in a way that Ricky knows he shouldn’t find boys beautiful. A soft, pink mouth and the sharp slope of his nose matching the warm, shining eyes of the boy so perfectly.  

“Yummy!” Gyuvin comments as he chews, his eyes sparkling at the taste. 

He’s entranced, eyes wandering to examine every plane of his face and body, calculating and memorizing each aspect. 

Gyuvin turns to look at him, and his heart beats, beats, beats.

“Ricky!” Gyuvin’s eyes widen, circles a hand around Ricky’s wrist, feels his whole body set on fire at the gentle touch. “Your ice cream!”

Ricky follows Gyuvin’s gaze down to his hand, realizes that his ice cream had begun melting under the heat, dripping down his hand and onto his pants. 

Hastily, Gyuvin shoves the rest of his popsicle into his mouth, Ricky frozen as Gyuvin sheds the flannel shirt he had been wearing and uses it to wipe Ricky’s hand and pants. 

“Now your shirt and my pants will be dirty,” Ricky chides, shifts his ice cream to his other hand to lick the remaining stickiness off the back of his hand. 

Gyuvin pauses, can feel his own gaze turning to study him, “Not going to thank me?”

“Should I?”

The small amount of Gyuvin that Ricky had learned (sweet, caring, polite) vanishes in a moment, a wicked grin replacing it, the new side making Ricky shiver despite the summer heat.

Gyuvin plucks the ice cream from Ricky’s hand, Ricky shouting a small “hey!” in protest when he sees Gyuvin take a huge bite.

“This can be my thanks,” Gyuvin says between mouthfuls, cheeks full and eyes forming into crescents. 

Ricky stares and stares and stares. Feels blinded, and brightened, and set adrift all at the same time. 

Summer melts into autumn, and autumn into winter, and Gyuvin melts into Ricky’s trainee life and sticks. 

They fight a lot, about small things like when to turn on the air conditioning and how much ramen seasoning is the proper amount, and about big things like who deserves to debut and what is the right thing to do.

Yet still, they’re drawn together like magnets, laugh together until their bellies ache, join together to tease the other trainees, confront their insecurities in hushed tones. 

Gyuvin is touchy, will slap his butt and tackle him into hugs, and Ricky always pushes him off a little too roughly, swallows down the lump in his throat every time he sees a glimmer of hurt in Gyuvin’s eye when he pulls away quickly and with finality.

Gyuvin it touchy with everyone, he tells himself, watches how he latches on Yujin’s back and won’t let go.

When they announce the lineup for Tempest, the mood of the trainees not chosen darken. Many of them leave, leading to a great trainee-dorm-reshuffling, people choosing new rooms with who they’re closest to and shedding the people they can’t stand.

In the rubble of it all, he ends up sharing a room with Gyuvin.

It starts new fights between them, how long Ricky takes in the shower, how Gyuvin will lay on Ricky’s bed when he’s still sweaty from practice.

In the darkness of their shared room, the truth always seeps out.

“Ricky,” Gyuvin whispers, “How much longer do you think we will have to wait?”

“I don’t know.”

It all feels a little hopeless, he feels like a soft peach who has plummeted from a tall tree and is now bruised, knows the more times he’s discarded, the less likely he’ll be eaten. 

There’s movement across the room, Gyuvin padding across the floor and Ricky’s bed dips with Gyuvin’s weight. 

Ricky is facing the wall, and when Gyuvin lays down next to him he doesn’t touch, keeps his distance, but he’s still there, can feel his warm body heat and his breath fanning on the back of his neck.

“Promise me, Ricky. Promise me we will debut together.”

“I promise.”

[MARCH 2035]

“Do you need anything? Coffee? Food?”

Ricky waves the PA off, feels the headache forming under his temples, an irritating throbbing that refuses to cease. 

“I’m fine.”

The lights are incessantly bright, and the various movements of the crew shifting to get sets ready and cameras in place are obnoxiously loud, but Ricky knows if he slips on his sunglasses or headphones to block everything out, his manager, Xintong, will glare at him.

Xintong had found him in his apartment that morning, had dragged him out of bed and practically shoved him into the shower. 

“You drank, didn’t you?” 

When Ricky emerged from the shower, Xintong was lounged on his couch with his feet propped on the coffee table, entirely too comfortable in someone else’s home.

Of course he drank. How could he not. Xintong would be downing a shot too if he knew the ticking time bomb that was sitting on Ricky’s phone.

“What’re we doing today,” Ricky changes the subject, towels off his hair and shuffles his slippered feet across the floor. 

“You have a photoshoot, remember?”

He doesn’t remember. Can barely remember the day of the week let alone what was next on his schedule, but he just nods to appease the man. 

The hangover doesn’t set in until they arrive at the studio. 

He’s nauseous, and his phone weighs down his pocket heavily, had even considered leaving the damn thing at home so he didn’t have to feel it pressed against his thigh.

The makeup artists had flurried around him, and Ricky did his best to be polite, smile and thank and be present.

(Despite the inner turmoil, he still had a pretty good reputation among Chinese celebrities. Known to be sweet and polite, caring of staff and people around him. Xintong probably knew the closest to the truth of what he really was, scraped his remains from the concrete and put him back together again too many times to count. He whispers to him now, “Just make it through spring runway season.”)

After all the chaos of fittings and styling, always came the worse part: the waiting. 

Him and Xintong are shoved aside, “We will come get you when we’re ready for you,” as the production crew continues ironing out the finer details of the shoot. 

Ricky knows what his job is. He makes things look pretty, clothes, bags, shoes, whatever is asked of him, he’s not part of the creative direction or the bigger picture, just a cog in the giant machine, so he obliges in waiting in his holding cell—even if it makes him go crazy.

He lounges on the sofa of the waiting room, considers checking his phone for the first time as it had been buzzing in his pocket throughout the morning. His blood still ran cold at the thought of another email notification popping up, so he keeps it tucked away, closes his eyes and tries to will himself to sleep for a few minutes so he can stop thinking. 

Like the universe is playing a cruel joke on him, he hears the familiar name project from the screen of the news entertainment show that had been lowly playing in the background.

His eyes pop open and he sits up fully. 

He should look away, had trained himself to block out everything to do with him for so long. 

KIM GYUVIN AND LEE YOUNGSEO TO STAR IN NEW UPCOMING DRAMA ‘HOLDING PATTERN’.

The video accompanying the headline is Gyuvin at a premiere, his smile wide as cameras flash across his face.

“I’m going to smoke,” Ricky announces, slips on his jacket and takes long strides towards the exit before Xintong can say something in rebuttal.

He really shouldn’t smoke in his shooting outfit. The smell will cling to the fabric, and Xintong will give him the disapproving look he’s grown to know so well. 

On the balcony outside, he pulls the familiar red Chunghwa box open and presses the cigarette to his mouth. Even as he takes a deep drag, his headache still won’t go away. 

He feels like he’s been haunted. A small opening in that single email had ripped open the gates of hell and now a nasty demon was clinging to his back and feeding off his energy. 

Or no—maybe it’s a demon that's been there all along, but the words on the screen had finally made its ugly head and sharp teeth visible to Ricky.

He couldn’t let it win. He pulls out his phone, takes a deep breath before unlocking it. Steels himself for the worst, but it’s not another haunting, just a barrage of texts from Gangyu.

Gangyu

gege

i left my jacket at your house :( 

ill be in the area 

are you home?

can i please come get it?

pleaseeeee

i guess you’re not home

ricky-ge answer me

The boy was persistent as always, Ricky clenches his cigarette between his teeth, types out an answer

Ricky

im not home

Gangyu

i noticed 

Ricky

you can get it next week

Gangyu

noooo

it’s my favorite jacket

i can’t go without it that long

Ricky

i’ll send you money to buy a new one

Gangyu

noooo

it’s not the same, this one has been worn in

it has memories

Ricky

?

Gangyu

please im in the area

can you just give me your door code and i’ll grab it?

Ricky hesitates. Wasn’t giving him the door code going too far? Something you don’t share with casual lovers or flings?

His cigarette is all ash now. 

It didn’t mean anything, he was reading too much into it.

Ricky

#0830

Gangyu

thank you!!

i promise i’ll only steal a few things!!

There’s another unread message below Gangyu’s thread, Ricky’s thumb hovering over it before pressing it open

Zhang Hao

Ricky…

I miss you…

Please call me soon.

[WINTER 2022]

“Let’s do it again!” Zhang Hao barks out.

The glass mirror is fogged and Ricky rests his hands on his knees, watches his sweat drip from his forehead and plop on the wood floor.

“Hao,” Ricky pants out, “I think if we go again, Ollie might actually die.”

Ollie is sprawled on the ground, his arm covering his eyes as his chest heaves up and down.

“I’m too young to die,” Ollie whines. 

“We can’t rest yet,” Zhang Hao replies, grabs a towel and begins wiping the mirrors so they can all see the reflection of their sweaty and haggard faces. 

The announcement of Boys Planet had sent shockwaves through the trainees, a fire lit in their bellies, no one more provoked than Zhang Hao, who had transformed from a sweet older brother figure to a war-hungry leader overnight. 

Zhang Hao turns and looks at their state of exhaustion, softens a little bit. “Just one more time, and we will finish practice for today.”

Despite the deep tiredness in their bones, they all peel themselves off the floor, get into position to perform one more time, because ultimately, they all know that Zhang Hao is right, that this is their last chance, that they have to give everything they got.

They’re halfway through the dance when Ricky notices a reflection in the mirror, the familiar face peeking through the window of the practice room, a slight smile gracing his lips. They make eye contact, and Gyuvin smiles wider, blinding. 

He falters in his movement, trips over his own feet, screws up the next bit of choreography and he mentally berates himself for messing up a dance he’s rehearsed now a hundred times.

When the dance concludes, Ricky frowns. Ollie races to the door, flings it open. 

“Gyuvin! Stop spying on us! You’re the enemy!” Ollie shouts. 

Gyuvin laughs, “I promise, I wasn’t! Why would I need to spy when I’m already on the winning team?”

They had been told about the “rivalry” concept by the staff, had taken it and ran with it immediately, playful bickering matches between the two teams now a commonplace in the practice room and the dorms. 

“Why are you here?” Hao questions, as they had all bid goodbye to the other team hours ago.

“I need to talk to Ricky.”

Ricky freezes. 

The remaining boys glance at each other, probably assuming they’ve gotten into one of their roommate quarrels that needs to be resolved, begin packing their things to leave the pair alone. 

But they hadn’t fought recently. Did he do something to upset Gyuvin? His mind swirls with anxiety, but Gyuvin doesn’t seem mad, has his usual wide-eyed, angel-faced demeanor. 

When all the boys leave, Gyuvin tugs on his arm, pulls him to sit on the floor with him facing each other.

“I think we need a strategy,” Gyuvin begins without preamble.

Ricky furrows his eyebrows, “A strategy?”

Gyuvin nods, “For the show. It’s not just about talent, it’s about personality too.”

Ricky knows this. Had seen countless survival programs where the most talented of the contestants had been overlooked in favor of someone who had won the opinion of the general public, but he isn’t sure what Gyuvin is getting at in their case.

“We should have a story. People like seeing someone they can root for,” Gyuvin explains.

“What kind of story?”

“They’ve already set us up with rivals, so we just go with that. That we’re enemies, that we’ve always been fighting each other. And then, as we get closer to the finale, we learn to work together, become best friends, someone they can root for. Together.”

It’s a true story to an extent. They’ve always been competitive with each other, would compare training scores and gloat when the other was ranked lower. And they’re best friends. Or, at least Ricky considers Gyuvin his best friend, he’s not sure where he stands in Gyuvin’s friend rankings. Even so, the fabricated story feels heavy in Ricky’s stomach.

Ricky shakes his head, “It’s too risky, we don’t even know what the show will edit out. We can’t depend on that.”

“But,” Gyuvin pouts. 

“What if they paint me to be the villain? Just show me being mean to you? Never show us making up or working together? What then?” 

Ricky sees the panic in Gyuvin’s eyes. He knows that Gyuvin was just grasping at straws, that they are all desperate to make it work, and his poorly laid plans are just a symptom of it.

“Gyuvin,” Ricky says seriously, grabs one of Gyuvin’s shaking hands. He doesn’t like to touch, but he knows the simple act will console the boy. “You’re talented. And good-looking. And you will make the whole world fall in love with you. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“I’m nothing special.” There’s wetness around Gyuvin’s eyes. “Not like you, you stand out among the crowd, everyone will take notice of you, will see how good you are.”

“You have to be confident in yourself, Gyub,” Ricky continues, squeezes Gyuvin’s hand, “Be confident in your abilities, be so good they can’t look the other way. We can’t guarantee anything, only ourselves.”

“Okay,” Gyuvin sniffles, “That’s our strategy then. Be so good they have to debut us both.”

“I promised you, remember?”

Gyuvin uses the sleeve of his hoodie to dry his tears, looks at him softly. 

“I promise, too.”

Boys Planet is difficult.

It taxes on them—mentally, physically, emotionally. 

People take notice of Gyuvin, just as Ricky predicted. They're charmed by his cute appearance, his earnestness in performing, smitten, just as Ricky is. He watches him rise up the ranks and stick.

People notice Ricky too, but not enough. He makes it to a high enough level to stay safe, but not high as he wants. Feels a chasm slowly growing between him and the upper ranks. 

There’s too many Yuehua trainees up high, and they won’t debut all of us. He feels selfish thinking it, wishes he could be in one of their spots, but pushes it from his mind when he sees Yujin’s smile and Zhang Hao put his hand in his.

Zhang Hao rises up the ranks and popularity at an unparalleled speed, and Ricky can’t help but wonder if it has to do with his friendship with shining boy, Sung Hanbin. He’s different from the Hao he knows around Hanbin, a layer of polish that makes him look shiny and new. He’s envious a little bit, wonders if Gyuvin was on to something about creating a storyline to capture the audience when he watches the whole world in awe of the story of Hanbin and Zhang Hao. But it’s not contrived, that much Ricky can tell, Hao’s looks of admiration are too real. 

Gyuvin is popular with the other trainees as well. His brightness and his affection are well spread, sees him talking with someone new each day. He wants to talk to Gyuvin too, drink up his energy and wrap himself in his warmth, but he doesn’t want to talk when others are around, doesn’t feel comfortable speaking freely in front of them.

So, they focus on themselves, practice until their legs ache and their heads are throbbing, Ricky cherishing the moments he gets with Gyuvin, so few and far between. 

“We’re still in this together, right?” Gyuvin whispers to him when they happen to pass each other in the hall, a few weeks in. Gyuvin’s hand is on his elbow, gripping tightly.

“Of course,” Ricky replies, lowers his eyes to show he’s serious. Doesn’t let it show that he’s sick with worry, not for Gyuvin, but for himself. Gyuvin releases him.

Being on Zhang Hao’s team is Ricky’s saving grace.

He finally feels comfortable, free to be fully confident in his performance and show the audience what he’s truly made of. 

“You did well,” Zhang Hao compliments, as they monitor their performance, pats him lovingly on the shoulder. 

Debut feels like it’s on the tip of his tongue now, so close he can taste it. 

Nights before the finale, they unravel.

Gyuvin slams into his room, cheeks wet and stricken, but he smiles when he sees Ricky.

“You’re in seventh!” It’s said happily, but Ricky knows that isn’t the whole truth.

He should be ecstatic, over the moon he’s done so well, but all he sees is Gyuvin’s pain. “I’m sorry.”

Gyuvin shakes his head, refuses to acknowledge the darkness seeping under the doorway and into the room. 

“Let’s sneak out for a bit,” He offers, slips off his uniform and into something less noticeable. 

They’ve been able to spend more time together in the last couple of weeks. With less trainees around, the dorm felt oddly empty and silent, but they weren’t pulled in as many directions, could find more moments with each other. Even so, it had been a while since they were alone together like this.

Sitting on the bank of the river, Ricky can see the sadness reflected in Gyuvin’s eyes, the worry, the fear, the stress.

“It’s going to be okay,” Gyuvin says, placating, if not to Ricky, to himself.

How had Gyuvin’s rank dropped so much? Ricky had been so focused on his own rank, he had never imagined they would be in opposite positions now.

(He knows he’s not safe either. That things can change rapidly in a matter of days.)

“What if we don’t debut together?”

The words hang violently in the air, crushing and heavy.

“Don’t say that,” Gyuvin cuts back.

There’s only three possibilities, and they all sting in different ways.

They both don’t debut—they return with their tails between their legs and their dreams bruised and battered, will take them a long time to pick up the pieces. 

One of them debuts—they’re separated, the chasm grows so deep and angry that they forget they were even on level ground to begin with. 

The both debut—and they’re closer than ever, so close he can taste him, but still not quite close enough.

“I’m just trying to think of all the possibilities,” Ricky explains.

“I don’t want to think about that.”

Gyuvin scoots closer to him, lays his head on his shoulder and takes a deep, stuttering breath. They let the silence wash over them, watching the gentle moving waves of the river and sit in each other’s presence. 

Time drips slowly, until the streets are empty and the moon is bright in the sky, and Ricky is thankful for it, because deep down, he knows this may be their last moment like this. 

“You promised,” Gyuvin says softly, “We both promised. So it’ll come true.”

It’s silly and naive, a promise meaning nothing in the face of the harsh reality. But he clings onto it anyways, grasps onto it so tightly he’s sure it will keep him afloat. 

Gyuvin is called first.

Ricky feels relief flush over him, a smile unwittingly rising to his face as he watches his best friend walk towards the stage. 

He calls for Ricky in his speech, tells him to come join him, and Ricky’s heartbeat roars in his ears. 

You can do it, you promised. 

When Ricky’s name is called, it doesn’t feel like he’s in his own body, feels like a vessel watching from above and floating through space and time. 

He walks in a trance, gets through his speech with the crowd screaming in his ears and with no clue what words are actually falling out of his mouth. 

Nothing feels real until he falls into Gyuvin’s tight embrace, his chin tucked on his shoulder, his soft smell of lavender laundry detergent and woody cologne. 

“We did it,” He says gently, beams at him with the magnitude of the sun.

They sit in their seats, exchange small glances with smiles that don’t seem to leave no matter how hard Ricky tries to tamper it down.

Happiness has always been the best look on Gyuvin, and he looks magnificent, so light and free with every emotion clearly written on his face as they watch the remaining seats fill. 

He feels courageous, brave, confident in a way he never has before, feels like if he wanted to, he could jump high enough to reach and brush the stars. There’s not much thought about what debuting truly means, about how the world as he knows it will be irrevocably changed. It doesn’t matter, because he can imagine a million scenarios of what it will be like, but nothing can replicate the real thing, the knowing that this is the now and everything in the past is the before, and now they must run blindly into the after. 

After the show, they’re shuttled back to the dorm quickly, told that this is their one night to visit with their families before the hectic schedule begins. They had all packed before the finale, prepared to either leave the dorm in heartbreak or triumph, but there’s still a few remnants to stow away, a stray toothbrush here, a lone shoe there.

Ricky still hasn’t gotten to see Gyuvin without the cameras. Had been shunted into different vans and rushed to their rooms to vacate hurriedly. He wonders if they will have to wait until tomorrow to reunite, but he can’t stand it, he needs to see him now while his skin is still on fire and his head is still free.

Against his better judgment, he abandons his packing and slinks down the hall, prays that Gyuvin is alone in his room. 

At the sound of the movement, Gyuvin whips his head towards him, eyes softening when he sees it’s Ricky.

Gyuvin stumbles from his seat on the ground, runs to Ricky and circles him in his arms again, embraces him so tightly that Ricky can’t breathe. 

He can feel his shirt dampening with tears, his sweet Gyuvin, who is always so easy to cry.

“I’m so happy,” Gyuvin muffles through his sobs, doesn’t show any signs of letting Ricky go. 

He wants to see Gyuvin’s face though, wants to see it clearly in his eyes that this is real, so he pulls back from Gyuvin’s arms, cups his cheeks in both hands and looks.

Gyuvin stares at him in shock, probably surprised at Ricky touching him, being affectionate, when all he’s ever done is push and bite and snarl.

“Me too,” Ricky breathes out.

The first time Ricky saw Gyuvin, he thought he was the most beautiful boy he had ever seen. But he looks even more beautiful like this, cheeks tear-stained, nose blushed, and lips bitten red. 

Gyuvin eyes are watching him, trailing down from his eyes to his mouth to the large lump Ricky swallows in his throat.

Thump. thump. thump.

His heartbeat is so strong it reaches down his arms and legs, so strong it could shatter glass.

It’s bravery, or stupidity, but Ricky reaches down and grabs Gyuvin by the collar of his shirt and pulls him in to kiss him.

Gyuvin inhales sharply, mouth still and soft. Gyuvin pulls back.

Fuck.

“You?” Gyuvin chokes out, startled.

“Yeah,” Ricky says back.

Gyuvin cups his cheeks now, pulls Ricky ever closer and kisses him hungrily. 

Ricky’s head is spinning, the high of everything getting to him, can’t unpack what is happening, just pushes into Gyuvin and lets their lips slide together perfectly and earnestly. 

He never dared to imagine kissing Gyuvin, knew once he crossed that threshold it would be freefalling down a rabbit hole, but now with Gyuvin’s body pressed against him and his mouth bruising against him, he knows it’s so much worse. 

When they pull apart, they stay close, foreheads and noses still brushing, heavy breaths intermingling. 

“Time to go!” A staff yells through the door, shattering the delicate moment. 

They scramble apart, a flurry of movement to pull apart from each other and gather their things, Ricky bolting to the door to go get his own suitcases. 

“Wait,” Gyuvin calls, grabs Ricky’s wrist, waits until Ricky looks him in the eye, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Ricky smiles widely, unashamed, “Yeah, see you tomorrow.”

[MARCH 2035]

On the drive back from the photoshoot, his hangover resurfaces in full force. 

Or maybe he’s just sick, it’s hard to tell at this point.

He tells Xintong to slow down on sharp turns, places his head between his knees and focuses on not throwing up.

(The photoshoot went well. The director had praised him, told him he only gets better with age, that he would be happy to work with him again. He had smiled politely, shook his hand and told him it was a pleasure to work with such a talented director. Ignored the snide glances of the wardrobe team attempting to steam out the smoke and ash clinging to the outfit he had worn.)

Xintong drops him off at his apartment, warns him to get his shit together, that they have more things to do tomorrow. But he softens a bit at the end, tells Ricky to get some rest. 

When he walks inside, he’s thrown off immediately. 

The blinds are left open, his slippers strewn across the floor, and there’s a paper tacked to his refrigerator.

Ricky sighs, remembers he gave permission to Gangyu to come and grab his jacket, and he had seemingly whipped his energy through the room like he always did.

Ricky strides over to the refrigerator and snatches the scrawled note from the door.

I got my jacket!

You need more fruit smoothies

I took the last one

-Gangyu

He opens the refrigerator, and sure enough, it’s been emptied, not only of smoothies, but almost all of Ricky’s food, Ricky shaking his head. He won’t ever scold the boy though. Can still recall what it was like to be so insatiably hungry but having to monitor every bite taken.

He throws the note away, draws the curtains, returns the slippers to their proper place. Going through the motions is easy. He’ll wipe off the remaining makeup, take a hot shower, wrap himself in pajamas and get the rest he knows he needs. 

But now in the quietness of his house, it’s harder to ignore the burning in his chest. 

He tosses and turns in his large bed, tries to block out the words that have been seared into his mind. It should be simple. He should delete the email, block the sender, pretend he never saw it. 

But he’s never been as kind to himself as he is to others, and so against his better judgment, he opens an internet search, finds himself typing in the Hangul that he tried so hard to block from his mind.

Kim Gyuvin.

Most of the articles are uninteresting. Things he wishes he didn’t know but had inevitably found out about as Gyuvin had launched into worldwide stardom.

Kim Gyuvin stuns in latest appearance at Paris Fashion Week.

Will Kim Gyuvin be nominated at the Korean Drama Awards? 

He pauses at the next one. Feels hot shame creep at the back of his neck, but he still doesn’t tap it, too scared to confront them even through a screen, even now. 

Former ZEROBASEONE members Kim Gyuvin, Park Gunwook, and Han Yujin reunite in a recent selfie! 

There’s tears pricking at his eyes, but he refuses to let them fall. It’s been almost ten years. He’s had more than enough time to heal his shredded heart, has no right to cry.

He swipes over to the pictures tab instead, is flooded with hundreds of images of Gyuvin. Gyuvin in suits, in hoodies, in hanboks. Gyuvin with black hair, with his military buzz cut, with bangs. 

He’s always been beautiful. A kind of look that doesn’t fade, just changes and morphs into another kind of beauty. He stops at one picture, one where he looks younger than all the more recent stills from his dramas and appearances. He recognizes it immediately, a shot from their debut album, his hair brown and flopping over his brow, his skin soft and glowing. It’s how he still thinks of Gyuvin, holds onto the memory of him so delicately. It hurts, all the way down, looking at the face he used to know better than his own, the eyes that he once thought would never darken in his presence. 

There’s a moment where he considers stopping there, the pain is acute and stinging, but he knows he was looking for one thing in particular, tabs back over to the news tab. It’s too late to stop now. 

He scrolls down, stops at the article he’s been dreading the most. The one he knew would pop up eventually but had been avoiding at all costs. Even with the words printed plainly on the screen, they still don’t feel real, a fabricated reality that Ricky must’ve dreamed up. 

Actor Kim Gyuvin and his marriage to a non-celebrity. We wish the new couple well!

He clicks it open.

Chapter Text

[JUNE 2023]

Ricky basks in his friendship with Gyuvin now. 

When you’re trainees, there’s a certain precaution you take with friendships. Too much is unknown. Will you debut together? Will you be at the same company? The same group? Do you even end up being an idol?

But now—in the same group, same company, same everything, there's security. He can sit comfortably knowing this boy will not be fleeting. 

With the rest of the group, he still feels like he’s wearing pants that are two sizes too big. They are together endlessly, and yet there’s still a hesitance, all of them testing each other’s boundaries of how to work together as a team. 

 “You like fried chicken?” Hanbin asks.

Their practice is concluding for the day, earlier than expected, considering that their official debut is looming closer.

Ricky nods, “I love it.” 

(Ricky can tell that Hanbin is trying extra hard to get to know him, to make him feel welcome, and although it’s appreciated, he still feels awkward in the other boy’s presence.) 

“What’s your favorite kind?”

“Mm,” Ricky considers, “I like the supreme seasoned chicken.”

“Ah, Gyuvin likes that one too, should we all go together?”

He didn’t really want to. He had already imagined crawling under the blankets with his tablet and catching up on dramas, maybe emerging for a snack, but suddenly Gyuvin’s arm is thrown over his shoulder, the boy overhearing his name and joining in on the destruction of Ricky’s plans of solitude.

“I’m in!” Gyuvin agrees enthusiastically. 

“Can I come too?” Gunwook chimes in, and now Ricky is swallowed into the gathering with no way out.

He likes his group mates so far. But he’s still a little shy with them, always a little hesitant to get too close too fast, but he’s thankful for Gyuvin—who bridges the gaps between them all so seamlessly. 

At the restaurant, Gyuvin places a piece of chicken on his plate, doesn’t make eye contact. They’re all tired, yet somehow the conversation between the three other boys flows continually. 

“But why did he leave?” Hanbin asks.

“Eros felt betrayed,” Gunwook explains, “Psyche had fallen for her own sister’s selfish tricks and betrayed her lover, she did the one thing Eros told her not to do.”

Ricky had gotten lost early in the conversation, a complicated tapestry of Greek gods full of betrayal and sacrifice, tries to tune back in and understand the mythology being told, if only because Gunwook’s face brightens as he tells the story.

“It doesn’t end there, right?” Gyuvin says through a bite of chicken.

“No, it takes Psyche a long time to win back Eros' trust though. She has to travel to the underworld, prove to him that she’s devoted.”

“Does he take her back?” Hanbin is the most entranced, on the edge of his seat listening to the story.

“Psyche was given many tasks to complete to prove her loyalty, and she almost did, but in the final trial she opened the one box she was told not to, repeating the same mistake. She was cursed into a sleep as deep as death.”

Hanbin frowns.

Gunwook smiles, “But—Eros was convinced of Psyche’s devotion. Awakens her and they come back together.”

Gyuvin snorts, “I feel like if you truly loved someone you wouldn’t make them go through all that.”

“It’s about trust though right?” Hanbin interjects, “If you love someone that much, their betraying of your trust would hurt that much more.”

“I think so too,” Gunwook agrees, “It’s also about Psyche’s persistence in hardship. She didn’t give up despite all this.”

There’s a long silence where they all consider, their plates now empty. A deep conversation to have over piles of greasy chicken and sodas.

“Eros must’ve been hot as hell for Psyche to do all that,” Gyuvin breaks, Gunwook laughing and slapping him on the shoulder, Hanbin giggling, and Ricky hiding a smile behind his hand. 

“How do you know about all this stuff?” Ricky asks, tentative, as they leave the restaurant. 

Gunwook grins widely at him, shrugs, “I like it. I just end up reading about it.”

Ricky inches a little closer to him, no longer afraid. 

Back in their dorm, Gyuvin insists on watching a movie together.

“That zombie movie, I wanna watch it again,” Ricky demands.

Gyuvin smiles and easily complies, lies down on the bed next to Ricky, places the screen between them.

Gyuvin had showered first, but his hair was still damp, the sweet smell of his shampoo and body wash still clinging to him and spreading over Ricky’s senses. He doesn’t have to look down to know which parts of their bodies are connected, their shoulders, their hips, the sides of their feet, each place burning so hotly he thinks there will be scars left in their place. 

Gyuvin gasps and reacts to the movie, despite having seen it before, watches everything like it’s the first time, and it’s too endearing, it forces Ricky to look away from the screen and watch the shadows and emotions crossing over Gyuvin’s face. 

Each time he jumps, he moves a bit closer, until his hand is laying on Ricky’s chest, rubbing small circles with his finger absentmindedly, and Ricky forgets how to breathe. 

When the movie ends, Gyuvin turns to him.

“Do you trust me, Ricky?” Gyuvin asks as the credits scroll up the screen.

“In a zombie apocalypse? Absolutely not.”

Gyuvin swats at him, yells “Take it back!”, starts poking and prodding him until Ricky has to use a strong shove to get him off. There’s something satisfying in their play-fights, the tangling of limbs, the laughter, the breathlessness. 

“I do trust you,” Ricky says plainly, truthfully. Gyuvin sits up at this, shifts his body so they’re both laying on their sides facing each other, can see each other’s expressions fully.

“I know you do,” Gyuvin grins.

“Why’d you ask then, if you already know the answer,” Ricky narrows his eyes.

“I like hearing you say it.”

The air conditioning is running, it shouldn’t be so hot, but he feels warm all over.  

“Do you trust me?” Ricky shoots the question back.

“Hm, I’m not sure yet,” Gyuvin replies, teasing.

Ricky scoffs, “Do I need to travel to the underworld to prove it to you?”

“Maybe,” Gyuvin giggles, reaches up and moves a strand of blonde hair away from Ricky’s forehead. 

“Nevermind, that’s too much work,” Ricky pushes back, swallows down every note of Gyuvin’s tinkling laughter. 

Gyuvin’s tone turns serious, his eyes shifting down to Ricky’s mouth. 

“I’ve trusted you with things…things I haven’t trusted with anyone else.”

It’s the first time they’ve ever really addressed it: the kiss. They still don’t say it out loud, but it’s clear from the heavy look on Gyuvin’s face, the shaking in his eyes. 

Because, they don’t need to speak about the kiss. 

In Ricky’s mind it was addressed when Gyuvin insisted they be roommates again—let the whole group know that it was he who Gyuvin was closest to. (And the unspoken: that Ricky mattered to him, that he wanted him near).

It doesn’t really matter that they kissed in the heat of the moment, when emotions were high and the ground was shaking beneath their feet, because all it told them was what they already knew: that they cared about each other, that they trusted each other. 

Whether it was friendship or more was debatable. They’re just two boys who grew like intertwining vines together, but know now that it wasn’t just their coiling tendrils that could be snipped off. 

That’s where the complications came in. The cameras, the staff, the watchful eyes of the public. Too many people, and people that would not just punish Ricky, but the whole group, a sinister sister whispering in his ear. To the rest of the world, there would be more wrong about their relationship than right, and so it’s better for everyone to only show the right pieces, to push back the wrong. 

Ricky hadn’t let himself get caught up in what the kiss could all mean. Vowed to be happy just knowing that this beautiful boy was by his side, and he didn’t need anything else.

He struck an invisible agreement with Gyuvin in his mind. Just stay with me, and that will be more than enough, has to be enough because of the situation. 

But sometimes selfishness overwhelms him. Because it’s not enough. He likes him so much it hurts in the deep cavity of his chest, likes him so much that he would risk it all to kiss him one more time. 

“You can trust me.”

Please, please, please, trust me with your heart. 

[MARCH 2035]

“You’re no fun,” Gangyu complains, takes the drink meant for Ricky and sips it himself.

“Never said I was fun,” Ricky retorts back.

The air in the club is smoky, a mix of cigarettes and weed, the thick air bouncing the flashing lights in strange ways.

It’s the club Ricky met Gangyu in not that many months ago, where Gangyu had pretended to not know Ricky at first, Ricky barely registering Gangyu’s nervous energy when they were introduced. But after Gangyu downed a few drinks, he ended up coming to him and valiantly announcing that Ricky was his first gay crush. 

It’s one of the few places in the country where someone would be safe to announce such a thing, an exclusive club where contracts were signed and filed at the door, not a whisper to anyone on the outside. A place for the queer underbelly of Shanghai’s entertainment scene to gather in private, always so many faces Ricky recognizes but will pretend to not know if he sees them on the street.

“Let me try,” Gangyu says, reaches for the cigarette dangling from Ricky’s lips.

“Absolutely not,” Ricky takes the cigarette from his mouth and out of the boy’s reach, “You’re a singer, you’ll damage your throat.”

“One little smoke won’t hurt,” Gangyu argues, pouting.

“I’m not going to face the wrath of your manager and company for corrupting their little star.”

Gangyu looks around pointedly, raises his eyebrows, “I think it’s a little late for that.”

 Ricky glances at the general debauchery happening around them, “Has this place gone downhill lately or is it just me?”

“No it’s the same,” Gangyu smiles, “You just have a regular dick to call on, so you don’t have your desperation goggles on anymore.”

“Did you just call me desperate? And I was getting plenty of dick before you,” Ricky bites back.

Gangyu laughs, “I would never imply that gege,” wraps his hand around Ricky’s bicep, “You just already know who you’re going home with, so it makes the mating dance everyone else is doing look a little silly.”

Gangyu is dressed, interestingly. He’s wearing a tight mesh shirt that leaves nothing to the imagination, leather pants that hug his waist and accentuate his long lines. And Ricky can’t help but compare him to another boy, feels sadistic even thinking about.

“That guy is looking at you,” Ricky points out, tilts his head towards a man who was openly staring at Gangyu still hanging on his arm.

Gangyu whips his head around, discreteness not being his strong suit, face darkening when he sees who it is.

“Oh…that’s my ex-boyfriend I was telling you about.”

Ricky racks his brain for the information on Gangyu’s ex that he liked to ramble on about after their fuck sessions, when Ricky was still half-incoherent. There was definitely lying and manipulation involved in their breakup, even if Ricky can’t remember all the finer details.

“Ah, did you know he was coming?”

“No, I didn’t. I didn’t know they were officially together either.” Gangyu says quietly, Ricky turns, observing the same scene as Gangyu, the ex-boyfriend leaning over and kissing another man squarely on the mouth. It’s obvious from Gangyu’s expression he’s upset, even if he’s attempting to mask it, his brows furrowing and the corners of his mouth turning downward ever so slightly. He’s a well-trained idol who knows how to hide how he’s really feeling, but Ricky is an expert at decoding.

“I’m sorry,” Ricky says simply, knows it’s meaningless in taking away the hurt, but it’s better than nothing.

“It’s okay. I guess I was bound to find out eventually.”

That’s the problem with knowing. Ricky had learned a long time ago that once you find out answers you can never live in blissful ignorance again. It’s why he had avoided everything for so long, but now everything had been cracked open, and he can feel it seeping into every crevice of his life. 

Another man accidentally bumps into Ricky’s shoulder, jostles him. He spots a wedding ring on the man’s finger, grimaces. 

It’s been one week since he went down the Kim Gyuvin rabbit hole, long enough for the information to marinate, stew, and congeal into a cold substance in the bottom of his stomach. 

“Should we make him jealous?”

Gangyu scoffs, “I doubt he would care.”

“Seeing you with someone else will always hurt him. Trust me.”

Ricky drags them both to the dance floor, feels the hungry stares of strangers around them, but ignores them all, leads Gangyu’s hands to his waist so they can dance.

It’s been a while since he’s danced for real, but it feels natural like this, a flowing rhythm and Gangyu’s steady hands. He’s always liked the attention of others, even if it was meaningless, liked knowing he had something desirable about him, knowing that he’s turning the heads of the surrounding group when he pushes his hip back and grinds into Gangyu’s waiting lap.

He turns to face Gangyu, still slowly moving to the music, wraps his arms around Gangyu’s neck so he can whisper in his ear, “Grab my waist, but make sure your hands are under my shirt a bit.”

“You’re crazy,” Gangyu whispers back, but follows Ricky’s instructions, his warm fingers pushing over his skin. 

And that’s all it takes for the ex-boyfriend to be in front of them, seething. 

“Can we talk?” He shouts over the music, circles a hand around Gangyu’s wrist and completely ignores Ricky. 

Gangyu lets himself get pulled away, and Ricky gives him a look. Is this okay? and Gangyu nods. 

He watches the pair wander towards the exit, probably looking for a private area to speak. He wonders if he should follow them, make sure Gangyu is safe, considering what little information he knew about the stranger didn’t leave the best impression. He cares about Gangyu, even if he’s not in love with him or doesn’t want to seriously date him, he still worries about him, but it’s too late to chases after him, as he loses their disappearing figures in the crowd. 

He makes his way back to the bar, lights another cigarette to entertain himself until Gangyu returns, pulls out his phone and sees the shiny, new notification. 

He knew it was a possibility, but didn’t want to believe it, another email taunting him at the top of his inbox.

It’s crazy how easily his heart races, how easily his blood turns cold, and sweat gathers at the back of his neck. He’s hit with the sudden realization that he’s alone in this club, maybe a few people who know his name, but nothing else, no one who knows what he likes to drink or what song he would sing in the shower, completely alone.

The feeling is overwhelming, like his ribs are cracking open one by one, and it takes a moment for him to collect himself before he pushes away from the bar and beelines to the exit. There’s a small alleyway behind the building, and Ricky leans against the bricked wall, loads the phone into his hand like it’s a stick of dynamite ready to be thrown. 

He takes one final drag of his cigarette, throws it on the ground next to his feet. 

He realizes has a couple of choices: he could strike the match without a thought of what could alight, or take a second to let the dust settle. And he wants to be better, doesn’t want to be burned alive anymore, so he chooses to open the familiar contact before he can overthink it, presses his phone to his ear, waits to hear the familiar voice.

“Ricky.” He sounds breathless, like he ran to the phone to catch him in time.

“Hi,” Ricky replies back softly, grinds his cigarette out with his shoe.

Zhang Hao’s voice turns shrill through the phone speaker, “I haven’t heard from you in weeks, and all you say is ‘hi’?”

“Sorry, sorry,” He mumbles out. 

“I had to get updates through Weibo to make sure you weren’t dead.”

“Well, I’m not dead.”

“You will be the next time I see you!”

“Hao,” he whines, but his feet feel steady again, his heart back to a normal rhythm, is already a bit better at just the sound of the older man’s voice. 

“I just miss you. How have you been?”

“Fine,” He lies through his teeth, but the wounded part of his chest isn’t ready to be fully exposed yet. “What have you been up to?”

“Ah, things have been good here. There’s a new kid I’ve been giving vocal lessons to, he reminds me so much of you,” Zhang Hao laughs, “He’s so stubborn but always leaves me little gifts.”

Ricky snorts at the thought of another boy giving Zhang Hao a hard time, “Not replacing me are you?”

“Never.” He says it so sincerely that Ricky’s heart aches.

“I actually have a question,” Ricky says tentatively, Hao humming for him to continue. “How do you get over someone?”

There’s a long pause before Zhang Hao answers.

“Ricky,” Hao’s voice is lilting, “Did you have some secret boyfriend I didn’t know about?”

“No, I just…” He can’t say the real question—how does he get over Gyuvin—when it’s been ten years and his body still freezes every time he hears his name? 

Zhang Hao’s tone turns serious, “I think if you want to move on from someone you have to confront whatever it is about it that has you stuck. Is it the memories? The ‘what ifs’? The lack of closure?”

“I-I don’t know,” Ricky stammers out. 

“It’s fine to not know, just something to think about,” Zhang Hao’s voice is soft now, the gentle tone he uses when he knows Ricky is feeling overwhelmed, “I think once you figure out what makes you hung up on the person then you have to face it head on. Do whatever it is that will make you heal, let it go.”

Hao makes it sound so simple, wishes everything was as easy as doing something like tearing his feelings out of the pages out of a diary and burning them to ash, letting it blow away in the wind. That letting go didn’t make his gut twist painfully and cruelly. He guesses that’s what he gets for asking the advice of someone who has been unequivocally in love for most of the time he’s known him.

“Thank you, hyung,” The foreign honorific rolling off his tongue naturally, a habit he adopted once he saw over video chat that it made Zhang Hao light up to be called that by him. “I’ll think about it.”

 “Of course! You know, you should come visit Seoul, we could go cafe-hopping, and I could hear the full story of whatever you’re talking about.”

He can hear a group of people down the alleyway laughing together, feels a tightness in his chest again.

“Maybe, I’m just so busy here, it’s hard to get away.”

“I know, I know,” Zhang Hao sighs, “My Ricky is so famous nowadays. There’s so many new places I want to show you though, and I think the others would want to see you too.”

The others. Ricky closes his eyes, takes a deep breath in, ignores the way his body feels numb. Maybe Jiwoong—and Matthew if he didn’t live on the other side of the world, and of course Hanbin. But the rest, he knows they don’t want to see him.

“We’ll see…”

Zhang Hao says something in Korean, most likely to Hanbin, who he hears respond muffled in the background. 

“It’s late, I have to go, but it was nice hearing from you, Ricky. Please think about it, I wanna see you, and not just on ads in the subway.”

They exchange goodbyes, and he’s suddenly alone again, the stick of dynamite still in his hand. Should he light it?

He should check on Gangyu, it’s been a while now, should make sure he’s okay, but he doesn’t think he can face him like this, when he’s so delicate and vulnerable. He shoots a quick text to Gangyu, tells him he’s going home for the night, waits for his thumbs up before ordering a ride. 

Ricky

tell me if you need me to come get you

Gangyu

im fine

It might be a lie, but who is he to judge when he's never let Gangyu even pass the threshold of all the walls of the room he's built up, when he runs away as soon as Gangyu might get a glimpse of something he shouldn't see.

As the city zooms by through the car window, he feels nervous, as if he’s racing home to confront Gyuvin himself. In a way, he is prepared for a confrontation, not to see the Gyuvin of the present, but he’s looking at the old Gyuvin right in the eye, the Gyuvin that once loved him.

Maybe it was as easy as Zhang Hao said, to face it head-on. 

In the quiet stillness of the apartment, he opens the new email.

FROM: [email protected]

 

DATE: March 20, 2025

 

SUBJECT: i told you i like you

 

hey kim ricky!

 

we’re going to kcon today, it feels weird doesn't it? we've gone to so many together i’ve lost track of all of them. 

 

the only one that really matters was that first one in LA though right? i was so nervous that day, but i remember you were even worse, i think we both knew what was coming. you dressed up so nice for me and i thought i was dreaming. and then i told you i like you and you barely believed me. do you believe me now? ill go tell you again if you don't. 

 

i still masturbate thinking about it sometimes is that wrong? you're gonna come and hit me when you read this HAHAHA. nothing compares to the real thing of course. im so lucky to have you. that night was just special, one of those memories you take with you to the grave.

 

i like you

i like you

i like you,

shen gyuvin

[AUGUST 2023]

Ricky has always loved LA. He loves the fashion, the creative expression, the freedom. It doesn’t feel like returning home, but close, a peaceful calmness of being in his element.

With debut under their belt, and the promise of more performances and more music, the world doesn’t feel so crushing, for the first time in a while Ricky feels like he can breathe a little easier. 

“Hyung,” Yujin tugs on his arm, looks up at him pleadingly, “How do I order this?” He’s pointing to one of the bubble teas on the menu. It has a silly name, a play-on words that only make sense with a fluency in English.

“I’ll order for you, what do you want?”

Yujin beams, points out the drink and snacks he wants. “You’re paying too, right?”

Ricky grunts, “Why do you even ask at this point, you probably don’t even have your wallet with you.”

Yujin keeps on smiling even when they reach the counter and Ricky places their order, Ricky handing over his card easily.

At the table, they mainly sit in silence as they sip their teas and shared snacks, Yujin furiously typing on his phone to his group chat of friends from school, occasionally laughing and turning the screen to show Ricky whatever funny anecdote his friends were discussing. Ricky always reads it carefully, sometimes has to ask Yujin to decipher whatever slang is being used, and Yujin explains sincerely.

He’s known Yujin the longest, their matched quietness being easy and comforting at this point, not awkward, just a peaceful reprieve where they both know they don’t need to say anything.

It’s a little easier now, with the group. Maybe the pants still don’t fit quite right yet, still need to be adjusted here and there, but they’re not loose anymore. 

When they’re finishing up their drinks and food, Ricky spots Gyuvin and Taerae walk in, Gyuvin instantly smiling when they make eye contact, bolts over to their table, leaving Taerae in the line. 

“We have to be back at rehearsal in twenty minutes, is this all you guys ate?” Gyuvin asks, eyes concerned, poking the remnants of their fried dumplings and vanilla cake. 

Gyuvin has been treating him differently lately, more attentively. Did you eat? Do you need help? Can I come with you? Like a loyal puppy, following him everywhere he goes. He shouldn’t like it as much as he does, that it’s clear that he’s on Gyuvin’s mind. He should be worried, worried that they’re wading into something deeper and more dangerous, but he can’t help it. 

Yujin rolls his eyes, “You’ve been spending too much time with Hanbin, you’re starting to sound like him.”

Gyuvin pounces on Yujin, squishes his cheeks between his hands and uses his baby voice that Yujin ‘hates' so much, the younger boy complaining about Gyuvin’s affection but never doing anything to stop him.

Sometimes he wishes he could be like Gyuvin and Yujin. Someone who touches easily and lets others touch easily in return. He still feels hesitant to reach out and grab Gyuvin, even when his whole body burns to feel him close. 

Taerae returns with drinks for himself and Gyuvin, turns to Ricky, “Have they always been like this?” nodding his head towards the pair, Gyuvin now pinching the younger boy’s sides happily. 

“I think Gyuvin was born on this planet to annoy Yujin,” Ricky replies, Gyuvin’s head snapping up at the words, halting his barrage on Yujin.

“Hey, see!” Yujin exclaims, “Even your boyfriend agrees you’re annoying.”

Ricky freezes at the comment, knows it’s just a joke, but it makes Ricky’s head ring and his face flush. 

Gyuvin squawks, “I can be ten times more annoying, Han Yujin!”, doesn’t acknowledge the boyfriend comment at all, but his ears are bright red. Ricky smiles down at his drink, plays with the straw to try and feign normalcy. 

“C’mon, we’re going to be late,” Taerae chimes in, starts gathering their trash and belongings to leave. 

On the street outside, Gyuvin grabs his arm as they walk back to meet for rehearsal.

“Tonight, we should eat dinner. Just the two of us.”

“Hm? Is there somewhere you want to go?” Ricky asks, feels Gyuvin’s grip tighten around his arm.

“No, I thought we could stay in, order room service. I don’t want to run into anyone.”

He should be scared, at how intensely Gyuvin is looking at him, at the weight of his words, at how Ricky’s body reacts to just a simple touch. 

“Okay, sure, whatever you want.”

Gyuvin’s smile could illuminate the city street.

It’s not a date.

But it definitely feels like a date, even if unconventional. 

They blast music in the hotel room while getting ready, Ricky insisting he wants to dress up, Gyuvin’s eyes lighting up in response. 

Ricky is rummaging through his clothes, picks out a black button-up and matching trousers, Gyuvin flipping through the room service menu to pick their dinner.

It’s not a date, because you don’t get ready with the person you’re dating right? Ricky tries to tamper down his beating heart. 

He takes time doing his makeup, wants to accentuate his eyes and his mouth, wants to look like the prettiest version of himself for Gyuvin. He styles his hair away from his face, remembers Gyuvin saying he likes it best that way, that he likes being able to see his face. He picks his accessories, carefully—earrings, belt, watch—feels a little shaky as he puts each piece on. 

“Ricky! Hurry, the food is here,” Gyuvin calls for him. 

Ricky steels himself before entering the room, tells himself it doesn’t matter, but wants nothing more than Gyuvin to call him beautiful and precious and every word in between.

Gyuvin’s mouth falls open.

“I-uh,” Gyuvin stammers out, his adam’s apple bobbing heavily, his eyes wide, and Ricky basks in the attention.

“You look beautiful, fuck.”

Gyuvin is turning away embarrassed, a pink tint to his cheeks, and Ricky melts. To hear him say it so easily, the words shoot through the air and hit Ricky right in the stomach. 

Touch me, he wants to scream out, touch me and feel the artwork I made for you.

He doesn’t though—sits down across from him and smooths his hands down his thighs, tries to clear his head of the buzzing noise.

“You look nice too,” Ricky comments, and Gyuvin laughs. 

“I feel underdressed in comparison to you.”

Ricky shakes his head. He doesn’t say it, but he likes Gyuvin like this, cute and sweet-looking, brown hair flopping over his brow and plaid tie looped loosely around his neck, pushes the thought of pulling him by the neck tie and into a searing kiss out of his mind.

“Do you like Los Angeles?” Ricky asks as they start working on eating their food, but Ricky is having a hard time focusing on chewing with Gyuvin’s large hand and his own smaller one resting on the table in front of them, their fingers almost touching, but not quite.

Gyuvin hums, “Yeah, I can see why you like it here, it’s nice.”

“I wish we had more time, there’s more places I want to show you.”

“Yeah, you’ve been a terrible tour guide,” Gyuvin teases.

Ricky scoffs. Returning to their teasing and bickering feels like familiar territory—something safe—and it allows Ricky to breathe again.

“Fine, I’ll go shopping by myself then,” Ricky retorts back, knows how much Gyuvin likes picking out clothes with him, “I’ll drop you off on a random street and let you find your way back.”

“I’ll find you easily, I think I have like a sixth sense, a Ricky-sense.”

Ricky chokes on his food, coughs, “Please turn that sense off.”

If he’s honest, he feels like he might also have a Gyuvin-sense, can feel his presence before even walking into a room, swears he can still smell his cologne even when he leaves. 

Gyuvin grins around a bite of food, “We’ll have to come back here together.”

“Yeah, just the two of us,” echoes Gyuvin’s own words. 

Gyuvin’s hand twitches on the table and their fingers brush.

When they finish eating, Gyuvin stands and stretches, declares he’s full, before walking over and flopping down on the bed, his arms and legs sprawled.

Ricky watches him, his long limbs spreading across the mattress, he looks massive like this, large enough to hold the world in his hands, feels heat creep up the back of his neck and down his spine.

The room is a mess, their discarded dishes on the table, the remnants of Ricky dolling himself up strewn across the room, Gyuvin’s clothes and things spread around haphazardly. Ricky looks to the closet, notices their pajamas hung up side by side, something Gyuvin must’ve done while he was getting ready, and smiles softly to himself. 

It might be the room that feels like them, or being in LA where reality feels further away, or the fact that Gyuvin had looked him in the eye and called him beautiful, but Ricky suddenly can’t remember why he was pushing instead of pulling, why this was wrong, why it’s a bad idea. 

On wobbly legs, Ricky follows Gyuvin to the bed, crawls up beside him, Gyuvin not moving even when the mattress dips at Ricky’s weight. Carefully, he lays his head on Gyuvin’s bicep, hears Gyuvin’s sharp intake of breath at the touch. 

Gyuvin rolls on his side so they’re facing each other, his arm instinctually wrapping around Ricky’s shoulder. When they make eye contact, Ricky doesn’t look away shyly, he stares back openly, studies the brown pools of Gyuvin’s eyes. 

“Ricky,” Gyuvin says quietly, “Did you dress up just for me?”

The boy is playing with the buttons of his shirt, his fingers occasionally brushing his bare chest, and Ricky holds back from crying out each time they make contact. 

“Yes,” Ricky breathes. “It was for you.”

Gyuvin’s hand pauses on his shirt collar, and Ricky can see Gyuvin’s breathing become more rapid, his chest rising and falling dangerously, and his cheeks have turned a bright pink. Gyuvin is looking at him, deciphering him, can feel his eyes mapping out his face and working out in his brain what to do next.

Ricky won’t be the first one to kiss him. He was first the last time, has been waiting all this time, wants Gyuvin to be desperate for it, to be aching and unable to hold it all in. 

“I wanted you to call me beautiful,” Ricky admits.

“Don’t enough people already tell you that you are?” Gyuvin licks his lips, leaves them shining and plump.

“I wanted to hear it from you.”

Gyuvin pulls him closer so they’re chest to chest, so close their breath mixes hotly. 

“You’re always beautiful to me.”

Gyuvin studies him again, like he’s waiting for Ricky to run away, like he’s asking one more time is this okay? and Ricky raises his chin up in challenge. 

Gyuvin descends upon him, kisses him so fiercely that his head snaps back and his body is pushed at the force. 

And Ricky is selfish in the way he kisses him. Laps him up, drinks him in, swallows him whole. 

He had kissed a few girls when he was younger, but they were all shy, delicate things, nothing like this, with teeth and tongue and bruised lips. 

Gyuvin’s tongue laves into his mouth, reaches his hand to cup Ricky’s jaw and control the way he moves his lips against him. Ricky takes the opportunity to smooth his hands down the planes of Gyuvin’s chest, wrap his fingers around his tie and pull until Gyuvin’s full body weight collapses on top of him.

Now that he has him, he will have every taste he can get. 

Gyuvin moans at the contact of their bodies, and Ricky bites down on Gyuvin’s bottom lip, relishes in the feeling of letting it go and then sucking on the lip again as if to apologize for the bite.

Gyuvin extracts his revenge though, starts mouthing down Ricky’s neck wetly, fingers at the top buttons of Ricky’s shirt until they pop open, continues his trail downward until he’s lapping at the smooth skin over Ricky’s beating heart.

He won’t let Gyuvin take total control though, uses all his strength to push Gyuvin off and flip them over, Gyuvin’s back hitting the bed and Ricky moving to straddle his waist. 

He kisses him needy now, runs his tongue over Gyuvin’s waiting lips, lets Gyuvin slot their mouths together and take whatever he wants.

Gyuvin’s hands begin wandering, down his back until they reach his ass, squeezing roughly and then pushing their hips flush together. Ricky gasps, and Gyuvin moans into the kiss, because at this angle, even through all the layers of fabric, Ricky can feel the hardness in Gyuvin’s pants. 

They grind their hips together tentatively, slowly, Ricky burrowing his head on the side of Gyuvin’s neck, feels dizzy with want. 

“Fuck,” Gyuvin groans out into Ricky’s ear when they get the angle just right, their clothed erections brushing together. Gyuvin doesn’t usually swear often, but Ricky is beginning to learn he may have a special ability in drawing the words out of him.

Gyuvin’s hands fumble over the top of Ricky’s belt, feels him undo the buckle.

Ricky pulls back suddenly, looks Gyuvin right in the eyes, “I-I’ve never done this before,” Ricky admits shyly.

Gyuvin shakes his head, “Me too. I’ve never…We don’t have to do anything…”

Ricky plays with Gyuvin’s tie, looks down at the boy through his eyelashes, “I want to, though.”

A needy noise from the back of Gyuvin’s throat escapes, lets himself be dragged down into another long kiss. 

His hand dips down and palms Gyuvin carefully, touching and rubbing the outline until Gyuvin is writhing below him. With the knowledge they’re both walking into unknown territory, Ricky feels a little braver, reaches to unbutton Gyuvin’s pants, slides them off his body so his legs are bare. 

“I wanna try something,” Ricky says carefully, moves himself so his face is in between Gyuvin’s legs. Gyuvin is looking at him so openly, can never hide the emotions crossing his face, looks overwhelmed and shocked. Ricky finds purchase on the waistband of Gyuvin’s boxers and pulls them down fully. 

He’s seen other boy’s dicks before, it being inevitable as a trainee, as well as living in a dorm with ninety other boys for months, but he’s never seen one like this, up close and hard and flushed, hard for him.

“Is it okay?” Ricky asks, keeps his hands on Gyuvin’s thighs, doesn’t touch yet.

Gyuvin nods rapidly, “Yes, fuck, yes, anything you want, whatever you want to do is fine.”

Ricky bites down on his lip, holds back a smile at how desperate Gyuvin is for him. 

He wraps a hand around Gyuvin’s cock, moves his hand up and down experimentally. Gyuvin reacts to the slight touch, his legs tightening and his hands fisting the sheets below him. It’s clear after a few strokes that it’s too dry though, and Ricky pushes his tongue on the inside of his cheek, knows what he needs to do. 

He gathers the saliva in his mouth, lets it drip down on to Gyuvin’s length, gathers his own spit at the tip and then uses it to wet the rest of his member.

“Holy shit,” Gyuvin says in awe. 

He continues jacking the boy off, commits every moan and expression Gyuvin makes to his memory, wants to find even more. He feels shy suddenly at what he wants, looks at Gyuvin for reassurance.

It’s Gyuvin’s eyes that convince him, clear and dazzling, so full of reverence. 

He takes Gyuvin in his mouth, is careful to cover his teeth, and sucks the tip.

A string of expletives falls from Gyuvin’s mouth in a long moan. The precum tastes salty, a new sensation on Ricky’s tongue that he files away. He continues his descent downwards, works more of the boy into him until he feels like he’s going to choke. 

He can’t fit most of it in his mouth, but works with what he can, moves his head up and down, starts cataloging what Gyuvin likes by the noises he makes and the way his face contorts with pleasure. 

It’s slow and his jaw is already aching, but he would do anything to make Gyuvin feel good, feels his own cock keening in interest every time Gyuvin makes a particularly loud noise. 

“I like you, Ricky,” Gyuvin moans out, and Ricky thinks he’s hearing things. 

He pulls off the boy's cock, catches him with his eyes, “What did you just say?”

“I like you.”

Ricky thinks his heart might beat out of his chest, that it will break free and fly away from how rapidly it turns.

“Only you would say that while my mouth is on your dick,” Ricky shoots back.

Gyuvin pouts, his hair messily askew and sticking to his forehead, “It’s true though, I like you.”

“I’ll believe it more when you’re not close to coming.” 

Ricky returns to his ministrations, licks a long stripe down the vein of his cock and circles the head with his tongue, keeps his eye contact with the boy.

Gyuvin reaches down, brushes the hair from Ricky’s face and keeps his hand there, “I’ll tell you again then.”

He wants to make Gyuvin come from his tongue and mouth, wants to see fully what Gyuvin looks like when he’s fully spent, he can feel him getting closer, Gyuvin’s losing control and on edge, but he stops him right before.

“Ricky,” Gyuvin pants out, “I want us to come together…please.”

It shouldn’t be romantic or give him butterflies, but his stomach swoops anyways, allows Gyuvin pull him up and finally undo his belt, allows him to slide off his pants and boxers and look at him fully.

Gyuvin spits into his own hand, circles his palm around Ricky’s cock, and Ricky feels embarrassed at the whine he lets out. It’s the first time someone has touched him like this, feels it magnified a hundred times more because it’s Gyuvin, Gyuvin who teases him every chance he gets, Gyuvin who carries him when he’s too tired to move, Gyuvin his best friend who he never dared to imagine like this. 

He can see Gyuvin’s look of concentration, his squinted eyes and his lips pressed together, wants to kiss the look right off his mouth, but he can only let out stuttered moans as Gyuvin continues touching him.

Gyuvin moves to mouth under his jaw, moves upward and kisses behind his ear, clinks the metal of his earring between his teeth before kissing again.

“M’close,” Ricky stutters out, looks down to find Gyuvin’s cock and so they can touch each other at the same time. 

“Wait,” Gyuvin stops him again, grabs him by the waist and aligns their hips, looks up at Ricky pleadingly before positioning their erections flush together, and Ricky is so sensitive that the slight touch of skin makes his hips buck in shock. 

Gyuvin’s hand is large and warm, easily wraps around them both, shivers cascading at the feeling of their cocks brushing. He pumps them together, grateful that Gyuvin’s hands are large enough to hold them both and that he can feel him like this. 

He rests his forehead against Gyuvin’s, lets their noses brush and their breaths mix. Gyuvin’s still looking at him so pleadingly, eyes wet and round, sparkling.

It doesn’t take long like this, the feeling of Gyuvin’s rough hand and cock throbbing in time with his, and Gyuvin pulling him by the neck into a final messy kiss. He comes hard and fast, feels Gyuvin come right after him, all over their hands, clothes, and sheets.

And Gyuvin doesn’t stop kissing him. 

Is just panting into his mouth at first, as he tries to control his breathing, keeps kissing him anyways, pulls him closer even though it makes them even messier. 

He kisses and kisses and kisses. 

Until they’re just lazily making out and they can barely keep their eyes open, until Gyuvin is just leaving short little pecks on his mouth over and over, like he can’t stop himself.

Ricky is like soft clay under his hands and mouth, lets himself be molded into whatever shape Gyuvin wants, lets himself fall into each kiss like it’s the first one. 

“I like you,” He says it again, leaves one more kiss on the center of his mouth. 

[MARCH 2035]

It’s raining when Ricky wakes up. The pattering sound of water hitting the windows and the dark clouds keeping the sun at bay had let Ricky sleep later than expected.

His bed is a mess, his sheets twisted around him and his different pillows strewn across the floor, the result of his tossing and turning in the night. There’s a slight throbbing in his back from sleeping in a strange position, but no hangover, so he can deal with the pain.

Ricky stands to look at himself in the mirror, sees his usual self staring back. There used to be a time when Ricky liked his time in front of the mirror the most, not in a vain way, just liked the ritual of applying his makeup and styling his hair, preparing himself for the world, liked listening to music and hearing other voices nagging him to get ready to go. He doesn’t really do that now. Just stares at himself and waits for something to change.

His phone loudly buzzing from across the room is what makes him realize what had actually woken him up. He crosses the room to retrieve it from the floor, rolling his eyes when he sees the contact name lighting up the screen. 

“Are you awake?” Xintong asks, the chattering of the office heard muffled in the background.

“I am now,” Ricky complains, looks at the clock and sees that it’s already past noon.

Xintong brushes past Ricky’s mild annoyance, “Good, come to the company building as soon as you can.”

“Is something wrong?” Ricky questions. He usually avoids the company building if he can, the mindless interactions he has to endure when visiting always draining him completely, so it seems he only ends up there when he’s in trouble.

“No, nothing bad,” Xintong assures, “Just a prospective big project for you, something the higher ups want to discuss in person.”

“A big name?” Ricky prods for more information—there had been a few brands he had been eyeing lately.

“I’m not telling you until you get here,” Xintong rebuts, knows it will be the only way to lure Ricky in. “It would be an ad campaign for a few months though. Based out of Seoul, you better brush up on your Korean.”

Ricky freezes in place, the rain finding a second wind and pounding even harder against the windows. 

Seoul.

Chapter Text

[APRIL 2035]

FROM: [email protected]

 

DATE: April 2, 2025

 

SUBJECT: i miss you

 

rik rik rik-

 

i miss you so much right now. you’re in china doing promotions for the group with hao-hyung and it’s only for a few days, but it feels like a century without you here. i’m laying on your bed right now, it smells like you and it reminds me of you, so i’ll sleep here tonight.

 

i’m looking at my ring you gave me, our ring. it always comforts me, like a little piece of you on my finger. you probably didn’t know how special it would be to me when you gave it to me, you could barely look me in the eye lol. i hope one day this isn’t the only ring on my finger...

 

i know you don’t really believe in marriage but it’s still my wish right now, to marry you, to put a ring on your finger and call you kim ricky for real. i have this dream to give you all my vows in chinese on our wedding day so you can understand every word fully. i’ve been studying a lot so i can get better. (kim gyuvin, if you’re reading this, did you do it? if you didn’t you need to study harder.)

 

遇见你是一种缘分. you understand right?

 

i miss you,

gyu gyu gyu

[AUGUST 2023]

Ricky figures out a few things pretty quickly after that night in LA.

Firstly, he really likes giving head. Particularly, to Gyuvin (not that he’s tried it on anybody else), because of how intensely he reacts to Ricky’s mouth on him.

Gyuvin is leaned against his bed, Ricky kneeling in front of him, worshiping him, Gyuvin’s large hands tangled in Ricky’s hair as he pumps into him. 

He’s going to have bruises on his knees. 

Their trainer had noticed the bruises the week prior. “Did you not wear knee pads during practice?” She had asked, concerned. Ricky had shook his head, apologized, Gyuvin wearing the most shit-eating grin known to mankind. 

Secondly, he’s realized the more he gets of Gyuvin, the more addicted he becomes.

He’s coming in his mouth now, his whole body tensing and spasming as he spills into Ricky’s throat, and this is Ricky’s new addiction, watching Gyuvin fall apart because of him.

They’re definitely not friends now, but they’re not together either, certain boundaries still intact. They get each other off with hand jobs and blow jobs in the darkness of their room in the quietness of the night, and Ricky wants it more and more, can barely contain himself through schedules and practices to get Gyuvin to himself.

But—never more than that. A dirty secret, if you will, something to hide from the members and the world, and it churns darkly in Ricky’s stomach.  

The kissing is the worst part of all. Sometimes they kiss as an appetizer to the main course of hands, and mouth, and making each other gasp. But a lot of the time they kiss just to kiss, and it makes Ricky feel selfish. 

Gyuvin will flop on top of Ricky, hug him from behind, crawl in front of him, and then pepper kisses on his cheeks, on his neck, on his stomach. Kisses him like they have all the time in the world and until Ricky’s whole body feels like it’s floating and seasick, kisses him as soon as he opens his eyes, and the last thing he sees before he falls asleep.

It’s a little too much, and not enough at all.

Lastly, he realized he doesn’t know how to ask for more, and he can tell Gyuvin isn’t ready for it even if he did ask.

It's as obvious as Ricky’s erection that Gyuvin is currently groping, that Gyuvin is experiencing some inner turmoil about the whole situation. He will suddenly grow quiet, silent, an unnerving steadiness, but a heavy storm brewing within. 

Ricky wants to reach out, a solid hand on his shoulder and tell him it's going to be okay, but he's beginning to have doubts too. Amplified only more so by the mismatch of Gyuvin’s mind and his heart, so clearly written on his face. 

“Come for me,” Gyuvin is whispering in his ear and Ricky is so obedient, complies at the request so easily, crumples forward at the words.

But Gyuvin looks away. 

It’s why the gift Ricky had bought for Gyuvin stays hidden in the back of the drawer, slowly being engulfed in flames. 

It had been stupid to buy.

Before they had even left for LA, it had ended up in his hands like he had been possessed. He knew he wanted to get something for Gyuvin’s birthday, something small and meaningful, but he didn't plan on getting something that seemed so—romantic. 

He had spotted it in the store as soon as he walked in, glimmering in the display case like a certain boy’s eyes, so easy to imagine the ring adorning the boy's long, beautiful fingers. 

Now it’s two days before Gyuvin’s birthday and he feels like it's too much—a ring for someone who can barely face him.  

Gyuvin is wiping Ricky’s cum from his hand onto the bed sheets, Ricky wrinkling his nose in disgust. 

“That's gross,” Ricky comments, but Gyuvin pays no mind, grabs Ricky by the waist and kisses him softly and sweetly. 

They're not friends or boyfriends, some third other thing that is somehow worse. 

It's killing Ricky, slowly, from the inside. He had determined before all this that being Gyuvin’s friend was fine, had sealed his fate, but Gyuvin had ruined it in a single night, had made Ricky starving and unsure, and now Gyuvin himself seemed to be questioning everything as well, backtracking on the words said so earnestly in that hotel room. 

They need to speak, but it will take an amount of bravery Ricky can't reach. Because if they speak, Ricky is terrified he won’t like the answer, that the strong hands that smooth down his back and the quick way his mouth teases him will disappear as easily as it began. 

A smaller step though, maybe Ricky can do that.

“I have a present for you.” He musters the words out in between Gyuvin’s kisses, still wrapped in his arms. “For your birthday.”

“Mm?” Gyuvin looks at him wide-eyed. 

Pulling out of his grip, he crosses the room to retrieve the package, a small box hidden among the clothes of his drawer. 

“Here,” He says it quickly, pushes the box into the boy’s waiting hands and looks away, can feel his ears burning red.

He listens to the clunking of the box being opened and Gyuvin’s sharp inhale. 

“Ricky,” Gyuvin says softly, and Ricky braces for impact.

“If you don’t like it, we can go to the store together and you can pick another one.”

There’s a hand on Ricky’s cheek, forcing him to look at Gyuvin. The smile adorning his face is sugary sweet, so divine that it makes all the previous doubts ebb away. Ricky leans into the touch involuntarily.

“It’s perfect, I love it.”

Ricky exhales. 

Gyuvin plucks the ring from the box, slips it onto his index finger and admires it.

“Okay, cool,” Ricky says lamely, mentally slaps himself for never having the right words for his lips to form around. They’re too close to each other still, almost chest to chest, and Ricky should move away, but Gyuvin’s ring-clad hand circles around his wrist to keep him in place.

“Is this a wedding ring, Kim Ricky?” Gyuvin teases, laughs happily at Ricky’s discomfort.

“You wish,” Ricky bites back, pulls his arm out of Gyuvin’s grip and walks back to his bed so he can calm his beating heart. “You know I don’t believe in marriage and stuff.”

“Hm? I didn’t know that. Always thought you were a romanticist,” Gyuvin comments, hops on to his own bed so they’re facing each other from across the room.

Ricky can feel his blush creeping back, “I am…a romanticist,” he admits, watches how Gyuvin is still playing with the ring on his finger, twisting it back and forth slowly, “But I think marriages and weddings are meaningless. If you love someone you don’t need papers or a party to prove it.”

Gyuvin contemplates before answering, “But a wedding or a marriage isn’t to prove your love, it’s to celebrate it!” 

He shrugs, “That’s just my opinion.”

He had never imagined getting married, having a wedding. Had seen the loveless marriage between his parents and so many others and never wished to end up being someone committed to an empty promise. But now he pictures it, Gyuvin in a sharp tuxedo, white flowers framing his face, having a ring delicately slipped onto his finger by Gyuvin’s firm hands, a soft kiss passed between their lips. 

“Well you’re wrong, this is my first wedding ring,” Gyuvin declares, wiggles his fingers, flashes the ring in Ricky’s face. 

“Wow, you’re already heading for divorce at the young age of nineteen,” Ricky quips back, waits for the expected reaction, Gyuvin jumping from his bed to tackle Ricky on his own.

“Take it back, Kim Ricky, you’re mine forever,” Gyuvin yells, smothers him while Ricky lays pliant under him, slapping his hands away half-heartedly, no energy to fight back after putting in all his energy into giving the ring to him. 

“You’re so annoying,” Ricky whines, once Gyuvin had tired himself out by pushing Ricky around, was now flopped boneless on top of him.

“The ring,” Gyuvin’s voice is muffled into the bedsheets, but the tone is serious, “It was expensive, wasn’t it?”

“It wasn’t that much,” Ricky scoffs. 

“Are you sure?”

“You’ve never complained about spending my money before this.”

Gyuvin sighs, “Yeah, but this is…different. I don’t want you to spend too much on me.”

It’s the doubts creeping in again. He can feel the clouds rolling in, storming above them menacingly. It’s too much, are the unspoken words, too much to be a gift between friends. Ricky swallows down the lump in his throat, feels his hands beginning to shake restlessly.

“I told you, I could return it or-”

“No,” Gyuvin sits up to look at him, eyes searching him pleadingly, “Stop, I just have never received a present from a friend, I don’t know how to thank you properly.”

Friend, stabs him right in the gut. It’s why he didn’t even want to give him the ring in the first place, had known it would make them both crash and careen into a tailspin. 

“You don’t need to thank me, it’s not a big deal.” He’s trying his hardest to backtrack, to downplay it, is worried that it’s too late, that Gyuvin can see so clearly in the careful way Ricky had handed him the gift that every bit of Ricky’s devotion had been poured into the soft silver metal. 

“I do though,” Gyuvin fights back, “This is the best present I’ve ever gotten. Thank you, Ricky.”

Ricky should learn to control his heart better, he’s had years to practice controlling the way his body reacts to Gyuvin, and yet it still doesn’t cease. They've even had training at the company, taught how to school their expressions, smile here, be serious there, and Ricky had been praised for being so good at masking his true feelings, while Gyuvin had been scolded for always being so apparent. But now, he knows he should be scolded, can tell by how Gyuvin’s eyes soften at his expression that his admiration is clearly written across his face. 

And this is the real problem: That they had just gotten each other off a few moments ago, that Ricky had seen plainly the doubts cross Gyuvin’s face, that he still felt conflicted about what was the right thing to do, and yet he still wanted Gyuvin to kiss him all over again, to be pressed into the bed and hear Gyuvin whisper and moan in his ear. That despite everything, Ricky was still hopelessly wanting him, would buy him every expensive piece of jewelry, would swallow him down until he’s pleased, would think about marrying him even if it’s not what he’s ever wanted. 

“It’s a lot better than the ring you got me,” Ricky mocks, thinks of the pink, plastic ring tucked safely in his drawer like a crown jewel despite its cheapness. 

Gyuvin laughs, “I’ll replace it with a better one, one day.”

[APRIL 2035]

He keeps the emails in a folder.

Only three for now, but he braces for a new one every day, is not sure what he’s dreading more—another one coming or receiving the last one. He allows himself to read them once, and with a sense of finality, doesn’t open them again, even if he wants to pore over every word and syllable until they’re engraved in his skin. It’s time to confront the aching sadness in his body, to move on fully, and what better way than to enter the belly of the snake?

“Do you want another glass, sir?”

The wine glass sits empty on the small table, Ricky the lone island among all the other airplane passengers in various stages of sleep. 

“No, I’m good for now,” Ricky replies to the flight attendant in Korean, the words feeling familiar but rusty on his tongue. He had tried to study a bit over the last few weeks, but the lessons on his phone screen seemed all a little too contrived, like it doesn’t understand the nuance of the natural flow of language, how words pass seamlessly between friends and loved ones.

The flight attendant bows to him politely, leaves him to his own thoughts among the lulling whirring of the plane engine.

He flips open his tablet to look over the proposal. It’s an interesting concept, an understanding of the convergence of Chinese and Korean culture through the exploration of fashion, food, and music. There’s plans for editorial shoots as well as small documentary-style snippets he will film over the next two months. What he likes most is that they had personally requested Ricky for the project, claiming he brought a unique perspective and was who they imagined for the job, and it had felt good to be wanted with such surety. 

He’s in Korea for work, but he’s also set his own personal mission. Had mulled over his conversation with Zhang Hao and the emails sitting on his phone and decided it’s time to fully move on. It’s clear that Gyuvin has, so why can’t he? He will let all the darkness he’s held in for the last decade spill out onto the streets of Seoul, look at the monster right in the face and tell them it won’t imprison him any longer, return to Shanghai as someone new. 

He won’t look Gyuvin or the wife he holds on his arm in the eye, but he will shut the door in front of them. Won’t set the wood frame on fire, will just tiptoe quietly in the other direction. But that should be enough, he decides, to close the portal, to make peace within himself and turn and walk away. Lock the door and throw away the key.

There’s shuffling next to him, watches Xintong wake from his slumber and immediately check his phone. 

“When we arrive, they want us to have lunch with the director. They’re sending a car.”

Ricky nods, can already feel his mind wandering as it often does when Xintong drones on about the minute details of the day.

“The airport security has let us know that they want us to use the side exit so they can prepare security. Apparently a lot of your fans have been waiting for your homecoming.”

Homecoming. It’s interesting to call it that, considering Seoul hasn’t ever felt like home. Seoul, Shanghai, Los Angeles—all of them don’t feel quite right anymore, all just places he rests on a tree branch but never builds a nest, never settles. 

He’s surprised so many people still wait for him in Korea, despite his forced and purposeful avoidance of it for so many years, but it’s soothing in a way, to know that the Ricky of the past from all those many years ago really existed, and wasn’t just something Ricky imagined. 

“After that, I’ll check us into the hotel and you’re free to rest for the day.”

“No,” Ricky replies quickly, “I’m staying with a friend.”

He hasn’t actually asked Zhang Hao if it’s okay for him to stay, but he knows it will be a yes. He doesn’t think he can survive this visit if Zhang Hao’s warm hand isn’t in easy grasp.

Xintong looks shocked, is well aware that Ricky doesn’t have many people he considers his friends, but nods in agreement. “Okay, sure, I’ll have the driver drop you off there.”

The cabin lights flash on, the intercom interrupting their conversation. “Please prepare for landing. We will be arriving in Seoul in fifteen minutes.”

It’s a scary feeling returning to a place that holds so many memories, many of which he had pushed hard to forget, his body shaking before the wheels hit the tarmac. 

He reaches over and grabs Xintong’s hand, the older man smiling slightly, probably assuming it’s just the usual anxiety that washes over Ricky sometimes, something Xintong had learned to deal with, if only for the sake of work, but the presence is still steadying. 

“You’re gonna do great,” Xintong reassures, squeezes his hand. 

[NOVEMBER 2023]

“Your hair is black on the ends,” Gyuvin comments, pinches the strands between his fingers tenderly. 

“No shit.”

Gyuvin rolls his eyes, but laughs. 

“Gyuvin, pay attention,” Taerae chides. Ricky had walked back into the dorm with his new hair to find Taerae, Gunwook, and Yujin all piled into their room, loud shouts signaling they were playing the battle game they were all obsessed with lately, Taerae barking out orders like a drill sergeant. 

“Gyuvin-hyung is already knocked out,” Yujin laughs, can see his own character dancing over Gyuvin’s body but reviving him after, Gyuvin’s phone lying abandoned once Ricky had walked into the room and he had jumped up to look at his hair closely. 

“It suits you,” Gyuvin comments, is still studying him carefully. “I want to see you with all black hair though.”

“They’re in the house!” Gunwook shouts, and the sounds of rapid firing and button smashing fills the room, Yujin laughing happily as they beat the opposing team. 

“Why?” Ricky asks, “I won’t stand out with black hair.”

Gyuvin considers this, he had never divulged his worries about being erased from the group, to fade into the background, but Gyuvin knew him too well, would always push him into the spotlight just in case, knew the sinister intentions of others’ could be Ricky’s demise. 

“I think you would stand out with any hair color, Rik.”

“I dropped an 8x scope over here,” Taerae comments, their team looting the other fallen players. 

“I’ve never seen Ricky with black hair,” Gunwook adds, both Gyuvin and himself jumping a bit when they realize that they’re not the only ones in the conversation. 

“He looks cute with it,” Yujin chimes in. Gyuvin giggling when Ricky’s face drops. 

“That was years ago,” Ricky explains, “I wouldn’t look cute with it now that I’m older.”

“Sure, sure,” Yujin brushes him off, still absorbed in the game. 

Gyuvin is still close to him, doesn’t seem to care that the rest of the team is moving on without him in the car.

“He’s right, you would still be cute,” Gyuvin flirts shamelessly, gives him a pat on the cheek.

Ricky scoffs, crosses his arms, “You don’t know anything, Kim Gyuvin.”

“Yujin, stop shooting at that car, you’re gonna give our location away,” Taerae complains.

“But, I want to make it explode,” Yujin pouts, followed by the sound of a loud explosion.

Gyuvin wiggles his eyebrows, “I know plenty, Kim Ricky.”

“Gyuvin, there’s a M24 over here, that’s the one you wanted, right?” Gunwook says.

“Yeah,” Gyuvin replies, but doesn’t break eye contact with Ricky, eyes still shining. 

Ricky breaks the contact first, pulls out his phone and flops on his bed, is thankful they’re all too focused on the game to notice the flush in Ricky’s cheeks.

“Do you want in next game?” Gunwook asks, but Ricky shakes his head. 

They all continue their barrage, Ricky laughing to himself each time one of them shouts in frustration. He glances at Gyuvin carefully, doesn’t want to get caught watching the cute way Gyuvin’s face contorts in annoyance when the game doesn’t go how he wants it to.

After the third game in a row losing, they file out of the room to get a snack, smack talking about each others’ performance in the round teasingly. He’s gotten accustomed to the noise and gentle taunts of the group now, feels himself growing into his skin more day by day, has reached a point where he looks back on the months before and can’t remember not being surrounded by these boys constantly, a comforting warmth of knowing.

Yujin returns first, flops down on the bed next to Ricky. 

“Are you and Gyuvin dating?” Yujin asks plainly, like the words aren’t something to be ashamed of, like the thought alone doesn’t wrap its hands around his throat at its mere existence. 

Ricky chokes, “What? What makes you say that?”

“I dunno. Just wondering,” shrugs nonchalantly. 

“No. We’re not.”

None of the members had ever been bold enough to ask, even if he saw how Hanbin smiled fondly at them and how Zhang Hao eyed them suspiciously. 

“You could tell me. If you were,” Yujin adds, “I wouldn’t tell anyone if you did.”

They really weren’t dating. Even if over the last few months, Ricky had memorized every way that Gyuvin could gasp, had felt the outline of Gyuvin’s erection more times than he could count, could give a map of all the different ways Gyuvin kisses.

“Um, thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

The others return to the room then, break the conversation as easily as it began. 

They play one final game, Ricky with his phone open, but unable to process any of the words or images on the screen, feels frozen in place as Yujin’s words play through his mind. Were Ricky’s feelings obvious? He thought he had learned to train himself a little better lately, had been careful in how he reacted to Gyuvin’s touch and affection around the others. 

Gyuvin waits until the other boys file out of the room with a soft ‘goodnight’, waits until the door to their room is firmly closed before crossing the room and kissing him softly. 

Ricky opens his mouth for him from muscle memory, could melt into him like he wants to and ignore the thoughts swirling in his mind, but it pushes against his skull too harshly. 

“Yujin,” Ricky says in between kisses, “Asked if we were dating.”

Gyuvin freezes, pulls back to look at Ricky in shock.

“What’d you tell him?”

He knew Gyuvin would react badly. There was a reason that all these months have passed and they still were nothing. 

“I told him the truth. That we aren’t.”

Gyuvin’s eyes are shaking, and he’s gripping Ricky’s waist tightly, harsher than he needs to in order to keep him in place. 

“Would it be wrong, if we were?” Gyuvin asks quietly. 

“You know the answer to that.”

He should’ve not said anything. Should’ve let himself be kissed and taken out to sea under Gyuvin’s soft mouth.

Ricky is a little angry too, because it was Gyuvin who had maintained all the carefully drawn lines, so who was he to question them now?

Ricky seethes, “Think how much of a burden it would be for Yujin to keep that secret. It’s already hard enough.”

“I know,” Gyuvin replies, his own frustration beginning to surface. “I know it’s not that simple, Ricky. Do you think I don’t know that?”

He doesn’t want to fight, wants to pull Gyuvin by the neck and kiss the angry pout off his lips, but it’s too late now. Gyuvin isn’t looking at him in the eye, is staring down pointedly. 

“Why do you think Yujin asked that?” Gyuvin mumbles out.

“He’s getting older, probably just curious.” Ricky doesn’t want to admit that he’s suspicious of himself, that he has a feeling Yujin knew because of the expressions on Ricky’s face every time Gyuvin walked into the room.

“We should be more careful then.” The words sting even if he knows Gyuvin is right, that it's the safest solution for the group, for his own heart. 

He hesitates on the next question, worried he won’t like the answer, that his whole world will come crashing down in a single moment. 

“Should we…stop?”

Gyuvin looks stricken, thinks the low lighting must be playing tricks on him because Gyuvin’s eyes look wet, “Do you want to stop?”

Ricky shakes his head slowly. Maybe this should be their sign to end things before it begins, but as he always is with Gyuvin, he’s selfish. Can’t let him go so easily, can’t make himself end the unrestrained freefall of allowing himself to have Gyuvin. 

“Me neither,” Gyuvin breathes out.

Ricky feels unmoored, wants reassurance, finally reaches up and kisses Gyuvin again slowly, like it’s the first time again, Gyuvin kissing back in response, another sealing of their fate. 

It’s a strange feeling, wanting Gyuvin all to himself but also not wanting to push things too far, a warring battle between his conscious and his heart, uses his tongue to lash back.

The kiss turns heated easily, a well placed thigh between Ricky’s legs and a strong squeeze to his waist making Ricky arch up and reach for more. The uncertainty of everything amplifies his desperation, makes him open and vulnerable.

They both know they should stop, but push forward anyways, like waving a hand over a hot stove, getting closer to being burned. But, Ricky wants it to burn, his body hot and on fire as Gyuvin’s hands rake down his body.

“Gyuvin,” Ricky asks timidly, “Do you want to finger me?”

He had done it to himself in the shower before, had reached his fingers inside himself and imagined it was Gyuvin’s long digits instead, had come on the shower tiles with a muffled whine, knowing the boy was just a room away.

“Fuck…yes, okay,” Gyuvin groans out, “Tell me how to do it.”

Gyuvin is a willing learner, listens attentively as Ricky shows him how to warm the lube between his fingers, waits for Ricky’s words to push in slowly—just to the first knuckle—kisses him sweetly to distract from the pain.

“More, more, more,” Ricky gasps when Gyuvin pushes a second finger in, grips the nape of Gyuvin’s neck to stay grounded. 

“Does it feel good?” Gyuvin asks, watches carefully to read the expression on Ricky’s face. 

“Yes, feels s’good.”

Gyuvin’s fingers are longer than his own, the sensation of them brushing against his prostate leaving him convulsing with a loud whimper, loud enough that it returns Ricky to reality for a moment. We need to be more careful, need to be quiet.  

His hands scramble to grab on to one of the discarded pieces of clothing on the bed, stuff his own boxers into his mouth to stifle his moans.

“Can’t control yourself, hm?” Gyuvin says teasingly, becomes more confident from Ricky’s strong reaction to his touch, begins pushing in faster and more harshly.

He suddenly remembers the ring he had given to Gyuvin for his birthday, secretly wishes he would slip the ring on his finger so he could feel the cool metal inside him, could make Gyuvin his in every way possible.

But he stays quiet, the precarious nature of their relationship feels like it hangs in careful balance, and if Ricky pushes it any further, the tight grip he has on the edge of the cliff will release and he will freefall to the hard ground.  

It doesn’t take long with Gyuvin’s fingers inside, doesn’t take long when he circles his hand around Ricky’s cock and tugs in time with Ricky’s racing heart, Gyuvin’s brown eyes fiery and intense. He comes with a whine muffled around his underwear, feels tears pricking at his eyes at how good it feels.

And Gyuvin is touching himself at the sight of Ricky dirty and spent, is coming on his stomach with his mouth hanging open in a restrained groan.

Ricky removes the cloth from his mouth, pulls Gyuvin down into a searing kiss, because when he has Gyuvin like this, it’s easy to ignore all the ways they are making things worse. 

We could keep it a secret, we both hold so many secrets already, what’s one more?

Sirens are sounding and lights are flashing, but Ricky is pushing on the gas pedal, ignoring all the signs to press the brakes.  

[APRIL 2035]

The director is nice. A younger woman, who couldn't be older than thirty, but holds herself with an air of maturity as she speaks to him, talks through the concept like they’re equals rather than as a superior, asks Ricky for his own opinions. She speaks fluently in Chinese, something Ricky is easily impressed by, asks her about it when Xintong steps out of the restaurant to take a call.

“My mother is Chinese, my father is Korean. So I grew up learning both, being a part of both cultures,” The director, Rina, explains.

“So, this is a very personal project to you?” Ricky inquires. 

“Very much so, all my art is personal, it’s something you can’t fake.”

“Hm, I agree,” Ricky considers the amount of thought that went into the proposal, can tell Rina put her heart into it, is what made it so intriguing, “The strong sense of personality could be felt.”

Rina smiles politely, “We actually have a lot of similarities. Growing up in two different worlds. It’s why I wanted you for the project, I knew you would understand it.”

“Thank you again, for choosing me,” Ricky bows his head, Rina waving off his thanks.

Rina shifts the conversation, “I was wondering, is there any Korean person that you’re close to that might be interested in joining us for part of the project? Someone you’ve exchanged language and culture with.”

Ricky plays with the glass on the table, runs through the very short list of candidates and comes up blank. Hanbin and Jiwoong avoid the spotlight now, choosing to live quiet lives. Matthew is successful in his own right in the West, too far to reach out to. And the rest are out of the question. 

“It’s okay if not,” Rina continues, when Ricky’s silence becomes stifling, “It might be better if it’s a stranger. Someone you’ve never met before that you can learn together with.”

He knows who it should be, the person who taught him the most, the one whose eating habits and lilting way of speaking Korean still infect him.

“Yeah, that might be best.”

As they’re leaving the restaurant, his phone buzzes to life. 

“Gege,” Gangyu greets down the line. “Did you make it to Seoul?”

“Yes.” The driver opens the car door for him, and he spots a few people down the street taking pictures of him conspicuously, ducks into the car quickly. 

“Always a man of many words,” Gangyu laughs. “I’m laying in your bed right now.”

Ricky sighs, but there’s no malice in his words, “I told you to watch the apartment, not establish residency.”

He had begrudgingly allowed Gangyu to look over his house at the boy’s insistence, even after telling him that the cleaners and security for the building were more than enough, although it became clear that Gangyu wasn’t asking for Ricky’s sake—the boy needed somewhere to be alone. 

He hears a rustling down the line, Gangyu shifting in the bed, “Is it okay if I stay? Please?”

“It’s fine, just don’t make a mess.”

Gangyu denies his propensity for chaos, but Ricky makes a mental note to have the apartment deep-cleaned before he returns. 

He can hear Gangyu’s smile in his taunting voice, “Your house is kinda sad, gege. You don’t have any pictures on the walls or anything that shows you live here.”

“It’s called minimalism,” Ricky scoffs. 

“Yeah, but you can be minimalist and still have some personality. It’s like a ghost lives here.”

“You’re just used to your messy dorm.”

“Hm, maybe. I’m going to hang a picture of myself on the wall, that way you have something to look at,” Gangyu laughs happily. 

“I’ll tear it down,” Ricky retorts. 

“It’s necessary if I’m going to live here now,” Gangyu teases, but his voice is off. 

There’s something in his words, a niggling feeling in the back of Ricky’s mind, that makes Ricky’s tone turn serious. 

“Gangyu, is there a reason you need to stay there?”

There’s a moment of silence, another rustling of Gangyu shifting in the bed.

“It’s nothing. Just one of the managers at the dorm.”

Ricky feels his pulse quicken, the air in the car turns suffocating. 

“What happened?”

Gangyu lowers his voice, “It’s nothing, really…I can handle it.”

“Okay. Stay there. As long as you need.” He doesn’t push further, isn’t sure if Gangyu is being entirely truthful, but all Ricky can do is give him a safe place, an escape. 

Gangyu’s tone turns light again, “I was already planning on it, but I appreciate the explicit permission to redecorate.”

Gangyu shifts the conversation to paint colors and food to fill the refrigerator with, and Ricky listens but his heart rate stays elevated and he begins to feel nauseous from the car ride, feels like he’s nineteen again with no escape. 

They end the call quickly, Xintong giving him a look, most likely growing suspicious of how long Gangyu has stuck around Ricky, his flings only usually lasting a few weeks, and yet Gangyu had somehow clung on to the coattails of Ricky’s jacket, even as he sprints in the other direction. 

He can’t think about what their relationship looks like from the outside though, can only let Gangyu’s small words bounce around his skull menacingly. 

Ricky presses a palm to his ribcage, takes a deep breath, he’s safe, he’s not like you.

[FEBRUARY 2024] 

Avalanches always start slowly. The snow builds up over the passing days, one flake at a time, until suddenly the wet snow is careening down the side of a mountain, destroying everything in its wake.

The first snowfall occurs when Gyuvin accidentally steps on him during dance practice. He winces at the pain, keeps dancing regardless. It’s something that happens, not a big deal, especially when the choreography is fresh and they’re still learning their rotations and formations. 

It’s after the track ends and their dance teacher calls for a break, that matters. Because Gyuvin doesn’t come running to apologize, doesn’t come and kiss it better like Ricky wants him to do, doesn’t even acknowledge him. 

“Is your foot okay?” Jiwoong asks, hands him water to sip.

“It’s fine,” Ricky answers. It’s not fine. His whole body is being licked by fire. Gyuvin falls over in laughter into Gunwook’s chest, has not even looked in Ricky’s direction.

The blizzard begins brewing when Gyuvin is told to stop talking about Ricky when he’s on livestream.

“Okay, sure,” Gyuvin complies so easily, like it's meaningless. 

He usually likes Gyuvin’s easy-going nature, his kindness and willingness to compromise, but when faced like this, it doesn’t feel kind. It feels like betrayal.

It doesn’t matter what Gyuvin says to fans through a screen, it doesn’t matter that Ricky has to watch from the sidelines as the world moves on around him, but it matters that Gyuvin can so smoothly erase Ricky from his life.

And the final avalanche comes when a staff member confiscates the phone from Ricky’s hand. 

He’s in trouble with the company for several reasons, blames himself for getting into this situation, even though logically he knows that it's not his fault, that there’s bigger powers at play. But it still bruises painfully, purple and blue all over, and he wants Gyuvin to fight for him, to see the unsteady ground beneath his feet and at least try to make it better, but he sits idly.

Hanbin is the only one who defends him.

“That’s not fair to Ricky,” Hanbin argues with the staff, Ricky standing next to him, head bowed.

One of the managers pulls Hanbin into a separate room, can hear their terse conversation through the door, and Hanbin leaves red-faced and angry, grabs Ricky by the arm and drags him away without a word.

Gyuvin doesn’t say anything. 

He understands why they have to keep certain parts of their relationship a secret, but now it feels like Gyuvin is more than willing to hide it all, their friendship, their fondness, has no problem concealing Ricky from the world like everyone else.

When they’re back in their room, Gyuvin comes up behind him, wraps his arms around his waist and leaves kisses on the back of his neck, acts like everything is normal.

Ricky squirms out of his grasp.

“Stop it.”

“Is something wrong?”

It’s asked so innocently, like Gyuvin was not a witness to his slow demise, like he wasn’t a willing participant in gradually chipping away at every bit of Ricky’s self-esteem. 

His back is still turned away from Gyuvin, but he can imagine his doe eyes and concerned expression, refuses to look so he doesn’t break. “Are you seriously asking me that right now?”

“Yes?”

Ricky whips around, marches up to Gyuvin, “You should know,” He grits out, “You should know that something’s wrong.”

It’s stupid to be fighting with Gyuvin. Knows that he’s taking it all out on him, that Gyuvin isn’t the real enemy, that Gyuvin might be the only person in the world who fully understands him. But it's because of their closeness that it makes it so easy to bite harshly, so close that he knows to draw blood with a single prick of a needle.

“Is it about the phone thing? You know you can always use mine,” Gyuvin answers steadily, shows no signs of remorse.

“It’s not about the phone, Gyuvin. It’s about how stupid you’re making me feel.”

Gyuvin furrows his brow at this, finally cracks a bit, “What? I don’t think that…you didn’t tell me that…”

“Do you even notice me? I thought you would know me better by now,” Ricky cuts in, realizes he’s escalating instead of trying to find common ground, can feel himself losing control of his tongue. 

Maybe he assumed too much, that Gyuvin didn’t understand him as wholly as he assumed.

Gyuvin is growing angry now, can see it in how his usual bright eyes darken and how his posture grows rigid. “How am I supposed to know what you’re feeling? You never tell me anything.”

He always wants to tell Gyuvin how he truly feels, but there’s always obstacles in the way—whether it’s nervousness or the knowledge that saying the truth will rip the tenuous balance of their relationship to shreds. 

“You don’t have to struggle to find the right words to say, you’ll never understand,” Ricky spits back in rapid Chinese, knows that Gyuvin won’t understand fully, but the tone seeps through. 

There’s a pause where Gyuvin tries to understand, confusion written all over his face, and it’s relishing to not be the one on the other side.

“Sometimes, I can’t find the words,” He repeats again in Korean, Gyuvin’s eyes flashing with something akin to sadness.

“We can switch to English,” Gyuvin replies quietly, his anger dissipating as easily as it appeared. It’s something they do typically, switch between languages until they can come to understand each other the best they can, but sometimes it's still not enough, the words feeling too big and awkward in his mouth, the things he says still not quite matching what’s in his heart. 

“The language isn’t the point, Gyuvin. It’s the fact that you don’t even care about me.”

They’re not touching but they’re close enough that Ricky can feel the hot breath as Gyuvin exhales, can see how acutely his eyes narrow in accusation. 

“What the hell do you mean, ‘I don’t care about you’? Have I not shown you I do in a million different ways?”

“Not when it mattered most. You didn’t even notice.”

It’s all seared into Ricky’s mind, the way the chess pieces on the board played out, the pawn moving in every direction to avoid the opposing queen, while the knight sat, unmoving. 

“Of course I noticed. But I knew if I said something you would only get punished more, that they might even ban us from speaking to each other in public. I was just waiting for it to blow over.”

Ricky clenches his fists as his side, can feel his hand gripping around the knife, ready to lunge forward to stab and twist the blade in deep with every word. His voice is raising now, loud enough he’s sure the other members are growing concerned. 

“Of course you were,” Ricky spits, “That’s all you ever do, right? Just sit back and wait, wait for someone else to make the first move, wait for someone else to actually give a fuck about me.”

They’re not speaking about the phone or the practice or the livestream anymore. It’s about everything Ricky has held close to his chest for the last year. 

Gyuvin splutters, throws his hands up in exasperation, “What the fuck, Ricky. You’re twisting my words and you know it.”

Maybe he is twisting his words, but it doesn’t matter what Gyuvin’s mouth says, the truth lies in the actions, and what Gyuvin does is nothing. 

“No, you might think I’m shit at Korean, that I’m dumb, but I understand perfectly. You don’t want to fight for me.” He turns away after speaking, can’t look at Gyuvin’s face anymore, stomps into the bathroom to get away from him.

But—Gyuvin follows after him, his voice raising to meet his, “Fuck you. All I do is fight for you, tear myself apart to be with you.”

“Be with me, huh?” They’re crowded in the small bathroom now, Ricky back hitting against the tiled counter, with Gyuvin staring down at him, “We’re not even together, you’re too afraid to say it, because you’re a coward.”

He can see how the words sting Gyuvin, his face wincing, and he tilts his head up to the ceiling, an attempt at holding back his tears.

“I’m trying to do what’s best, I thought you understood that? This is all new to me too you know, don’t you think I’m also trying to figure it out?”

“I’m done waiting for you to figure it out, when I already know the answer.”

And that was the thing—Ricky had known the answer from the very beginning, that selfishly liking Gyuvin was a bad idea, that letting themselves get lost in what they wanted rather than what they needed would never end happily. 

Exhaustion seems to take over Gyuvin, his face dropping and his voice returning to a normal level, defeated. 

“You seem to know everything, don’t you, Ricky? Seem to know my own feelings better than myself. I’ll go along with whatever answer you’ve invented for me to say since that’s what you want so much.”

“Good. Fine.”

He brushes past Gyuvin, their shoulders touching, and it’s the first time their bodies have made contact, burns so badly that he almost turns around and burrows himself back into the safety of Gyuvin’s comforting warmth, almost gathers all the harsh words and stuffs them back into his mouth.

He should feel triumphant, that Gyuvin had submitted to Ricky’s jabs, that his point was proven, but all he feels is bitter bile rising in his throat and numbness in his limbs as he throws open their bedroom door into the hallway.

Outside stands Zhang Hao, eyes full of concern and his mouth falling open in surprise. 

“Ricky?” Zhang Hao inhales sharply at Ricky’s current state.

His eyes are blurry, stumbles forward, and Ricky collapses into his arms. 

[APRIL 2035]

“Shen Ricky!” Zhang Hao yells out, is pulling him into a hug before he can even cross the threshold of the apartment. 

He smells fresh and clean, like laundry detergent and sunshine, takes a deep inhale in the circle of his arms. Zhang Hao flutters around him, grabs slippers for him and starts dragging his suitcase inside.

“Sorry for asking so last minute,” Ricky apologizes. 

Zhang Hao waves him off, “It’s not a bother, we’re happy to have you stay here.”

Hanbin emerges from the bedroom next, freshly showered and still toweling off his hair. When he meets Ricky’s gaze his face lights up, “Ricky!” He proclaims excitedly, scoops him into a short and tight hug.

It’s his first time in Zhang Hao and Hanbin’s shared apartment, and he takes it all in as the couple discusses bed sheets and pillows for the guest bedroom. It’s not small, but feels cozy and warm, a sharp contrast to the sleek minimalism of his penthouse in Shanghai. There’s houseplants dotted over the living room, and different trinkets that they’ve collected over the years on their travels, a tiny Eiffel Tower from Paris, an elephant from Thailand, a ceramic pot from Brazil. 

“Here, have some tea,” Zhang Hao is pushing a mug into his hand, “Just make yourself at home, we still need to prepare your bedroom a bit.”

“Sure,” Ricky replies, watches the pair float around the house in tandem, like two perfectly matched pieces of a whole.

Ricky sips his tea slowly, it’s still too hot, notices the gallery of photos hung on the wall facing the window. It’s a large array, many of the couple’s respective families, some of people he doesn’t recognize—friends they’ve made without him over the years, and of course—many of all of them. Taerae and Matthew at a restaurant smiling happily, Jiwoong and Hao with their heads huddled together, Yujin giving Gunwook a piggyback ride, and one selfie of all nine of them together on stage during their farewell concert.

He burns his tongue on his tea. 

He knew Gyuvin would be in their house, his presence, but he’s everywhere. Gyuvin holding Yujin tightly, Gyuvin with caked smeared on his face, laughing, Gyuvin reaching out his hand to the camera. 

There’s one of Gyuvin and Hanbin, posed together, smiling. And he knows—from the crisp suits they’re both wearing, from the white rose tucked into their pockets, from the banquet hall spread behind them—it’s from Gyuvin’s wedding day.

He’s so absorbed in the picture, he jumps when he feels something soft wrap around his ankle.

The tan cat stares up at him, gives a soft meow, before nuzzling its head against Ricky’s leg. He sets his mug of tea down carefully, squats down to let the cat sniff his fingers, before scratching the cat gently behind its ears.

“Ah, I see you’ve met Banji,” Hanbin appears, reaches down and scoops the cat easily into his arms, gives her a kiss on the head.

“I didn’t know you guys had a cat,” Ricky comments.

“We got her just a few months ago,” Hanbin explains, Banji happily curling up in Hanbin’s arms.

“Oh, I thought I sent you a picture of her,” Hao cuts in, “I must’ve forgotten, sorry. As you can see, she’s replaced me as Hanbin’s favorite.”

He wonders how many other things he’s missed, how much of the little details he will never know because he keeps them all at a distance. 

“You’re right,” Hanbin teases back, “Although, I think Ricky might be Banji’s favorite, look-”

Hanbin places the cat on the ground, all of them watching as Banji scampers over to Ricky’s side again and meows, asking for attention.

“See!”

Hao laughs, “Wow, she never reacts like that around the others, she’s usually pretty shy. She even bit Gunwook the other day.”

“She must sense that Ricky is a fellow cat,” Hanbin explains, Ricky rolling his eyes but bending down to stroke Banji’s fur again.

“Here, let me show you your room,” Zhang Hao leads them to the bedroom, Banji following loyally on Ricky’s heels. “It’s kinda small.” A bed and a dresser are both shoved inside the space, “But it gets the best lighting.” Hao throws open the curtains to the window, the room immediately bathed in a sunset glow. 

“It’s fine, we used to share bunk beds back at Yuehua, don’t you remember? This is a castle,” Ricky laughs.

Hao smiles then sighs, reaches over and grasps Ricky’s hand in his, “I really missed you, Ricky. it’s been too long.”

He squeezes Hao’s hand, “I missed you too.”

And it’s probably the most truth he’s said in a long time. 

Hanbin is leaning against the door frame, “Let’s go let Ricky get settled,” He says to Hao, “He can rest a bit while you cook dinner. We can all catch up more then.”

“Hao is going to cook dinner?” 

“Hey!” Hao protests. 

Hanbin laughs, “He’s gotten a lot better at cooking, I swear.”

It’s all so achingly familiar, stirs something deep in his chest. 

They leave Ricky, Hao giving his hand one final pat, closing the door softly behind them. Banji stays behind, hops onto the bed and onto Ricky’s lap.

“You’re a lucky cat,” He says simply, Banji purring in response to Ricky’s gentle pets, watches the sun set slowly on Seoul.

[MARCH 2024]

When snow melts, you don’t notice it at first. You’re walking down the chilly, winter road and it becomes mushy under your feet, no longer hardly packed together, impenetrable. It trickles slowly into water, until you look around and can’t remember what snow looked like in the first place.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Yujin asks. 

They should be in a cold war, not speaking, not seeing each other, but it’s an impossibility in such close proximity. Even so, the whole group notices their sudden distance with each other.

He’s surprised by Yujin’s approach to him, had assumed Yujin would naturally gravitate towards Gyuvin in the war rather than him.

“I’m fine,” He lies to Yujin, but Yujin seems to know and still accepts this, stays in close distance to him but doesn’t push any further. 

Zhang Hao is the only one he talked to about it, the night it all happened.

Had found him completely broken, held his hand until it didn’t feel like his lungs were completely filled with water, but even then—he only tells Hao half the truth. We fought, it was so bad, I don’t know what to do. Doesn’t tell him about hotel rooms or kissing or silver rings, even though he’s sure Hao assumes. 

The first time the snow no longer crunches beneath his feet is in the practice room. 

They have a choreography where they’re paired together and it’s torturous. They repeat the move over and over, until it’s perfect, until Ricky is ready to cut off his hands at the wrist so he no longer has to feel Gyuvin’s body under his touch.

They barely speak, just the bare minimum to work together, and Gyuvin avoids his gaze at all costs, makes himself scarce in their room, his absence so heavy it weighs on Ricky’s shoulders. 

He misses him. Knows he’s the one who threw down the gauntlet that began the battle, knows the cavernous feeling in his chest is a bit of his own doing. 

He watches Gyuvin in the practice room mirror, his cap pushing the hair off his forehead to reveal his dark brows, his body swimming in his oversized shirt, eyes concentrated on the dance. 

There’s still things he’s worried about, things he’s not sure are fixable, but that doesn’t stop Ricky’s heart from still liking him. 

He’s lost in his thoughts, should be paying more attention, doesn’t move in time and Gyuvin bumps against him harshly, Ricky stumbling and hitting the floor. 

But—Gyuvin stops everything, whips around and squats down on the floor next to him, the music cutting off when their teacher realizes they’ve both paused. 

“Are you okay?” Gyuvin pants out, looks at him for the first time, his brown eyes full of worry.

“I think,” Ricky tries to control his breathing, attempts to stand and feels a sharp twinge of pain shoot down, “I think I twisted my ankle.”

“Should we go get the trainer?” Hanbin comes closer to examine. 

“He’s on the other side of the building with the trainees,” Their teacher explains. “It’ll take a few minutes for him to come.”

“No,” Gyuvin breathes out harshly. He doesn’t hesitate, grabs Ricky by the arms and hoists him onto his back, begins piggybacking him out of the room before anyone can protest. 

Ricky wraps his arms around Gyuvin’s neck, Gyuvin gripping on to his legs tightly so he doesn’t slip off as he races down the hallway.

From this close he can smell Gyuvin’s familiar scent, woody and fresh, inhales it selfishly with his face buried on the side of his neck.

“Gyuvin,” Ricky starts, “M’sorry. I didn’t move in time.”

Gyuvin shakes his head, “I’m sorry I bumped into you.”

It’s not what they should be apologizing for, so many words left unsaid at the tip of his tongue, but it’s still a small olive branch. 

They find the trainer, Gyuvin gingerly delivering Ricky to be examined. He waits, watches Ricky get his ankle be looked over for as long as he can until he’s called back to practice.

There’s a moment where Ricky swears Gyuvin wants to say something, watches his mouth fall open and then promptly shut, watches Gyuvin disappear back down the hallway without a word. 

“Your ankle isn’t sprained,” The trainer determines, “Just rest and ice it, and it should be better by tomorrow.”

He had forgotten the pain. It had melted away as soon as he had felt Gyuvin’s strong grip around him.

He sees the first rays of sunshine over the snowy horizon after a long practice, so long Ricky had collapsed on his bed as soon as he entered the door, his whole body aching and sore. 

He remembers thinking that he needs to get up, needs to shower and get ready for bed, but he’s buried under a thick blanket, so tired that it doesn’t take long for him to drift off to sleep.

It feels like a dream at first—a cool hand wrapped around his wrist, his phone slipped out of his hand, the telltale ping of the phone being plugged into the charger. 

Half awake, but he knows it’s Gyuvin, by his scent, by the sound of his breathing. Ricky doesn’t dare open his eyes, doesn’t move. He shivers a bit, when Gyuvin’s hand leaves his touch, realizes he kicked off the blankets in his sleep, and the whole room is so cold. 

It’s so quiet, it’s easy to hear Gyuvin’s thoughts—the shiver, the soft steps across the room, the click of the air conditioner being turned off. 

Ricky doesn’t breathe, squeezes his eyes shut tighter. 

He thinks it’s over then, listens to the sound of the sink running in the bathroom, hopes he can just drift off to sleep.

But he’s there again, feels Gyuvin’s large hands cup his face, a warm washcloth pressed to his cheek first, then his eyes, then his forehead, slowly and gently removing every trace of makeup. Ricky doesn’t move, lets himself be wiped clean, listens to Gyuvin’s soft hums as he works. 

He feels fuzzy all over, like being wrapped in a warm coat, should stop Gyuvin and tell him he can do it himself, but it’s so nice to be taken care of, and he’s so tired. His feigned sleep soon turns real, the icicles on the window outside dripping, dripping.

He notices the grass between the snowdrifts when they’re in a dressing room, still feels icy cold but there’s green peaking through. 

The words come out of the manager’s mouth a little too harshly, a little demeaning, like he’s speaking to a toddler. 

Ricky opens his mouth to answer but-

“Don’t speak to him like that.” Gyuvin’s face is blank, but he can feel the anger emanating off of him like a rolling tide, had raised out of his chair to stand next to the sofa Ricky is resting on.

“I was just explaining,” The manager replies placidly, “This has nothing to do with you, Gyuvin, go finish your outfit fitting.”

“It doesn’t mean you can speak to him like that,” Gyuvin continues, “If you’re having trouble communicating you can ask me or Hao or Matthew to help.”

He grabs Gyuvin’s wrist, and the boy finally glances at him, can feel the fire in his eyes subside slightly when he looks at Ricky, “It’s okay, I can handle it.”

The manager narrows his eyes at them, but continues, explains what he needs clearly to Ricky, no longer condescending. 

And Gyuvin doesn’t leave his side, let’s his fingers stay wrapped around his wrist, is a solid anchor holding him in place. 

“Thank you,” Ricky says simply, when the manager leaves and his hand drops back down by his side.  

“Of course,” Gyuvin replies. 

He wants it to be spring, wants it to be warm enough that he can’t feel the bitter winter on his face any longer.

Gyuvin and Hanbin leave the dorm and don’t come back for hours.

It’s not something of concern, until they return and both freeze in place when they see Ricky sitting in the living room, like the topic of their conversation had manifested right before their eyes. Maybe it’s just a suspicion, but he can tell by Gyuvin’s stricken face, and Hanbin’s sharp gaze that Hanbin knows the truth—the whole truth—of Ricky and Gyuvin’s relationship. And, even worse, Gyuvin has clearly been crying, his eyes swollen and his nose a ripe red. It makes Ricky’s breath hitch, and he’s scrambling up and letting his feet carry themselves to Zhang Hao’s room before he can think it through. 

He bursts into the room, registers that it’s not just Zhang Hao inside, Gunwook looks up from his computer at the disturbance, finds himself spilling his guts anyways. 

“I think I fucked up.”

“What’s going on?” Gunwook asks, Zhang Hao frowning, already privy to part of what battles Ricky was facing. 

“I think I hurt Gyuvin—badly,” Ricky admits, sinks down to sit next to Zhang Hao, Gunwook sitting up to listen attentively. “He hurt me too, though.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Zhang Hao questions, and it’s clear in the tone of his voice what he’s alluding to, if Ricky is ready to say the whole story, in front of Gunwook.

Ricky nods, because somehow, he’s begun to feel safe among all these boys, that the things he may have previously only shared with Zhang Hao, can be passed easily from his lips to all of them now and know they won’t use it against him. 

“Me and Gyuvin…were hooking up for a while.” It’s freeing to say, the bird in his chest finally released, somehow makes it real now that it’s open to their small world, even if Gunwook’s eyebrows jump up in shock and Zhang Hao lets out a sharp breath. 

“But I wanted more, or maybe he wanted more too, it’s kinda unclear,” Ricky continues, Zhang Hao reaching to hold his hand tightly, “And we both knew being in a relationship would be too complicated considering this.” Ricky gestures around at the three of them, the complications, the group, the world, the reality.

“It was fine, until it wasn’t. Because the fact that Gyuvin doesn’t want to…” He struggles to get the next words out, the thorn still sharp in his chest, “...Doesn’t want to be in a relationship with me. Made it hurt even more when he didn’t defend me like I wanted him to.”

He doesn’t realize there’s tears running down his cheeks until Gunwook crosses the room to sit next to him, wraps a reassuring arm around his shoulders. The roommates still don’t speak, let Ricky finish his words fully.

“And I kinda yelled at him? I wanted to hurt him, told him that he didn’t care about me and made him feel bad for it. But he had made me feel bad, too, like I was worthless. And now he cries and defends me, and it hurts so much. And I miss him, but it feels like it’s too late to tell him that.”

The words come out in a rush between tears, and he feels Zhang Hao’s gentle hand brush them away. 

“Do you want my opinion?” Gunwook asks when it’s clear that Ricky has nothing left to say. 

And he nods because he realizes he does want Gunwook’s opinion, someone he has learned is pragmatic and smart, but is also kind, will tell him the truth in the gentlest of ways. 

“You hurt each other, but it’s not to the point of no return.”

Zhang Hao nods in agreement, “I think if you want to fix it, you can.”

Gunwook continues, “It sounds like you didn’t tell him what you wanted from him, and he didn’t tell you either. So you were both being hurt by those unmet and unsaid expectations. So, if you want to, you should talk to him about it—what you want.”

Ricky lets out a shuddering breath, leans into Gunwook a little more. 

“But, what if he doesn’t want me anymore?” Or never wanted him in the first place? It’s what Ricky had feared all along, why he never pushed for more, never voiced what he wanted from Gyuvin, the possibility of rejection.

“Then it will hurt like a bitch,” Gunwook laughs, and Zhang Hao slaps him slightly on the shoulder, but it makes Ricky smile for the first time in a while. “If that happens, then Hao and I will take you to eat ice cream and we’ll watch a drama together and cry.”

Ricky snorts, but his heart feels a little lighter, a little less like a shattered mess of a fragmented glass.

“But,” Zhang Hao cuts in, “I really don’t think that’s what Gyuvin wants.”

Ricky takes a deep, shuddering breath, can’t let his mind take in this possibility, not until it’s true. 

“Thank you, for talking to me,” Ricky says quietly. 

“Thank you for trusting us with this,” Gunwook replies simply, gives Ricky’s shoulders one more squeeze before letting him go.

As he exits their room, now with his own tear-swollen eyes and tear-stained cheeks, Zhang Hao pulls him aside again.

“You know, Hanbin and I…” Zhang Hao’s grip on his arm is tight, almost bruising. “We have experience in this.”

It’s what Ricky had known all along, even if the couple never said it aloud, but it feels confirming to hear it from Zhang Hao’s lips.

“We could talk. All four of us, about what this means. About how we handle things, at least. If you want.”

Ricky nods, pats a reassuring hand on Zhang Hao’s own. It’s the first time he’s seen the older boy truly nervous, feels solace in that he’s not the only person in the world that feels so strongly that it’s scary to say it aloud.

“It’s still a secret,” Zhang Hao says seriously, looks at Ricky sharply, something Ricky doesn’t have to be told twice, “And I would do anything for Hanbin. But I would do anything for you too, for both of you.”

[APRIL 2035]

It’s kinda sickening to see Zhang Hao and Hanbin up close like this.

In the group, they were together, but had to keep some reservations still, to maintain a level of reasonable doubt. 

But now—there’s nothing holding them back as Zhang Hao feeds Hanbin a spoonful of rice with no remorse, with no inkling of how it haunts Ricky of what could’ve been.

They were never like Zhang Hao and Hanbin, there were more differences than similarities, but still he can’t help to compare. Can’t help imagining having a cozy apartment in Seoul with him, a place for a pet cat and memories lined on shelves, and knowing there is someone waiting for you when you come home. 

It’s hard to be upset or jealous of them though, when it’s clear how happy they are together. 

“You should come take a class at the studio,” Hanbin tells Ricky around his mouthful of food. 

“Ah,” Ricky replies, takes a careful sip of broth. (Which he begrudgingly admits, Zhang Hao has gotten better at cooking). “I haven’t danced in a long time, hyung.”

Hanbin brushes this off, “You were at a high enough skill level that you would pick it back up quickly.”

Hanbin is too kind to him, considering he knows how close he is to Gyuvin, considering he was still too nervous even now to tell Hanbin his side of the sordid tale.

“Maybe,” He replies to placate Hanbin, but he has no intention of stepping in that studio and reliving everything.

“Gunwook and Yujin have been coming to the studio a lot,” He comments offhandedly, but it makes the food in Ricky’s stomach turn cold, “It would be fun to do a class together.”

He can tell what they’re doing. Introducing the thought slowly, giving him little nibbles at a time before wrenching his mouth open wide to swallow the whole thing. He doesn’t like it though, feels like he’s being backed into a corner to confront something he never asked for. 

“Do you want to see them?” Zhang Hao asks carefully, like he’s approaching a wounded bird.

“No.” He says it too quickly, too coldly, can see Hanbin shifting uncomfortably in his seat. 

Zhang Hao doesn’t back down though, looks him straight in the eyes, “Why not?”

“I’m not friends with them anymore. What would be the point?”

“You might not consider them family anymore, but they still do,” Zhang Hao says it with no venom in his tone, just a plain truth.

Ricky scoffs, “A family you don’t even speak to?”

Hanbin frowns at this, looks like he wants to add to the conversation, but stays silent, turns to Zhang Hao instead.

It’s then that Zhang Hao grows upset, his mouth downturned and his eyes sad, “I love you, Ricky. And I love them too. It kills me inside knowing I don’t get to have you all together. Please, if not for yourself, do it for me.”

It’s hard. He wants to scream at Zhang Hao, at both of them, that to see them is to allow them to see the broken shell of a human he’s become, to see the monster, and he can already imagine them running away in fear. Perhaps they do miss him, but they miss a version of Ricky that no longer exists. 

“If he doesn’t want to, we can’t force him,” Hanbin interjects, and he watches Hao visibly deflate.

He had come to Seoul with determination, had set out to face the past, but his resolve had crumbled in just a few hours. It was humiliating, to still be so weak, and so he takes a deep breath before his next words, hopes he doesn’t regret it. 

“I’ll meet them. But just Gunwook first, please. I don’t think I can face them both yet.”

Zhang Hao nods, “Okay, we can do that.”

It’s a baby step. Just a small fragment of the broken mirror being clasped in Ricky’s hand, but the shard of glass has already broken skin, can already feel faint from the blood loss. 

“It takes bravery to confront someone, I’m proud of you.”

He doesn’t feel proud though, just guilty with a knot pulling itself taut inside of his stomach.

[APRIL 2024]

Their room is uncharacteristically warm as he enters.

Gyuvin usually runs hot, will crank the AC and complain about the hot summer days, so it’s alarming that the room is at such a high temperature. He sees Gyuvin then, buried under a pile of blankets, his face red and sweaty, shivering, clearly feverish. 

The boy has his eyes scrunched shut, like he’s sleeping, but the sickness is still chasing him in his mind, unrelenting.

He’s never taken care of a sick person, racks his brain for what would help. He returns with a cool washcloth, carefully dabs the sweat away from Gyuvin’s forehead. Gyuvin stirs in his sleep, his face still troubled like he’s having a bad dream. He’s about to move away, go look up what medicine to buy for fevers, when Gyuvin blearily opens his eyes. 

“Ricky,” Gyuvin breathes out, reaches and grabs Ricky by the wrist. “Can you bring me some water? Please?”

It’s then that he notices it. The metal, warm from Gyuvin’s fever, but clearly pressed against his wrist—the ring. 

“Sure,” He replies softly, pads out of the room, his heart pounding with every step. The ring, the ring, the ring, he still wears it. 

He delivers the water to Gyuvin’s bedside, watches him sit up to drink it in large gulps, the ring glimmering in Ricky’s eye with every movement. A beacon of hope, sat plainly in front of him. The boy flops back down on the bed and shuts his eyes again, twists the ring between his fingers, like it's a piece of comfort even in his fever-hazed mind. 

“Gyuvin,” Ricky says quietly, “I miss you.”

Gyuvin’s eyes pop open, surprised.

“You…miss me?” It’s asked so innocently and vulnerable, a soft pang in Ricky’s chest.

“Yeah,” Ricky moves the sweaty bangs off his forehead, caresses his palm against the hot skin, “I really miss you.”

Gyuvin is staring at him, mouth agape, his cheeks flushed and red, beautiful, even now. 

Ricky leans down, kisses him delicately and chastely, Gyuvin making a small noise at the back of his throat. Gyuvin, rather weakly, pulls Ricky on top of him, kisses him needily and hungry. 

“You’re gonna get sick,” Gyuvin complains, but doesn’t stop, lets Ricky run his tongue over the seam of Gyuvin’s burning mouth.

“I don’t care.”

It’s clear that Gyuvin is frail from sickness, can barely hold his head up to kiss him properly, but Ricky doesn’t mind, peppers small kisses on Gyuvin’s face, on his neck, on his chest, is happy to just have Gyuvin in his hands again. 

Gyuvin is panting from the small exertion, “We still need to talk about—stuff…”

Ricky sits up, looks at Gyuvin fully, finds Gyuvin’s ring-clad finger and laces their hands together. 

“I know,” Ricky catches his lip between his teeth, still nervous even though he thinks he knows the answer now, “When you’re not sick, okay?”

It takes Gyuvin three days to recover from his illness, and it takes Ricky three days to catch it instead.

“I told you,” Gyuvin teases, kisses a line down Ricky’s throat with Ricky lying weak beneath him. 

“It was worth it,” Ricky sighs, as Gyuvin mouths at the spot behind Ricky’s ear that he likes so much.

The fever makes his head ache and his limbs feel leaden, but it’s a small sacrifice to feel Gyuvin’s gentle weight atop of him, to feel his hands in his hair, to feel Gyuvin’s warm gaze wash over him.

When they’re both well again, they sneak out of the dorm, wander their way to the river, to the same spot they sat only a year ago when it was still unclear if they would debut, when Ricky realized he couldn’t let go of Gyuvin no matter what. 

“I’m sorry,” Ricky starts, watches Gyuvin’s face soften instantly. “I was upset at everything happening, and I took it out on you. I just wanted you to notice I was hurting and to do something about it.”

The breeze blows across the water, but the air is warm and soft, the beginning of spring blowing Gyuvin’s dark hair gently. 

Ricky continues, “I should have just told you, though. But I was scared.”

Gyuvin looks around, makes sure no one is watching, before lacing their fingers together and placing their intertwined hands in the pocket of his denim jacket. 

“I’m sorry, too. I should have fought for you, should have set the whole world on fire for you.”

Ricky shakes his head, “I accused you instead of just asking you. That was wrong of me.”

Gyuvin hums, watches the sun slowly dipping below the horizon. 

“I didn’t like that you yelled at me,” Gyuvin continues, “Didn’t like that you assumed I didn’t care about you.”

He reaches out this time, cups Gyuvin’s cheek under his palm and feels the warm skin beneath his fingertips, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, shouldn’t have yelled.”

Gyuvin sighs in relief, “I think this happened because we didn’t talk to each other. So you have to promise me, promise me you’ll talk to me when something is hurting you.”

“I promise,” Ricky replies, thinks of all the promises he’s given to Gyuvin over the last years, knows this one is the most important. “Promise me you’ll tell me too.”

“Yes, I promise you. I’ll start by being honest now.”

Gyuvin shifts, close enough their knees are touching, takes a deep breath to compose himself before speaking. 

“You scare me a lot, Ricky,” Gyuvin admits, “Scare me because I can’t control myself around you. I tried for a long time not to like you, pushed it out of my mind so I wouldn’t have to deal with it.”

Ricky watches the planes of Gyuvin’s face, so familiar now, the slope of his nose, the way his eyelashes flutter, his pink mouth, can see both the Gyuvin of now and the sixteen year old Gyuvin he had just met. 

“And then you kissed me and I-” Gyuvin chokes up at the words, “It scared the hell out of me. Because all I wanted was to kiss you again and again and I just grew hungrier. But then in LA, I convinced myself that having you like that would be enough to quench the hunger, but it still wasn’t enough.”

“I’m scared too,” Ricky confesses quietly, “Wanted more but was too scared, too.”

Gyuvin, smiles wetly, “I knew you felt that way, but I was still too afraid to do anything about it. Knew I was hurting you. What you said before, about me being a coward, you were right. I was scared, but I don’t want to be anymore.”

Ricky frowns, “You’re not a coward, you were just doing what you thought was right.”

“I was,” Gyuvin agrees, “But I realized I was wrong. Because the scariest thing wasn’t to be with you, it was losing you.”

His breath hitches in his throat, can feel every cell in his body turning to liquid water. 

“So I’ll try to be brave. I don’t want just a tiny piece of you, Ricky, I want all of you, in every way possible.”

“Gyuvin…” 

“I’ve already wasted so many years, hours, minutes, not loving you fully, I can’t waste any more. Please, be my boyfriend? And we can stop being scared together, can keep our promises together.”

It’s what Ricky had wanted to hear for so long, but it still doesn’t feel real, even as he peers into Gyuvin’s honest eyes, feels his fingers grips him tightly.

“Yes.”

The smile that graces Gyuvin is sunbeams and starlight, so special in his contents that Ricky thinks it could be a painting, a perfect portrait that would be brushed in warm colors. 

They stumble home together, giddy and desperate, cling on to each other, no space between them, nothing left unsaid between them.

“I want to kiss you,” Gyuvin whispers in his ear when they’re still too many blocks from home. 

And it’s dangerous, risky, but he’s ready to face every risk with him. Frantically, he pulls Gyuvin behind the awning of a building with a thick copse of trees, hides them from the view of the street. Kisses him recklessly with Gyuvin’s back pressed against the cement wall and his arms wrapped around Ricky’s waist. 

Anyone could still find them like this, with Gyuvin’s lip bitten between Ricky’s teeth, with panting breaths passed from mouth to mouth, but it’s worth it, worth every chance to call Gyuvin his. 

Chapter Text

[MAY 2024]

“This is our first date, don’t you think?”

Ricky looks around at the drab, unassuming street they’re sitting on, an ice cream in Gyuvin’s hand that he’s hungrily biting down as they wait in between music show recordings.

“This?”

Gyuvin nods, smiles happily as he licks down his ice cream.

“I think we can do a bit better than me buying you ice cream and sitting on a hot curb,” Ricky grumbles.

Gyuvin laughs, “But I like it. It’s us.”

“I’ll take you on a real date,” Ricky declares, is already mentally cataloging all the beautiful places Gyuvin deserves to be taken.

“Are you saying that this isn’t a real date? That this isn’t good enough for you?” Gyuvin squawks in faux-annoyance. 

Ricky rolls his eyes, “No, eating ice cream while we are waiting to be called back to work isn’t actually my idea of romance.”

“What’s your idea of a perfect date then, Mr. Romantic?” Gyuvin giggles. 

Ricky considers it seriously, even if Gyuvin is asking in jest, “Somewhere nice, where you have to dress up. Somewhere intimate, where it feels like it’s just the two of you in the whole world. And of course, with someone you can’t take your eyes off of.”

“That sounds like when we hang out in the dorm,” Gyuvin replies, finishing his ice cream with a final swallow. 

Ricky scoffs, “In what possible way does that sound like the dorm?”

“Well,” Gyuvin scoots closer to him, puts his mouth right next to his ear so he can feel his hot breath as he speaks, “We dress up in there, or don’t dress sometimes. And it’s pretty intimate, or at least we get pretty intimate. And I definitely can’t take my eyes off of you.”

“Your bar for romance is pretty low,” Ricky refutes, making Gyuvin pout. “I’ll take you to an actual nice place, and you’ll see.”

“Ah, my Ricky-hyung takes care of me so well,” Gyuvin teases, and Ricky chokes on the drink he was sipping. 

“Your, what?”

“My Ricky-hyung,” Gyuvin is smirking, has wrapped a hand around Ricky’s bicep as he says the words, and Ricky hates the blush that rises to his cheeks. 

“You’re crazy,” Turns his head away so Gyuvin can’t see how much it makes his heart race.

“Crazy about you,” Gyuvin replies in the cheesiest voice, and Ricky likes it so much.

“Yeah,” Ricky breathes out, “I’m crazy too. Crazy for liking someone like you.”

Gyuvin gasps, shoves him lightly, but they have matching wide smiles on their faces. 

They play a dangerous balance like this. Pushing boundaries—and having patience is no longer a familiar feeling, with Gyuvin so close in grasp, he drags him into the first empty closet he sees, kisses the lip gloss off his mouth. 

And the excuses are never enough—”They’re going to notice we’re missing”, “My makeup will be messed up”, “Wait until we are back home”. They say them anyways, a little game they play while reality waits outside.

“Mmph,” Gyuvin makes a noise into his mouth, smiling as Ricky licks across his teeth. Gyuvin’s phone buzzes in his pocket, and Ricky starts licking down his neck.

“Hello?”

Gyuvin tries to push Ricky off, motioning at the phone, but Ricky refuses, moves the fabric of his shirt down to suck on his collarbone.

“Come back to the dressing room,” Hanbin’s muffled voice comes down the line. “Bring Ricky too.”

“How do you know we’re together?” Gyuvin gasps, Ricky grinning to himself.

“I’m not stupid, now hurry.” The line clicks.

They had been sat down by Hanbin and Zhang Hao when it came out to the group they were an official couple, had been given advice on how to conduct themselves to the world, and they followed some of their advice, while other pieces were blatantly ignored. 

“Is Hanbin-hyung mad?” Ricky asks. Gyuvin shakes his head, looks at Ricky intently as he uses his fingers delicately to fix his hair and smudged mascara. 

“Ricky, you left a mark,” Gyuvin chides, when he looks down at his collarbone and sees the small red mark blooming. “What if someone notices?” And it’s another one of their excuses they ask but don’t mean, because Gyuvin is admiring the mark like it’s a work of art. 

“Maybe, I want the whole world to know you’re mine.”

[JULY 2024]

“It’s weird to not share a room with you anymore,” Ricky comments, is hanging his final pieces of clothes in his closet as Gyuvin lays sprawled on his bed. 

“You gonna miss me?” Gyuvin smirks.

“Definitely not,” Ricky says, but he’s carefully watching the way the muscles of Gyuvin’s arms flex in the tank top he’s wearing, and he suddenly doesn’t mind the pressing heat of summer, “Your room is like three steps away from mine, there’s no time to miss you.”

Gyuvin pouts, “I miss you even when you're in the same room as me.”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Ricky argues back, throws one of the many hoodies of Gyuvin’s that seemed to have gotten mixed into Ricky’s clothes at Gyuvin, but Gyuvin seemed unwilling to take them back.

“I kinda like that we don’t share a room anymore,” Gyuvin comments, his quick eyes dancing to see Ricky’s reaction.

He knows Gyuvin too well now though, knows that to react is to fall into his trap. “That’s nice.”

“Aren’t you going to ask me why?” He draws out each word liltingly, stretches his arms up to reveal a peek of stomach, but Ricky doesn’t break easily.

“No.”

“Because,” Gyuvin continues regardless, “Now you can’t deny that you come to visit me on purpose, that you miss me too.”

He falls into the trap anyways, because he miscalculated the length of Gyuvin’s long arms, and how easily they grab Ricky by the waist and pull him onto the bed with him.

“I know you’re just as obsessed with me as I am with you, Kim Ricky,” Gyuvin teases. And he has no ammunition to deny these claims, because they’re true, the obsession has taken over his mind in every way, to the point that Ricky wonders if there’s something fundamentally wrong with him.

“Get out of my room,” Ricky argues, but it’s muffled by Gyuvin’s smothering grasp. Gyuvin is leaving wet messy kisses all over Ricky’s face, and even now, it’s embarrassing how much Ricky likes it, so with a final act of defiance, he pushes Gyuvin off and towards the door, the boy laughing but complying. 

“Okay, but leave the door unlocked, or I might get in trouble for breaking the lock.”

He closes the door on Gyuvin, clicks the lock pointedly.

“Hey!”

Gyuvin starts pounding on the door rapidly, a loud “Shut up!” being called down the hall by Taerae.

Ricky swings the door back open, sighs at Gyuvin’s smile of triumph.

“Go away, Gyuvin.”

“I’ll leave if you give me a kiss,” Gyuvin bargains, puckers his lips in jest.

“Fine,” Ricky pulls Gyuvin by the neck and leaves a dry peck on his lips.

Gyuvin shakes his head, “A real kiss, Ricky.”

Ricky rolls his eyes, pretends he doesn’t love it, because this is his favorite kind of flirting, the back and forth that keeps them on their toes, so he kisses Gyuvin for real, feels Gyuvin grin into his mouth. 

Jiwoong walks out of his room as they break apart, looks at them appraisingly, and Ricky flushes with embarrassment. Even with the whole group knowing the nature of their relationship, even as they all congratulated them and gave them warm hugs, Ricky still shies away from being affectionate in front of others. 

For a moment, he thinks Jiwoong will be gentle, that he will pass by without comment, but he reaches the stairs and turns his head over his shoulder, “Don’t let my presence stop you. But please be a little quieter, since we share a wall now.”

Gyuvin lets out a startled noise that turns into a giggle and Ricky is sure he’s completely red now. He slams the door in Gyuvin’s face, can still hear his pleased laugh through the walls.

In the middle of the night, he’s awoken by the sound of his door slowly opening and the familiar pattern of Gyuvin’s footsteps across the wooden floor. 

Maybe—just maybe—he left the door unlocked on purpose. 

He feels the bed dip, Gyuvin’s arm wrapping around Ricky and pulling him close so his back is flush against Gyuvin’s front.

“Ricky, m’sorry,” Gyuvin says quietly, muffled against Ricky, “I was thinking about you all alone and-”

His grip tightens and Ricky’s breath hitches in his throat as he feels Gyuvin’s hardness pressed against him. He stays silent though, listens to the way Gyuvin’s breath quickens and pretends to still be asleep.

“Rik,” Gyuvin says lowly, “I know you’re awake, please.”

Ricky feigns innocence, shifts his hips back in a sleepy huff, his ass pushing back into Gyuvin’s erection. 

Gyuvin groans into Ricky’s hair, his hand moving to press into Ricky’s stomach and grind against Ricky so slowly it’s torturous.

“You’re just going to just let me hump you like a sad puppy?” Gyuvin whines, continues pressing against him. 

Ricky doesn’t reply, but reaches hand back to push Gyuvin to grind faster, signaling to Gyuvin he’s awake, and he can practically feel the boy’s smirk in response.

“Mm, you like it, huh? That I’m so desperate for you?”

Gyuvin continues his movements, his hard cock pushing so deliciously against Ricky’s back he feels his own body responding in interest. Gyuvin is mouthing at his neck now too, kissing right over his tattoo, and his grip seems to tighten with each passing second. 

He’s been letting Gyuvin do most of the work so far, but hears Gyuvin’s breathy moan and can’t help himself from pushing his own hips back to meet Gyuvin’s, receives an even louder moan in response. 

“You’re so fucking hot. I could come like this, get messy all in my pants for you.”

Ricky whips around at his words, halts the boy in his tracks, “Don’t you fucking dare.”

Gyuvin looks pleased at Ricky’s strong reaction, and even in the darkness of the room Gyuvin’s eyes shine so brightly as he studies Ricky’s face. “And why is that, princess?”

“Because,” Ricky pouts, Gyuvin quirks his eyebrow up, questioning, “I want you to fuck me. So you can’t come yet.”

It’s the first time in a while he’s truly shocked Gyuvin, his mouth falling open and his hands suddenly shaky on Ricky’s body. Ricky lets himself get pushed back against the mattress, Gyuvin hovering over him with his wide eyes set intently.

“Are you…are you sure?”

Ricky nods, “Yes.”

Gyuvin doesn’t hesitate. Kisses him hard and fast, frantically strips them both of their clothes, stumbles and trips over himself running off the bed in search of lube, leaving Ricky giggling to himself at his sweet and clumsy boyfriend.

They’re not unfamiliar with each other’s bodies, have learned all the ways to touch each other and make each other gasp into each other’s mouths, but Ricky has never given all of himself, but he knows it should be Gyuvin. Knows he won’t regret it when Gyuvin links their hands together soothingly before pushing his first finger inside.

“Shouldn’t we wait? Until it’s somewhere more romantic?” Gyuvin asks, but doesn’t stop pumping his fingers into him.

Ricky scoffs, “Aren’t you the one who said our dorm is your idea of romance?”

“Yeah, but you said it wasn’t. Shouldn’t our first time be somewhere we both find perfect?”

Ricky bites down on his lip as Gyuvin curls his fingers just right, “Forget what I said, I didn’t know what I was talking about, this is perfect.”

Gyuvin giggles happily, “You? Admitting you’re wrong? The world really is ending.”

Ricky narrows his eyes, but doesn’t fight back, the tight heat spreading across his stomach and burning. “I’m not wrong, the dorm itself isn’t romantic. Just being anywhere with you is.”

Gyuvin pauses at this, moves to kiss Ricky sweetly on the mouth. He loves the way Gyuvin kisses him. Kisses him like the he’s on fire, like the world is ending. He licks into his mouth and begins moving his fingers at the same time and Ricky can’t help the needy whine that leaves his throat. 

“Ah, you are a romantic,” Gyuvin teases, kisses down Ricky’s chest.

“It was never a secret,” Ricky fights back, “Now, hurry up and fuck me.”

“Nevermind,” Gyuvin laughs, “That wasn’t romantic at all.” 

But he complies with Ricky’s request easily, pulls his fingers out slowly, takes his time lubing his own cock and lining it with Ricky’s entrance.

Gyuvin hesitates before pushing in, shifts his body to try and get the angle right, looks nervous and shaky.

 Ricky starts turning, “Would it be easier if I turned around? That way you could-”

“No,” Gyuvin cuts him off, places both his hands on Ricky’s waist to keep him place. “I want it this way. I want to see your eyes the whole time.”

He looks fiercely at Ricky as he says it, eyes flaming and warm, and Ricky doesn’t look away, swallows down the gaze heavily in his throat. 

Gyuvin pushes in then, excruciatingly slowly, inch by inch, Ricky gasping and crying out at each movement. 

“Is it okay? Does it hurt? Should I stop?” He asks each one between labored breaths, so sweetly and watching Ricky’s reactions dutifully. 

It’s their first time for both of them, but Ricky knows he’s ruined from the very first push inside. Because no one will ever compare to him—no one will ever look at him how he wants, kiss him like he wants, touch him like he wants. 

“Don’t stop,” He demands, and Gyuvin begins a slow rhythm.

“Look at you, my beautiful, Ricky.” 

Ricky feels himself flush all over at the compliment, can feel a trail of heat carving down his body at every place Gyuvin’s eyes reach.

In the quiet of the dorm, all he can hear is Gyuvin, the hot flush of his skin, his dark hair flopping over his forehead, and his hands grabbing onto Ricky like an anchor.  

“M’not going to last long, m’sorry, fuck,” Gyuvin confesses between breaths, his movements becoming more erratic.

 “It’s okay,” Ricky reassures.

Gyuvin comes suddenly, doesn’t pull out in time and spills halfway into Ricky, stutters and gasps into Ricky’s mouth.

He can hear church bells ringing in his head, beautiful and melodic, a time to worship and pray to the gods above for the divinity of this moment. It’s perfect, in a way that he can’t rationalize beyond a higher power placing it lovingly into Ricky’s hands. 

Gyuvin is still breathing heavily, noses up the side of Ricky’s jaw and kisses, wraps a hand around Ricky’s cock and whispers, “Let me.”

He’s loved Gyuvin for a long time, knows Gyuvin loves him too, but he hadn’t realized the extent until that moment, finds it easily nestled in the way in way Gyuvin gazes down at him, at how the whole world seems to hold its breath to watch in awe of how naturally he loves him.

He comes in Gyuvin’s hand, shakes under his touch until Gyuvin kisses him soothingly, placatingly. 

“I’ll get better at that,” Gyuvin says softly as their kisses have morphed into sweet honey, lazy and drawn out.

“Hm?” Ricky’s head is still fogged, can’t wrap his mind around anything except the way Gyuvin is so tender around him.

“I’ll get better at fucking you,” Gyuvin laughs, self-deprecating, but it makes Ricky stir.

“You were perfect, just like that. Perfect for me.”

Gyuvin smiles shyly, buries his face into Ricky’s shoulder, “Mm, okay. But tell me what you like?”

Ricky considers, brushes his fingers softly through Gyuvin’s hair, “There’s nothing particularly I like, I just like you.”

Gyuvin muffles a groan into Ricky’s throat, “If you keep saying stuff like that, I’ll get hard again.”

Ricky slaps his shoulder lightly, but he’s smiling, blushing.

“I like hearing the words though,” Gyuvin admits, grips around Ricky’s waist. 

Ricky has never been good with words, finds it hard to form his feelings perfectly into syllables, but he wants to try for Gyuvin, who savors each of his words like poetry.

“Sleep here tonight?” Ricky asks quietly, pushes closer into the warm safety of Gyuvin’s arms wrapped around him. 

“Of course, of course, I’ll always stay with you.”

[NOVEMBER 2024]

Most of the worries Ricky once held closely to his chest seem to fall away as he lets himself be washed away to sea by the way Gyuvin loves him.

He still worries—about too many things—about what would happen if someone that shouldn’t know finds out about the kind of love contained in their hearts, about how he appears in front of the camera, about whether he’s deluding himself into false security.

But all of these seem like minor holes in the rich tapestry that Gyuvin pieces together for him, and Ricky has never been happier, feels as though he never knew what happiness truly felt like until this moment in his life. 

Gyuvin is bathed in a sunset glow, his tan skin bare as he searches the room for his discarded shirt. 

Days melt together like this, and he worries that time is passing too fast, because he wants to take every moment with Gyuvin like a hard candy under his tongue, let it dissolve and be replaced with another before the flavor even fades.

He’s never been loved like this, so truthfully and wholly, and with each day with Gyuvin it becomes clear he will never be loved like this again.

So maybe the days pass quickly, but it’s comforting knowing that the love between them has no expiration, something that lives on forever.

“I love you,” He says suddenly, and Gyuvin turns and smiles, dazzling at him.

“Mm, I love you too,” He replies, leans over and leaves a chaste kiss on Ricky’s lips, seems as elated as the first time Ricky said the words.

He worries sometimes, that he doesn’t give Gyuvin enough, that Gyuvin’s loving is so overwhelming he can’t help but compare. 

“The words…’I love you’, do I say them enough?”

Gyuvin looks shocked at this, tilts his head in confusion. “You say them everyday.”

“Liar. I definitely don’t,” Ricky accuses, because he definitely doesn’t. Will sometimes be listening to the gentle breathing of Gyuvin sleeping and realize he hasn’t told Gyuvin he loves him in a week. 

Gyuvin considers this, uses the pads of his fingers brushes the hair out of Ricky’s eyes, “Maybe not in words, but with your hands, and your eyes, and your actions.”

“Is that enough though?” Ricky asks carefully, but Gyuvin is used to Ricky’s questioning nature, takes Ricky’s doubts easily in his hands and molds them into truth.

“It’s more than enough,” Gyuvin reassures, leaves another kiss on Ricky’s forehead.

“You’ll tell me if it’s ever not enough, right?”

“Of course.”

And that’s the reason it’s so easy for Ricky’s worries to be washed away, because he sees the dark, scary ocean beneath him, could probably be grasped by the ankle and pulled under the current and drowned, but Gyuvin is there, keeping him afloat, tilting his head up to look at the sunlit sky. 

[JANUARY 2025]

“You seem happy, Ricky.”

Yujin is laying with his head on Ricky’s lap, the fire in front of them crackling and warm. They’re sitting outside, despite the night and the winter cold beginning to press in, enjoying how brightly the stars shine in the countryside. 

It had taken planning and convincing, just a small window of time with a break in their schedule, but they take the small opening and pull it open wide—find a house on the outskirts of Chuncheon for them all to stay for a few days, just them.

“I am happy.”

It feels like all his ducks are in a row—Yujin tucked next to him, the sounds Matthew and Hanbin laughing in the distance, Jiwoong on a hammock, absorbed in a book, Gyuvin and Gunwook running off together to explore, Zhang Hao and Taerae lounged peacefully on the sofa.

“You’re different now, you know?” Yujin comments, “A good kind of different.”

Ricky smiles, “You’re different too, you hadn’t even gone through puberty when I met you. Or maybe you still haven’t.”

Yujin narrows his eyes, flicks him on the arm, “Asshole, I’m more grown up than you.”

Ricky laughs happily, “No way. You’ll always be my little brother.”

“I mean it though,” Yujin sighs, “I like this new Ricky.”

Ricky sees it too, not just because of Gyuvin, but because of all of them and the gentle way they love him, he’s different now. More confident, more sure of himself, doesn’t shy away from warm touches, because even if the doubts still creep in sometimes, there’s always someone’s shoulder to rest his head on.

“I like him too.”

There’s noises of Gyuvin and Hanbin squabbling in the distance, Matthew doubled over in laughter, and Yujin and Ricky both turn to watch them.

“I don’t…” Yujin pauses, “I don’t want to lose these people.”

Gyuvin is hugging Hanbin from behind, unable to escape his tight hold, Taerae noticing the commotion and joining in on the bullying of their leader. 

“You won’t,” Ricky reassures, “You can’t get rid of this that easily.”

Once the group manages to fully defeat Hanbin, Gyuvin catches his eyes and meanders over, bends down and leaves a soft peck on Ricky’s lips before sitting down next to them.

“What are you guys talking about?” Gyuvin asks.

Yujin turns to him, “None of your business, weirdo.”

His reaction is immediate, “Who are you calling a weirdo?” squeezing Yujin’s face between his hands, now both boys fighting on his lap.

“Ricky-hyung, please control your boyfriend,” Yujin whines, Ricky laughing into his hand. 

It’s funny, he realizes, because Yujin was the first person to ever call them that—boyfriends—even when it wasn’t true, was the first person to ask them if it was real. And now, when it’s the most true thing Ricky has ever known, Yujin is the first to make Ricky know that Gyuvin is not his only person he was born to love, that he was made to love all of them. 

“I think you can handle him yourself,” Ricky concedes, Gyuvin smiling appreciatively at him and Yujin groaning in response.

Gyuvin pauses suddenly, looks down at Yujin’s pink face, “Should we roast sweet potatoes in the fire?”

Yujin grunts, “We should.”

“Sweet potatoes?’ Matthew calls out.

Gyuvin jumps up, yelling loudly to the others about his impromptu plan of a late night snack. 

It’s easy, how they all gather around the fire with matching wide grins. Easy how they fall into each other and grip each other's arms tightly. They burn half the potatoes on the embers, but eat around the charred parts anyways. 

There’s so many things that burn Ricky, places all over that are scorched and unusable, but it’s easy to only find the soft and sweet parts when he looks at the people around the fire. 

[MAY 2025]

“I’m not taking it,” Gyuvin shrugs.

Ricky furrows his brow, “Why not? It seems like a good opportunity.”

A week ago, the offer had been served to Gyuvin on a silver platter, a small role in an upcoming drama. For as long as Ricky had known Gyuvin, the boy had never been an actor, but it made sense once Ricky saw the offer in front of him. That Gyuvin was so handsome and likable that the world would chase after him without even an audition. 

“I’m not that interested in acting. And because we’re nearing the end of our group promotions, I don’t want to miss any of it,” Gyuvin explains, nonchalant in brushing off something Ricky could only see as a good thing. 

It’s why they worked so hard wasn’t it? So opportunities like this could fall into their lap with no effort, so they could one day work at a pace that didn’t tax on their bodies so heavily. 

“You can do both, it’s stupid to waste this. You need to start thinking about what happens after the group, Gyuvin.”

Gyuvin’s expression sours, crosses his arms pointedly, “It’s my decision. And what is there to think about? We are going to debut together again.”

“Don’t be so narrow minded, you have to market yourself in as many ways as possible.”

It’s something Ricky had learned to understand fundamentally, that to capture the eyes of the public you had to constantly adapt, and it was something he thought Gyuvin understood too, worries about the world passing by him if he doesn’t keep their eyes on him. 

Gyuvin captures Ricky’s eyes with a stern gaze, unrelenting, “I value your advice, Ricky, but like I said, it’s my decision, so just drop it.”

It’s not uncommon for them to fight, a quarrel between lovers is somewhat inevitable especially when Ricky knows of both of their shortcomings—Ricky’s stubbornness, Gyuvin’s emotional lability. But this doesn’t feel like a fight, they’re both too calm, too placid. It’s more like standstill, two differing opinions coming head-to-head but with no real malice. 

“Fine.” Ricky concedes, waits for the fire to start, for the actual fight to happen, but it never comes.

Gyuvin turns away from him, lets Ricky slowly deflate. Gyuvin won’t show he’s upset, but he can feel it, the way he carefully calculates his movements and keeps his breathing steady. 

Maybe he disagrees, has trouble understanding Gyuvin’s point of view, but even if he doesn’t understand, he knows the true path is always to support Gyuvin, to place a gentle hand on Gyuvin’s face and trust him. 

Ricky approaches Gyuvin from behind, hugs him tightly around the middle, muffles his words with his face against Gyuvin’s shoulder “I’m sorry, you’re right, it’s your decision.”

Gyuvin relaxes into Ricky’s hold, melts into it for a moment before turning to face him in his arms. 

“Thank you, I’m not upset,” Gyuvin reaches and cups Ricky’s face in his hand, a small smile slowly gracing his lips, “I know you only were saying that because you care about me, hm?”

“Yeah, I do.” Ricky looks at Gyuvin’s eyes carefully, never gets tired of watching his brown irises light up when he says something Gyuvin likes. 

Gyuvin smooths his hands down Ricky’s back, soft and soothing, “I’ll be okay, though. Maybe I’ll get into acting when my path as an idol is over, but right now I want to follow it with you for as long as possible, okay?”

“Okay,” Ricky breathes slowly, his chest pressing into Gyuvin’s own, “I want that too.”

[APRIL 2035]

FROM: [email protected]

 

DATE: April 24, 2025

 

SUBJECT: i love you

 

my love,

 

do you remember the first time i told you i love you? i still don’t get sick of saying it, even now. i had loved you for a long time before i said it, but it finally came out when i couldn’t hold it in any longer, when it was too big to fit in my body. you know how i am, it’s hard for me to love quietly, and i'm so glad you let me love you loudly.

 

i used to think i love you because of who you are, and of course, that’s true, but i also love you because of who i am. because, i think my heart was designed to love you and be loved by you in return. you asked me if you say ‘i love you’ enough and i couldn’t answer fully—that i don’t need you to say it every day, because before time even began your love existed inside of me, like the cosmic matter of the universe. it feels like too much to say right now, but i’m hoping when you receive this, it’s something you know to be true. 

 

the words ‘love’ and ‘ricky’ just go together, don’t they? even the staff knew it way back then when they nicknamed you that. my lovely ricky, i love you ricky. i hope you never forget that. 

 

from,

your love

“Change of plans,” Rina explains. They’re sitting outside the van that had taken them to their shooting location, but the production had been paused when they saw the road blocked, had resulted in about an hour of Ricky waiting, itching to reach for one of the cigarettes in his pocket but made impossible by Xintong hovering over him. “They shut down the whole street for another production, we’ll need to move our location.”

“Can they do that?” Ricky asks, but he already knows the answer when he sees the size of the production happening.

There’s several cameramen getting into position behind the barricade, PAs and other crew bustling around to have everything in place. 

“You can if you’re owned by CJ ENM,” Rina nods her head towards the sign that proclaims that the street is blocked for a ‘CJ Entertainment and Media Production’. There’s a small crowd gathering, trying to peek at whichever star will emerge, the security staff taking notice and stationing themselves carefully. 

“Ah, I wonder who it is?” Xintong chimes in, “I could talk to them and get some good connections for you,” Xintong nudges Ricky’s arm.

Ricky scoffs, “You barely can speak Korean. How would you do that?”

“If we go a few streets over the temple will still be visible,” Rina interrupts, paying their squabbling no mind. 

He’s been working with Rina for a week now, has grown to like her in that short amount of time. She’s understanding of Ricky’s limits, knows when something is too much or too far, but also knows how to push when he needs it, challenges him to try things he may have shied away from.

The crowd around the barrier seems to take notice of Ricky then, hushed whispers moving through the crowd and eyes wandering.

“Let’s go,” Ricky announces, ducks down a side-street before anyone can snap a picture.

They find a new location quickly, the shrine beckoning in the distance as the hair and make-up team move to adjust Ricky’s appearance. 

“This will mostly be B-roll,” Rina explains, “Shots we will insert in between the footage we’ll film in Geumseonsa .”

Ricky nods, the cameras begin rolling and he poses carefully, lifts his chin and keeps his eyes sharp. 

“Have you ever visited a Korean temple before?” Rina asks, can feel the camera lens slowly zoom into his face and stick.

“Yes, once.”

It’s something Rina said was a part of her process, asking questions while they shoot, claiming that it makes the final product more authentic, allows her subjects to be more open and vulnerable. So, Ricky goes along with it. 

“Did you pray when you visited?”

“I did.”

“Did you pray in Korean or Chinese?”

Ricky laughs a bit, and then considers it, “Now that you say it, I think I did pray in Korean now that you mention it. Just felt right at the time.”

Rina smiles, the camera clicking in interest at Ricky’s change in expression, “Hm, interesting. When did you visit?”

He pauses—the circumstances of being so desperate that he turned to a higher power resurfacing.

“It was a long time ago. End of 2025.”

He glances at Rina, whose quick eyes have not deciphered what bubbles under the surface of Ricky’s skin. 

“Do you remember what you prayed for?”

“Not really.”

He’s not lying exactly—more of a half truth—he doesn’t remember what he prayed for, but he knows he had bowed forward, broken. It had been at dawn, the sky still a milky shade, remembers kneeling in front of the altar and pressing his forehead to the ground and begging, pleading for someone to fix everything.

It doesn’t phase Rina, his sudden clamming up, “What would you pray for now?”

He’s not religious, but still he knows what he would want, “Healing. Healing from the past.”

He’s forgotten the camera for a moment, lets his face morph into his true form as he says it, realizes and schools his emotions back into the usual expression. Rina nods at him, turns and instructs the cameraman again and the moment passes.

He feels naked and exposed, looks at the other staff around them and wonders if they also caught the brief moment Ricky let all his walls crumble down, but the world looks the same. Ricky takes a deep breath, pushes a hand against his ribs. 

They finish the shooting quickly, make their way back to their original spot where the other production is still in progress. A van with tinted windows had pulled up to the barricade in the meantime, the crowd now surrounding what must hold the stars being transported to the set. 

“Look,” Xintong points, but Ricky turns away. 

He can’t explain it, but feels something dark and foreboding clawing at his chest, tries his best to will it away. He only saw a glimpse of a dark mop of hair ducking behind the crowd, but something in his heart tells Ricky—run. 

“Hey,” Rina interrupts his spiral, their own team loading equipment into cars. “There’s a party in a few days that the CEO will be at. I think it would be a good idea for us to show face. He might make this the featured editorial of the month if he meets you and likes you.”

Ricky can barely process the words, feels his heartbeat thumping in his ears and tries to make distance between himself and the crowd. 

“Sure, I’ll go. Just let me know.” Brushes her off as quickly as possible. 

He’s not sure what is making him spiral, an instinct perhaps, but he throws himself into his own waiting car as quickly as possible, Rina giving him a funny look but waving goodbye as Xintong follows him in. 

“Are you okay?” Xintong asks, can easily pick up on Ricky’s moods.

He focuses on his breathing, in and out, closes his eyes and waits to feel the car moving beneath his body and away. 

“I will be,” Ricky replies. And it’s true, because the further they drive the less he feels the dark presence looming behind him. 

[NOVEMBER 2025]

In hindsight, Ricky should’ve seen how the cards in the deck were stacked against them. It was never a fair game, the dealer, the world, had tricks up their sleeves, and knew how to count cards, knew how to deal the most devastating blow possible. 

It’s odd, because Ricky wakes up the morning of the worst day of his life feeling good. Gyuvin kisses him awake, insists on making him a morning coffee despite the younger boy still refusing to drink the stuff himself. 

It’s cold outside, not cold enough to snow, just freezing enough for the wind to whip around them harshly, the four boys huddling together as they make their way into the company building, Ricky hugging Gyuvin’s coat around his chest to keep warm. 

He still doesn’t suspect anything at that point, they’re led to a conference room, Yujin spinning around in the cushy chairs, Zhang Hao examining the different drinks available on the table, and Gyuvin giving his shoulder a squeeze before flopping down in a chair himself.

Even when the CEO walks in with two lawyers on his heels, Ricky doesn’t feel uneasy, just excited to hear about their future plans, about how they will continue running together. 

“I’ll get straight to the point,” Moosung, the CEO explains, “We aren’t debuting you all together.”

It’s like a bomb exploded.

He doesn’t hear the explosion though, only the after effects, the acute ringing in his ear, the slices of shrapnel across his cheek, the remnants of destruction on fire all around him.

“What?” Zhang Hao’s voice is the first to cut through the echoing in his skull, his voice shrill and shocked. 

Gyuvin reaches over, slips his hand into his and holds on tightly.

“I know that was the assumption,” Moosung explains, barely registers the words as Ricky’s heart reaches his throat, and he suddenly feels like his morning coffee might make a reappearance on the conference room table. “Zhang Hao, you’ve built your fanbase here, and you will continue as a soloist. Gyuvin, you have the most potential future as an actor, and we will shift you to our media subsidiary. Yujin, we will have you lead our new boy group as the center member. And Ricky, you’ve grown your popularity substantially in China, so the decision was made to transfer you to the Chinese branch.”

Korea. Soloist. Actor. Group. China.

All the words bounce around the room but don’t stick, don’t feel real or true, lips forming around syllables, but Ricky feels like he’s five years old, a small child trying to figure out what the adults in the room are saying, not quite getting it, but knowing it’s bad, that he should run and hide. 

He can hear Gyuvin heaving next to him, sobbing, and he can’t look at him, just squeezes his hand so tightly he’s sure the bones in his fingers will snap and crumble. 

“So, there’s no need to be upset. Even though you won’t debut again together, we have made extensive plans for each of you.”

Zhang Hao pushes his chair back so harshly it slams against the wall behind him, his voice seething and red with anger, “I don’t want to be a fucking soloist. I want to debut with them like it was planned.”

“I don’t understand,” Yujin speaks too, but is calm and even-toned, despite the worried knitting of his brow, “If you want to debut a new group why not with all of us? Why can’t Gyuvin act and Hao have a solo and Ricky promote in China and we can all still be together, in a group?”

Gyuvin is crying too heavily to speak, and Ricky wants to argue, but feels like his throat has closed up, can barely breathe.

“It’s not that easy. Doing those things takes money and resources, and it’s been decided this is the best path financially for everyone. Yujin—all of you—are too young to understand. Just know we are doing what is best.”

It’s like a slap in the face. After all their hard work, their determination, to be shut down and separated so easily. That they aren’t worth the time, money, and resources spoken of so freely.

And it’s then the words finally sink in. The rest of them in Korea, him in China. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Isn’t this too fucking unfair?

“Please,” Gyuvin manages to choke out, his words wet and desperate. 

And Ricky finally looks at him. Feels his heart being ripped out of his chest, the irrevocable sadness on his lover’s face, so devastating that he wants to kill anyone who has ever made him upset, wants to travel to hell and back to fix whatever dealings went wrong along the way for them to end up here.

He wraps Gyuvin in his arms, doesn’t care what it looks like, what the company might assume, holds him tightly to his chest and feels Gyuvin gripping onto his shirt as his tears continue wetting the fabric.

“I’ll break my contract, we will all break our contracts,” Zhang Hao is all looking at them frantically, desperately.

Moosung takes a deep sigh, rubs his temples like this is just another headache of his stressful day and not the intentional murder of everyone in the room. “I thought you might say that.”

And the reason for the lawyers' presence becomes clear, flanking the CEO on each side like brutal armor, pulling out contracts and highlighting the fine print. The breaking of these terms will result in indemnity and the halting of all promotional activities within Korea for the span of five years, regardless of company representation.

It’s not the money as an issue, he could buy himself out of his contract easily, but the small stipulation, they would be banned from promoting themselves in Korea for five years, a practical death sentence for any idol’s career. 

He always knew, the entertainment industry is an unrelenting beast, a monster that would chew him up and eat him alive, but he thought he had built up some defenses by now, knew how to wield a sword and fight back, but it’s then he realizes he’s powerless, a mortal facing a God. 

“So, go ahead and break your contracts. But this is what is waiting for you. All other proceedings should be spoken through your lawyers, if you have one.”

And he rises from the table and shuffles out of the room, leaving them alone in the apocalypse. 

Yujin’s cool front collapses, his head dropping and tears dripping from his nose to his lap, Zhang Hao running to him and wrapping him in his arms.

Gyuvin still hasn’t stopped sobbing, is still cradled in Ricky’s arms like a glass doll, so close to shattering. 

“We’ll figure this out,” Zhang Hao reassures, but he’s sure it sounds like a lie, even to Zhang Hao’s own ears.

They're all at a crossroads, a decision to be made, but Ricky wonders if any of them noticed that Ricky’s path has no choice—either way he ends up back in China, away from them, away from Gyuvin. 

When the news spreads at the dorms, it’s like a second bomb is set off. 

Zhang Hao, who had remained strong for them, finally breaks when he’s pressed to Hanbin’s chest, Hanbin whispering words of comfort in Hao’s ear. 

They were all prepared for a certain amount of fracturing, the ending of one thing to birth another, but not like this, and it stings painfully for all of them as it becomes clear that they will all be pulled apart one by one. Nine precious grapes on a vine, meant to grow together splendidly and instead slowly picked and devoured. 

Gyuvin hasn’t let go of his hand.

Not as they walked out of the company building, not as they rode in the silent car ride back to the dorms, not as they spoke to the other members about the situation, not as they sit in Gyuvin’s room together on his bed.

“What do we do?” Ricky asks Gyuvin, asks himself. 

Gyuvin’s tears have finally subsided, washed over by quiet sadness instead, now at realizing the weight of what will happen to them.

When he finally speaks, it’s soft and earnest. 

“Ricky, I don’t care about this—all of this—it’s meaningless if I don’t have you.”

Ricky rests his head on Gyuvin’s shoulder, inhales his familiar scent and tries to memorize the exact way Gyuvin’s hand feels in his. “We don’t have a choice though.”

“Of course we do, there’s always a choice. And I choose to love you.”

“Gyuvin…”

Gyuvin cups Ricky’s cheeks in his hands, tilts his face up to look at him, “No, listen. I’ll break my contract. I’ll come with you to China, we can be together, okay?”

Ricky shakes his head, “You can’t do that. Give up your entire life, your entire career for me.”

“I don’t do this to be famous or make money, I do this to love and to be loved, and I’m already loved so preciously by you. I don’t need anything else but you.”

“Your life is here, Gyuvin, your family.” Ricky breaks away from his grasp. 

Gyuvin moves to rest his hands on his shoulders, “It’s not a life without you, don’t you get it?”

The air is still and silent, and Gyuvin is gazing at him desperately, like if he looks away for even a second, Ricky will melt and disappear. 

“Doesn’t it make more sense for me to break my contract? I can work in China still, and you can stay here and have the career you deserve.”

Gyuvin shakes his head now, “And be far away from you? I don’t think I can handle it, the distance. I’ll come with you, Ricky, please. I know you still have dreams, things you want to do.”

Tears begin pricking at Ricky’s eyes, and Gyuvin makes fast work of brushing them away. 

He does have so many dreams, things he wanted to do, to accomplish, but when he had imagined them, they always had included Gyuvin there, by his side. 

“What about your dreams? We both deserve to go after them.”

“My dream…is to be with you, Ricky. I’ll make new dreams, with you, in our new life. Okay?”

It doesn’t feel right—the Gyuvin he knows had so many dreams he could barely contain them inside his body. But they agreed not to hide things from each other, to speak honestly, so he takes the words as truth. 

“Okay, okay. We’ll go to China together.”

Ricky agrees too easily, too selfishly. He shouldn’t accept such dire terms, he should be calling the best lawyers in the world to pore over documents and figure out how to get out of this with minimal burns. 

But he’s in fight or flight, survival mode, can only think about how to hold onto Gyuvin as tightly as possible, can only imagine a life with him in it.

He kisses Gyuvin desperately, clings on to him like a lifeline, the dam bursting and Ricky crying in mourning of what could’ve been. 

They shouldn’t have sex like this, with Ricky feeling so broken and tears still sliding down his cheeks, and Gyuvin panting heavily as he slides into Ricky. But it’s the only thing comforting them at this point, knowing the feeling of their bodies pressed together is still the same, still warm and beautiful.

“I love you, Ricky,” Gyuvin says it like a promise, comes inside of him and kisses the words into his mouth to seal them in.

“I love you, too,” Ricky says between tears, says it like an oath.

[DECEMBER 2025]

Ricky sees an email he shouldn’t have seen.

He uses Gyuvin’s phone often, it doesn’t matter at this point when they are so intertwined, would reach for whichever phone was the closest, so he really doesn’t mean to see the notification as it pops up while Ricky is playing a game on his boyfriend’s phone.

FROM: [email protected]

 

SUBJECT: RE: Talent Inquiry for KIM GYUVIN

He recognizes the name of the company, known for representing some of the best actors in the industry, and it catches his eye. He knows it’s an invasion of privacy, should swipe the notification away and ask Gyuvin about it later, but he finds himself shaking as he presses it open instead. 

Hello Mr. Kim,

 

We received your last correspondence and ask if you would be willing to reconsider. We would love to have an in-person meeting to discuss further details and hear your thoughts more fully. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity to star in one of the biggest dramas of the year alongside other notable actors.

 

Sincerely,

iHQ Management

Ricky feels his heartbeat in his ears, knows he’s in too deep now, scrolls up to see the previous exchanges.

FROM: [email protected]

 

SUBJECT: Talent Inquiry

 

Hello Kim Gyuvin,

 

We are approaching you about an opportunity. We have observed your potential as a talent at our company and would like to discuss with you the possibility of buying you out of your current contract to be represented by iHQ. We have a production slated to begin filming in 2026 that has spoken interest in your acting debut. 

 

Please reach out if this is something of interest to you.

 

Sincerely,

iHQ Talent Management

It’s not uncommon for them to get offers from other companies, dangle tempting prizes in front of their faces to try and get them to jump ship, but never something of this caliber, a company and opportunity that could easily launch Gyuvin into stardom.

SUBJECT: Re: Talent Inquiry

 

Hello,

 

Thank you for your interest in me. However, this is not something I am interested in at this time.

 

Sincerely,

Kim Gyuvin

It’s stated simply, in plain text, and Ricky swallows darkly. That was the plan, wasn’t it? The plan they had agreed to, that Gyuvin would pause his career so Ricky could continue his own in China. 

But seeing it now, the heavy way in which Gyuvin’s life will be broken and bruised because of Ricky, makes the weight in Ricky’s chest cave in, struggles to breathe. 

He marks the message as unread, locks the phone and puts it back where he found it, ignores the roaring in his ears.

It eats away at Ricky, slowly. 

Yujin breaks the news that he’s going to continue with the company anyways, that even though he’s disappointed he wants to keep going. He cries, worried they will be disappointed that he will go on without them, and they all reassure him, tell him he’s not wrong to chase his dream, that they will support him no matter what, and Ricky lets the first stone drop in his stomach.

Zhang Hao is breaking his contract—spends hours on the phone with lawyers and company representatives, words like ‘injunction’ and ‘indemnity’ now becoming common, returns home tired and defeated. 

“What will you do when you break it?” Ricky asks concerned after another lengthy phone call.

“I think I’m done being an idol,” Zhang Hao confesses lowly, shocks Ricky fully.

“But, your talent…you shouldn’t waste it.”

Zhang Hao shakes his head, “I want a different life now, something bigger than the stage, I want to teach others about music. I have a new dream to chase. Or an old dream, really.”

Dreams, it’s the reason for everything—why they all work so hard, why they are all drawn together, why it makes everything so hard—and the second stone settles heavily.

“Do you ever think about if you had never become an idol? If you had met Gyuvin as just a normal person?”

Ricky pinches his eyebrows together, “I can’t imagine it.”

“I think about it,” Zhang Hao looks so tired. “I think about if it would’ve been easier if I had met Hanbin in some coffee shop he was working in while I was a student. Wonder what it would be like.”

Ricky doesn’t like living in his dreams lately, because reality cruelly seeps into them, so brutal and destructive he can’t fantasize about an alternative. 

Gyuvin doesn’t tell anyone his plans, and Ricky stays silent too. Because deep down, Ricky knows—Gyuvin knows—they would all think Gyuvin is crazy. Know that they would call Gyuvin stupid for abandoning everything for Ricky, and call Ricky selfish for allowing him to do so. And that stone drops down most menacingly of all.

When Ricky looks in the mirror, he doesn’t like what he sees, a monster staring back at him. He looks him in the eyes and it’s easy to catalog every terrible way he took Gyuvin for granted. 

He knew it from the very beginning, that something about Gyuvin made him selfish, made him want to open boxes he was told strictly to not open. He had kissed him when he wanted to, had worried about his own opportunities and never looked at all the things Gyuvin was missing, had never even asked Gyuvin if he was happy, just blindly accepted his words like they were sacred. 

It’s then he realizes—that Gyuvin had given up his entire life for Ricky for a long time now, and Ricky had never even questioned it. And he could point the finger at companies and lawyers and the world as the real monsters, but the truth was that Ricky was the monster, the one who had slowly destroyed Gyuvin from the inside out. 

He still doesn’t tell Gyuvin about the email he was never supposed to read, doesn’t ask him about it, doesn’t tell him about the person he sees in the mirror, just lets it sit like a disease and slowly infect every piece of Ricky’s body.

[APRIL 2035]

Walking into Hanbin’s studio feels like entering the beat of the older man’s heart. Everything is so lovingly thought of, from the decorations on the walls to the high glass windows that let natural light flow into the studio. 

He’s late to the class. Sneaks into the door quietly and sets his bag against the wall, stretching his unfamiliar limbs carefully as he joins in the back of the group.

Hanbin is in his element, front and center and smoothly explaining to the class the next bit of choreography. He knew Hanbin was popular, that his reputation was infamous as dancer and choreographer now, but he wasn’t expecting the class to be this full, looks around nervously and hopes he can fade into the background.

Hanbin notices his entrance, doesn’t make a big show, but makes eye contact with him in the mirror and gives a subtle smile, enough to make Ricky take a deep breath.

It’s hard not to miss the other familiar figure, standing right behind Hanbin and attentively listening to his instructions. His large frame always had a way of drawing eyes towards him, and even with a baseball cap and mask covering his face, his back is recognizable to Ricky immediately.

Gunwook doesn’t notice him though, is too absorbed in dancing, his body easily digesting the difficult choreography and Ricky swallows darkly. 

The dance is familiar, choreography that Hanbin had created for a well-known idol group and had captured the world with its intricate and memorable moves. And Ricky tries to keep up, wills his body into motion despite feeling like he had remained sedentary for so long that his arms and legs had turned to stone.

Hanbin has always been a good teacher, explains things thoroughly and clearly, points out the smaller details that others may have overlooked. 

Ricky used to love dancing. Something about the repetition of movements and coming to a final product was satisfying, liked practicing over and over until things were perfect. At some point though, Ricky’s standard for perfection had become so unattainable that it was impossible to reach, would beat himself up when things didn’t move the way he wanted them to, and so slowly, his love of dancing had been shoved away.

It’s clear in the class that Ricky hasn’t danced in a while. Stumbles over his movements and always feels a beat behind. It’s frustrating, but Ricky tries to focus more, tries to remember how easily the moves used to come to him and harnesses that.

He tries not to focus too much on Gunwook, who from the corner of his eye picks up on the choreography with no effort, is seamless and fluid with his movements like dancing has always been a part of him. 

“Let’s break into smaller groups so I can see everyone,” Hanbin announces, dividing the room into quarters.

Gunwook turns, and it’s then that he finally notices Ricky.

And Ricky waits for the blow. Waits for the annoyed sneer or the narrowing of eyes, but it never comes, just a small nod and a wave as Gunwook joins the first group. 

Ricky should practice the choreography on the side so he doesn’t make a fool of himself, should try and familiarize his muscles with the movements, but he can only stand still and watch Gunwook.

Gunwook is a good dancer, takes the difficult choreography and makes it look as easy as breathing, and it’s evident that Gunwook has had years of practice to craft perfection in his movements. 

Ricky follows in the next group, dances well enough considering everything, but not to what he knows he used to be able to do, grimaces after the music ends even though Hanbin gives him a warm smile.

“Let’s learn the second half of the choreography,” Hanbin directs, and the crowd moves its way back together. 

He’s starting to sweat now, starting to feel the pull of his muscles giving way, but it’s a nice feeling in a way, just as Hanbin had predicted, it takes him a second but the memory of his body remains and now slowly comes back to him.

And when the class finishes, he feels at least partially satisfied, not enough to feel proud, but well enough that he can see his improvement from beginning to end. The class all thank Hanbin profusely, take turns to bow and thank him, while Ricky hangs back and controls his breathing. 

As the students clear out, it’s then that Ricky knows the unsteadiness in his heart will reemerge, stays rooted in place, can feel Gunwook and Hanbin’s eyes on him, like they’re waiting for him to run like a scared prey. 

When the room finally is empty, Gunwook approaches him. 

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting. Anger maybe, or the cold distance he had grown accustomed to, not the tight embrace of Gunwook’s arms. 

“Ricky, it’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you too.”

Ricky thinks he’s been hugged more in the last few weeks than he has in years, and it still feels foreign in his body, like dancing, familiar but still not fitting quite right. 

When they let go, he looks to Hanbin, “Thank you for the class.”

“You’re welcome any time,” Hanbin smiles genuinely.

“For sure,” Gunwook adds, “We try to come as much as we can.”

He tries not to think about who the “we” is, just nods slowly. It was nice to take a class, but he knows he’s not meant to stay here forever, and doing so would be a little too close to pretending like he will. 

Gunwook looks at him earnestly, pulls down his mask as he says the words, “I know a great place for dakgangjeong just down the street, would you like to come? We can catch up.”

He turns to Hanbin, sees the older boy shake his head slightly, but it’s enough for Ricky to understand, you need to do this alone.

“Let’s go.”

Gunwook has always been a comfortable person to Ricky. Maybe not his closest person, but someone he can rely on and someone whose presence feels natural. Even now, it’s not awkward, just a certain air of unknown, a wall that’s been built up between them from the passing years.

The conversation is simplistic as they walk towards the stall, easy questions that you could say to even a stranger, How is your family? What have you been up to? What brings you to Korea?

Ricky insists on paying, pushes the bowl of chicken into Gunwook’s hands without giving time for protest, and Gunwook thanks him politely.

The weather is beautiful. Cool air and clear skies, and Ricky thinks he would appreciate it more if he didn’t have a giant knot in his stomach slowly clenching with each step.

They find a table to sit and continue chatting, and it’s then that the gaping hole of what is being avoided becomes obvious.

Gunwook fills him in slowly, some tidbits he had already heard from Hanbin and Zhang Hao, but he hangs on to each one anyways, tucks them away in the fragile pages of his soul.

“Jiwoong is thinking of opening a second cafe, although I told him he needs to start making money from the first one before opening another. He’s so focused on making customers happy he forgets it’s supposed to be a business,” Gunwook laughs.

He still says all their names so fondly, and Ricky wonders if his name still comes out of Gunwook’s mouth in the same tone.

“Taerae’s gonna be engaged soon, I think.”

And it stings, because these are all things Ricky should know, should have them engraved on the inside of his heart, but he knows nothing, and it’s all because of the one name that won’t be mentioned.

“Gunwook,” Ricky says suddenly, interrupting Gunwook’s train of thought, “I’m sorry.”

Gunwook gives him a puzzled look, “What for?”

“You know why. For avoiding you for all these years. For not being here for you, for any of you.”

Gunwook shakes his head at Ricky, “I’m not upset at you. I was maybe a little sad at the time that you stopped talking to me, but I figured you had your reasons. I’ve had a long time to come to peace with it.”

Gunwook had always had a certain air of maturity to him, as if this was not his first life he’s lived. How many times had he turned to Gyuvin and told him that Gunwook acted older than he did? But it’s even more apparent now, that Gunwook has a certain fundamental understanding of life that the rest of the world could only wish to grasp.

“Still, I would like to give you my apology.” Ricky’s whole chest is burning with it, and he wonders if it’s enough.

“I forgive you. Thank you.”

Gunwook seems to contemplate something in his mind, turning the words over in his head before speaking, braces himself to hear about the one person who hasn’t been spoken of.

“I think you should talk to Yujin.”

Ricky freezes. It’s not the person he was expecting, but it bruises just as easily. 

“Yujin?”

Gunwook nods, “He would never say it to me, but I think you hurt him more than you know. And I fully accept your words, but I’m not sure if Yujin would do the same.”

He knows a little. Can still remember the burning in Yujin’s eyes and the hushed tone Zhang Hao uses when he speaks his name. 

“I’ll talk to him. While I’m here.”

He knows he has to. That his actions had caused a lot of unintended destruction, that the storm of a hurricane is what everyone’s eyes are drawn to, but it’s the flooding aftermath that deals the most damage.

Their chicken plates have been cleared now, and with forgiveness wrapped around him, words feel a little more natural now. He revels in it, because from Gunwook’s warning, he knows it won’t be like this with Yujin. 

“Do you remember, you once told me a story about Eros and Psyche?” Ricky asks.

Gunwook thinks about it, “Did I?”

He knows things won’t ever be the same as it was. That Ricky broke something in a way that it can never be pieced back together the same. But he can at least try and glue the shards into something resembling it. 

Ricky nods, “I always liked your stories. Do you have any others?”

“Hm,” Gunwook considers, “Let me tell you the story of Damon and Pythias.”

[DECEMBER 2025]

“I found this apartment in Shanghai,” Gyuvin tells him easily, pulls up a picture on his phone of a modest place with a nice view of the city. “It’s close to the company building but is a little more tucked away.”

They’re in Ricky’s room, the door locked and the blinds pulled shut, hidden away like always. Gyuvin is still sweaty from rehearsal, still bright-eyed despite everything, still his beautiful Gyuvin that is only imperfect because of the ways in which Ricky has ruined him. 

“We should break-up.”

The air in the room stills, and Gyuvin freezes where he’s standing.

“That’s not a funny joke, Ricky.” He tries to laugh it off. 

“I’m not joking.”

Gyuvin turns slowly, eyes blazing, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

There were gaping wounds all over Ricky’s body before he met Gyuvin, wounds that bled freely, wounds that Gyuvin had lovingly stitched together throughout the years, and now Ricky rips every stitch out one by one. 

“I think we should end our relationship here.”

He hadn’t planned to break up with him. It had just come out with no warning. And he wants to shove it back in but he knows it’s too late. That the box was open and it was too big to ignore. 

“Why?”

“Because, I want to.” Ricky clips his words, keeps them short and simple so he can’t hear how wounded he is. 

Gyuvin’s voice begins to rise now, “Bullshit. Give me a real answer, Ricky. What’s going on, tell me what’s wrong and I can fix it, please.”

“It’s not anything you did.” Gyuvin didn’t do anything, it’s all Ricky’s fault as he thinks back on it, that he agreed to Gyuvin’s unwavering love so easily.

“Then why? I deserve a better answer than that.”

Ricky clenches his jaw, crosses his arms over his chest in protection, “It’s too much pressure, you moving to China with me. Made me realize I’m not ready for something so serious.”

He lies bold-faced and confident, traps the truth harshly beneath his teeth so it doesn’t escape. Because Gyuvin doesn’t need the truth, he needs to be free from Ricky’s selfish grasp.

Gyuvin stares at him, accusatory. “I don’t believe you.”

“I’m not lying.” He’s lying, lying so profusely that the words feel like they’re spoken from a body that’s not his own. 

“You promised, you promised me, Ricky. That you would be honest with me.”

Gyuvin is standing in front of him, trying to make eye contact with Ricky but he refuses, keeps his head down and hair hanging in front of his face, because he knows, if he gets even a glimpse of soft brown he will break all his resolve. 

“I don’t want to be with you, Gyuvin.”

It’s then that Gyuvin breaks. 

Gyuvin sinks to his knees in front of him with a heavy thud, reaches his hands to hold Ricky’s own but Ricky pulls them away, stinging. 

“Stop, please, you can’t do this. I’ll do anything, do you need some space? I can’t do this without you.”

Gyuvin is crying now, can hear it in Gyuvin’s wet voice and shuddering breaths.

Ricky shakes his head, refuses to let any tears drip from his eyes. 

“I-I don’t understand,” Gyuvin is stuttering through his words, is full out sobbing and breaking to pieces in front of him, “What did I do wrong?”

He becomes desperate at Ricky’s silence, pushes Ricky back onto the bed by the shoulders so he’s trapped beneath him.

“You’re not even looking at me,” Gyuvin gasps out, “Look at me and tell me this is real.”

He’s avoiding it for a reason—looking at him. But he knows this is the right thing to do. Free Gyuvin from his egocentric hold, free him from the distracting devotion, allow him to be put back together by the others, and made better—without him. 

He looks straight at Gyuvin, at his tear-stained cheeks and desperate eyes. Feels himself being ripped apart at the seams, but doesn’t let it take him over, thinks about emails and rings and clumsy words, holds eye contact as he says it. 

“It’s over.”

Gyuvin completely shatters, “I love you, please, please, please. Ricky, please, I love you.” Is sobbing into Ricky’s chest. “I love you.”

He’s heard the words from Gyuvin’s lips a million times, but they’ve never stung like this, like each declaration of love is an arrow piercing through his skin, and he knows he will slowly bleed out if he remains here. 

He pushes Gyuvin off him and stands, even as Gyuvin continues, “If you do this, I don’t think I will be able to ever move on, please Ricky, don’t do this. I’ll be broken forever. I love you. I love you. Why won’t you say it back?”

He will move on, Ricky reassures himself. Had seen Gyuvin’s resilience, how easy he is to be loved, how many wonderful people surround him. And it’s the only reason he can speak the next words. 

“I don’t love you anymore.”

Gyuvin grasps on to his wrist tightly, “No, you’re lying. I know that’s not true, please just tell me the truth. I love you.”

“I’ll give you some space,” Ricky pulls away, the sound of Gyuvin’s sobs fading as he pulls open the door and leaves without turning back.

He’s outside before he can stop himself, walking with no purpose, but knows he needs to make as much distance from him as possible, even in the dead of night.

He still doesn’t cry. Because he doesn’t deserve to shed tears over something he created himself, a dismantling in the making for the past years. 

The city streets are still full of people, people who don’t know the destruction that Ricky has left behind, people who don’t know there’s a monster lurking between them.

He knows he’s walked too far when the crowds of people thin to nothing, and the street lights become few and far between, but he still doesn’t stop. He can barely keep his eyes open, his fingers numb from the winter air, exhausted and dead on his feet, like a zombie, dead and cold inside but his body still continuing to wander. 

Dawn is breaking when he sees it—a small shrine sitting abandoned and beckoning him inward. 

He takes off his shoes carefully, quietly tiptoes forward, as if afraid the world will wake and see his desperation if he's too loud. He kneels in front of the altar, bows forward and lets his forehead touch the ground, his tears finally dripping, dripping. 

“Give him your blessing,” He prays, “Give him everything beautiful he deserves.”

[APRIL 2035]

“Let me get us some drinks,” Rina speaks into his ear, wanders away and towards the bar. 

It’s a high class affair. Not like clubs he goes to with Gangyu, or small parties with friends, it’s wine glasses and suits, and socializing is all with a goal in mind, a means to an end. 

Rina had complained about it before they even arrived at the party. 

“It’s going to be terrible,” Rina had explained, Ricky laughing slightly at her stricken face, “But I think it will help if you talk to the CEO about the project.”

Ricky had nodded, had been slowly becoming just as attached to the work they were doing as Rina was, and would sweet-talk whoever needed to be.

Rina pushes a wine flute into his hand, her eyes searching the crowd. “There, he’s over in that corner.”

The CEO is a middle-aged man, balding and short, but the expensive suit on his frame and the watch on his wrist makes it clear what kind of man he is. They make their way over to him, Ricky taking a deep breath before approaching.

He’s not what he was expecting, however. The introduction is friendly and warm, like old friends greeting each other, not of an employee and CEO.  

He compliments Ricky’s Korean, Ricky waving off the words in politeness, making the man clasp Ricky on the shoulder and laugh.

It’s a little too easy. And it makes Ricky’s gut twist in distrust. Because all Ricky knows of CEOs and management and board members are shadiness and conniving hands. 

But Rina seems happy, especially when the CEO bids them a good night with the promise that he’s looking forward to their project. 

“We can relax now,” Rina comments, when the CEO finally leaves and Rina downs the rest of her drink in one gulp.

But he can’t relax. Hasn’t been able to relax all night, because he feels it, eyes on him, a presence somewhere in the room that he can’t explain.

Rina leaves for another drink, and now alone and senses heightened, it’s easy to spot what makes the party—the whole world—feel off kilter.

The man is wearing a silk-pressed shirt and linen pants, is leaned against a bar table so casually. 

A smile slowly rises to his face, a little wide-eyed and shocked as they make eye-contact, looks over Ricky’s body carefully like he’s cataloging every piece. 

The name forms around Ricky’s lips involuntarily, like a mantra, like a prayer he’s spoken a thousand times. 

Kim Gyuvin. 

Chapter Text

[APRIL 2035]

They move through the crowd together like destiny, involuntarily, like two meteors on a predetermined path, destined to crash. 

“Shen Ricky, what are you doing here?” His voice is lilting, teasing, says it over the loud music of the club but everything seems to blur around them. Says it as if there’s not a river full of history between them, as if they didn’t leave each other for the last time in complete disrepair, as if ten years haven’t passed with Ricky avoiding every mention of Gyuvin’s name.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

Gyuvin smiles, a smile that is so familiar yet so vastly different in the littlest of ways. The passage of time has changed Gyuvin’s face, as anyone's would, the crinkles next to his eyes a little deeper, the bone in his jaw a little less sharp. But fundamentally, he’s still the same Gyuvin he’s always known—brown eyes that sparkle under the lights, a sharp nose that scrunches when he laughs, plump lips that frame his smile so beautifully.

It’s not the Gyuvin he knows though, a wholly new man, he realizes it when he notices his hand swirl the wine in his glass carefully before taking a sip—the Gyuvin he knew didn’t even like the taste of the sweetest soju. And the ring on his finger is most unfamiliar of all, a wedding band, a promise to someone Ricky doesn’t even know the name of. 

He points out the difference that’s less like a knife to the chest though, “You drink now?”

Gyuvin laughs, “I’m not nineteen anymore. I know how to taste a good drink.” Gyuvin pushes the glass into Ricky’s hand, still demanding, still not afraid to touch despite everything, “Here, try it.”

It’s a smooth red. Goes down Ricky’s throat easily, but Ricky can barely taste it because of the bile in his throat. He might throw up all over Gyuvin’s perfectly shined dress shoes. 

“It’s good.”

Gyuvin motions to one of the waiters, and a second glass is almost instantly poured and placed in front of Ricky.

“I knew you would like it,” Gyuvin smirks.

Ricky can’t help the scoff that leaves his lips, “What do you know about me, Kim Gyuvin?”

And maybe it’s a little too real, a little too close to the truth they’re both avoiding in this playful conversation. And Gyuvin from his years of acting has gotten a lot better at schooling his emotions, but even then, Ricky is not sure if he’s imagining the glimpse of hurt that flashes across Gyuvin’s face.

Gyuvin doesn’t let the unease settle though, maintains the safe territory of dialogue, “I know plenty about you, Shen Ricky,” gives him a wink. “How can I not, when your face is on every fashion campaign?”

“You’re one to talk,” Ricky pushes back, “I can’t watch a single movie without your face popping up.”

He’s not sure what he’s doing. Teasing Gyuvin, talking to him like he’s not a ghost. Gyuvin leans his head onto his hand, tilts his face and looks at Ricky appraisingly. It’s all still familiar, the burns of fire licking inside of Ricky’s stomach at Gyuvin’s gaze, like the embers were never truly extinguished.

“Your hair is blonde,” Gyuvin observes. And it’s the differences again that pulls Ricky back to reality, because the Gyuvin of the past would’ve pinched the strands between his fingers, stroked a hand across his scalp, but the Gyuvin of now keeps the properly polite distance.

“Your hair is black.”

Gyuvin smiles softly, runs his fingers through his hair, and it still looks soft, like if Ricky ran his fingers through it he would remember exactly how it feels, how his shampoo smells.

He notices Rina then, staring at them openly. There’s a glint of recognition in her eyes, like she knows, like she knows things Ricky has never told her. She doesn’t come closer, just motions with her hand that she’s leaving, and Ricky nods slightly in response. 

“What are you doing here? Hanbin had told me you were in the city, but I didn’t expect to see you here of all places.” Gyuvin says the words with a laugh, but there’s an edge of nervousness. 

Ricky feels a punch of betrayal that Hanbin told Gyuvin he was in Seoul. But it makes sense, he’s Gyuvin’s best friend, why wouldn’t he tell him his ex-boyfriend might haunt his presence?

“The project I’m working on,” Ricky explains, “Needed to sweet-talk one of the execs to get on his good side.”

Gyuvin nods knowingly, “I guess we’re in similar situations. I was hoping to talk to a director I really want to work with, but she never showed.”

“Hm? Even the great Kim Gyuvin has to still chase after roles?”

Gyuvin rolls his eyes, “I’m not that famous.”

The world begs to differ, however. Ricky can see it, the recognition of the people around them, the way the staff seems to be on their tiptoes waiting for him to call for them, how Gyuvin holds himself in a way that reeks of a class that not many can reach. An untouchable bubble around him that mere mortals can only hope to breach. 

As if on cue, someone bumps into Ricky’s backside, sending him stumbling forwards slightly, Gyuvin’s hand reaching down and gripping his forearm tightly to steady him. It’s the same sparks that ignite out of Ricky’s skin the first time Gyuvin circled a hand around his wrist, and he loathes it, hates how his body wants to push in further rather than pull away.

It’s then that Ricky realizes how many eyes are on them, watching. 

“Let’s go somewhere a little more private,” Gyuvin says, his hand shifting slightly on Ricky’s arm, burns so hotly he’s sure that he will burst into flames.

Gyuvin leads him through the crowd, can feel eyes tracking them as they move, and Ricky wonders if it’s because Ricky’s entire body is on fire from the way Gyuvin’s hand hasn’t stopped touching him or if the world always keeps a watchful gaze on Gyuvin now. 

They reach a door with a bouncer guarding it, and with a simple nod of Gyuvin’s head, the bouncer moves aside for them to enter. Through the door they find a garden terrace on the roof of the building, the space empty except the two of them, a small couch to lounge in and a picturesque view of the skyline of Seoul.

Gyuvin finally drops his grasp on him, and Ricky reassures himself that it’s the cool, night air that makes him shiver. 

“Should we take a picture? Our old fans would love it,” Gyuvin comments.

Ricky nods, poses carefully next to Gyuvin as he takes a selfie, careful not to touch. Gyuvin snaps the photo quickly, watches him upload it to his feed without a second thought, even though Ricky is sure the picture will be splashed across every entertainment news site in a matter of minutes. 

They lean against the roof railing together, the city sprawling beneath them, and the breeze picks up Gyuvin’s cologne and brushes it against Ricky’s face. It’s different from the one he used to wear. Less woody, less citrus, notes of amber now.

Ricky flicks open his carton of cigarettes, clenches it between his lips and lights it without a second thought, but Gyuvin furrows his eyebrows at him. 

“You smoke now?”

He takes a long drag, flicks the ashes off the balcony, “Yeah, and you drink now?” Gestures to the wine glass still clutched in Gyuvin’s hand.

“Touché.”

Gyuvin flops down on the couch, relaxes back into the cushions like he owns the place, legs spread and arms across the back of the sofa. Now that they’re fully alone, Ricky’s own mind begins catching up, realizes he's alone with Gyuvin, that they’re speaking with no malice, that he can’t run away and pretend he doesn’t exist anymore. 

He turns away from the man, keeps his eyes on the skyline and focuses on filling his smoke with lungs, but it’s still not enough. Because he can feel Gyuvin’s heavy gaze on him, even from behind, can feel him examining him with careful eyes. 

He won’t look at Gyuvin the same way, because he knows if he does something dark and rotting will bloom in his chest. 

When his cigarette turns fully to ash he knows he has no choice though, turns around and tentatively perches on the couch, his hand rubbing his neck nervously.

“I got a tattoo, you know,” Gyuvin says suddenly, studying the familiar tattoo on Ricky’s neck. 

“No way,” Ricky looks at him wide-eyed, every piece of information he learns like a stab to the chest, “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Gyuvin grins, “I’ll show you,” scoots into Ricky’s space without a second thought, rolls up the sleeve of his shirt to expose his forearm.

It’s a small tattoo, two stars on his inner elbow in black ink, the simple drawing somehow fitting him perfectly.

“Me and Hanbin got matching ones,” Gyuvin explains, searching his face for a reaction, and he complies too easily, his finger reaching out and brushing over the inked skin, lets it linger a little too long. The air stills around them, a wire of electricity flowing through the single point of contact.

“And here I thought you got something actually interesting,” Ricky teases, takes his hand away, tries to break the bubble around them that was beginning to suffocate him, “Like a butterfly on your ass or something.”

“Oh?” Gyuvin quirks his eyebrow, “Do you have a new tattoo like that?”

Ricky shakes his head, “I’ve only gotten one since…” Since he left. Since he grew a new body and a new skin to try and forget the way Gyuvin’s hands felt like on him. Since he locked his heart away to keep it from ever getting hurt again.

Gyuvin avoids the subject again, “Show me?”

He shouldn’t. Should change the conversation and ignore the hungry way Gyuvin’s eyes rake over his body. But maybe he still hasn’t changed in all these years, is still selfish and compliant to Gyuvin. 

He untucks his shirt with shaking hands, lifts the hem to reveal the sliver of skin above his hip, uncovers the rose tattooed right over the bone.

“It’s pretty,” Gyuvin comments, reaches his own finger to trace along his skin. He’s way too close now. Can feel his breath, his body heat, his overwhelming aura.

“Hurt like a bitch,” Ricky complains, Gyuvin’s thumb pressing against the tattoo a little more roughly. 

Gyuvin grins, “Pain breeds beauty, don’t you know?”

“I must be beautiful, then.”

He’s been speaking Korean the last few weeks, had slowly been grasping the words he used to know, but now with Gyuvin it becomes even more obvious that he doesn’t just speak Korean—he speaks Gyuvin’s version of Korean, his tone, his words, his softness, it’s apparent in every sentence.

He had said it half-jokingly, but Gyuvin replies seriously, “You are. Always have been.”

Their whole conversation feels wrong, because every time Ricky imagined it, it was all angry words and all the things left unsaid between them, not like this, teasing and tense, dancing around the real subject in an intricate waltz that they both fall into the rhythm of. 

It’s too much, Ricky pulls away and Gyuvin follows suit, puts the wall back between them but doesn’t move back to the opposite end of the sofa. There’s the sound of an ambulance siren in the distance, the lights of the city still alive despite the late hour. He's not sure how long he’s been here with Gyuvin, but knows he’s not ready to stop being burned alive quite yet.

“What have you been up to?” Gyuvin asks.

It’s a simple question, but how does he contain everything in a few short sentences? The things he would’ve shared with Gyuvin of the past feel wrong, too intimate, but talking to him like a stranger feels even worse.

Ricky shrugs, “Mostly work, haven’t had time for much else.”

“I get that,” Gyuvin sighs, “I’m wanting to take a break soon, maybe leave the country for a bit and explore.”

“Where do you want to go?” 

“Anywhere but here,” Gyuvin muses, “This city is suffocating sometimes.”

Ricky knows it too well, how the city can choke and wring every bit of life from you. 

“Seoul still seems the same,” Ricky comments. He wants to light another cigarette, but his pack is empty and both their wine glasses are dry now. Gyuvin is staring at him, a glint in his eye that sends shivers all down Ricky’s body. 

“It’s mostly the same,” Gyuvin replies, “But you seem the same too.”

Ricky scoffs, “I’m not.”

“Same dyed hair, same all-black outfit, same bickering with me,” Gyuvin grins.

Ricky crosses his arms, “You’re still the same too, you know.”

“And how is that?” Gyuvin scoots closer, presses their thighs together and his arm is brushing the back of Ricky’s neck.

“Still have messy hair, still wear shirts two sizes too big, still say nonsense.”

Gyuvin laughs prettily, doesn’t deny it. “You still wear the same earrings, too.”

Ricky holds his breath when Gyuvin reaches and pinches the silver metal between his fingers gently, doesn’t dare to breathe when Gyuvin stays in his space and rests his hand on his thigh like it's natural.

Gyuvin’s throat bobs, his eyes searching Ricky’s, his hand moving from Ricky’s ears to gently caress Ricky’s cheek.

It’s a look Ricky is all too familiar with—Gyuvin wants to kiss him. He can feel it in how Gyuvin tilts Ricky’s face up to look at him, at how he pushes minutely closer, at how he wets his lips involuntarily. 

But despite the warmth of Gyuvin’s hand on his cheek, there’s also cool metal resting on his skin—his ring. 

“Your wife,” Ricky breathes out, his chest falling and rising rapidly. 

Gyuvin’s eyes darken, “We’re separated, have been for a while.”

He’s not sure if he believes him. 

“Not officially. Waiting for this drama to finish promotions before I announce it. But we’ve been separated for months.”

“Okay,” Ricky says softly. It shouldn’t be enough. He shouldn’t give in so easily. Should press Gyuvin for more answers. But the chains around his heart have already begun to loosen.  

There’s an old Chinese proverb Ricky’s mother used to tell him, 笑里藏刀—beware a dagger hidden in a smile. And maybe he should check Gyuvin’s teeth for sharp knives, but even with a sword wielded against him he’s not sure if he cares if he draws blood.

He grabs Gyuvin by the shirt collar, kisses him roughly—ready for the dagger to slash his throat. 

[DECEMBER 2025]

Ricky can’t run forever.

He knew he would have to face the consequences of his actions, and he accepts the punishment readily, even if he knows it will poison the few precious moments he has with the group left. 

They all react differently to the news of their break-up, and they all sting painfully in different ways. 

Jiwoong and Matthew treat him normally. Which, he appreciates, that they put all feelings aside and pretend the world hasn’t imploded in on itself. But it feels fake in a way that Ricky knows he shouldn’t judge, but he can’t help it. Because they act like his relationship with Gyuvin never happened, and that’s somehow just as hurtful as seeing it crumble to pieces in front of him.

Hanbin and Gunwook act cordially and friendly to him, but there’s an edge of coldness to it. Not mean—but like there’s now a polite distance between them, like they’re strangers or coworkers, like they haven’t been carefully tucked into the folds of Ricky’s heart. He knew it was inevitable that he would lose both of them, that Gyuvin needed the two of them the most as the people who would heal Gyuvin’s heart. 

Taerae was never good at hiding his true feelings. So it’s obvious how outwardly he dislikes Ricky now. And it ashames Ricky because he knows he deserves every scathing glance and every scoff. And even though Taerae is the most harsh in his actions, Ricky can appreciate it because at the very least he’s being honest. And Gyuvin needs people who will fiercely protect him like Taerae. 

Zhang Hao is oddly silent, neutral. He knows he’s waiting for Ricky to come to him first, but he can’t stomach facing him, knows he will fold instantly and spill all inky blackness inside of him if he talks to him. 

But Yujin—he’s the only one who confronts him.

“What the hell, Ricky.”

They had returned to the dorm from one of their final rehearsals as a group, the date of their farewell concert looming menacingly. And Gyuvin had slipped into his room with tears already sliding down his cheeks, Hanbin following after him into the room quickly.

He doesn’t reply, just turns and heads towards his own room, ignores the small cries he can hear through the wall.

“Don’t run away from me, asshole.” Yujin grabs his arm, forces him to stop in his tracks.

“What?” He says coldly. 

Yujin narrows his eyes, “Why are you doing this to him?”

Ricky pulls his arm out of his grasp sharply, “It’s none of your business, isn’t it?”

Yujin doesn’t seem angry or accusing though, even as Ricky throws harsh words at the younger boy, it’s more like disappointment, like a deep sadness sinking deep into his bones.

“It is my business if it affects the whole group,” Yujin argues. 

“What group, Yujin? It’s over.” It’s almost over. He used to dread this day with a sense of impending doom, but now it can’t come fast enough, he’s counting down the days to his final escape. 

 Yujin shakes his head, “You still love him.”

“And is that for you to decide?”

“It’s not something to decide, it’s something that’s just true.”

“Mind your business. You’re too young to understand, Yujin.”

As soon as he says the words he knows they cut a little too deep, can see the hurt painted clearly on Yujin’s face, the wetness in his eyes. 

“Okay, Ricky. I’m too young, but you’re the one acting childish right now.”

“Just leave me alone.” He brushes past Yujin, afraid of what will come out of his mouth next if he continues. 

“I know what you’re doing,” Yujin accuses, follows after him anyways, “Pushing us all away so you can pretend it doesn’t hurt you.”

Ricky whips around, “I told you, I don’t want to talk about it, can’t you just leave it?”

“If you don’t love him—if you never loved him,” There’s tears in Yujin’s eyes, but he doesn’t let them fall in defiance, “Then all of it was a lie. You didn’t love any of us.”

It strangles Ricky, can feel the hands around his throat and choking him until his throat is blocked, the bones of his trachea snapping like twigs.

“If that’s what you want to believe,” He says simply, “Then, sure.”

Yujin might be crying, but he refuses to look. Enters his room and locks the door behind him, waits until he hears his footsteps receding until he collapses to the ground. 

Ricky finishes their final schedules in a daze, goes through the motions of what is expected of him, puts on a performance for the world so convincing he almost believes it himself. 

His time with the group ends with a whimper rather than a bang—he packs his whole life into suitcases and takes a flight to Shanghai, doesn’t say goodbye, doesn’t let himself mourn, rips himself from the vessel as quickly as he can so that the others can wrap the wounds with bandages and heal it without him. 

[JUNE 2026]

He settles into his new life in Shanghai with ease. 

It’s a busy few months—moving into his new apartment, settling his affairs in Korea, learning his new management and projects at work. The flurry of movement keeps him distracted, keeps him away from touching the way things were left brutalized. 

He ignores the calls and texts that barrage his phone—Zhang Hao, Yujin, Hanbin, Gunwook—but never him. Waits with bated breath until he hears the news. 

FORMER ZEROBASEONE MEMBER KIM GYUVIN TO MAKE HIS ACTING DEBUT IN NEW DRAMA!

It’s only then that Ricky can sigh in relief. That finally, Gyuvin was free, that he was right in his choice to sacrifice himself, to be the villain. It’s what he wanted, wasn’t it? But it blooms painfully in Ricky’s chest. 

He changes his phone number after that, the calls finally ceasing. But he saves each of their contacts—just in case. 

And it’s easy for the months to pass like this, keeps himself busy with work, with exploring a city that was once familiar but is now a stranger.

It’s only in the darkness of his room when he’s truly alone that he lets his thoughts catch up to him. Scours the internet for any sign of Gyuvin, watches his social media posts with rapt attention to detail, ensures that everything continues according to plan. 

When the first preview releases, Ricky presses play with shaking hands, is clutching his phone with his head under the covers.

Gyuvin’s face appears and Ricky holds his breath. He’s playing a news reporter, his hair styled slickly, a dress shirt tucked into his suit pants, and even from small snippets, the emotions are so apparent on his face, playing his role perfectly.

There’s a love interest too, of course. An actor that Ricky was actually familiar with, a woman who Gyuvin hugs tightly to his chest and takes her hand in his and runs down a busy street, the height of action.

“Don’t leave me,” Gyuvin’s character says desperately, tears in his eyes, and Ricky finally breaks. 

It’s the first time he’s cried since that night it all happened, he doesn’t even notice he’s crying at first, feels a wetness on the back of his hand and realizes there’s tears streaming down his cheeks. 

It’s what he wanted, right? Gyuvin getting everything he deserved, his life still intact, so why did it feel like he was freefalling, plummeting to the ground and that his body would crack open onto the pavement?

He’s sobbing now, hyperventilating, can’t breathe, is panicking.

In and out, in and out, he tells his lungs to work but they’re not listening, can feel his vision growing black at the edges. 

He scrambles for his phone under the covers, looks for the familiar number, needs someone, anyone to calm him down. His hands shake as he types the words, and his vision is so blurred with tears he’s not even sure if he’s forming coherent sentences on the screen. 

Ricky

zhang hao, it’s ricky.

He replies almost instantly.

Zhang Hao

fucking hell ricky

where have you been

you scared the shit out of me

Ricky

can you call?

His phone vibrates with Zhang Hao’s call, presses his phone to his ear and tries to control his gasps so the older man can’t tell how heavily he’s crying. But he can’t stop his heavy sobs when he hears Zhang Hao’s soft voice. 

“Ricky…”

“I-I still love him so much,” He stutters out between his cries. 

“I know you do, baby,” Zhang Hao says soothingly. Because of course he does, how could anyone not know that his love for Gyuvin consumes his entire being?

“I’m happy for him but it hurts so bad, Hao-ge.”

It’s embarrassing how hard he’s crying, he isn’t sure if he can ever face Zhang Hao again, but also simultaneously wishes he was here to wrap a warm hand around him. 

“Oh, Ricky…”

There’s a long pause where Ricky just sobs down the line, Zhang Hao making soft noises of comfort, waits for Ricky to calm down and reminds him to breathe.

“Why’d you do it, Ricky? I’ve been trying to understand,” Zhang Hao asks quietly. 

He admits it for the first time, “I was holding him back. He was refusing jobs, was ruining his whole life because of me. I was selfish, he deserves better than me.”

Zhang Hao is quiet before answering, “I’m not sure that’s true, Ricky.”

But Zhang Hao was wrong. It was true, and all the proof Ricky needed was Gyuvin’s beautiful face glowing on the screen of his phone. 

“It is true,” Ricky argues back, “You don’t know everything he sacrificed.”

“Okay, okay,” Zhang Hao says placatingly, “I don’t want to fight with you.”

He doesn’t want to fight either, feels like there’s no fight left in him, only numbness and an aching head from crying. 

“You don’t hate me, do you?” Ricky asks feebly instead.

“I could never hate you,” Zhang Hao reassures.

“Is he…doing okay?” He regrets it as soon as he says it. Because he doesn’t deserve to know, doesn’t deserve to get a glimpse into the aftermath of the destruction he single-handedly caused. 

Zhang Hao sighs, “Not really. But he will be okay.” And Ricky sighs in relief again, because it may take time, but Gyuvin will move on. “But are you okay?”

“That doesn’t matter.” He’s not okay. He’s not sure if he can ever be okay again, a shell of his old self, a monster masquerading as a human. 

“It matters to me,” Zhang Hao says sharply, the voice he uses when he wants the members to take him seriously.  

“Please don’t tell the others what I told you,” Ricky begs, “It’s better if I’m the enemy, better that he has all of them to support him.”

“You deserve to have support too.”

“Please, Hao-ge,” Ricky pushes again. 

“I won’t tell anyone. If that’s what you want.” He can tell Zhang Hao isn’t happy about it, but accepts it anyways, trusts Zhang Hao with his fragile heart.

“Thank you.”

It’s then that he knows he needs to completely cut off his one-sided contact with Gyuvin. There’s no reason to keep tabs on him anymore, and he can’t continue existing with iron weights in his shoes, so he becomes resolved then to avoid everything to do with Kim Gyuvin, to focus on his life in Shanghai, on his work, on anything but his old life. 

Even if he ignores him in reality, he haunts his dreams, like his head has a cavity inside of it that is so infected with Gyuvin he can’t escape it in his subconscious.

He dreams of Gyuvin lovingly holding him while pressing inside of him, dreams of him kissing him sweetly and softly, wakes up hard and needy and touches himself with Gyuvin’s name on his lips, feels guilty for still selfishly using him to get off.

He dreams of Gyuvin holding his hand and looking down at him with familiar brown eyes, dreams of his honey voice and beautiful smile, wakes up with tears streaming down his face and blood splattered across the sheets, feels broken beyond all repair. 

He dreams of Gyuvin spitting angry words in his face and gripping him harshly, dreams of Gyuvin doing what he deserves and telling Ricky all the ways he ruined his life and how much better he is now, wakes up cold and desolate and reaching for him across an empty bed. 

[APRIL 2035]

Gyuvin slams his back against the door of the hotel room, his arms wrapping around his waist as he mouths down Ricky’s neck, wet and hot. 

They had both walked into the hotel lobby with masks covering their faces and hats pushed over their brows, Gyuvin handing over his payment to the receptionist who had given over a hotel room without a second glance, probably used to secret rendezvous and dangerous encounters. 

They had maintained their distance the whole ride up the elevator, the silence dark and heavy, and Ricky’s hands itching on his sides and Gyuvin’s own eagerness rolling off of him hotly. 

It’s only when the door is firmly closed and locked does Gyuvin descend on him, so strongly it’s bruising. 

Ricky learned how to kiss from experimenting on Gyuvin’s soft mouth, so now when they kiss it’s perfect, Ricky desperately panting into his mouth for more. How many lovers had he coached to try and kiss him like Gyuvin did but always ended up falling short? Because nothing compares to the real thing, Gyuvin biting down on his lip and tugging, his tongue pressing in search of Ricky’s, his mouth sucking over his when he finds it. 

“Fuck,” Ricky breathes out when Gyuvin gives him a brief reprieve in favor of kissing along Ricky’s exposed collarbone. He feels debauched already from just a kiss, knows this is only the beginning of the sticky trap Ricky has fallen into.

“Do you like it?” Gyuvin asks in between sucking kisses into his neck. 

“Mmph,” Ricky lets out an involuntary noise when Gyuvin mouths over the spot behind his ear that he likes the most, “You know I like it.”

Gyuvin grins at him wickedly, kisses him roughly again with his back still pressed into the door and his arms around Gyuvin’s middle.

Gyuvin’s hands travel down his back, hands cupping his ass and groping, Gyuvin moaning lowly into the kiss when he squeezes tightly. He moves his hands down the back of Ricky's thighs, raises Ricky’s legs up and around his waist so he’s fully picked up off the ground. 

Pressed together like this, it’s easy to tell that Gyuvin is hard and straining, his hips shifting to flush fully against Ricky. 

“Mm, already?” Ricky teases, brushes his fingers through Gyuvin’s hair and tugs so his neck is exposed and Ricky can lick down it, kisses everywhere he can reach, on his adam’s apple, on the scar on his chin, uses his teeth to tug on the lobe of his ear. 

“Fuck you,” Gyuvin bites back, but the words don’t land fully with Gyuvin letting out a stuttered gasp under Ricky’s mouth. 

Gyuvin grips him tightly, carries him across the room and lets his back hit the soft mattress, doesn’t waste a second crawling on top of Ricky and kissing him again. 

“Off,” Gyuvin demands, his hands raking up Ricky’s bare sides under his shirt, lifts the fabric over Ricky’s head, his own shirt following quickly after Ricky’s to be discarded on the floor.

Gyuvin gazes down at him, his eyes a dark shade of brown and looking at him like he wants to swallow him whole. He trails kisses down his body, like a slow descent into hell—his shoulder, his chest, his ribs, on the rose right over his hip bone. 

“Your tummy isn’t soft anymore,” Gyuvin says as he mouths over the inked skin, his hands feeling over Ricky’s stomach. 

“I told you—I’m different now,” Ricky replies through gritted teeth.

Gyuvin smirks, “Different, but I bet you still like this.”  Gyuvin sucks a mark into his skin, the bruise blooming right on the rose, a growing representation of all of Ricky’s desires, and he stutters out a moan at the feeling of Gyuvin’s hot mouth. 

This is the moment Ricky should stop him. This whole night is a dangerous amalgamation of everything Ricky fears and wants the most. But it’s too late, the flames have engulfed him and he’s ready to be slit across the throat, regardless of the consequences, if only to have this one night more.

With shaking fingers, he unbuttons and discards his pants, Gyuvin watching in rapt attention at Ricky now bare in front of him.

“Fuck,” Gyuvin breathes out, smooths his hands over Ricky’s thighs and takes him in. 

A look crosses over Gyuvin’s face, quirked lips and eyes still blazing, and Ricky wonders for a moment if this is when Gyuvin is the one to stop this instead. Ricky reaches down, cups Gyuvin’s jaw in his hand, looks at him right in the eye—can feel the verdict silently agreed upon.

Gyuvin removes himself from Ricky, crosses across the room to the drawers, finds the packet of lube and rips it open with his teeth.

Gyuvin warms the lube between his fingers slowly but doesn’t hesitate, presses the first finger inside without warning. His knees buckle, a needy noise leaving the back of his throat, his muscles clenching and then loosening at the insistent pressure of Gyuvin’s touch. 

“No one is like you, you know that, Ricky?” He licks around his rim, his tongue tracing around his entrance teasingly. 

Gyuvin has always loved to talk, including in bed, but it’s somehow even worse now, each of his words flying through the air and sticking to his skin. 

“So perfect,” Gyuvin comments, pushes a second finger inside. “Pretty and perfect for me.”

“Do you ever shut up?” Ricky complains, because he’s not sure how much more of Gyuvin’s words he can take before he completely breaks in half.

“Mm, you want me to be quiet so I do this, right?” Gyuvin teases, presses his tongue inside him along with his fingers.

He fills him so well, his warm mouth and long fingers, can’t help the broken moan that leaves his lips when Gyuvin touches him just right.

It’s overwhelming, in the way Ricky likes it typically, hot and fast, but with Gyuvin he wants to slow down a little, tangles his fingers in his hair and controls Gyuvin’s movements inside him. Gyuvin picks up on Ricky’s rhythm, presses into him slowly and torturously until Ricky can feel every inch of his insides be marred by flames. 

“Stop, I’m going to come,” Ricky stutters out, pulls Gyuvin by the neck. 

He raises his head up, spit and lube dripping down his chin, his eyes hooded and hair messy, and Ricky clenches around Gyuvin’s fingers, feels like he might come just at the sight of how dirty Gyuvin looks like this, his grin devious and dangerous. 

“My turn,” Ricky growls, pushes against Gyuvin’s shoulders and presses his back into the bed. He strips Gyuvin of his perfectly pressed pants, feels his own stomach burn at the sight of how hard Gyuvin is for him, squirming and panting waiting for Ricky’s touch.

He could draw it out longer, tease Gyuvin, make him so hard and wanting he bursts at the seams, but it’s too much for Ricky to resist. He moves his hand over Gyuvin’s cock, one, two, three times, Gyuvin’s breath hitching in his throat before he takes Gyuvin into his mouth. 

He keeps his eyes on Gyuvin the whole time as he takes him in fully, Gyuvin’s eyes screwing shut at the sensation and his legs raising up to squeeze around Ricky’s face. He’ll take him all the way in his mouth, let it be messy and wet the way he knows Gyuvin likes it, prove to him that no one can do it like him.

“Fuck, how do you do that?” Gyuvin gasps out when Ricky’s nose touches the warm skin of Gyuvin’s stomach.

He doesn’t deign him a response, just moves his head up and swirls his tongue around the head with eyes wide.

“Fuck into my mouth, Gyuvin.”

Gyuvin cups his jaw, his lips latching on to him and their eyes locking fully. And Gyuvin has always been good at doing what he’s told, ruts his hips forward and into Ricky’s waiting mouth. This is Ricky’s own form of worship, the feeling of Gyuvin hitting the back of his throat and tears forming in the corners of his eyes, angelic Gyuvin staring down at him with his hair sticking to his forehead and his lips falling opening involuntarily.

He knows Gyuvin is close to coming, can tell by the flush on his cheeks and the way his mouth can no longer form coherent sentences, but he stops before he can, pulls Ricky’s head back and breathes rapidly. Gyuvin brings him back to kiss him, tastes himself on Ricky’s tongue before rolling them back over. 

He prods two fingers back into Ricky, making Ricky cry out at the sudden intrusion. “I want it like this," Gyuvin demands, pushes Ricky’s hips into the bed and kisses him deeply before lining himself up with Ricky. 

He should’ve expected it. Gyuvin always liked this position most, liked being able to watch Ricky’s expressions as he fucked into him, liked grasping on to Ricky’s stomach and shoulders, liked being able to kiss him messily as he came inside of him. But it's still overwhelming now, knowing Gyuvin still likes seeing Ricky most as he pushes inside with a cry.

Ricky squirms underneath him, feels himself being filled warmly and Gyuvin resting his forehead against his as he bottoms out. They’re so close that all Ricky can see is Gyuvin’s eyes, dark brown and searching his. 

“Rick…please say my name,” Gyuvin says quietly.

Ricky reaches up, places his hands on the back of Gyuvin’s neck and watches how their chests rise and fall in tandem.

“Gyuvin,” He replies breathily, the trigger for Gyuvin to cant his hips back and fuck into Ricky in a quick rhythm.

He fucks into him mercilessly, hot and fast, grabs Ricky’s wrists and pins him to the bed, can feel the cool metal of his ring against his skin.

“I missed this so much,” Gyuvin moans out, and Ricky is burning all over from being fucked so well, can’t help crying out at every movement of Gyuvin’s body against his.

It’s familiar still, can recall all of the countless times he’s been in this position, Gyuvin above him with their breaths mingling and their eyes only on each other. But there’s differences now too, the hot desperation rolling off of them, the almost erratic way that Gyuvin fucks into him like he might disappear at any moment, the unfamiliar scent of Gyuvin’s cologne.    

“Gyuvin!” Ricky cries out again when he finds just the right angle, can he feel his own body tensing and shaking at the sensation. 

Gyuvin reaches down and wraps his hand around Ricky’s cock, tugs in the same relentless pace that he fucks into him, uses his other hand to grip Ricky’s chin so he can’t look away.

“Come for me,” Gyuvin growls, is pushing so hard that the whole room is full of the sounds of Gyuvin’s skin making contact with his and Ricky’s stuttered moans. 

He comes into Gyuvin’s hand, on his stomach, on Gyuvin, his body tensing and releasing as Gyuvin gazes down at him. He feels like he’s floating away, like his whole being has been pumped full of helium and will slowly drift into the sky, the only thing keeping him on the ground being Gyuvin’s strong grip and soft eyes. 

“Gyuvin,” he says one final time, teary-eyed and spent, kisses him on the mouth as Gyuvin comes inside of him, shaking and beautiful. 

There’s a moment where they both just breathe, still wrapped in each other’s arms, a mess created between them. 

He should feel vulnerable like this, laid bare with no defenses around him, with a man who knows both everything and nothing about him. But he only feels safe and warm and full of fire. 

Gyuvin finally rises and finds a towel in the bathroom, cleans him slowly and earnestly, kisses across his stomach and cheeks. There’s a blanket tucked around him, gentle hands brushing through his hair, and the last thing Ricky sees is Gyuvin’s brown eyes before falling asleep.

He wakes up cold.

He doesn’t have to look at the other side of the bed to know it’s empty, but he rolls over and reaches out anyways, feels the cool sheets between his fingertips.

The hotel is nice in the daylight, beautiful marble floors and decorations in Ricky’s taste, so he takes his time showering and dressing, plays pretend for a few minutes longer that he’s not standing in the fiery pits of hell.

He could almost pretend that he imagined the whole thing, that he’s so desperate for Gyuvin that he deluded himself into thinking that it was real, but there’s a bruise on his hip bone and an aching in his back that he can’t ignore.

The dagger plunges into his side when he notices it—a messily scrawled note on the door with a phone number and nothing else.

He was here, Ricky realizes, ghosts his fingers over his lips softly. But he left in a hurry, can’t stop his own spiraling mind from wondering if he ran home to his wife, if he kissed her softly in the doorway, apologized for being out all night, the ring never leaving his finger. 

He sticks the number in his pocket anyways, he will receive his punishment and consequences, will bow his head forward and let himself be submitted for the reckoning. Because Gyuvin has a wife, no matter what he might say, and Ricky is just someone that Gyuvin once knew. The guilt bubbles harshly in his stomach, and he wonders if he’s finally too far to be redeemed. 

He finds his phone on the nightstand, a barrage of notifications waiting for him. 

Missed Call (1) Gangyu

Missed Call (3) Zhang Hao

Missed Call (5) Xintong

Missed Call (1) Hanbin

They’re probably all worried about him, he should quickly tell them that he’s okay, but he needs a few moments to take everything in before he descends into chaos.

Because, like a final stab, there’s a new email at the top of his inbox, fresh and raw and gaping. 

FROM: [email protected]

 

DATE: May 2, 2025

 

SUBJECT: my shining star

 

hi baby,

 

im so proud of you, you know? how much you’ve grown, how much of a great person you’ve become. not that i haven’t always thought you were great, but every day you just become an even better version of yourself and it’s so beautiful to see. 

 

it’s silly, but i was watching some of your old fancams and when i look at you now it’s so clear how hard you’ve worked and i’m so happy the world can see how special you are too. it makes me want to be better too, seeing you improve makes me want to work twice as hard, and that’s how i know you’re a good person, because just your presence makes me want to be better too. 

 

(and i can’t let you get too much better than me, you know, because we are rivals aren’t we? LOL) 

 

when you receive this i know you will be shining even more brightly, that you will be a greater version of yourself that i can’t even imagine now. i hope that i’m the same too, a version of myself that’s greater than now but still matches you so perfectly. 

 

come and sing me a song now, won’t you? i love your voice the most.

 

from,

your baby

Chapter Text

[APRIL 2035]

POST [35.04.29] KIM GYUVIN and RICKY in a newly shared photo.

[+78, -2]

wow i just became a fan of kim gyuvin recently, but isn’t this legendary?

[+63, -1]

somehow, they both look the same LOL i’m jealous of how good looking they are

[+42, -23]

ricky never speaks about being an idol but is now taking photos with kim gyuvin once he realized how famous he is, ah it’s too obvious isn’t it haha

[+32, -8]

kim gyuvin and ricky were always close, it’s obvious many people here are new fans…

“Where have you been?”

Zhang Hao is sitting in the living room, his eyes accusatory as Ricky tries to quietly tiptoe into the apartment still wearing yesterday’s clothes. 

“Did you wait all night for me, hyung? I’m grown up now you know, you don’t have to worry about me like a father.”

Zhang Hao crosses his arms, studies  Ricky’s face like he’s working out a puzzle with pieces that don’t quite fit together. 

“Someone has to worry about you, since you don’t do it yourself.”

Ricky sighs, flops down on the couch, “I was at that event with Rina. She drank too much and it was late, so I just ended up staying at her place.” The lie rolls off his tongue so easily.

He can still feel all the places Gyuvin touched him, can still smell his cologne on him, can feel his head slowly filling with water at the realization that this is a secret he has to bury at the bottom of a deep chasm. 

Maybe Ricky isn’t as good of a liar as he thought, or perhaps Zhang Hao just knows him too well, because Zhang Hao keeps pushing, like he’s shining a light to his face and interrogating him.

“I saw Gyuvin’s post. You saw him.”

The words stick in the air and hang, like a menacing storm cloud prepared to destroy everything Ricky worked so hard to shut away.

“I did.”

“And?”

“We talked a bit.”

Everyone knows they saw each other. Just as he predicted, the simple picture Gyuvin had posted spread like wildfire, a flood of comments and trending topics about the reunion of the former groupmates, two friends who hadn’t been spotted together in years.

Zhang Hao frowns, “And that’s it?”

“Yes. We’re both adults. We know how to be civil with each other.”

He doesn’t know if anything about what they did should be considered civil. It was past toeing a line or wading into unknown territory, it was running full speed into uninhibited chaos—that Ricky knows is going to end in complete ruin.

“Hm,” Zhang Hao hums, “If that’s true, then I’m glad.” There’s still an edge of rigidity to his voice, like he’s still suspicious of the truth of Ricky’s words.

But he can’t spill the secret pressed between his lips, no matter how badly he wants to confess to his sins, because at the very least Ricky knows he owes Gyuvin to conceal the small piece of darkness contained within them.

The note with Gyuvin’s number messily scrawled on it burns heavily in his pocket. He should throw it away, take a long shower and scrub away any remnant of Gyuvin, and maybe then he still has a chance of being redeemed.

But he’s afraid it’s too late. He’s gotten a new taste of the addictive quality of Gyuvin and can’t turn back now.

“Gege.”

Gangyu’s voice comes through the phone softly, and from the screen he can see he’s laying on Ricky’s bed, his black hair fanned over the pillow.

“Hi,” Ricky says simply. It’s been a little while since they’ve spoken, and there’s a tiredness in Gangyu’s eyes that makes Ricky ache. “You look tired.” He’s curled up on his bed in Hanbin and Hao’s apartment, their cat, Banji, making soft purrs at the foot of the bed. 

Gangyu snorts, “That would be an understatement.”

“That bad?” Ricky asks. 

It’s strange, because before he left Shanghai his relationship with Gangyu was purely transactional, an easy fuck, a warm body for both of them. But now with the distance between them, they talk more like friends—and that’s dangerous in a different way when Ricky inevitably cuts off whatever relationship they have with each other.

“Yeah, my schedule is hell lately. I don’t have a break.” Gangyu rubs his eyes sleepily, and he looks so young like this, barely able to keep his eyes open. “I missed you though.”

Ricky makes a small noise, “Are they treating you well? The staff?”

“Yes, gege, I’m fine, don’t worry so much.”

“I’m not worried,” Ricky tries to push back, to deny it, but Gangyu’s face is bright at the gentle acknowledgement. 

“I saw you met Gyuvin,” Gangyu smiles, but Ricky’s heart drops to his stomach. He’s never mentioned Gyuvin to him, or any of them for that matter, so there’s no way that Gangyu knows the history between them, but he still feels guilt lap at his throat.

“Yeah.”

There’s noise roaring in his ears, like a broken symphony of trumpets and violins and cymbals bashing into his eardrums.

“You never talk about your group, so I was surprised to see it,” Gangyu teases, unaware of how Ricky’s whole body is thrumming, “I thought you didn’t have any friends.”

“It’s–” Ricky pauses, not sure how to form the right words, “It’s been a while since I’ve seen all of them. But we all share a history that keeps us connected, even if we don’t talk all the time.”

It’s a half-truth. Because he had tried his hardest to cut the invisible strings connecting them all, but there still seemed to be a thin thread that tugged him back. 

“I guess that makes sense,” Gangyu sighs, “I don’t know if it’s like that with my group.”

Ricky hums, “It’s probably better that way. You don’t get hurt as much.”

Gangyu’s eyebrows raise in suspicion, but he doesn’t push, just changes the subject easily.

“Oh by the way—my ex. He asked me to come meet with him.” Gangyu says it simply, but the words feel sticky in Ricky’s mouth. 

“The guy from the club?”

Gangyu nods. He remembers the man, how brashly he had gripped onto Gangyu, the cold and steely look in Gangyu’s usually soft eyes. 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

He realizes the hypocrisy in his words immediately, but maybe it’s the Ricky of the past that wishes that Gangyu won’t make the same mistakes as him.

“It’s probably a bad idea,” Gangyu laughs but looks troubled, “But like you said, there’s a history, a connection I can’t shake easily.”

“Are you going to see him?” Ricky asks.

“If you tell me not to see him, I won’t,” Gangyu replies lowly. And Ricky knows what Gangyu is implying, asking whether Ricky cares enough to stake claim, to say it matters to him. Banji curls her tail around Ricky's leg, noses her head against him to get Ricky's attention.

“You should do what you want, Gangyu.”

It’s an answer, a rejection, but Gangyu doesn’t let it show. “Okay, I’ll tell you what I decide.”

[MAY 2035]

Ricky

gyuvin. it’s me

It takes three days for Ricky to muster up the courage to text the number he had found abandoned in the rubble. He anguishes over the simple words, sits in fear waiting for the response that took hours to come.

Gyuvin

hi

we should meet

He stares at the message for too long, the damning evidence that Ricky didn’t hallucinate the whole encounter. His blood runs hot at the thought of seeing Gyuvin again, the fire raging around him. 

Three days after their texts, they meet again in the middle of the night at a time when only shadows exist, meet in the corner of the universe that blurs the outside world.

“I’m sorry, for leaving you that morning,” Gyuvin says darkly.

Ricky shakes his head, “It’s fine.”

The ring is still on Gyuvin’s finger. The both still burn hotly in such close proximity. They’re both still dancing around what they should really be talking about.

Gyuvin rakes his hand through his hair, messy on his head, “Work has been killing me, I have call times at dawn every day, I can barely rest.”

“You look tired,” Ricky comments, wants to press his thumb over the dark circles under his eyes to relieve some of the pressure.

“How’s work for you?” Gyuvin asks, his eyes soft and warm.

“It’s good, busy too, but a nice kind of busy.”

He had been prepared to go into battle, to break down and admit to all his wrongdoings in front of Gyuvin, but instead they continue down this dark path, the knowledge that if they address the burning question of what they’re doing it will shatter the fragile bubble around them.

“Did you work today?” Gyuvin asks and Ricky nods. “I can tell,” Gyuvin breathes, “Your makeup is different than how you do it yourself.”

And while Ricky had just imagined running his fingers across Gyuvin’s face, Gyuvin does just that, cups Ricky’s face in his hand, smooths his hand across his cheeks and jaw.

“Used my own lipstick though,” Ricky says quietly, presses into Gyuvin’s touch. 

“Hm,” Gyuvin’s thumb swipes over his bottom lip, pulls it down slowly, “It looks nice on you.”

It’s too easy—the words that fall from Ricky’s lips, “Do you want to taste?”

They don’t talk—because Ricky pushes him into the first private room he can find, pulls down his suit pants and takes him in his mouth until tears run down his cheeks and fully ruin his makeup.

The third time they meet, they don’t even bother with pretenses or excuses. Gyuvin texts him the address of a hotel and Ricky lets himself be pulled onto the bed, pulled under the drowning heat of Gyuvin’s attention, pulled into something so dark and deep he can’t see even a sliver of light.

They don’t talk—because they both know as soon as the words leave their mouths that they can’t play pretend in the false reality they’ve created, that they will have to confront the growing monster that has overtaken Ricky’s being.

He feels like he’s twenty years old again, hiding the way he wants Gyuvin from his members, from the world. Only this time, the monster has been starved for years, insatiable and unrelenting. 

Ricky is used to embracing the aftermath of a storm, cataloging the destruction surrounding him and picking up the mangled pieces. But this time, the storm rages around him, and yet the world seems to not even notice, the ground remains dry and untouched. 

“What do you think?” Zhang Hao hums, holds up the collared shirt to his chest and inspects it.

“It looks nice,” Ricky replies, “That color suits you.”

He still hasn’t told Zhang Hao about Gyuvin, their secret meetings in the darkness of the night, and he can only assume Gyuvin has kept quiet as well because the world keeps spinning without faltering.

“Well,” Zhang Hao smiles, “If Shen Ricky says it looks nice on me it must be true.”

He knows Zhang Hao wants more, is worried about him, but to tell Zhang Hao this would be admittance that he’s guilty, that he should be burned at the stake and banished, that the clawing in his chest at the memory of Gyuvin pressing into him is haunting him.

They avoid the subject seamlessly now, even if Ricky is sure that Zhang Hao is waiting in fear of the truth spilling out. 

“This tie would look nice with it,” Ricky comments, holds up a navy tie that matches the button-up shirt that Zhang Hao was modeling for him. Zhang Hao hums, takes the tie from Ricky’s waiting hand.

“I was thinking, I want to organize a dinner for all of us while you’re still here.”

Ricky stills. “All of us…as in?”

Zhang Hao whips around the store, leaving Ricky to stumble after him as he flips through the clothing racks without a second glance.

“You know who, don’t be silly,” Zhang Hao chides. 

Ricky swallows the lump in his throat. “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.”

“Why not? Since you and Gyuvin are fine with each other there’s no reason not to, no?” He says it with a hint of wrath, a challenge to correct him. 

He’s not sure what he and Gyuvin are. Civil, fucking, friendly—enemies of their own minds. 

“I still haven’t talked to Yujin,” Ricky says instead, because thinking about Gyuvin makes him want to burst out of his skin.

“Gunwook said you were going to?” Zhang Hao furrows his brow.

“I haven’t…not yet.” Ricky narrows his eyes, “Is all you do talk to each other about me?”

Zhang Hao laughs, “Maybe. But only because you don’t talk.”

“I will talk to him,” Ricky declares. Because, despite the sudden intrusion of Gyuvin into the equation, he still wants to make amends with the rest of them, to at least leave Seoul a little less broken than he started.

“Good.”

He wants to tell Zhang Hao so badly. Everything swirls around him darkly, rumbling clouds and flashes of lightning, the great flood in the prophecy looming ever closer.

“Try this one,” Zhang Hao demands, pushes a black, knit sweater into his chest. 

Even with everything hanging over him, it’s nice hanging out with Zhang Hao like this, to have someone to talk to that doesn’t expect anything in return.

“I have a question.” It’s something that keeps him up at night, questions with answers that he thinks he won’t like the answer to. “Why haven’t you and Hanbin gotten married?”

Zhang Hao freezes, inhaling sharply, “It’s something we’ve discussed, but decided it wasn’t right for us.”

“Why?”

He’s been thinking about marriage a lot, about what it really means, if it means anything at all. 

Zhang Hao sighs, “It’s not that we don’t want to, but there’s still people watching us, even if it’s less so. It’s still risky.”

“So, you would get married. If things weren’t like this?”

Hao shrugs, “I can’t say for sure, but probably? Why do you ask?”

“I guess I’m trying to figure out why people even get married in the first place,” Ricky admits. He avoids Hao’s eyes, focuses his gaze on the display of different sunglasses in a glass case. “Why get married if there’s always the possibility of the other person leaving you?”

Zhang Hao scoffs, “Hanbin couldn’t leave me even if he wanted to.”

“Not you, I mean-”

Zhang Hao raises his hand, “I know, Ricky. To answer your question, people can leave you whether you're married or not.”

“I guess,” Ricky concedes, “But doesn’t it make it even harder when you get left? Is the commitment being broken even stronger and more painful?”

“If ,” Zhang Hao corrects, “If you get left. You make it sound certain, like everyone is doomed to get abandoned.”

“Well, maybe that’s the truth. You’re either the one leaving or the one being left. Either by choice or by death.”

Zhang Hao laughs, “Damn, that’s dark. But I guess my answer is to both of those thoughts. Yeah, marriage is just another declaration of your commitment to each other, and maybe it will hurt more if it’s broken, but it’s worth it to be loved.”

Ricky used to think the same thing. That to be loved was worth every risk, but he’s not so sure anymore, that the risks may contain too many innocent casualties. 

Geumseonsa temple is beautifully tucked away from the world. 

“Ricky, come sit here so I can check the lighting,” Rina instructs, Ricky moving to sit in front of the camera. He’s dressed in a modernized hanfu today, the long sleeves billowing as he walks. The weather is becoming warmer now, the first signs of summer approaching.

“Oh, Seunghee, you’re here,” Rina calls, “Come sit next to Ricky so we can do a camera test.”

He had met his costar, Seunghee, a few weeks prior, had eaten zhajiangmian and jajangmyeon side by side as they discussed the difference between the two dishes as well as the similarities. Seunghee was a warm and friendly woman, soft eyes and a smile that seemed to never leave her lips. She bows to Ricky as she approaches now in her hanbok, sits across from Ricky.

“Have you been here before, Ricky-ssi?” Seunghee asks as Rina buzzes around the crew to make final adjustments.

Ricky shakes his head. 

“If we get a break, I’d love to show you around,” Seunghee adds, “It’s a beautiful place.”

Ricky bows his head in appreciation. “That would be great.”

“Okay, we’re ready!” Rina declares and they present themselves to the camera.

The shooting begins with Seunghee explaining the history of tea ceremonies in Korea, Ricky attentively listening as she artfully begins pouring the water over the tea leaves.

“Patience is important to the tea,” Seunghee explains softly as they wait for the leaves to steep. “You pour slowly and wait for it to steep to the proper amount.”

Ricky nods, “It’s very meditative.”

“It is,” Seunghee agrees. 

Ricky glances at Rina, who motions for him to keep the conversation going.

“What do you see as the purpose of serving tea like this?”

Seunghee hums, “Historically, it was used for Buddhist monks or palace royalty, but I think now it’s an acknowledgement that we are together, in this moment.”

Ricky smiles, “I’m glad to be here in this moment with you, Seunghee-ssi.”

Seunghee smiles back, pours the tea into Ricky’s waiting cup, “Me too.”

Rina nods in approval, the cameras zeroing in on the pair of them slowly sipping on their tea.

“What about for you?” Seunghee asks, “What do you see as the purpose?”

Ricky places his cup down carefully, “Tea is used for many different reasons in China. To show respect, to welcome, to apologize, to be married with someone fully.”

Seunghee’s eyebrows raise in interest, “I’ve heard of wedding tea ceremonies, have you ever had one?”

Ricky laughs, “For myself, no. My sister had one when she married, though.”

“What was it like?”

“It’s the most peaceful part of a wedding day,” Ricky hums. He’s drained his tea, his hands now unsure of where to move, but he finds Seunghee easy to talk to even with cameras pressing in around them. “The bride and groom have to kneel and serve the tea to each of their elders so it takes some time. Ends with their parents as the highest form of respect.”

“Why do you think you use tea, though?” Seunghee pours him another cup slowly, subtly noticing Ricky’s empty cup.

It’s a question Ricky has never really thought about it. It just was. And he’s sure there’s some historical context to why tea ceremonies happen but he turns the thought over in his mind and forms his own reasoning.

“Like you said, tea is all about patience. A slow steep, a slow pour. So maybe serving tea to your parents and more importantly, your in-laws, shows you will love their child through the test of time. That you will be kind and be patient just as you serve the tea.”

“I like that,” Seunghee replies, but her expression is unreadable.

“Cut!” Rina calls, cracking the fragile moment. “Let’s break for a bit so we can reset for solo shots.”

Seunghee turns to him, “Should we look around?”

“Let’s.”

They wander around the shrine until they find the place Seunghee is looking for, a small garden where flowers and tea leaves grow.

“I love gardening,” Seunghee shares lightly, stroking her finger across the different plants, “It’s so nice to see the different plants grow under your care. Do you garden, Ricky-ssi?”

Ricky shakes his head, “I would probably kill any plant under my care.”

Seunghee lets out a small chuckle, “It’s not as hard as you think to grow things. If you give them the love and attention they need, you would be surprised how easy it is.”

“Hm,” Ricky hums, “I guess I’ll have to try it when I get back to Shanghai. I’ll ask you for tips.”

“Please do. I don’t mind at all.”

Seunghee plucks one of the tea leaves, waves it under her nose to sniff, passes it to Ricky for him to smell the aromatic scent himself.

“You go back to Shanghai soon?” Seunghee asks.

“As soon as I finish everything here.”

It used to feel like a faraway date, but it’s approaching closer, a deadline to untangle all the messy strings Ricky has been tugging on. 

“You seem like a kind person, Ricky. I hope we keep in touch,” Seunghee muses.

“I would like that too,” Ricky grins. He likes talking to Seunghee. She treats him so normally, not like he’s Shen Ricky or any other names and titles that seem to follow him, just like another person they slowly learn about. 

Seunghee stares at him suddenly, “Did you mean what you said when we were filming? That love is patient.”

Seunghee says things that are a little strange sometimes, soft and tender looking but like a darkness waits right under the surface.

“I think so,” Ricky replies, “Or, I want to believe it.”

“It’s difficult,” Seunghee examines the leaves of another plant carefully, “To be patient with someone even when they’re at their worst.” Seunghee looks at him sharply, “Have you ever done that? Loved someone at their worst?”

Ricky shifts nervously. “I haven’t, no. But I want to.”

He’s not sure he can do it. He tried and failed so miserably, and now he’s not sure if he will ever get the opportunity to again. Is he being patient with Gyuvin? Kind? It feels the opposite, like he’s ruining him further, and so he can’t look at Seunghee in the eye, another person he feels guilty for deceiving. 

“I think you can.”

One of the production assistants approaches them from behind, the garden left behind as they’re called back to set. 

He wants to press for more from Seunghee, How do you do it? Because he’s certain somehow, that Seunghee knows the answer. That this is the small bit of darkness that lurks under her skin.

As they’re wrapping for the day, Xintong grabs him. 

“Look,” Xintong shoves his phone in his face, “There’s a birthday ad for you at the Hongik University Station. We should go visit on our way back.”

His own face lights up across the screen, graceful and elegant. It’s not uncommon to see his own face in ads, but it’s been a while since he’s seen his name written in Korean splashed across the signage, almost doesn’t feel like his name anymore.

“It’s your birthday?” Seunghee asks.

“In a few days,” Ricky answers, the quick shift between speaking in Chinese and Korean beginning to numb his head.

“You should have told me!” Rina interjects, “We should all celebrate together.”

Ricky shakes his head, “I have plans for my birthday.”

It’s another lie, lies that seem to roll off his tongue with such ease nowadays. He’s used to spending his birthdays alone now, and it’s not something that he sees changing anytime soon.

“Well, happy early birthday,” Senghee smiles softly.

“Thanks,” Ricky replies, a small light in the cavernous feeling in his chest that opens every year on his birthday.

FROM: [email protected]

 

DATE: May 20, 2025

 

SUBJECT: happy birthday, my love

 

my love,

 

happy birthday! you’re asleep right now as i write this, but when you wake up i’ll tell you happy birthday again. you’re becoming an old man now, huh? you’re older than me by a few months so i can say it right? i’ll love you even as an old man. i’ve always wondered what you will be like when you’re really old, even with wrinkles i know you’ll be the most beautiful. we’ll grow old together and i'll tease you even more. 

 

we’ve spent so many birthdays together now and i know we will spend many more together. honestly, i didn’t really care that much about birthdays before i met you. before, it was just another day of the year, but now birthdays remind me that i got to spend another year with you, the most precious gift of all. i don’t know what to wish for on my birthday anymore because i’ve already gotten everything i’ve ever wanted with you. 

 

when you get this ten years from now, promise me we will spend your birthday together. even if you’re across the world from me, we’ll figure it out. i wanna tell you i love you in person, to see it in your eyes when i say it. 

 

happy birthday! i love you,

gyuvin

[MAY 2025]

“You really didn’t have to.”

Gyuvin is in a button down shirt and slacks, his hair shaggy over his brow, smiles up at him from across the table.

“I wanted to.”

Ricky knows it couldn’t have been easy. They’re in the private room of the most upscale restaurant in Gangnam, had been snuck in through a back entrance so only a few trusted staff could see them enter. It was risky—to go out like this in public without the pretenses of it only a friendly meal between groupmates. Because there was no way to twist this as anything but romantic, a candlelit dinner in secrecy. But he trusted Gyuvin—that he talked to the right people and paid the right amount of money to make sure this would stay within the walls of the restaurant. 

“You’ve always said you wanted to go on a real date,” Gyuvin muses. He cuts a piece of steak and lovingly places it on Ricky’s plate.

“I was supposed to take you on a date,” Ricky pouts. 

“Too bad, I beat you to it.” Gyuvin teases, “Here try this.” Gyuvin reaches across the table with a bite of fish on his spoon.

“I can feed myself, you know,” Ricky retorts, but takes the spoon into his mouth. 

“Mm, but it’s your birthday, I have to treat you like a prince.”

Ricky scoffs, “You should treat me like that every day.”

He does though. He treats him so well he forgets how to breathe sometimes. He treats him in a way that he knows he’s never been loved like this before. 

“Ah, maybe you should open your gift then, your highness.” Gyuvin’s grin is lopsided as he pulls a box out his pocket. 

It reminds him of giving the ring to Gyuvin all those years ago, when they barely knew what each other meant to the other, with Ricky a bundle of nerves. But Gyuvin hands over the present unabashedly now, and there’s nothing left unsaid about how much they care for each other. 

“You’re proposing?” Ricky teases. The box is the right size to be a ring, and Ricky feels himself flush at just the thought.

Gyuvin shakes his head and smiles, “Not yet,” Motions with his hand for Ricky to open it. 

It’s a necklace, pretty and dainty as it sparkles under the low lights.

“Oh,” Ricky breathes out, “It’s beautiful.”

It’s the most expensive gift he’s ever received, not that the price tag matters, all that matters is the way Gyuvin rests his chin on his palm and watches him with rapt attention. Anything Gyuvin gives to him is precious, even the littlest things, a drink or a t-shirt suddenly becoming a crown jewel in his eyes. 

“Put it on for me?” Ricky asks, Gyuvin’s eyes sparkling. He rises from his chair, crosses over to Ricky to take the necklace from his hand and delicately place it around Ricky’s neck, his hands and touch so familiar, but still sending shivers down Ricky’s spine.

He smiles up at Gyuvin, “It’s perfect, thank you.”

Gyuvin leaves a small kiss under his ear, “I’m glad you like it.”

Ricky tries to savor it, the precious time they have alone together like this, clenches the moment in his teeth and bites down hard so it can’t leave too quickly.

“Do you feel a year older?”

Ricky snorts, “Not really.”

“A year older and not any wiser,” Gyuvin teases, Ricky rolling his eyes.

Maybe he’s not wiser. But he thinks he’s grown to learn more about the affairs of the heart, how to love fully and be loved in return. 

“Would you like any dessert or drinks?” The waiter asks smoothly as their dishes have been cleared and the night is still fresh.

“No, thank you. We have somewhere else to be,” Gyuvin replies lightly. The waiter nods, Gyuvin rising and ushering him out of the restaurant. 

“Where are we going?” Ricky asks, but Gyuvin only smiles in response. 

“You’ll see.”

He’s not sure what he was expecting. Perhaps another fanciful escapade to match the high-class dining experience, but instead they’re standing side by side in front of the ice cream freezer of a small convenience store. 

It’s not until Gyuvin pulls out two ice creams and says, “We match,” that Ricky realizes.

“Oh. Is this the place?”

Gyuvin nods. 

It’s been a few years now, but the memory falls into place, the first time they ever hung out alone, two young boys with nothing but ice cream and stumbling words in their hands. It was the first time he saw Gyuvin smile, the first time he really saw the brightness of Gyuvin’s eyes, the first time Gyuvin circled his hand around Ricky’s wrist. 

“You’re such a hopeless romantic,” Ricky teases, but doesn’t protest when Gyuvin buys their ice cream in haste and drags them to the same spot they sat all those years ago.

They look silly like this—in pressed pants and button down shirts, sitting on a curb on the street with convenience store ice cream in hand. But Ricky wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Only for you,” Gyuvin responds, munching on his ice cream happily. “Don’t spill ice cream all over yourself again, though.”

Ricky pushes him on the shoulder, “Don’t be mean on my birthday!”

“Hey! I’d still wipe it for you, but I know you would be mad about getting your pants dirty,” Gyuvin teases.

“Whatever,” Ricky rolls his eyes, but eats his ice cream carefully to avoid making any messes.

“You were so cute that day,” Gyuvin muses, “All flustered and dripping ice cream all over yourself.”

Ricky grumbles, he was probably far from cute. They had practiced for hours that day, so much so that Ricky can only imagine himself looking sweating and rumpled, it’s almost hard to believe Gyuvin fell for him despite this. 

“Were you so lost in my eyes that you spilled it?” Gyuvin continues pushing, Ricky choking around his bite of the sweet treat. 

“What’re you even saying?” Ricky complains, embarrassed for his past self that was so obvious in his crush, “I barely even knew you then.”

Gyuvin laughs, “I barely knew you too, but even then I knew I liked you.”

Ricky feels his neck heat up, his ears turning red, “Don’t lie.”

“I’m not!” Gyuvin argues, “I swear, I liked you so much. I didn’t really understand it then, but I was going crazy, my heart beat so fast when I saw you and I wanted your attention so bad. It took me a little while to realize what it was.”

He knows Gyuvin is being honest. That Gyuvin is always honest with him, even if it’s embarrassing or strange, and it makes Ricky’s heart thump wildly at the thought that Gyuvin had liked him from the very beginning, feels unreal, even if Ricky had felt the same way. 

“Okay, fine,” Ricky admits, “I liked you so much then that I was staring at you and forgot to eat my ice cream. And I pretended to not know Korean so you would translate for me.”

It’s Gyuvin’s turn to sputter, “What, really?”

“Don’t act so surprised,” Ricky scoffs, licks strawberry and matcha into his mouth.

“It’s a little shocking because you were so cool then, and I was so lame. Although, it was pretty obvious when you were just pretending to not know Korean.”

Ricky laughs, He didn’t really care that he was obvious, because all that mattered was the Gyuvin would talk to him, give him his attention. “You’re still kinda lame.”

Gyuvin pouts, “But now I know you’re not cool at all. You’re just as lame as me.”

“Mm, it’s true,” Ricky sighs dramatically, “You made me a loser. A terrible influence, really.”

Gyuvin grins, but is watching him carefully, reaches his hand to Ricky's chest and plays with the new necklace that adorns Ricky's neck. “I think I was made for you, Ricky.”

Gyuvin says things like this sometimes. Devastating, innocent little things, that hatch out of the ground curl into Ricky’s waiting lap. 

“Like, you were born on this day, and then the world decided you needed someone to match you. And it took a few months, but I was created to be yours.”

“Gyuvin,” Ricky says softly, Gyuvin’s eyes expectant, “Your ice cream is dripping on your pants.”

Gyuvin squawks, starts furiously wiping at his nice dress pants before it’s too late, Ricky taking the ice cream from Gyuvin’s hand and licking up the dripping mess. Gyuvin is flustered, and before Ricky can think it through, he’s grabbing Gyuvin’s hand and licking the sticky remnants from his fingers, Gyuvin staring at him in disbelief. 

“Give me some credit, though,” Ricky comments.

“Hm?” Gyuvin is still flushed red. 

“I was made for you too,” Ricky explains, laces their fingers together.

Gyuvin's whole face lights up, even as they continue arguing, “That doesn’t even make sense, you were born before me.”

“It does,” Ricky defends, “Time is all made up, what happened first or last doesn’t matter.”

Gyuvin laughs at Ricky’s flawed reasoning, but squeezes his hand anyways, “Okay, fine. We were both made for each other.”

“Good. Now can we go home so I can get my last birthday present?”

Gyuvin raises his eyebrows, “Oh, you think there’s more?”

“There better be,” Ricky pouts, “You better fuck me so well I forget what age I am.”

Gyuvin slaps a hand over Ricky’s mouth, looking around frantically at the empty street to make sure no one overhears, “You’re crazy! Be quiet.”

“So, that’s a no?” Ricky says muffled against Gyuvin’s hand. He loves teasing Gyuvin. Seeing his wide eye expression and flushed face. 

“No, but. I guess since time is all made up I should’ve fucked you this morning and then taken you out. Do everything out of order.”

Ricky smiles, “Yeah, you should’ve.”

Gyuvin shakes his head, but the smile can’t leave his lips, “Let’s go home, then. Make up for lost time.”

[MAY 2027]

Ricky isn’t sure what home is anymore.

He visited his mother in LA the week before, and it was nice, easy. But he had felt like a guest still, a passing person inside his mother’s home, even as they celebrated his birthday early with a decadent cake and an expensive present placed in his hands. 

Today, on the eve of his actual birthday, he sits alone in his apartment in Shanghai and wonders if loneliness is the true penance for selfishness. Perhaps this was always his destiny, to be a traveler, a person who never belongs to one person or one place.

It’s reckless to go out.

His popularity in China is only beginning to take off, bubbling steadily, almost ready to boil over.

He’s feeling a little reckless though. A fire in his belly that can’t be contained to the barren walls and the cold floors of his penthouse. 

“Do you want one?’ The man flips the packet towards him, Ricky nodding before plucking a cigarette between his fingers. 

The club is reasonably full for a weekday, a mess of bodies and shimmering lights. He was never much into the club scene, but he can understand the appeal, a veil of anonymity cloaking everyone under the hazy smoke and thrumming bass. 

The man lights the cigarette for him, Ricky taking a drag before coughing violently at the feeling of the smoke filling his lungs. 

The man laughs, a teasing smirk, “First time?”

Ricky scowls, “Something like that.”

The man isn’t bad looking. A thick and stocky build, a bit shorter than Ricky but posturing at him like he’s the larger one. He picked him on purpose, someone that was opposite of him in every way. 

“What is someone as pretty as you doing at a place like this anyways?”

Ricky scoffs, it’s a cheap line wrapped in a jab, does nothing for Ricky but make him want to shut him up.

“Maybe I want to get into some trouble.”

The man grins wickedly, “I’m great at trouble.”

The hotel room they end up in is much below Ricky’s usual standard, but he doesn’t comment on it, just undresses himself as quickly as possible to expedite the process. 

Ricky turns his back to the man, ass on display and head buried into the pillow so he doesn’t have to see, only feel. He will never let anyone fuck him while looking him in the eyes ever again, it’s too intimate, a little too close to seeing into Ricky’s dark soul.

“Hurry up,” Ricky barks, the sound of snapping condom before the man grabs his hips to align himself.

“Are you always this mouthy?” The man spits.

You’ll never find out. You’ll never see me again after today. He thinks but replies, “No talking. Just fuck me.”

The man grumbles, but follows directions and begins slowly fucking into him. 

“Faster,” Ricky demands, the man easily complying and speeding up his rhythm.

He’s the first man that he’s let touch him since Gyuvin, and he wants to forget so badly that all he can do is remember. Remember how earnestly Gyuvin looked at him, remember how gentle and sweet he was while also giving Ricky exactly what he wants, remember the way he took care of him always. 

He can feel himself getting fucked now, the drag inside of him, the rough hands on his sides, but it feels like nothing, like he’s a ghost experiencing the whole thing from below in the afterlife. 

The man comes inside him with a grunt, stilling in his movements as he spills into the condom, the man reaching down to tangle his fingers in Ricky’s hair as he rides through his waves of pleasure.

He pulls out too quickly. Leaves Ricky empty and in pain, winces as he feels the other man’s body heat leave him.

“Do you want me to?” The man asks, gesturing to Ricky’s neglected cock.

“No,” Ricky says quickly, stays turned around until he hears the man stumble to the bathroom to clean himself.

He dresses himself in haste, throws on his shirt and pants quickly and is out the door before the faceless and nameless man can see the distaste on Ricky’s face. 

He checks his phone as he walks down the empty street, realizes it’s past midnight and he’s another year older.

“Happy birthday,” He whispers to himself, the only witness of his aging being the streetlights and the gentle breeze. 

Two years ago, his messages would’ve been filled with birthday messages, he would’ve had warm hands touching his and soft kisses left on his cheeks. He blames himself for getting used to such extravagance, reminds himself that he’s used to this just being another day, that he can change time and pretend this is how it’s always been. 

He’s two blocks from home when it comes, and he’s shocked when the message lights up his screen, stops in his tracks when he sees it.

Yujin

happy birthday ricky-hyung

He feels his chest constrict, the warm spring air suddenly feeling suffocating. 

For the first time in two years, he wants to call Gyuvin, wants to hear his voice, is sure he is the only person will understand the gnawing feeling inside him, the emptiness and the darkness.

He doesn’t though. Walks into his empty apartment and listens to the sound of his echoing footsteps and turns off his phone, let’s the day pass like any other.

[MAY 2035]

It feels like an ambush, but Ricky knows it was an unplanned attack.

“Ricky-hyung.”

Yujin is sitting on the couch wide-eyed, seems just as startled to see Ricky walking through the front door of Zhang Hao and Hanbin’s apartment.

“Um, hi.”

It’s Ricky’s own fault. He’s back from work earlier than he had told Zhang Hao, the aforementioned man hearing his entrance and emerging from the kitchen in concern.

He seems to consider intervening, but shakes his head, “I’ll go out for a bit. You two should talk.” The older man promptly slipping on his shoes and out the door.

Ricky takes a deep breath. It’s what he wanted, but it feels like the wind has been knocked out of him now that he faces it in the present.

“We should talk, shouldn’t we?” Ricky says quietly.

Yujin shrinks back, as if the words burn, but he nods in response. It’s been so long since he’s seen him, no longer a boy now, fully a man with wide shoulders and a chiseled face, and he can’t be sure but he looks like he might be taller than him now too. It makes Ricky want to weep, the realization that so much time has passed that Yujin is barely recognizable, that the boy he once knew no longer exists.

“How have you been, Yujin?”

Yujin shakes his head, “Don’t do that. Talk like we’re strangers.”

Ricky breathes deeply, sinks into the couch across from him, “You’re right, I’m sorry.”

The silence is heavy between them, neither of them sure where to unravel the tangled mess between them.

“Can you promise to be honest with me?” Yujin asks, eyes blazing.

He’s not sure if he can. There’s so many things he wants to keep concealed from Yujin, even now, but he knows that he deserves the truth even if it will sting painfully.

“Okay.”

“Tell me first, the real reason you broke up with him.”

He should’ve expected this, even back then Yujin knew Ricky wasn’t being wholly honest, so he’s been waiting all these years to hear the truth.

“I was being selfish with him, I couldn’t be selfish anymore, I had to remove myself from him.”

Yujin makes an affronted  noise at the back of his throat, “Explain.”

“I-I don’t,” Ricky stutters out. It’s the first time he’s actually said it out loud, but Yujin is unrelenting in his glare, unwilling to compromise or give Ricky an out. “He was going to move Shanghai with me. Was going to throw away his entire career to be with me.”

“And?”

Ricky feels himself beginning to burn with anger now, his hands gripping onto the side of his pants to try and calm himself. 

“And? Can’t you see that it would’ve been a huge mistake? He was going to ruin his life.”

Yujin doesn’t back down, crosses his arms in defiance, “So, why didn’t you tell him that?”

“It was more than that,” Ricky tries to defend himself, “Even if I told him, our whole relationship was him giving too much of himself to me. That was just the final nail in the coffin.”

Yujin scoffs, “You’re so stupid.”

“I’m trying to be honest,” Ricky gulps, can feel tears forming at the corner of his eyes from Yujin’s stabs.

Yujin turns away from him, inhales deeply, “You’re right, I’m sorry. I just-”

Ricky can tell. That just like Ricky, that this is a wound that has been festering for ten years, that every movement makes Yujin hiss in pain.

“I’m sorry, Yujin. I don’t know how to fix this,” Ricky says quietly. Yujin still isn’t looking at him, and Ricky watches as tears silently slide down his cheeks, the boy suddenly looking like his old self again, young and hurt and crying.

“I wasn’t upset that you broke Gyuvin’s heart, although I should be. I was upset because you abandoned us even though you promised you wouldn’t.” He says it through tears, every word puncturing into Ricky’s skin.

Ricky knows he needs to be the one to reach out first now, takes both of Yujin’s hands in his and gently squeezes. “I’m sorry, it hurt too much to talk to you, to any of you. You were right, I just wanted to push everyone away because I was in pain.”

Yujin finally turns to look at him again, the tears in his eyes making his eyes shine glossy and sad, “Don’t you know that we were all hurting just as much? You say you didn’t want to be selfish, but don’t you see leaving us without a word is the most selfish of all?”

“‘M sorry.” Ricky can feel his own tears pricking at his eyes now, his head numb and his hands shaking. 

“I don’t want to be upset with you anymore, Ricky. But I don’t know if everything is forgiven.”

“I understand.”

Yujin sighs, leans forward and rests his head on Ricky’s shoulder, his tears dripping and wetting on Ricky’s shirt. “I probably have no right to say this when I know Gyuvin was hurt a hundred times more, but you leaving scarred something on my heart.” 

Ricky grips onto him, lets the words come out in a rush, “You have to understand, Yujin. I don’t regret breaking up with him, I think I was right to do so. But I do regret the pain it caused other people, especially you. I’m sorry, truly. I promise, I won’t leave again.”

Yujin grips onto him tighter, sounds small and young, “You promise?”

“I promise.”

The air shifts, a little lighter, a little like they’ve reached the eye of the storm.

“If you break your promise, I’ll actually kill you,” Yujin says it with a bite, but it’s more teasing than mean now.

“You have my permission to,” Ricky smiling and finally pulling Yujin into a full embrace in his arms.

“I still don’t understand why you couldn’t have been together, if you both loved each other,” Yujin says quietly, a small admittance. 

“It’s complicated,” Ricky smooths a hand down Yujin’s back soothingly, “Sometimes love isn’t enough. You’ll understand once you fall in love, Yujin-ah.”

Yujin tenses in his arms.

“Oh? Unless you already have?” Ricky says it teasingly.

“No,” Yujin says quickly, “I don’t have time to fall in love.”

Ricky laughs, “Love doesn’t really keep a certain time, you know.”

“Yeah but,” Yujin argues back, “You have to choose to love someone too.”

He knows what Yujin is implying—that Ricky made the choice not to love Gyuvin anymore. He wonders what Yujin would think if he knew he had been under Gyuvin just a few days ago, if he knew that Ricky’s devotion stretched far beyond a simple choice. 

“And sometimes you love someone so much you have to choose what’s best even if it means no longer being together.”

Yujin shakes his head, “I’ll never accept that as a good enough answer, Ricky. But-”

“But?”

“I’ll try to forgive you anyways. Because I do choose to love you.”

Ricky’s tears finally fall, heavy and wet as he holds onto Yujin. It’s just a few bricks being laid down in the crumbling remains of Ricky’s life, just a small foundation, but for the first time Ricky wonders if it’s possible he can be rebuilt into a semblance of what he once was. 

“I love you too.”

Ricky should’ve known that one scorching look from Gyuvin would ruin all his carefully laid plans. 

He had been so sure of himself when he left Shanghai, that he would lock Gyuvin away and throw away the key, but now he sits with him on the balcony of another anonymous hotel room, his birthday only hours away. 

Gyuvin has a habit of disrupting what Ricky believes the plan should be. Debut without distractions, don’t care about anyone else’s rank but yourself, don’t even think about marriage, guard your heart so you don’t get hurt. 

He knows they’re playing with fire. He should push again about Gyuvin’s wife, should ask about why Gyuvin is doing this, should cry out that he thinks this is making everything so much worse. 

But just like Gyuvin tends to disrupt things, Ricky tends to walk into fire knowing he will get hurt but can’t resist Gyuvin’s burning flame. 

“Can I blow you?” Gyuvin asks into his ear, his hot breath fanning over his skin.

They had fucked already, Gyuvin sloppily coming inside him before licking him clean, had wrapped them both in the hotel robes before dragging them both to sit on the private balcony. 

He’s laying against Gyuvin’s chest on the lounge chair, can feel his chest rising falling as he breathes steadily, doesn’t take long for Gyuvin to start becoming handsy and stroking his fingers inside Ricky's robe. Laying like this, he can feel Gyuvin’s hips shifting in interest too, steadily growing hard again under Ricky’s back. 

“You can never get enough, can you?” Ricky teases, but he can feel his own member keening in want as well.

“With you, no, I can’t,” Gyuvin murmurs, slides his hand underneath his robe and fully presses his palm against Ricky, Ricky letting out a small gasp. He takes Ricky into his hand, moving up and down slowly, Ricky whining at the feeling of his rough hands enveloping him so easily. 

“So, can I?”

Ricky reaches up and threads his fingers in Gyuvin’s hair, hides his face in the side of his neck, “Yeah, you can.”

Gyuvin removes himself from Ricky, crawls so he’s on top of him and looking down at him, his big eyes searching as he slowly undoes the tie of Ricky’s robe to expose him fully. 

He takes Ricky in his hand again, jacks him off slowly as Ricky writhes below him, waiting for Gyuvin’s hot mouth to destroy him.

“Been a while since I’ve done this,” Gyuvin admits shyly, doesn’t mention why it’s been a long time since he’s pleasured a man like this because they both know.

“I’ll try not to judge you too harshly then,” Ricky quips, “But I make no promises.”

“I pick up pretty quickly, though,” Gyuvin smirks, finally bows his head down and takes Ricky into his mouth. 

He makes up for his inexperience with eagerness, licks and sucks wetly and hotly and uses his hand to cover what his mouth can’t reach. 

Gyuvin’s own robe has fallen open, exposing the tan planes of Gyuvin’s chest, his own erection hanging heavily between his legs, but he pays it no mind, focuses only only on making Ricky feel good. 

“Mmph, Gyuvin,” Ricky whines, knows he’s already on edge and sensitive from being fucked earlier, can feel his resolve breaking. 

The wind brushes against them, Gyuvin’s hair blowing onto his forehead, Ricky admiring how beautiful he looks like this, windswept and swirling his tongue around Ricky’s tip. 

Ricky reaches down and brushes Gyuvin’s hair away from his face, the man looking at him when he feels his fingers on him. It’s always been Gyuvin’s eyes, his pupils dark brown and shining that makes Ricky fall apart, watches his eyes dance at Ricky’s expression.

He can’t help the small noises that leave his throat, needy and yearning, can only let his mouth fall open in pleasure as he maintains eye contact with Gyuvin. 

“Come in my mouth, Ricky.” He says it as a demand, not a question, and Ricky is too far gone to do anything but comply. 

He comes down Gyuvin’s throat, Gyuvin moaning around his length, sending vibrations down Ricky’s spine as his orgasm seems to stretch out even longer after coming for the second time tonight. 

Gyuvin finally takes himself in his own hand, stroking himself languidly as he bends down to rest his forehead against Ricky’s.

“What’s your judgment then?” Gyuvin pants out.

It takes a moment for Ricky to catch up to what Gyuvin is referring to, his mind floaty and buzzing, distracted by how hot Gyuvin looks desperately fucking into his hand as he watches Ricky.

“You were good,” Ricky replies, grips the back of Gyuvin’s neck so he can angle his head up and kiss him, “So good for me.”

“Fuck,” Gyuvin groans, and then he’s kissing Ricky fully, tongue messily licking into Ricky’s mouth as he continues touching himself. He kisses Gyuvin through his climax, feels wetness drip on to his stomach and robe as Gyuvin comes muffled against his mouth. 

They continue kissing even after Gyuvin comes down from his high, their cocks brushing and Ricky hissing at the oversensitivity, but Gyuvin only smiles and leans down to kiss him again. It’s a slower kiss, the kind that feels like honey and sun-warmed skin, dangerous in a wholly different way as Ricky feels himself getting lost in it. 

Gyuvin pulls back from the kiss, looks at him and strokes the back of his finger down his cheek gently. He’s so used to the gaze of other people. Makeup artists, stylists, cameramen, his fans, everyone. He never pays much attention to it now, the way in which people look at him, so sure that the facade he creates is so perfectly painted by himself that he doesn’t need to worry that they won’t see anything but what he wants them to. But with Gyuvin—his gaze is undressing and unnerving, the carefully created walls crumbling with each glance. 

“Pretty,” Gyuvin says simply, Ricky feeling the avalanche in his chest careening down the mountain, knows that Gyuvin can see so much more than that and it scares him. 

Gyuvin kisses him chastely once more before standing up and pulling Ricky up with him, the barren remains of Ricky trailing behind. 

They pad back into the hotel room, Gyuvin beginning to gather their discarded clothes from the floor and distributing them between the two of them. 

Gyuvin glances down at the expensive watch on his wrist, looks back at him, “It’s your birthday today, right?” He says it nonchalantly, like it’s just a passing thought, like the words don’t make Ricky’s stomach turn.

“Yeah, it is.”

“Happy birthday,” Gyuvin smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

I kept your promise, Ricky thinks, thinks about the email sitting on his phone, a promise Gyuvin made ten years ago. He wonders if Gyuvin remembers sending it, almost considers showing the email to him, but he knows it’s a terrible idea. He’s not ready to crack open the past and remind Gyuvin why he should stay as far away from Ricky as possible.

He’s almost certain Gyuvin doesn’t remember. Can tell in the casual way he dresses himself again, in the way he doesn’t even kiss him goodbye as he leaves him in the hotel room, in the way Gyuvin never noticed he was wearing the necklace he gave him on his birthday ten years ago.

He’s alone again on his birthday, just as he’s meant to be.

Chapter Text

[MAY 2035]

Ricky learned how to do makeup when he was fourteen. He would watch videos, tutorials, anything he could get his hands on to learn how to make himself pretty. He liked the process—slowly assembling, creating, painting the face he wanted to show to the world. If he didn’t like it, he could start over, wipe the brush strokes from the canvas and paint over it again.

Being a celebrity is like that.

You create the face you want, carefully curate and pick the pieces that make you look best, conceal the parts that show your worst. Maybe it’s fake or deceiving, but Ricky always wore it like armor, a protection to keep him safe from being hurt. 

“You okay?” Zhang Hao asks from the doorway. 

Ricky stands in front of the mirror, makes eye contact with Hao through the reflection and nods slowly, finishes the last touch of lipstick to his worry-bitten lips. 

“Let me come to work with you,” Hao insists.

Ricky isn’t okay. He’s crumbling slowly, from the inside out, a wall of destruction waiting to completely crush him. Zhang Hao knows something is wrong—can tell by his lingering glances and his steady presence, that he’s worried that Ricky is close to breaking.

“It’s going to be boring,” Ricky retorts, thinks of the grueling photoshoots they used to endure together, hours upon hours of waiting and being poked and preened at, so exhausting they would fall asleep on each other’s shoulders. 

“I don’t mind, I wanna see you work.”

It’s been one week since his birthday. One week since he inevitably understood that it was impossible to leave Seoul unscathed. 

“Fine. But don’t complain when you lose interest.”

It’s one of their final days of shooting, Ricky clad in heeled boots and a wisp of a shirt, his long lines on display for the camera to devour. 

Zhang Hao sits right outside of the frame, lounged in a chair that had been brought to him once the crew recognized who he was and began murmuring to each other. 

“Change your face, Ricky!” Rina calls from behind the camera teasingly. 

He scoffs at Rina’s comment, but shifts into a mischievous half-smile, Rina nodding in approval. Rina had been so polite when they first met, not cold but a bit rigid, but now their comfort with each other shines through, the familiarity in which they work together as easy as breathing. 

“Let me see,” Ricky says after a few more takes, walks to stand next to the monitor that uploads each of the photos. 

“I like this one,” Rina points out. It’s a close shot of Ricky’s face, Ricky is almost snarling in the picture, his teeth on display, but his eyes still look soft and adrift, like he’s ready to bark but with no bite. 

“Hm,” Ricky considers, his face flashing across the screen like a strobing light of Ricky’s face from every angle. “Don’t you think one that shows the full outfit is better?” He likes that he can give his opinion to Rina now, like his voice matters.

“I’ll select some of those too,” Rina reassures, “But that one is so poignant. It feels like I understood the war inside you with just that one look.”

“You think there’s a war in my head?” Ricky quips, amused.

“Oh, definitely. You’re like an enigma of battles within your own mind.”

Rina turns to Zhang Hao, who Ricky hadn’t noticed had snuck up behind them. “Which one do you like?”

“Me?” Zhang Hao points to himself, surprised. “But I’m not-”

“It doesn’t matter, I’m sure you have a good eye,” Rina waves him off. It’s what he likes about Rina, that her ego as an artistic director doesn’t get in the way of making the best possible work.

“Um,” Hao hesitates, “That one.” The picture is impossibly soft, a little blurry like the camera wasn’t in the right focus, and Ricky is mid-laugh at something Rina said, eyes crescent shaped and smile wide, fully candid. 

“Hyung,” Ricky complains. Because that wasn’t a real photo. It was an outtake, not the carefully constructed image he wanted to convey. 

Zhang Hao shrugs, “She asked for my opinion. I think you look best in that one.”

Rina hums, smiles at Hao sweetly, “Interesting. Thanks for telling me.”

Rina turns to the lighting director, pointing out some adjustments she wants made, the man nodding rapidly in agreement.

“Let’s take a break,” She declares, the crew bustling to make the changes she requested. Ricky and Zhang Hao pull away from the chaos, retreat to the corner of the studio that’s a bit quieter.

“This is my favorite Ricky—you, in your element,” Hao comments with a half-grin, pinches the fabric of Ricky’s billowing shirt between his fingers. 

It’s his favorite Ricky too, if he’s being honest. But not for the reasons Hao has, but because when he’s working it’s the only time he can block out the swirling thoughts in his head.

“Do you miss it?” Ricky asks tentatively, thinks of all the sacrifices Zhang Hao made, his life as a celebrity being just a fraction.

Zhang Hao considers it, “Sometimes,” He replies quietly. “I love my life with Hanbin, but I think everyone always wonders about the ‘what if’.”

He can’t imagine Zhang Hao without Hanbin anymore. Even in an alternate reality where Hao chose to be an idol still, he thinks they would’ve figured out a way to stay together. 

“Does Hanbin miss it too?”

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

Ricky fidgets his fingers on the hem of his shirt, clenches his jaw tightly. Hanbin never treated him harshly. Even when they were kids and Hanbin would struggle to reign in Ricky’s far-off wandering mind, Hanbin would never scold him with malice. But for the last few weeks he’s been distant, like he’s afraid of being scraped by Ricky’s inevitable implosion. He can’t even blame him—Ricky is thick with worry too of what will remain of himself.

“I dunno,” Ricky says instead, shrugs his shoulders. 

Even after all this time, he still doesn’t want to disappoint Zhang Hao. How much more unconditional understanding can Zhang Hao give him until he finally grows tired of Ricky’s mistakes?

What would Zhang Hao say to him if he knew Ricky woke up on the morning of his birthday and realized that even as much as he tried for the past ten years, Ricky was still unequivocally in love with Gyuvin? He would call him stupid, naive to think that Gyuvin who was married and Ricky who barely resembled the person who he once was could be loved by Gyuvin again. 

He had let him go for a reason, let him be an easy fuck for him, and perhaps that was the divine punishment of all of Ricky’s misdeeds.

“C’mon,” Ricky says, swallows down the lump in his throat. He drags Zhang Hao in front of the camera, the crew still moving to change the set pieces but Ricky pushes in anyways.

“I don’t know how to anymore,” Zhang Hao pouts. 

“Just pose naturally,” Ricky instructs, clicking the camera in his hand. Rina shakes her head at Ricky playing director, but doesn’t stop him, just watches the two of them fooling around.

Zhang Hao protests, but begins posing in jest, and then poses more seriously, the camera easily capturing his natural shine. His smile is infectious, transferring to Ricky and making him laugh when Zhang Hao strikes a silly pose.

“You really could be a model,” Rina comments, examining the range of photos.

Zhang Hao laughs, “I’ll leave that to Ricky, I made my choice a long time ago.”

(He wish he could be like Hao, strong-willed and unwavering in his choices. He really hopes Hao will still be there to pick up the pieces when he can’t have the same strength.)

Zhang Hao smiles one more time at him, the camera capturing it perfectly. 

“Ricky-hyung, smile for me.”

Yujin has his phone camera shoved in Ricky’s face, unrelentingly taking photos until he deems one appropriately foolish enough looking.

“No,” Ricky pouts, continues examining his outfit in the mirror. He’s taking too much time picking out his outfit—every piece of clothing either too casual, too dressy, or too much. It doesn’t matter. It’s just a simple meal between friends, but he wants Gyuvin to burn when he sees him. 

They’re sitting in Ricky’s room, the evening sunlight streaming in and Banji curled on the bed watching them, all of them listening to the chaotic sounds of Zhang Hao’s cooking and the the different smells of meat and vegetables wafting, making the whole apartment feel alive.

Zhang Hao had warned him in advance—”I invited everyone over for dinner.” Gave him enough time to process and prepare himself to see Gyuvin again, gave him enough time to grow sick with worry of how he should act in front of all their friends. 

“Look at this one,” Yujin giggles, shoves his phone into his face to show Ricky photographed at a weird angle.

Ricky scoffs and rolls his eyes, looks back at himself in the mirror, how he really looks, not the distorted view from Yujin’s phone camera. It's hard to spot the differences sometimes.

“Food is ready!” Hao calls from the kitchen, Yujin scrambling up at the words. 

Yujin treats their friendship like nothing ever happened between them, a small and delicate olive branch. Sends him text updates of what he’s eating or a funny post he saw that he thought would make Ricky laugh. It’s all such tiny things, but Ricky treasures each one like a priceless artifact. Yujin pulls him to the table now, sits down next to him with a slight smirk. He had missed Yujin’s easy presence, can take a deep breath now knowing he’s by his side. 

There’s a wide variety of food on the table, enough to feed a small army, Zhang Hao happily grinning as he watches the boys noisily pass plates and food to each other.  

“Jiwoong had an emergency at the cafe and Taerae said he couldn’t make it,” Gunwook explains. 

Jiwoong’s excuse is believable. Taerae’s is barely there, and Ricky wonders if he still hold resentment against him, makes him ache painfully. So they’re still not complete—Matthew somewhere in Los Angeles to record his new album, and one person Ricky pretends to not notice missing. 

Drinks are placed in front of them by Hanbin, Ricky biting back a comment while watching Yujin drink for the first time. They don’t need another reminder of the time he’s missed.

“Ah, one day I’m going to drag Jiwoong out of that cafe by the hair,” Zhang Hao pouts, choosing to sip on his dark glass of wine rather than the feast he prepared for them.

“I’ll help,” Yujin volunteers, earning a sharp glare from Hao. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Gyuvin’s familiar voice cuts in, the front door slamming shut. It feels like the whole table freezes, observing both Ricky and Gyuvin, the latter of which plops down in the chair across from Ricky, seemingly immune to the piercing stares of their friends. It's the first time they've seen them in the room together, and they observe them like a pair of wild animals, waiting to pounce on each other.

Gyuvin is dressed casually, a hoodie and jeans, but still looks beautiful beyond comprehension, enough to make Ricky stop breathing for a second after not seeing him for days. 

“Work keep you late?” Gunwook asks, cutting the tension that had been steadily mounting in the room.

“Yeah,” Gyuvin replies easily, reaches across the table to serve himself food, “The director keeps a crazy schedule. Wants us to film from five in the morning until midnight. I don’t think he ever sleeps.”

Hanbin reaches over and pats his hand lovingly, comforting the younger boy like always. Something sticky forms in Ricky’s mouth. 

“When’s this one coming out?” Yujin asks, scoots into Ricky’s space and steals a piece of meat from his plate, Ricky trying to make his eyes come back into focus. He feels invisible somehow, like the whole scene is playing out before him but he’s just an audience member, not one of the main players. And it probably has to do with how acutely aware he is that Gyuvin hasn’t uttered a word in his direction. 

“A few months,” Gyuvin sighs, “And then I’m taking a break for sure.”

Zhang Hao rolls his eyes but shovels more food onto Gyuvin’s plate, “You said that last time too.”

“Well, I really mean it this time!” Gyuvin insists, gives his best winning smile to Zhang Hao. 

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Hao pouts, leaving one final scoop of rice for Gyuvin.

“Why’d you make so much food, hyung?” Gyuvin laughs. He hasn’t acknowledged Ricky, hasn’t made eye contact at all, is acting like this whole thing is a normal occurrence. Yujin grips his arm under the table, the only anchor keeping him from drifting off to sea. 

“It’s a special occasion,” Zhang Hao says, “We’re all here together and Ricky leaves next week.”

Gyuvin, finally, finally, looks at him, his gaze made of daggers, “You’re leaving next week?”

Ricky swallows, clenches his fingers around the hem of his jeans, “Yeah, wrapping up filming here and then I have a show in Shanghai two days after.”

“Oh.”

His words have no feelings. Not happy or sad, just a bleak monotone that makes Ricky crumble inside once again. Gyuvin turns back to his food, chewing slowly and staring down at his plate. 

“We should plan a trip to Shanghai,” Yujin declares, squeezes Ricky’s arm like he can sense the dark despair that’s dripping into Ricky’s heart. 

“Yes!” Hao agrees in excitement.

“You’re all welcome any time,” Ricky says softly, and he really means it, but he knows one of them will never come. He notices the downward tilt of Hanbin’s mouth. Maybe two.

“I’m so happy you’re all here,” Zhang Hao makes a fake sniffling noise and dramatically rises from the table, “You are all my family.” His cheeks are flushed pink—maybe he had a glass or two before their meal began because he sways a little as he stands.

“Gege,” Hanbin laughs at his boyfriend’s flushed state, pulls on the sleeve of Hao’s flannel to try and get him to stop.

Hao presses on though, “Gunwook and Yujin, I’m so happy to be your hyung.”

Gunwook fails at holding back his giggle, and Yujin smiles into his hand, all of them watching in amusement at Hao’s impromptu speech.

“Hanbin, my baby, you’re not ever allowed to leave me.” Hanbin stares up at Hao, his usual lovestruck look of endearment, wraps an arm around his waist and reassures him he’s never leaving.

“And Gyuvin and Ricky, I’m glad you guys are okay.”

The amicable air completely depletes, like the whole room took a sharp inhale of breath. He risks a glance at Gyuvin, whose face is a perfect mask of indifference, watches him take his own glass of wine in hand and swallow a long gulp.

“Time for you to have some water, baby,” Hanbin decides, and Hao finally lets Hanbin bring him back down into his chair.

Is Gyuvin okay?

He used to be able to tell so easily, a furrow between his brow or a tremor in his hand telling everything Ricky he needed to know. But now it’s not easy to decipher. 

Gyuvin pulls out his phone, pulls Gunwook into his space to show him something, their conversations at the table splitting into fragments.

He can feel Yujin still tugging on his arm, and his drink remains untouched, as he sits and watches Gyuvin. Gyuvin’s long fingers deftly moving across the screen, his mouth forming a perfect circle when Gunwook says something that Gyuvin likes, his broad shoulders shaking with laughter. 

He’s been staring too openly at Gyuvin for too long, can’t seem to manage to pull his gaze away.  He watches for so long that when Gyuvin finally notices and looks at him, a chill runs down his spine. Gyuvin looks, but doesn’t linger, his eyes already moving on to the next shining thing.

There’s the sound of people talking all around him but it’s quiet in Ricky’s mind, the silence in the room is oppressive, echoing and cracking into Ricky’s skull.

[SEPTEMBER 2024]

They’re being way too loud in the quiet restaurant. 

“Hyung!” Matthew shouts out when Jiwoong accidentally knocks a glass on the table and skitter across the floor, everyone turning to look at the commotion. 

The whole table bursts into laughter at Jiwoong trying to cover the clumsiness with nonchalance. Ricky tries to laugh, forces out a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but every sound feels like it ricochets and amplifies tenfold with each passing second, overwhelming and nauseating. 

They’re in-between schedules. Perhaps the last time they will get to relax and eat together like this before they begin the expedition of their world tour, but Ricky can’t relax, his whole body is tense and taut.

“Rik, Rik, Rik,” Gyuvin calls from across Hanbin and Taerae’s bodies, tries to get Ricky’s attention, “Try this.”

He had seen Gyuvin’s face when Ricky didn’t sit next to him, petulant and upset like a toddler who hadn’t gotten their way, and usually Ricky would tease him for it, give him the biggest shit-eating grin known to man, aren’t you too obsessed with me, Gyuvin? but he was too busy trying not to throw up all over the polished wood table.

“I don’t want any,” Ricky huffs out, pushes away Gyuvin’s hand a little too harshly, who was holding out a bite of pork for Ricky to eat. 

Gyuvin shrinks back, puts the pork back on the plate and his chopsticks clanging onto his bowl sharply. The sound makes him wince, Hanbin turning and noticing that Ricky was slowly having all the color drain from his face.

He can’t pinpoint why there’s a bubbling, nauseous, anxiousness under his skin. Maybe it’s the tightly packed schedule and incessant pressure from the company, or maybe it’s because their relationship was still a bit baby pink and fresh, the little squabbles they used to have as friends now feeling ever more stinging now that there were more feelings involved. He’s been on edge all day, but he feels bad when he looks over and sees Gyuvin’s dejected puppy-dog face.

“Are you okay?” Hanbin asks quietly, glances at the untouched food on Ricky’s plate. 

Taerae’s barking with laughter. They’re accusing Taerae of playing favorites among the younger boys. Ricky is having a hard time following the conversation. The table next to them asks for another order. Each word is like a cymbal crashing in his ears. 

“No,” He shakes his head. Hanbin gives him a worried glance. 

They wrap up their meal, Ricky feeling like a he’s in a daze the whole time, tries to focus only on breathing to keep himself grounded, ignores the lump of molten lava forming in his throat.

It’s as they’re leaving that he knows he really stings Gyuvin. They’re walking to the waiting car and Gyuvin tries to slip his hand in his, but Ricky pulls his own hand away sharply. Gyuvin freezes. Shakes his head and walks faster to escape Ricky. 

They sit on opposites sides of the car, and Ricky breathes and breathes and breathes. 

Back in the dorm, Ricky inhales a little easier, feels a little less like his skin is on fire, the warm familiarity of it taming his anxious heart.

They're all roped into a mandatory game of rock, paper, scissors—the losers punishment being to wash the dishes from their hastily prepared breakfast that had sat abandoned the whole day. And of course—it somehow ends up being Gyuvin and Ricky, destined to be together, even in the worst of times. 

Usually, it wouldn’t be a problem—they would make a game out of washing the dishes, or Gyuvin would flick a little bit of water in Ricky's direction until Ricky would flick water back, and the whole kitchen would be filled with their honey-dripped voices. 

But now, Gyuvin washes while Ricky dries, and their usual playful bickering and taunts are replaced with only the sound of soapy water and dishes being placed down.

“So, are you done being mean to me now?” Gyuvin asks, his tone dripping with irritation. 

“Gyuvin,” Ricky huffs out.

“What? You’ve been basically pushing me away any time I come near you today.”

“It wasn’t purposeful.” Ricky places his towel down to look at Gyuvin, who has been scrubbing the same plate in frustrated motions.

“Wasn’t purposeful?” Gyuvin drops the plate into the water-filled sink with a plop. “How is pulling your hand away from me not purposeful?”

“I didn’t mean it like that-”

“What else could it mean?” Gyuvin raises his hands in exasperation, his voice raising a decibel, enough to make Ricky shrink back at the loudness. 

“Gyuvin,” Hanbin calls out gently from behind. They were probably being too loud, their voices carrying in the cramped dorm, but usually their group mates didn’t involve themselves in their lover’s spats, knew that they would usually be resolved by morning. But it must’ve been bad enough to draw Hanbin out, enough for him to cross into the kitchen and stand in front of Gyuvin. 

“You’re not even listening to Ricky’s side of things,” Hanbin chides, places a placating hand on Gyuvin’s shoulder. Gyuvin melts at Hanbin’s soft tone, turns to look at Ricky again, now with the comforting brown eyes that Ricky is so used to getting lost in.

“M’sorry. Tell me what’s wrong, Rik.”

“I just-” Ricky takes a deep breath in, “I didn’t feel like myself today.” He can’t quite the words to describe it—anxious, nervous, like he was ready to burst out of his own skin. He just knows that everything until now felt like too much—too loud, too bright, too fast. But now in the quietness of their dorm, he just wants to be wrapped in Gyuvin’s arms. “Everything was so overwhelming, I couldn’t breathe.”

Gyuvin's face washes with concern, steps closer, “Oh, Ricky. I’m sorry.”

“I’m feeling better now though, and I want…”

It feels embarrassing to say in front of Hanbin, who is still surveying them carefully to make sure the dust has truly settled. But he can’t take it anymore, has felt his skin prickling uncomfortably all day, and he knows this will be the one thing that will fix it. 

He wraps his arms around Gyuvin’s middle, buries his face on the side of Gyuvin’s neck, breathes in his familiar citrus and woody scent.

“Oh,” Gyuvin breathes out, his own arms reaching up to pull Ricky tightly against him, “You could’ve told me,” he whispers, leaves a small kiss on Ricky’s temple.

“I know, I know,” Ricky snuffles out, pushes impossibly closer into the comforting warmth of Gyuvin’s embrace.

He catches Hanbin sneaking out of the kitchen then, a soft grin on his face. Ricky mouths a silent thank you, to Hanbin, for helping them, for seeing Ricky’s side. Hanbin waves it off, retreating back and letting Ricky and Gyuvin enjoy their small and tender moment. 

[MAY 2035]

“That was nice,” Ricky comments, trying to break the awkward air between him and Hanbin.

He’s alone with Hanbin, cleaning the kitchen Zhang Hao had turned into a disaster zone, Hanbin only nodding slightly in response, remaining eerily silent. Zhang Hao had insisted on walking Gyuvin to the subway station, no doubt to discuss the plans for Hanbin’s upcoming birthday, another thing Ricky will not be there to witness and destroy.

It’s after they finish cleaning, Ricky leaving to retreat to his room that Hanbin finally speaks. 

“I know you’ve been seeing Gyuvin.”

It’s like a gun firing into the air. Hanbin holding the gun and waiting for Ricky’s back to turn before letting the words leave the chamber.

“What are you talking about?” Ricky’s voice is shaky, keeps his back turned to Hanbin so he doesn’t see his pupils moving in fear.

“Enough of the lies,” Hanbin says it sternly, and Ricky turns slowly to face him. 

Angry Hanbin is not something to take lightly. He’s only seen it a few times, Hanbin truly seething with anger, and never directed towards Ricky. So hearing his cold words dripping like ice cuts through Ricky’s body. 

“Did Gyuvin tell you?”

Hanbin shakes his head, “He doesn’t have to tell me, I can tell by the look on his face.”

Ricky feels shame creep up the back of his neck, hot and seething.

“Does Hao know?” Ricky asks.

“No,” Hanbin looks at him right in the eye, Ricky’s shoulders slumping forward, “He suspects though. The two of you aren’t exactly great at hiding your feelings.”

“I’m sorry,” Ricky blurts out, “I know, seeing a married man is despicable, I’m terrible, awful.”

“It’s not that,” Hanbin cuts in, brows furrowing, “Although I can’t say I approve of that either, even if Gyuvin has been separated from his wife for a while.”

“What is it then?” Ricky asks, shaking, because Hanbin’s anger is still emanating around him darkly.

He watches Hanbin turn over his words in his head

“Did you know, Hao and I almost broke up once?”

“What?” It’s shocking—that a couple he reveres as untouchable has faults, even if he knows that they’re humans just like him.

Hanbin nods, “It was right after you broke up with Gyuvin.”

Ricky feels his throat bob and the roar in his ears increases.

“We fought because I confided in Hao what Gyuvin was going through, and Hao argued your side. And it made me so angry, that Hao saw how broken Gyuvin was and could still defend your actions.”

Zhang Hao had never told him this. He had always assumed that their relationship was the ideal of romance, and yet it’s jarring to know they were almost broken, made even worse that Ricky was the catalyst for it. 

“I know you had your reasons, but I couldn’t excuse that you left him without explaining why. And when Hao sided with you it made me question whether he would do the same thing to me. Leave without even giving me the dignity of a reason why.”

Ricky shakes his head. Zhang Hao isn’t like him, dark and selfish, “He wouldn’t do that to you.”

“At the time, it didn’t feel like that,” Hanbin explains, “And with the group ending and the uncertainty of everything it only got worse.”

The air is so thick Ricky worries it will choke him, that he will inhale a mouthful and fall to the ground coldly. “I don’t know what to say.”

Hanbin is seething, his hands clenched at his sides, and it becomes clear this is what he was holding in for the past weeks. “Are you even thinking through what you’re doing? What you’re doing to all of us?”

“I-I didn’t plan for it to happen this way,” Ricky stutters over his words, overwhelmed by Hanbin’s sharp tone.

Hanbin scoffs, “What are you planning then? To break his heart all over again? To make a mess of things and then leave again?”

“No, I didn’t mean to, it just happened and I-”

“It just happened? You just accidentally ended up fucking him?” Hanbin crosses his arms, eyes searching for answers.

“I love him,” Ricky blurts out, and Hanbin finally stills his quivering rage, takes a sharp intake of breath. Hanbin seems to consider his answer, but the rage slowly creeps back over his face, his brows furrowing and his mouth tight.

“If you hurt him again. I won’t forgive you. You didn’t have to see it, how broken he was after you left.”

“Hyung.” The word is icy, cutting through the air sharply. It’s Yujin, who must’ve came back into the apartment without either of them noticing. Ricky expects the coldness to be directed at him, but Yujin is boring his eyes into Hanbin’s crumpled face. “That’s enough.”

It’s commanding, in a way he’s never seen Yujin, the boy walking over and circling a protective arm around Ricky’s shoulders. Hanbin is shocked by it too, shrinking back.

Hanbin narrows his eyes accusingly at Yujin, “Did you know about this? That they were seeing each other?”

Yujin shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter that I didn’t know. It takes two people to sleep together, you can’t just blame Ricky.”

It’s like Ricky isn’t in the room now, the two of them battling, makes Ricky want to disappear but Yujin keeps a strong grip on him.

“Can’t you see what a terrible idea this is?” Hanbin retorts, “How long it took for Gyuvin to even be a fraction of himself after Ricky left?”

Yujin pushes right back, “Can’t you see Ricky-hyung is hurting? You’re being mean.”

“No I deserve it,” Ricky cuts in,  “But I really mean it—I love him. I don’t want to hurt him again.” The words are somber, both Hanbin and Yujin now knowing how foolish Ricky is. It’s freeing to say it again—that he loves Gyuvin. It’s what he knew all along, but it’s nice to say it even if he knows Gyuvin doesn’t love him back.

Ricky continues, “I think—I might be the one who ends up hurt this time. And maybe that’s the payback for what I did in the past.”

He had broken their trust—had traveled to the deepest pits of hell to try and win it back, but ultimately made the same mistakes again. But maybe that’s what loving Gyuvin meant, sacrificing everything and allowing Gyuvin to make the choice to evict Ricky from his heart. 

Hanbin deflates, “I don’t want either of you to get hurt.”

Ricky bows his head at the words, he doesn’t want to cry again, he’s cried too often in the last few weeks, he can’t take any more canyons forming down his cheeks.

Ricky says his words shakily, “I think it’s inevitable one of us will. But I promise, hyung, I’ll make sure it’s me this time.”

Yujin turns to him, a concerned pinch to his mouth, “You were hurt at that time too, Ricky, it’s not right for you to blame yourself or think you deserve to get hurt again.”

“Have you told him,” Hanbin swallows audibly, "That you love him?”

Ricky laughs humorlessly, “No but—isn’t it obvious?”

Hanbin shakes his head, “You need to tell him. He won’t believe you until you tell him.”

“Will that be better or worse for him?” Ricky asks feebly. He’s been thinking about it—telling him. But he wonders if that will heal him or destroy him more. 

“I don’t know,” Hanbin grimaces, probably the most privy to how easily Ricky’s words pollute Gyuvin’s being.

“But what about you?” Yujin asks, “Will it be better for you if you tell him?”

“I don’t know,” Ricky admits. He’s pretty sure Gyuvin can already tell. It’s apparent how desperate Ricky is for him, and that’s why the man keeps him at an arm's length, to make the line drawn clear and distinct.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you.” Hanbin crosses over to him, places his hands on Ricky’s shoulders tenderly. 

“It’s okay,” Ricky concedes, “I’m glad he has someone that cares about him as deeply as you do.”

All the pictures adorning the apartment wall stare down at him, all of them waiting with baited breath wondering what Ricky will do, if he will make the right choice. 

“I care about you too, I’m sorry if I haven’t been a good hyung.”

Zhang Hao bursts into the apartment then, “What’s going on?” He asks examining the odd scene before him, both Yujin and Hanbin wrapped around Ricky.

He wonders if the pair will make Ricky tell Zhang Hao the truth too, if everything will be spilled on to the clean wooden floors and stain the ground red.

“Nothing, gege,” Hanbin reassures though, moves to wrap his arms around Zhang Hao’s middle.

Yujin finally releases his grip around Ricky, “I forgot my phone charger!” 

Hanbin starts dragging Zhang Hao away to their bedroom, whispering something in his ear that makes the older boy whack Hanbin on the chest with a smile.

Yujin grabs his abandoned charger, squeezes Ricky’s hand gently one last time before leaving as well. 

It’s a small, delicate little thing, newly sprouted and fragile, but it feels like he has at least two more people supporting him from behind, hoping and praying he will receive redemption. 

The last day of shooting comes more quickly than Ricky expects it. He’s almost not ready for it to end, this project he’s slowly built with Rina and Seunghee, but he’s thrumming with excitement to see the final product. It’s like they’ve been painting a large mural together, close to the canvas with their fingers stained with colors, and now they will back away and see the final masterpiece before them. 

“Ricky-ah,” Seunghee beckons to him, Ricky crossing the studio to see what Seunghee has pulled up on her phone, “Look.”

It’s the first preview teasing the campaign, Ricky’s face adorning the screen with flashes of the different content they filmed, a true work of art that Ricky can’t help but smile at.

“Everyone is so excited to see you,” Seunghee smiles, showing Ricky the various comments all expressing their high expectations of the release.

“Are you ready for everyone to become interested in you?” Ricky asks. Seunghee doesn’t appear in the preview, but she plays a major role, and since it’s her first time in the spotlight like this, he’s sure the public will be interested in who she is. 

Seunghee waves him off, “I’m just the addition to your story here.”

“Ricky! Seunghee!” Rina calls for them, both of them moving to shoot their final scene. Seunghee turns and smiles her warm smile one last time before the cameras begin to roll.

“Now that you’ve learned about each other through this project, how do you feel about the other?” Rina asks.

“I think we have more in common than differences,” Ricky explains.

Seunghee nods in agreement, “I’m happy to meet Ricky because I think I have found a new life-long friend.”

“Do you feel like you understand each other despite cultural differences?”

Seunghee hums, “The culture doesn’t matter because you can feel the love coming from Ricky, and I understand that the love he gives to others attracts that kind of love in return.”

Ricky flushes embarrassed at Seunghee’s kind words, unable to control his reaction. “I was only able to show that side of myself because of how kindly Seunghee treated me,” Ricky explains.

“It’s clear you have both seen a lot of yourself in the other,” Rina continues, “How do you think other people can make this kind of connection too?”

“Listen to each other. Don’t take the opinions of anyone else, even how they see themselves, just see them for who they are,” Seunghee says confidently.

“Don’t give up,” Ricky adds, “Even if you think there’s a mountain of differences between you, keep climbing until you find the similarities.”

They a film a few more takes, until Rina calls, “That’s a wrap!” the crew cheering and congratulating each other, various people coming to clap him on the shoulder and thank him for his hard work. It’s the most proud Ricky has felt for a project in years, like the culmination of all his efforts in a single piece.

The crew begins moving to dismantle the set, the work never ceasing even as the project comes to an end. Rina approaches both of them, pulls them into a gentle hug and thanks them profusely until they’re all laughing at her abundance of thankfulness. 

“Are you going to the wrap party?” Seunghee pokes Ricky.

“Of course,” Ricky replies. He wants to go home first. Wash the makeup from his face and clear his mind now that it’s all over. Just a few more days.  

“Will your husband be coming?” Rina asks Seunghee.

Seunghee shakes her head, “He’s busy with work.”

“Ah, that’s too bad, I would love to meet him. I’m sure being that famous, he’s busy a lot.”

There’s something about how Rina says the words that perks Ricky’s ears and catches in his throat. Like she’s expectant and waiting for Ricky to pry.

“Who’s your husband?” Ricky questions carefully.

The storm clouds roll over their heads, can tell by Seunghee’s crestfallen expression, can tell by how the whole world seems to hold their breath. 

“You don’t know?” Rina says surprised, “He’s your friend, Kim Gyuvin.”

Ricky freezes. He can feel his hands shaking, stuffs them into his pants pockets so it’s not noticeable. His heart is aching and clenching so harshly he wonders if this is what dying feels like, your heart finally bursting so rapidly your body just gives up. Rina continues chattering, but the words don’t register, a blurry haze all around him, but Seunghee is staring at him, gauging his reaction.

He can’t breathe, can’t look Seunghee in the eye, the world closing in.

“Excuse us for a second,” Seunghee cuts in, grabs Ricky by the wrist and drags him away, so similar to the way her husband circles a hand around him.

They find a secluded area behind the set, Seunghee gently placing her hands on Ricky’s shoulders.

“Ricky, breathe. You need to breathe.”

He latches onto Seunghee’s soft words, inhales and exhales slowly until the world comes back into focus. He leans his back against the wall, slides down until he’s a messy pile on the floor, Seunghee coming down and sitting next to him. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ricky asks between breaths.

“Can I be honest with you?” Her tone is strong. Not mean, but different than the usual dulcet tone she uses and it makes Ricky’s skin prickle with anxiety. Ricky nods anyway. 

“I took this job so I could meet you specifically, to see what you were like.”

“Me?” His hands are shaking again, but Seunghee notices and places her hands over his to calm him. 

“Yes. I had to see if the man my husband loves was real.”

His lungs constrict, can feel the hands closing around his throat and choking him. The man he loves. It wasn’t true though. Loved would be more accurate. Seunghee is staring at him, the terrible realization that Gyuvin’s wife wasn’t just nameless, faceless woman, but a real person clutched in Ricky’s hands. 

“I’m sorry,” Ricky chokes out. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Seunghee reassures, but it doesn’t feel like it. It feels as though Ricky should be bowing at her feet, begging for her forgiveness, placing a dagger in her hand and letting her decide his punishment. “I knew what I was getting into before I even married him.”

“What do you mean?” He was still shaking with every word. 

Seunghee sighs, “When I met Gyuvin, I was told he was heartbroken. I didn’t know much, just that he had been in a relationship that had left him devastated and he needed someone nice to pick up the pieces. And I was willing to be that person when I saw how kind and sweet he is.”

Ricky knew too well. There’s noises in the distance of the crew tearing down the set, but it’s like the world is erased as Seunghee speaks, two sides of the same coin looking at each other eye to eye.

“I knew when I married him that I didn’t have his full heart. But you know how he is, even having a tiny piece of his love is enough to fill you. Or at least, I thought it was.”

“What happened?” Ricky feels like he’s prodding at an open wound, can see raw flesh and a hiss of pain, but it seems cathartic for Seunghee, like she’s been waiting to spill her guts, like ripping off a festering bandage.

“He never told me about you, if that’s what you’re wondering. I figured it out, because he never really healed, truly. He’s so honest, even if he never told me about you. He asked me, ‘If I’ve been with a man, would that bother you?’. And I knew it wasn’t a hypothetical question. I had been searching for a woman that had broken him, but I knew after that, that a man broke his heart.”

It blooms painfully in a new way, seeing the hurt so clearly painted on Seunghee’s face.

“I wanted to know who had broken his heart for petty reasons at first, and then because I thought if I figured it out he could finally let that person go, but in the end I knew it was for myself—so I could understand why he couldn’t move on.”

Ricky swallows darkly. To see Gyuvin through Seunghee’s eyes is like being pushed into cold water, a person he doesn’t know and wishes never existed. But she pushes on, unwavering.

“It all fell into place after that, the one person from his group he would never talk to, never even speak about, I knew it had to be you.”

“I’m sorry,” Ricky repeats again, even though his apology is not enough for the pain he’s caused. 

“I’m not mad at you, or him for that matter. He warned me, when we got engaged, he told me ‘I’m not sure I can give you everything you deserve’. He warned me, he said ‘I’m a little broken and I don’t think I can ever be fully devoted to you’. But I didn’t care because I loved him.”

He doesn’t know how to ask the questions gently, but he has to know. “Do you think he loved you? Why did he marry you if he knew he wasn’t…okay?”

“I think he did love me to an extent. I can’t answer fully why he did it, but I think it’s because he thought it was the right thing to do. He thought it’s what he should do to be happy.”

Ricky mulls it over in his mind—it doesn’t feel like Gyuvin, to be someone who would marry another half-heartedly, someone who doesn’t view the world as a perfect romance.

“Our marriage was never unhappy either. It was just—neutral. We get along well, I shouldn’t have had anything to complain about.” Seunghee looks down at her hands, “I tried to love him through it, tried to be patient, but it wasn’t enough, I couldn’t do it.”

He wants to reassure her, she’s a strong person, brave for even confronting Ricky like this, for trying with all her might to love someone, even as she breaks down in front of him.

“So, it was me who ended up being the unhappy one. I was the one who wanted to end things with the hope that I could find someone who I wouldn’t have to be patient with, but would just love me without reservations. I wasn’t strong enough.”

“It’s not your fault,” Ricky interjects, feels heartbroken for her all over again, another person caught in the mess Ricky created. 

“But then, I met you. And you were so kind to me, trying so hard to be a good person in this world.”

He’s not sure if he’s a good person. He wonders what Seunghee sees in him that makes her think so, if she would think differently if she knew Ricky was begging for Gyuvin with every breath even with Seunghee’s ring still on his finger. 

“And it made me realize that maybe it wasn’t that I’m not strong enough, but that I’m not the right person to help him.”

The words hang heavy in the air, Ricky hesitating to reach out and grasp on to them, lets them float away into the abyss instead.

“I don’t know how to help him,” Ricky admits. Because it feels like everything Ricky does is always the wrong choice. 

“I’m not telling this to upset you or make you do anything,” Seunghee continues to explain, “I hope, if anything, maybe this will help you both be happy.”

“I’m not a good person,” Ricky disagrees, “Seunghee, I’ve been seeing him. Since I’ve come back.”

She looks sad, but not surprised, “I figured as much.”

“Doesn’t that make me a terrible person? That I broke him and will risk breaking him a second time?” 

Seunghee shakes her head, “It doesn’t make you terrible to love someone.”

He thinks of Seunghee and how much she hurt. He thinks of her and Hanbin and Yujin and so many more.

“Does it make me terrible that there are so many other people that have gotten hurt because I love him?”

Seunghee sighs, “That’s just a part of caring for other people. You risk getting hurt when you let them in to your heart.”

It’s something Ricky knew since ten years ago, the reason he hasn’t let anyone in his shriveled heart for so long, and yet it seemed so many had still managed to sneak their way in.

“I’ll tell him I met you,” Seunghee continues, “Because he deserves to know. But I’ll wait for you to talk to him first.”

Ricky exhales, “You’re too kind to me, you should be more angry.”

“And what would be the point of that?” Seunghee smiles faintly, “I really meant what I said earlier, I hope we can stay friends.”

“What do I do?” He feels like a small child, searching Seunghee’s eyes for answers. 

“Just go to him,” Seunghee says seriously, wraps Ricky in a hug. 

It’s what everyone keeps telling him. Go and tell him. But maybe he really is still the only person who understands Gyuvin—because he’s certain the outcome will be destruction. That confronting the reality they both have been blatantly ignoring will be such a devastating blow that Ricky braces himself for the impact. 

FROM: [email protected]

 

DATE: August 2, 2026

 

SUBJECT: i learned from you 

 

hi ricky,

 

you probably don’t want to hear from me again. it’s a little embarrassing, looking at all these emails and knowing what i do now. but i don’t regret them, just like i don’t regret loving you. 

 

it’s been six months since i last saw you. it’s been the hardest days of my life because i truly don’t know what i did wrong, but i’ve learned that i probably won’t ever know and that’s okay. i accept this because it’s what you want, and if this is how you can be happy then i won’t stand in the way of that. 

 

i’m writing this last email so you can know i meant everything i ever said. and i want to hold on to our best moments instead of the worst.

 

i’ve learned so much from you, ricky. i’ve learned what it means to really work hard, what it means to run towards your dreams without relenting, what it means to love someone with all your heart. there’s so many more, i could go on forever about all the ways you’ve changed me. i think most people see change as a bad thing, but i don’t think so, i think change is growth, and i’m happy i grew so steadily by your side even if we now grow in different directions. 

 

i still want to get married. i still want to live a happy life. i hope you get to have all those things too. i hope both of us get those things. when you get this in the future, i hope you’re the happiest you’ve ever been.

 

i won’t cry over you anymore so i can find my own tiny pockets of happiness, but know that im thinking of you always. thank you, ricky. for teaching me what being loved really feels like. 

 

from,

gyuvin

[AUGUST 2030]

He’s drunk and high the first time he sees it.

KIM GYUVIN AND HIS UPCOMING WEDDING TO A NON-CELEBRITY: WHAT WE KNOW SO FAR…

He thinks it might be his mind playing tricks on him, the weed and the alcohol clouding his head and creating apocalyptic scenarios. But no—he clicks on the article and it’s too real, all the sordid details written out in plain text.

Wedding at the end of August. Celebrity guest list. Spared no expense for the extravagant affair. 

The bottle is dry and Ricky curses. Thank god he’s alone in his apartment. He doesn’t know what he would do if he found out about this in front of the world, his mask would’ve slipped off and everyone would’ve seen the ugly monster beneath. 

The comments are brutal, Ricky slowly reading each one, wonders how many contain a grain of truth. 

[+52, -3]

Isn’t he a bit too young to marry?

[+48, -5]

Is she pregnant? Hahaha

[+45, -1]

He must really love her to marry her this quickly while his career is exploding…

He winces at each one. 

The article is a few weeks old, and against his better judgment he finds himself searching for more information, for more ways to punish himself further. Pictures begin to fill his screen—sightings of various celebrities in attendance, only a few hours old—and it’s then he realizes the wedding is today —wants to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

He counts them on his fingers as he finds each one—Yujin, Matthew, Taerae, Gunwook. No sign of the other three, but he knows they’re there, that they will all share this happy moment with him while Ricky drinks himself into blackness.

He wonders how long it took Gyuvin to fall in love with her, how long for him to forget Ricky completely. 

He’s easy to love. Not like Ricky—who is sharp and jagged and not capable of loving someone without ruining them. Not like Ricky—who is alone in his apartment surrounded by half empty bottles and ash. 

“Stop fucking crying,” He scolds himself when he feels tears begin dripping on to his shirt. 

He wonders what his soon-to-be wife is like. She’s probably beautiful and nice, someone who matches Gyuvin’s gentle soul, but the drugs coursing through his blood tells him to be mean.

Is she as pretty as me? Does she fuck you as good as me? Does she understand you like I do?

Ricky faintly knows that these things don’t matter—because ultimately it’s her that gets to put a ring on Gyuvin’s finger. Because first loves don’t mean anything—it’s your last love that really counts. 

The tears won’t stop. And it makes him angry. He stumbles up from his place on the couch, grabs the closest bottle and hurls it at the wall. The glass explodes everywhere, and Ricky reacts too late, a flying shard grazing his forearm and slicing him open. 

Oh, he’s so pathetic. Crying and bleeding for real, red slowly trickling down his forearm, a mess of glass littering the floor. 

He fumbles his way to the bathroom, manages to run his cut under cold water until all the blood washes away and all is left is pink and swollen wound. How will he explain to Xintong why his perfect skin was now marred by an ugly gash? The man will certainly scold him, but his weed-addled brain can only supply the fact that maybe ruining his body was the only way to escape his never-ending and thankless job.

The happiness Gyuvin deserves. And the unhappiness Ricky deserves. The intrinsic balance of the universe fully restored. 

It’s the final piece of the puzzle. All the different elements needed to concoct the perfect life for Gyuvin—friends, career, wife—the last piece falling perfectly into place.

There’s somehow an unopened bottle of alcohol still left on his kitchen counter, Ricky opening it with a satisfying pop. 

“Good job, Shen Ricky,” He toasts to himself, to his soulless and empty apartment, throws back a shot to the back of his throat, “You really did it.”

[JUNE 2035]

It’s different from the other times he’s met Gyuvin.

Too sweet, too gentle, too much. 

Gyuvin sat on the edge of the hotel bed, dragged Ricky to straddle his lap, played his fingers down Ricky’s spine like the soft music of a piano, kissed into his mouth like every movement was a grand symphony. 

“Angel,” Gyuvin breathes out, kisses over the tattoo on Ricky’s ribs like he’s worshiping him, “How do you want it?”

He doesn’t feel like an angel. He feels like sin and ash and burning fire. 

“I want it like this,” Ricky says through the flames, grinds his hips down into Gyuvin’s waiting lap. 

He’s going to tell him, he’s leaving in a few days, he’s going to tell him how the love he has for him consumes his entire soul so he can be clearly rejected and Gyuvin can be free of him. He had texted him to meet him like this, let Gyuvin have him one last time.

He scrapes his hands up Gyuvin’s bare chest, rests his hand over Gyuvin’s heart, feels the gentle pulsing as he continues pressing into Gyuvin’s mouth. 

Gyuvin’s fingers find him first, circle around the flesh teasingly before pushing in torturously slowly. He presses his forehead against Gyuvin’s, listens to the tide of his breathing going in and out each time he prods in further.

It’s always so intimate with them. Not just because of the position they’re in—Ricky seated in Gyuvin’s lap, chests pressed together and Ricky gripping on to him like a lifeline—but because he can see the brown oasis of Gyuvin’s eyes, the flutter of his eyelashes, the pink on his cheeks. 

Gyuvin pushes his own pants down, seats Ricky onto his waiting cock in a single thrust, forces Ricky to gasp and fall forward into him at the feeling of him inside. He maneuvers his hips down to meet Gyuvin’s movements, lets the small little noises escaping his mouth cascade down into Gyuvin’s throat. 

He’s been ruined by Gyuvin for a long time now. Since the first time he fucked him in their cramped dorm, since the first time they kissed the night of the finale. Now clutched in his arms, he can’t help but wonder if Gyuvin has ruined other people too, if the cavity in their heart is as vast as Ricky’s.

“Gyuvin,” Ricky says it carefully, punctuates every syllable, “Did you fuck her?”

Gyuvin looks up at him, his eyes glassy and dark.

“What’re you talking about?” His words are slurred and messy, high from the feeling of Ricky. 

“Your wife. Did you fuck her?”

Gyuvin pauses his movement inside Ricky, inhales sharply.

“Yes.”

He knew he had no right to ask, no right to feel hurt and betrayal, but logic doesn’t rule his reaction, and so he bleeds freely onto Gyuvin. He has no right to speak, thinks of the line of men who’ve had Ricky under them, a long list in comparison to Gyuvin’s one. But he didn’t marry any of them, didn’t even deign them with the illusion that Ricky belonged to them, unlike Gyuvin—who took someone into his heart, who played pretend and replaced Ricky with ease. He never tried to replace Gyuvin, just tried to distract himself from the cavernous part of his heart that couldn’t be filled.

Ricky lifts himself off Gyuvin, crawls to the head of the bed and buries his face in the pillow before the tears begin to fall, raises his hips into the air with his back to Gyuvin’s shining face.

“I want it like this now,” Ricky says quickly, makes sure Gyuvin can’t hear his breath starting to hitch. 

“Okay,” Gyuvin replies quietly, moves to align himself behind Ricky and push in again, his hands raising to grip onto Ricky’s hips. 

He still hasn’t taken off his ring—even now, can feel the metal pressed against his skin. He can’t hold it back any more, he cries out, feels the tears create rivulets down his cheeks and sting.

Gyuvin is eerily silent—the whole room is filled only by the sounds of Gyuvin pushing into him repeatedly and without mercy, unaware of how broken Ricky lays under him.

Ricky comes first, cries even harder and falls forward onto the bed, Gyuvin chasing after him.

He’s fully sobbing by then, hiccupping and gasping and hiding his face in his arm, refuses to let Gyuvin see truly how messed up he is inside. 

“Can I?” Gyuvin asks through labored breaths, “Can I come inside?” His hands are still gripped tightly on Ricky’s waist, searing into him like a brand.

“Yes,” Ricky says through choked wails, because he can’t keep playing pretend. 

Gyuvin cries out, pumps him full and filthy, pulls out after with his cum trailing after him. He’s a mess everywhere—on his back, on his face, inside his heart.

He can’t stop crying, never-ending tears filling the chasm, waves crashing and pooling so deeply that Ricky can’t tell which way is up or down in the dark waters.

Gyuvin doesn’t wipe his tears. Maybe he doesn’t notice—Ricky stays face down as Gyuvin dresses himself, lets the wetness soak into the pillow and slowly lets his breathing become steady. 

“We should stop seeing each other.”

He knew it was coming. But it doesn’t stop it from feeling like a punch in the gut, feeble and small as he’s stomped into the ground. 

“Okay.”

Gyuvin, surprisingly, chuckles darkly, his shoulders shaking. “Of course. I should’ve expected that’s all you would have to say.”

Ricky feels his skin grow hot, tears threatening to make a reappearance, “What do you want me to say, Gyuvin?”

It’s clear Gyuvin’s angry, his emotions rolling off of him thickly, brown eyes blazing and pointing at Ricky. 

“You didn’t tell me you were leaving, didn’t tell me anything about where we stood,” Gyuvin stabs at him.

Ricky rises from his crumpled state on the bed, stumbles forward so he can stand in front of Gyuvin who is practically snarling. 

“How am I supposed to tell you that, Gyuvin? You’re married. You want me to tell you to discard your wife like a piece of garbage and just forget everything and fuck me? I already feel guilty enough.”

Gyuvin huffs, annoyed. “I told you, it’s over with her.”

Ricky rises to Seunghee’s defense, unknown to Gyuvin, “You think it’s just that simple? I don’t care if you say it’s over, on paper you’re still her husband and you should give her the respect she deserves.”

“Is that what you think? You weren’t complaining about that when I was fucking you.” 

Gyuvin seems to regret the words immediately, shame crossing over his face, and he guiltily looks away from Ricky.

He doesn’t recognize the man standing in front of him. Someone mean and vindictive, wonders if he pushed him into this dark water without a choice. It’s almost worse than finding out that Gyuvin is married—finding out that Gyuvin can be as dark inside as him. 

“Did you even love her?” Tears spring to his eyes again, somehow, despite feeling like he’s shed every possible tear left to cry.

Gyuvin won’t look at him.

“No.”

It feels like the word echoes throughout the room even though it’s said in an even tone. 

“Why did you marry her then?”

He’s not sure if he will like the answer, but he has to know how profoundly he’s fucked up everything.

Gyuvin runs his fingers through his hair in exasperation, begins pacing the room like a trapped bull. “Why do you think, Ricky? You ruined me, I was desperate to feel anything, any sort of happiness.”

Ricky shakes his head profusely, “You shouldn’t have married her.”

Gyuvin whips his head towards him. “You think I don’t regret it? I was stupid but-” Gyuvin takes a deep breath before continuing, his chest falling and rising rapidly, “I regret sleeping with you again even more.”

Ricky can’t help the tears that drip down his cheeks, soft and wet, while Gyuvin stares at him without a tear in sight. It’s what Ricky wanted this whole time, for Gyuvin to finally say everything he was holding in, for Ricky to be the one struck down painfully.

“If that’s how you feel, then I don’t think we have anything else to talk about.” The words come out stuttering and broken, no longer caring if Gyuvin sees him in disrepair, no longer caring if the careful mask he’s created slips and falls. He turns to begin gathering his things to leave, but Gyuvin grips strongly on his wrist to stop him.

Gyuvin looks down at him, and his eyes seem impossibly dark, like there was never light inside them to begin with. “No, Ricky, I just want you to be honest with me for once.”

(When Ricky was seven years old he ran away from home. He got into a fight with his father, bad enough that in his young mind, the only solution was to run. He didn’t last very long. Walked down a few familiar streets, but one wrong turn landed him in the unfamiliar—lost and confused, he cried out for his father. Everything had suddenly felt scary, even as the nice older women running the nearby shops began speaking to him in soft tones. In his shocked state he could only say the truth through gasping cries, “I had a fight with my dad, it was my fault.”

He feels like that now. Stripped bare and scared, only able to spill the dark truth within.)

Ricky stutters and sobs through the words, his finger jabbing into Gyuvin’s chest, “You want honesty? I’ve wanted for you for the last ten years even though you promised yourself to someone else. Even though you can’t look at me now without feeling shame. That letting you go is the biggest regret of my life. That I’ve never stopped loving you. Is that honest enough for you?”

Gyuvin shakes his head slowly at first, then faster, starts backing away from Ricky like a scared animal.

“I don’t believe you."

Ricky wants to scream. Wants to keel over and punch the solid ground until his knuckles are raw and bleeding, because it’s the most true thing he’s ever said, but his stupid choices have marred all credibility of his word.

“You don’t have to believe me.”

Gyuvin stares at him wide-eyed. 

“If you love me, why does it hurt so much? Shouldn't love feel good?” His words aren’t filled with anger anymore, only apprehension, like he’s waiting for Ricky to pull the rug from under him. 

“Because,” Ricky chokes out,  “You don’t love me back.”

Gyuvin stares and stares. Backs so far away that his knees hit the dresser behind him and the whole thing rattles. 

Ricky continues on even though each word feels like he’s ripping out a piece of his flesh. “It’s true right? It’s okay. I knew you didn’t love me that very first night. I knew when you left me there alone. I knew when you didn’t notice I was wearing your necklace. When you wouldn’t let me see your true self anymore.”

“Ricky.” The name sounds foreign in Gyuvin’s mouth now, like he’s speaking a different language. 

Hastily, Ricky wipes away his tear-stained cheeks, tries to not let the last image Gyuvin sees of Ricky not be a total mess. “This is it then, right? I’ve been honest with you, now I hope you’re honest with yourself.” 

“Ricky.” He says it again, like saying his name will somehow change the outcome. 

“Is there anything left to say now?”

There’s a beat of silence, like Gyuvin is considering if there’s anything left in the broken ruins between them.

“No.” Gyuvin says feebly, “I’ll give you some space.”

“Okay.”

He turns around, listens to Gyuvin’s receding footsteps and the door softly shutting behind him, waits until he’s sure that every remnant of Gyuvin’s presence has disappeared until he collapses in on himself. 

The implosion—he had been waiting for it this whole time—and he can only hope that this time he’s minimized the casualties.

He melts into the bathroom like a puddle, moves into the shower and turns it up to the highest setting, so scalding that it will burn. 

He takes his time washing himself, scrubbing away any remnants of Gyuvin on him, his smell, his taste, his touch. He washes it all away, lets himself wash out to sea. 

When he emerges from the water it’s on the shore of Shanghai, drowning and adrift. 

Shanghai never felt like home, but it feels even less so now, especially when he pushes open his apartment door and finds Gangyu’s things strewn throughout the space.

“Gege?” Gangyu calls from the bedroom once hearing Ricky’s entrance, his pattering footsteps greeting him, “You’re back early?”

He had left Seoul without a goodbye—again. But he figures this time it will be a bit easier to ask them all for forgiveness. With the confirmation that Gyuvin doesn’t love him, he didn’t think he would be able to face any of them without shattering completely, and so he hopped on the first flight to Shanghai, without even telling Xintong, who he was sure was leaving him a string of angry voicemails on Ricky’s shut off phone.

“Change of plans,” Ricky huffs out, grabs Gangyu by the shirt collar and drags him back to the bedroom. It looks like he woke Gangyu from his sleep, judging by his rumpled hair and puffy eyes, but he seems to fully awaken when Ricky roughly pushes him onto the bed and straddles his waist. “Now, are we gonna waste time, or are you gonna fuck me?”

Gangyu nods eagerly, lets Ricky kiss a wet line down his throat and collarbone. He makes fast work of their clothes, stripping them quickly until they’re both bare and panting into each other’s mouths. 

Gangyu flips them so Ricky is sprawled on the bed, pushes his first finger in without any resistance, doesn’t comment on the fact that the easy slide clearly indicates that someone else had been there recently. 

“Gege,” Gangyu begs, kisses into Ricky’s mouth, “Can I? Can I?”

He knows what Gangyu wants but he can’t give it to him. Not yet.

“Turn me over.”

Gangyu tries to mask his disappointment, but it’s washed all over his face like an unmovable stain, maneuvers Ricky so he’s face down and away from Gangyu. He nudges his cock into Ricky’s waiting entrance with a muffled moan, doesn’t hesitate in beginning a steady rhythm.

It’s RIcky's usual tactic to forget—but it’s not working as strongly as he would like, his head still filled with images of Gyuvin’s soft features and lilting voice, even as Gangyu fucks into him. 

“It’s him isn’t it?” Gangyu makes a noise that sounds like a sniffle, but Ricky can’t move to see, Gangyu’s grip on his hips too strong.

“W-what?” Ricky stutters out, Gangyu still roughly pushing into him.

“The code to your door, the picture, why you can never look at me. Kim Gyuvin. It’s him right?” Gangyu says it again, and this time it’s clear the younger boy is crying.

He pushes Gangyu off of him, turns to face him and is met with his quivering lip and shining eyes.

“Gangyu,” Ricky breathes out.

He looks so sad and broken, small and young as he sinks back on his heels and buries his face in his hands. And Ricky is hit with the haunting realization that he’s creating another monster, someone dark and infested, someone like him and Gyuvin.

“It was always him right?” Gangyu continues, “I never had a chance, please tell me it wasn’t something I did?”

“No…or yes, I-” Ricky stumbles over his words. He can’t let it happen again. “You didn’t do anything wrong, I promise you.”

“Okay,” Gangyu replies, but he’s still crying.

Ricky moves forward, cradles Gangyu in his arms and rests the younger boy’s head on his shoulders, lets his tears drip on to him.

“I’m fucked up, okay? It’s not you,” Ricky reassures.

Gangyu sniffles into his shoulder, “You’re not fucked up, gege. I’m the one who got feelings even though I knew not to.”

“I am though, I’m sorry.” Ricky grips on to the boy tighter.

“I don’t think I can see you anymore, though,” Gangyu admits quietly, “Hurts too bad.”

He cradles Gangyu’s face in his hands so he can look at him, so he can wipe the tears with the pads of his thumbs. “I understand, I don’t want you to be hurt.”

Gangyu shudders and nods, his face shiny and swollen. He’s pliant now—allows Ricky to redress him and tuck him back into the covers of Ricky’s bed.

“Just stay here tonight, okay?” And Gangyu agrees easily.

Ricky moves to turn off the light, pads back to the bed in the darkness, slips under the blanket to Gangyu’s expectant face.

“Kim Gyuvin. Does he?”

A half question—but no matter the ending to it Ricky knows the answer.

“No.”

“I’m sorry, gege,” Gangyu replies tenderly, brushes the hair from Ricky’s face.

“It’s okay.”

He waits until Gangyu is asleep, listens to the soft melody of Gangyu’s snores, pulls out his phone to read them one more time.

He reads them slowly—each email—the last evidence that Gyuvin once loved him, the last evidence that Ricky can, will stop passing on that pain to others. 

when i met you

i told you i like you

i miss you

i love you

my shining star

happy birthday, my love 

i learned from you

The cursor blinks at him, watching him type and delete and type and delete, slowly crafting his first reply.

Chapter Text

[AUGUST 2035]

“How are you today, Ricky?”

“Fine.”

The high-rise office overlooks the Huangpu river, and Ricky watches as a boat glides by in the murky water.

“Should we start off where we ended in our last session?”

Dr. Guo wears wire-rimmed glasses and bracelets that jingle when she moves her wrists, the sound always pulling Ricky away from his thoughts.

“Sure,” Ricky sighs. He’s seen Dr. Guo enough times to know how their sessions work—she pokes into Ricky’s thoughts and tries to decipher the never-ending puzzle of why Ricky’s life spiraled to this point. A pointless endeavor, Ricky thinks, because the answer is as simple as the person currently sitting on Dr. Guo’s couch. 

“You still haven’t gone back to work?”

Ricky shakes his head, grabs one of the decorative throw pillows next to him and hugs it to his stomach. “I’m still not ready.”

Dr. Guo clicks her pen and begins scribbling on her clipboard. Ricky winces. He had asked Dr. Guo during their first session why she was writing so much, and she had explained it was to help her remember the details of what they talked about in previous sessions, but Ricky still didn’t like it. It felt too clinical, like a record of his blood pressure or BMI rather than careful notes on Ricky’s life. 

“What do you think is needed to make you ready?” She asks, her bracelets jingling again when she gestures for him to continue.

The first schedule Ricky had after returning to Shanghai had been a disaster. Xintong had come to his apartment like usual, but as soon as the man had entered the threshold, Ricky had freaked out. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, was close to collapsing on the cold marble ground. They had to cancel with the designer at the last minute, Xintong fretting severely even when Ricky’s heart rate returned to normal.

The next week, the incident occurred again—this time they had made it all the way to Xintong’s car before the freak out, Xintong swerving off the road when Ricky began hyperventilating.

Ricky couldn’t explain it. Why the mere thought of presenting himself to the public caused him to spiral into panic, but it was a definite problem since his entire career revolved around his public image for people to stare and gawk at.

A statement was released shortly after, announcing his indefinite hiatus, citing “health problems” but not expanding on what kind. Xintong avoided calling it what it was—a mental breakdown, opting to glamorize Ricky’s current state as merely a “rough patch”. 

In the meantime, Xintong had insisted Ricky go and see someone about his sudden fear, which is how Ricky ended up watching river boats while Dr. Guo clicked her pen. 

“I dunno,” Ricky replies. “I told you, I can’t explain it.”

“Okay,” Dr. Guo pivots easily, “Let’s talk about what happened right before you started getting panic attacks. You told me that the last project you worked on was in Korea, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Did anything happen while you were working on that project?” He's not sure if he should laugh or cry. 

“I really liked working on it,” Ricky recalls, “It was different than anything else I’ve ever done.”

“Different how?”

“It felt…personal. Not like I was just working on something, but like what we were doing was me.”

“I see,” Dr. Guo scribbles again. “And you got along with everyone you were working with?”

“Of course.” He hadn’t talked to Rina and Seunghee much, just brief congratulations when their project was splashed across the headlines, and it was a huge hit, people praising it for its emotional and expressive undertones, not just a fashion campaign or a documentary, but a piece of art carefully constructed by Rina. He still felt proud of it, even if the memories of it feel like it’s been tainted by a dark hue of paint. 

He wants to reach out to Seunghee, but he’s not sure what to say, not sure what words passed between her and Gyuvin, if maybe her opinion on him changed.

“You enjoyed that project, but do you typically enjoy your work?”

Ricky frowns. It was never about enjoying it—it was about what he was supposed to do, although lately he’s beginning to think that he’s not sure if there is a right thing to do. Everything was all twisted in his body like an entangled mess of crossed wires. 

“Not really,” Ricky answers honestly, “It’s work.”

Dr. Guo seems to consider this, but her face is the same mask of indifference, unreadable. “It wasn’t always like that though, no? You told me you used to be an idol, that you loved performing on stage. What’s different about now?” 

“I was a different person,” Ricky explains, “I was young, eager to please and it was fun. And I was in a group with really amazing people. Now it’s just me.”

More scribbling of the pen.

“Your group,” Dr. Guo pauses, “You said you saw some of them when you were in Korea?”

He hasn’t told her about Gyuvin, about any of it. Still clings to it so tightly to his chest that it burns a hole in his clothes and scars his hands. 

“Yes.”

“Who did you see? Tell me about them.”

He doesn’t really want to. Doesn’t want to tell this woman who examines his life like a mystery that she can solve about the people he holds dearest. He shifts uncomfortably on the sofa, clutches the cushion a little tighter. The soundproof walls of the office block the outside world out a little too well, the noises of the street so blurred out that Ricky could almost pretend it doesn’t exist if he couldn’t see people walking below.

“Zhang Hao and Hanbin, I stayed at their apartment.”

Dr. Guo hums, motioning for him to continue.

“They always take good care of me. Gunwook he-” Ricky pauses, measures each word he says carefully so he can ensure that Dr. Guo doesn’t dig too deeply into any of them. “He is someone steady and reliable.”

Ricky can’t help the small smile that rises to his face, “Yujin is like my little brother.”

Each of their names fit a little more comfortably in his mouth now, even if he worries about one of them spitting his back out. 

“I didn’t get to see Jiwoong, Matthew, or Taerae.”

He had received a text from Taerae a few days after he left Seoul, felt his heart drop to his stomach all over again but didn’t let it solidify. 

Taerae

ricky-ah

why didn’t you come see your hyung?

He had a feeling that Taerae had heard what happened. And before he would’ve hated that his cracked open heart was being spread between whispered lips so easily, but he found he didn’t care much anymore. Was it really a secret to begin with that he loves Gyuvin? He had told Zhang Hao first, then Yujin, and that’s all it took for all of them to know, but he found it oddly comforting that his secret was out there. 

“And Gyuvin.” He says it with a sense of finality, the curtains closing and the lights dimming. 

I told him I love him. But he doesn’t love me back.

“Gyuvin,” Dr. Guo repeats the name slowly, like she somehow knows the name holds a revered significance. “Tell me about him.”

Maybe it would be good to talk about it. He’s the only person who knows about the emails right now, his last secret. 

“He sent me emails,” Ricky explains, “Emails he wrote ten years ago but didn’t get delivered until recently.”

Dr. Guo pauses, sets down her pen and really looks at him. “What did the emails say?”

“All kinds of things.”

“Things like?”

The river is empty of boats now, the water shimmering and reflecting the afternoon sun. 

“How he missed me, how he saw me, how he loved me.”

Dr. Guo hums, her pen unmoving for the first time. “You saw Gyuvin in Seoul? Did you talk to him about the emails?”

“No,” Ricky says a little too quickly, tries to reign his emotions back in with a deep breath, “I don’t think he remembers sending them.”

“But you didn’t ask?”

Ricky frowns, “The emails…they’re from when we were different people. The things said in them aren’t true anymore.”

“Did you reply to any of these emails?”

He had tried. Typed and deleted a million different replies, letters kept in his drafts and the folds of his heart. How could he send a reply when they had left each other agreeing that there was nothing left to say?

“I tried to.”

He’s cold now in the open air office, wishes he had brought a sweater to pull flush around his body.

“Do you want to reply to them?”

Ricky looks down at his hands, bare and empty. He used to love lining his wrist with bracelets and his fingers with rings, but lately he doesn’t wear a single piece. 

“I dunno.”

Dr. Guo crosses her legs, looks at him appraisingly, “I think you do. And I think you should. It might bring you closure.”

Ricky is stunned. Dr. Guo exclusively doesn’t give her opinion, only asking questions and prodding Ricky to answer it himself, so to hear her explicit instructions knocks the wind out of him.

“I can’t force you,” Dr. Guo continues, finally picks up her pen again and writes quickly, “But I think you should consider it.”

Closure. Isn’t that what he wanted when he first landed in Seoul? Before everything became so twisted beyond recognition? Maybe it is what Ricky needs—even if he arrived here again in a roundabout way—to finally end the ten year story.

When he exits Dr. Guo’s office, he decides to walk by the river a bit, turns the session over in his mind like a delicate piece of clay in his hand, trying to mold it into the shape he wants.

He used to expel every thought of Gyuvin from his mind like an infectious disease, but he tries not to do that anymore, let's Gyuvin rest in his conscious as much as he wants to, even if sometimes it's painful to have him there.

There’s other people strolling near the river at midday—kids on bikes, businessmen in suits, couples holding hands. He wonders if any of them notice him, a man walking aimlessly with no clear destination, or if they’re all so wrapped up in their own thoughts that they barely spare him a second glance. 

It’s not lonely, but he feels alone even amongst the crowd of people. He had spent so much time getting used to being alone, but just a few short months had made him yearn to belong again.

The buzzing in his pocket rips him from his thoughts, Ricky pulling out his phone and smiling at the silly contact photo lighting up his screen. 

“Ricky…” Zhang Hao draws his name out like a melody, can hear his smile through the line. “What're you doing?”

“Walking along the river,” Ricky answers easily, the gentle wind of the water blowing his hair across his forehead.

“Sounds nice,” Hao comments, “You’ll never guess what happened.”

Zhang Hao calls him almost every day. Tells him little tidbits about his life, about Hanbin’s, keeps him connected, keeps him close in grasp, checking in on Ricky not so subtly.

“What? Did Hanbin fall while getting off the bus again?”

Zhang Hao laughs heartily, “I wish. I’ve never seen him so flushed and embarrassed, it was so cute.”

“Ugh,” Ricky complains, worried he’s set Zhang Hao off on one of his Hanbin-filled rants again.

“But anyways,” Zhang Hao continues, “We closed the door to your room to try and keep the air cooler in the house.”

His room. Zhang Hao still calls it that even though it’s been months since he last stayed there.

“But Banji was not happy about it,” Zhang Hao explains, “She screamed at us until we opened the door again and let her lay on your bed.”

Ricky lets out a small snort, imagines the cat’s incessant yowls, “Oh, poor Banji. Why are you torturing my niece?”

Zhang Hao huffs, “Why does she love you so much? I’m the one who feeds her every day!”

“I’m just very loveable,” Ricky quips. He’s walked a little too far down the river, realizes he will have to call for a car ride back to his apartment, but continues walking anyways. 

Zhang Hao’s tone turns a little too serious. “You are very loveable.”

“Hyung,” Ricky whines, his turn to complain. He appreciates Zhang Hao’s comforting embrace of kind words. But sometimes it’s a little too much, a little pitiful, like he’s saying oh you poor thing. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Zhang Hao concedes. “How’re you feeling, though?”

Ricky exhales, “I already saw my therapist today, I think I’ve hit the threshold of talking about my feelings for the week.”

Zhang Hao hums, “Okay, but I know you don’t tell her everything, that you don’t tell her things that you tell me.”

Little does he know—that the final secret had left the tip of his tongue in Dr. Guo’s enclosed office. He wonders if he should tell Zhang Hao, wonders if the older man would give the same advice as Dr. Guo and tell him to close the final door and reply to all the emails carefully tucked away in his phone.

“I’m doing okay today,” Ricky says honestly. It is an okay day. The weather is nice and the world keeps spinning beneath his feet.

“Good.” Zhang Hao has gotten better at telling when he’s lying now, or maybe he just tells more honest truths. “I have to go now, keep me updated, okay? Love you!”

Ricky laughs again, “I will—love you too, hyung."

He hates his apartment lately.

He misses petting cats and warm cups of tea and pictures hanging on the walls and plants in window sills, looks at the cold marble and blank interior and thinks that maybe he’s changed again. He’s not Ricky of ten years ago, not even Ricky of a few months ago, someone completely new, and he looks at his lifeless apartment and knows it doesn’t match him any longer. 

The only piece of color in his apartment is a blue sweatshirt left behind by Gangyu, the last remnant of the younger boy. He’s not really sure why he still clings on to the piece of clothing, maybe it’s definitive proof of why Ricky has changed.

Has he changed?

He feels it, inwardly, but besides the hiatus from work he’s sure from an outward observer everything looks the same. 

He needs to organize his thoughts, to map it out and see where all the lines and spaces intersect. And he knows—deep in the cavity of his soul, right under where his cracked ribs and bruised stomach slowly heals, there’s pieces of himself that are still left unsaid, things he wants to say.

The afternoon sun had melted into evening, and after Ricky’s long walk along the river he feels as though the waves have lapped his mind clean, and so its with a deep shuddering breath that he curls into his bed and pulls up the first email, the familiar words on the screen. 

Putting the pen to the metaphorical page isn’t as easy as it looks. He thinks of Gyuvin, who always had words come so easily to him, and maybe that was the problem all along, that Ricky kept words clenched too tightly between his teeth.

So he types and types and types, tries not to think about the meaning behind each syllable or the tone of each punctuation, just lets his heart bleed onto the page and presses send before he can think about it too much.

FROM:[email protected]

 

DATE: August 3, 2035

 

SUBJECT: Re: when i met you

 

hi gyuvin,

 

i received your emails. it took me a long time to figure out what to reply. i’m not even sure if you want me to reply, or if you will even get this, but i want to do it anyways.

 

i remember meeting you too. i thought you were the most beautiful boy i had ever seen despite all the awkwardness. now you’re a man, and you’re still beautiful. i think you have that kind of beauty that never goes away, because it’s something that comes from deep within you. i’ve always liked beautiful things, and i think even though i was young, i knew then you were the most beautiful thing of all. 

 

i was walking along the river here in shanghai today, and it made me remember when we sat by the river when we were still trainees, so scared of so many things. i think i was most scared of how i felt about you, was scared of what you would say if i told you the truth about everything in my heart. it’s hard, but im trying not to be so scared anymore. 

 

i really hope you don’t mind that i send these. because i’ll stop if you tell me to, but i really want to. i’m finally ready to say everything i should have said before.

 

sincerely,

ricky

[OCTOBER 2035]

“It’s been a pleasure working with you, Ricky.”

It’s the first time he’s seen Xintong even a bit teary-eyed and it makes Ricky’s chest constrict with sadness for the man who had somehow become his steady rock for all these years.

“You’re gonna miss dragging me outta bed and nursing my hangovers?” Ricky tries to lighten the mood, smiling when Xintong makes his usual exasperated-at-Ricky face.

“You were a handful, but it was all worth it.” They’re standing in Ricky’s now empty apartment, everything packed into boxes to be transported to storage, ready for him when Ricky decides wherever he wants to settle next. 

“Ah, what is all this dramatic nonsense?” Ricky laughs, not used to Xintong using such sincerity, “I’m not dying. And I’m sure the company will hand off some other hard-headed kid for you to take care of.”

Xintong shakes his head, “I decided to retire too.”

“Oh. Wow. So this is really it, then?”

It hadn’t been an easy decision. He had talked it out with Xintong, had talked it out with Dr. Guo, had talked it out with Zhang Hao, but he eventually came to the conclusion it was time to move on, retire from the spotlight and focus on something else.

Xintong claps him on the shoulder, “It’s been a long time for me, I’ve managed a lot of different people, but I don’t think anyone was quite like you.”

“A mess?” Ricky chuckles again.

“Trying their best, through everything.”

And now—Ricky feels himself getting teary-eyed.

“Oh. You know, I never had a manager like you either,” Ricky smiles, “None that actually cared about me.”

“I was just doing my job,” Xintong waves him off.

“No, you weren’t, you actually cared about me and I…thank you.”

He’s known Xintong for almost a decade, but he’s pretty sure this is the first time they’ve ever hugged, the embrace short and tight just like the older man.

“Keep in touch, okay? I want to hear about whatever trouble you get into without me.” Xintong smooths down the wrinkle on Ricky’s shirt collar, caring for him one last time. 

“I will,” Ricky promises. He walks Xintong to the door, gives one final goodbye before shutting the door on this life. It’s an ending, or maybe it’s a beginning, but either way he knows this chapter is firmly closed. 

He never got a reply to the first email he sent. 

“Do you want him to reply?” Dr. Guo had asked him when he mentioned that his inbox still remained empty.

“Not really. I replied more for myself, to say everything I never got the chance to.”

It was the first time he had ever seen Dr. Guo smile.

He had promised Dr. Guo too, that whenever he found a new place to settle he would call her again so she could check that he was doing okay, but he hadn’t imagined it would be so soon.

After leaving Shanghai, he flew to LA first. Visited his family, told them that he had decided to take his life in a different direction. And it was strange to be back again, memories resurfacing of hotel rooms and kisses and shining eyes. But he didn’t stay long, flew to Paris after a couple weeks.

In Paris, he dyes his hair black. He watches in the mirror as the hair stylist trims his new hair and grins. It’s been a while since he’s had his natural hair color, and it makes the shape of his jaw look a little sharper, the color in his cheeks a little more pronounced. It takes him a few weeks to grow bored of art museums and crepes, a few weeks to remember covert fancy dinners and ice cream on unassuming streets, enough time to be ready to migrate elsewhere.

He flies to Tokyo next, watches clouds and the sea ripple under him, thinks about how many eyes are upon the world while the planet continues to turn without knowing. 

The house comes to him by accident. 

He’s traveling from Shizuoka to Nagano by train, carving his way through the mountains when a short delay turns into a long one, and Ricky finds himself wandering the small town of Minobu as he waits for the next train to depart. 

Minobu is tucked away near Mount Fuji, green and lush with a nearby river accenting the village. 

“Where are you?” Yujin smiles through the grainy video call.

“Somewhere in Japan,” Ricky replies, flipping the camera to show him the mountainous scenery. 

“It looks pretty,” Yujin comments, “It matches you somehow.”

“Really?” Ricky laughs. He’s been staunchly a city person his whole life, used to the certain comforts of living in a large place. He would never imagine himself in a small town like this, far-off and dream-like. 

“Yeah, I always liked that you move through life a bit slowly. I feel like a place like that also moves a little slower would match.” Yujin pauses for a moment, let’s his devious smile grow, “And it looks a little strange and quaint…just like you.”

Ricky scoffs, “If I moved here, would you come visit me?”

“Of course. I’d visit you anywhere.”

“You looking to buy, sir?” The voice comes from a small, older woman, sitting in front of her own house peeling carrots, seemingly perking up at the overhead conversation.

His limited Japanese comes back to him slowly, processing the words, “Oh, um-”

“Yes, he is!” Yujin shrills through the phone in word-perfect Japanese.

“Come, come, follow me,” The woman beckons him to follow.

The woman introduces herself as Mayuko as they traverse their way to the next-door house. It’s a traditional structure, Mayuko sliding open the shoji and letting the afternoon light stream in so Ricky (and somehow Yujin) can examine the place. 

“I’ve been trying to sell it for a while,” Mayuko explains.

Ricky can see why. The house is large, two stories and a sprawling outdoor garden, but it’s old—rundown and needing a lot of modern upgrades to be livable, the only well-kept part of the house being the tatami mats lining the floor. 

“It needs some work,” Ricky comments.

“I think it looks great!’ Yujin rebuts, earning a sharp glare from Ricky through the phone. 

Mayuko laughs openly and loudly at Yujin’s prodding at Ricky, “I’ll give you a fair price for it since I know the house has seen better days.”

Ricky balks at the price. It’s not much more than a weeks stay at a upper class hotel, practically pocket change to own the building. 

“Isn’t that…too low?” Ricky questions, uneasy at being struck such a good deal.

Mayuko shakes her head, “I have a feeling you’ll take good care of the place, and it needs someone to love it.”

“You have to get it!” Yujin begs. 

He can imagine it the more he stands in the building, the house with updated finishes and new furniture, a terrace in the garden to have breakfast on during cool mornings, a place that slows down to his speed. And if he decides he hates it, the money would hardly be a loss. 

He looks down at his watch—he’s already missed the next train. 

“Okay, let’s do it.”

FROM:[email protected]

 

DATE: October 21, 2035

 

SUBJECT: Re: i told you i like you

 

dear gyuvin,

 

i really didn’t believe you the first time you told me you liked me. i think it takes me a while to let emotions settle in my heart, like my body examines them carefully before letting them inside.

 

i think i told you before how i liked you from the very beginning. and you said you liked me too, but it took you a little while for you to understand it. it was never like that for me. i knew i liked you from the very start and i knew exactly what it meant. for the first time, it didn’t take a long time for an emotion to settle in my heart, i just knew and let it in without a second thought.

 

i was in LA recently, and of course i remembered that first time we were there together. it seems so long ago now, doesn’t it? i don’t think i can ever forget that day either, it was special, like you said. i think that was when i knew i really loved you. that probably surprises you, doesn’t it? it was so long until i actually said it. but i knew then that no one would every understand me like you do.

 

im trying to understand myself better now, why it takes me a little longer to let the emotions in. i don’t think it’s a bad thing, just something i know about myself. i want to live life a little more slowly now, take the time to look around and enjoy rather than race forward so quickly that beautiful things are a blur. i hope you get to go the pace you want to, that you’re not too tired. 

 

you haven’t told me to stop so i hope you don’t mind that i continue to write these. it’s selfish, i know, i’ve already taken so many things selfishly from you, but this will be the last thing i take, i promise. 

 

from,

ricky

[DECEMBER 2035]

Remodeling the house ends up being more work than expected, but Ricky pours his whole heart into it, builds it up slowly, brick by brick. He spares no expense in the remodel, more money than he probably should for a house in the middle of nowhere, but he finds little pockets of happiness in the grain of polished wood floors and carefully brushed strokes of paint. 

He learns quickly that Minobu isn’t nowhere—it’s somewhere for the residents of the small town. Mayuko brings him fresh vegetables from her garden, invites him to dinner at her house three times before Ricky accepts. The older ladies of the village take a particular liking to him, passing by on their daily walks to tell him how handsome he is and ask if he has a wife hidden away in his large house. 

“No wife,” He tells them while arranging the stone path leading up to the front door.

“How is that possible?” One of them comments. “I have a granddaughter,” another chimes in. 

Ricky laughs, asks them where their husbands are as they slowly approach Ricky’s house to give their opinions on his front garden path. They squabble amongst each other, making Ricky smile brightly at his new form of life. They don’t know who he is, or who he was, and it’s nice to be treated normally. It reminds him of Seunghee, even though she knew exactly who he was, more than he thought possible, but she always treated him with the gentle kindness that he feels now. 

Ricky

It’s done

He sends the text to Gunwook, attaches a photo of the completed interior of the house that he has grown so fond of. 

Gunwook

Looks great!

He had started by asking Gunwook to help translate to the different contractors and craftsmen that were working on the house, but soon Gunwook had become his closest confidant on all decisions he had made to the remodel.

Gunwook

Do you love it?

He looks around the space, feels proud, feels so close to home, the feeling overwhelming and warm in his chest. The last time he felt such a belonging was in a cramped dorm bed with Gyuvin’s arms circled around him, had wondered if it was even possible to feel that way again.

Ricky

I do love it.

Thank you for all your help

He still loves him. Despite everything. It doesn’t bloom painfully in his chest anymore though, just nestles deep in the mountains of his soul, like an old abandoned house that remains through weathered storms, that is full of memories of being loved. 

Gunwook

I can’t wait to see it in person

He hopes him and Gunwook still talk despite the house being finished, that Gunwook actually gets to see it in person. He wants to finish the garden first before allowing anyone to visit though. Had hired the best craftsmen and designers for the inside of the house, but wants the outside areas to be done by him, and only him. 

It’s too cold now to work on, and Ricky stares forlornly out the window. No snow yet, but the bitter air of winter pushes in on the windows of Ricky’s warm house. 

He did start with one plant, one that could endure through the season. And as Ricky watches through the window he realizes that the purple flowers are beginning to bloom.

He stumbles outside, forgoing a jacket or a scarf in his rush to see, his breath puffing little clouds into the air as he approaches the newly sprouted plant. Ricky wants to cry when he sees it, delicately brushes his finger over the petals to make sure it’s real.

He takes a photo, sends it to her before he can think it through, their last conversation dated months and months before. Even so, she replies quickly.

Seunghee

A winter iris

It’s beautiful

His fingers are numb as he types over the keyboard, snatches his lips between his teeth and tries to calm his raging heart. 

Ricky

I grew it

He wants to ask everything—How are you? How is he? 

Seunghee

You’ll take good care of it

I hope you’re taking care of yourself, too?

Ricky

I am

He carries himself back into the house, pulls a thick wooly blanket around himself to try and combat the cold infecting his body.

Ricky

How are you?

The typing bubble appears and disappears over and over, Ricky waiting with bated breath, expecting the worse and having the bricks collapse under him. 

Seunghee

I’m doing better

She attaches a photo of her and Rina, their faces smushed together and hands on their cheeks in the selfie, both of them smiling. Ricky smiles right back, glad that they have each other to cling on to. He tries not to notice that Seunghee’s ring finger is barren now, but it screams out to him.

Ricky

I’m glad

Seunghee

You want to know about him, don’t you?

It’s okay

His heart beats rapidly in his chest, so quickly he’s worried it might burst. All of his friends avoid speaking about Gyuvin to him, he’s sure out of what they think is caring for him, but Seunghee knows, that knowing is better than being left in the shadows, even if it hurts.

Ricky

You don’t have to…

Seunghee

He’s figuring things out

Maybe he doesn’t deserve it

But give him time

It’s dark outside now, can barely make out the traces of the winter iris outside his window, but he falls asleep on the sofa watching them, afraid they’ll disappear in the morning. He wants more colors—purple, blue, green, red, orange, every color of the rainbow covering his corner of the universe. 

FROM:[email protected]

 

DATE: December 15, 2035

 

SUBJECT: Re: i miss you

 

dear gyuvin,

 

you’re in korea right now and i’m in japan. i should’ve said it then, but i miss you too. i miss the little things, like getting to see you smile and feeling the warmth of your skin. im growing winter iris in my garden and they remind me of you so i’ll sleep here and watch them for tonight. 

 

i don’t know if you remember, but you gave me a necklace on my birthday and i’ve worn it ever since. well, i don’t wear it much recently, but i keep it safely tucked away. do you still have the ring i gave you? it’s okay if you don’t. i know things are different now, but those little items still hold so many memories in them, and no matter what that can’t be tainted for me. 

 

do you still believe in marriage? i hope you do, even if i’m still not sure about it. i think i didn’t believe in it because i could never imagine a ring on my finger representing belonging to someone like that, but now i don’t think it’s about belonging, or a promise, it’s about wanting to be the best person for the other. if that’s what marriage is, maybe i do believe a little. 

 

i’ve been studying japanese and it’s difficult and you probably don’t study chinese anymore, but maybe you’ll still understand this.

 

遇见你，是一种缘分。 

还会有第二次吗？

 

from,

ricky

[JANUARY 2036]

Things aren’t always easy.

He overhears the older ladies in town discussing it as they shop in the market, Ricky’s hand freezing and hovering over the packaged meat he was about to place in his cart.

“That’s too bad, he was my favorite in ‘Holding Pattern’.”

“Did they say why? It’s really a shame if that handsome face goes to waste.”

He forgets about the meat, pays for his groceries in a hurry and rushes home, has the article pulled up before he can even close the front door.

ACTOR KIM GYUVIN HIATUS ANNOUNCED AMID PUBLIC SPECULATION. 

Ricky dumps his food on the kitchen counter, devours the news quickly, lapping up as much information as the screen will hand to him.

A hiatus with no reason given, just like him. Here they are, connected even in their separation. 

He feels weak in the knees, worries that it’s because of him, that they’re both broken because Ricky couldn’t keep his dark hands away from him. He’s spiraling, can feel his head caving in and the coldness creeping back into his body.

When, when, when will he stop hurting the people he loves most? He should call Dr. Guo, should try and control his breathing and his erratic heart, knows all the signs of panic now. He’s crying, for the first time in months, his cheeks are wet and he can’t bring himself to call a doctor who will diagnose instead of listen, so he dials someone whose hurt he’s kept buried deep in his chest. 

It’s not the first time he’s called Zhang Hao in total disrepair, but he feels bad still, especially when he hears Zhang Hao’s sharp intake of breath when the man realizes Ricky is weeping. 

“M’sorry, hyung,” He sobs down the line.

Zhang Hao tsks through the phone, the worry evident in his voice, “What could you possibly be sorry for my baby?”

“I almost broke you and Hanbin.”

Zhang Hao is silent for a moment, only the steady tone of his breathing and rustling, like the man sat up suddenly.

“Ricky…”

Even if he’s colored blue with hurt, even if guilt still racks his chest with heavy waves, hearing Zhang Hao’s gentle voice always calms him, enough that he can explain the rattling thoughts in his head. 

“Hanbin told me, I almost ruined everything for you, I should stay far away from all of you.”

“Ricky,” Hao admonishes sharply, “I don’t know what Hanbin told you but that’s not true at all.”

“You almost broke up, because of me,” Ricky explains.

“I’m gonna kill him,” Zhang Hao mutters through the phone.

“Don’t be mad at him because he told me,” Ricky begs, he can’t take hurting anyone else. 

“It wasn’t just that,” Zhang Hao rebuts, “Yes, we had a disagreement when you and Gyuvin broke up, but it was more about us, our own trust issues with each other.” 

“But-”

“But, what? We’re fine now, if anything, it was good for us, made us stronger.” Zhang Hao’s tone isn’t angry, but sharp, making sure Ricky understands every word. “You need to stop blaming yourself for everything, it’s not your fault.”

He’s not sure if he can take in Zhang Hao’s words yet, but he lets them sit, will try and believe them and mend the broken part of his soul.

“I’m still sorry,” Ricky explains, “Even if it wasn’t my fault that time, I’ve caused you so much pain over the years.”

Zhang Hao sighs, “You feel pain for me too, right? That’s why you were upset when you heard about me and Hanbin.”

Of course he feels pain. He hurts so much when he thinks about Zhang Hao, about any of them ever being unhappy.

“But you endure that hurt when you love someone,” Hao continues, “It’s not your fault I’m in pain, and it’s not my fault you’re in pain, we both hurt because we love each other, are sad when the other is sad.”

Ricky takes a deep breath in, exhales out, wipes the wetness on his cheeks away from the back of his hand. 

“I feel happy when you’re happy, too,” Ricky admits.

He can feel Zhang Hao’s smile through the phone, “Me too. It’s okay to be both, alright? We can be happy and sad for each other, but it’s not anyone’s fault, just a side effect of loving.”

“Okay,” Ricky agrees, tries to cling on to Hao’s words like a rope thrown over the side of a cliff, pulls his body weight up slowly, trying to scale back up to safety. 

He worries about Zhang Hao, about Hanbin, about Seunghee, about Gyuvin. But that’s just a side effect of loving. It’s not your fault. 

He tells himself that as he looks at the snow covered mountains, he’s by himself, but he’s not alone, the strings of his heart stretching across mountains, across fields, across oceans, pulling and tugging to each of them.

FROM:[email protected]

 

DATE: January 22, 2036

 

SUBJECT: Re: i love you

 

gyuvin,

 

it’s hard to remember the first time you told me you love me, and it makes me hurt knowing i can’t remember it fully. you said it so many times before we were even together, and so many times after, but i wish i could remember every single one, so i could hold them all in my hands. i love that you love loudly, and i know that i love more quietly, but maybe that’s why we matched so well. but i wish i loved a little more loudly, that i didn’t let the years pass by without telling you.

 

i think you’re right, that your heart was designed to love. you were born on this earth to love people, and i really hope you never lose it, that you know this to be true. i think my heart was designed to hold in love, but i want to change that, i want to be more like you and love people in return, because we don’t have to stay as we are, we can change to how we want, can’t we?

 

sometimes, i don’t feel lovely at all, i feel like the opposite. i feel dark and cold and i wonder what lovely things people are able to see in me when i can only see hatred inside of myself. but i know that’s not true, and i started to believe that because i forgot i am loved. maybe not by you, but by other people, and that’s what makes me lovely, not from within but like i’m a moon, reflecting the love and light of everyone who loves me. 

 

i hope you feel it too, the light shining back on you.

 

from,

ricky

[FEBRUARY 2036]

It snows for days, piling up on Ricky’s doorstep, a blinding white covering what feels like the entire world. 

He wraps himself in his coat and the knit hat one of the ladies from town had made him, crunches through the snowdrifts to Mayuko’s house to make sure she has enough food, enough firewood to endure the storm. She shoos him away hurriedly, chiding him for venturing out in the blizzard, but pushes bread and a packaged bowl of stew into his hands before sending him back home. 

It’s only a short distance, but the freezing air nips at his ears and cheeks harshly, so cold he almost doesn’t notice the bundle of fur pawing at his doorstep, doesn’t notice until the small thing scampers into the warmth when Ricky opens his door.

Ricky panics for a second, thinking a wild animal had broken into his house, but his shoulders drop when he realizes. 

It’s a small, black cat, shivering and hissing at him, but covered in a layer of snow and so frail that you can’t help but feel bad for it.

“Oh,” Ricky says out loud, the cat hissing again when Ricky steps closer. The cat can’t be older than a few months, tiny enough to be held in one hand, “You’re probably hungry, aren’t you?”

He’s never had a cat, tries to remember what Zhang Hao and Hanbin would give to Banji, but ends up searching it anyways to see what to feed the cat. He doesn’t have formula or any of the other things the internet suggests, settles for a warm bowl of milk that he places close to the couch where the scared animal had scurried under in fear. 

He waits patiently, keeps his distance but watches carefully to see the cat emerge from under the couch and lap up the milk slowly. 

Poor thing, Ricky thinks and then stops himself. The cat doesn’t want pity, he knows what it feels like, just someone who will understand and be there.

“Are you cold?” He asks the cat, its big yellow eyes still watching him appraisingly.

The cat seems less afraid now, and Ricky ventures slightly closer. He sits down on the floor so they’re eye level, the cat seemingly considering scurrying back into hiding, but stays and watches Ricky slowly scooting closer. 

He holds his hand out and stills, watches with held breath as the cat slowly pads over to Ricky’s waiting hand and sniffs. A girl cat, Ricky notices when the cat doesn’t run away in fear, instead let’s Ricky’s rub a gentle hand between her ears. 

The change is almost instant, like the small creature had just been waiting for someone to show kindness, she curls into Ricky’s lap and begins purring as Ricky strokes her lovingly, pushes her head against Ricky’s hand asking for more, more, more. 

Now in his hands, he notices the wound on the cat’s back leg, infected and glaring at Ricky painfully. Ricky sighs, scoops the cat into his arms and searches for a damp washcloth to try and clean the wound the best he can, the cat hissing in pain every time he touches it. He wraps gauze around it, hoping it’s enough to stop the irritated flesh from getting any worse. 

It’s still snowing outside, the drifts only building higher. 

“I guess we’ll go through this storm together,” Ricky comments, the cat mewling happily in his lap now that he’s stopped prodding at the wound.

Two days after finding the cat, and three days after the storm started, they find out the news together, the black cat smushing her paws into Ricky’s stomach when he gasps out loud. 

ACTOR KIM GYUVIN DIVORCES WIFE OF FIVE YEARS AMIDST HIATUS. 

[+126, -7]

I saw this one coming, he married too young

[+83, -5]

Did he cheat? That’s probably why he was forced on hiatus too

[+12, -1]

Best wishes to him and his wife. People are so cruel.

He doesn’t cry this time, just feels a bit hollow. He knows how the news cycles work, and that this information was only released to the public because Gyuvin and Seunghee were ready for it to be, but he still worries about how they both must be feeling with the whole world now speculating on their relationship.

It’s not your fault, it’s not your fault, it’s not your fault.

They were going to get divorced long before Ricky was in the picture, were maybe doomed from the very beginning. Ricky pulls the cat closer to his chest, buries his face in her soft fur. 

He can feel their pain even from this far distance, can feel it tugging on his chest, but he doesn’t let it overtake him, just lets it sit, and hopes they can both feel all the love he pours back. 

He ventures outside when the snow hasn’t even melted, probably a bit dangerous when he notices the ice still lining the streets into town. He doesn’t have a cage or a carrier, so he tucks the cat inside his coat and zips it closed, holds the small creature close to his body warmth as he races to find help.

He waited as long as he could, but he could tell the cat’s infection was getting worse, needed to get her to the nearest vet for care and medicine.

He should feel cold after the long walk through the snow, should feel it on the tip of his nose and fingers, but all he feels is warm relief when he bursts into the vet office and sees it’s open.

“I found this cat,” He says in a huff, “I think she has an infection.”

The vet takes them back immediately, Ricky being the only person crazy enough to come out while the winter air is still storming. 

They treat her wound with medicine, give her shot after shot once Ricky explains she was a stray, Ricky wincing every time the needle prods the cat’s skin. 

“What’s her name?” The vet asks once she’s fully medicated and licking a treat from the vet’s fingertip. 

He hadn’t really thought of a name, had just called her cat, when talking about her to Zhang Hao and Yujin.

“Iris,” He says quickly, barely thinking about it but it instantly feeling right.

“Well, now that Iris has all her shots and someone to feed her and care for her, I’m sure she'll be healthy in no time.”

Oh. He had been planning to just shelter her until the storm was over, nurse her back to health and let her venture back into the outdoors, but now-

“How often should I bring her for check-ups?”

It’s their first time he’s uploaded a picture in months, a picture of Iris pawing at the window with purple flowers poking through the white snow.

@shen.ricky: a winter iris. 

The outpouring is immediate, hundreds of people happy to see his update, to see he’s alive, feels overwhelmed by the number of comments scrolling on his screen. 

Through it all, he always finds him though, amidst the crowd, amidst the roaring ocean, he’s drawn to him.

Liked by @kimgyuvinofficial.

FROM:[email protected]

 

DATE: February 9, 2036

 

SUBJECT: Re: my shining star

 

dear gyuvin,

 

we’ve both made a lot of mistakes haven’t we? too many to count, but i still think you’re a good person, i still think i can be a good person. because being good doesn’t mean being perfect, it means trying to do the right thing. i know you feel like you’ve made mistakes and that makes you bad, but i hope you know that it’s okay to forgive yourself, to be gentle with yourself.

 

i think i am a better version of myself now, and i hope you feel the same. or maybe not better, but someone to be proud of. i don’t think you always have to be your best, even if sometimes it feels like it, you just need to feel yourself growing steadily each day. sometimes the growth is quick like a fresh dandelion, but sometimes the growth is slow, like an unfurling rose, but each is beautiful in their own way. don’t rush it—your growth—it deserves to grow at the time you’re ready to bloom.

 

i can’t sing for you now, but i still sing—in the shower, in the kitchen, to my cat, to anyone who will listen. i hope they enjoy my songs as much as you did.

 

sing for yourself too, okay? i should’ve asked you to sing for me more when i still could. 

 

from,

ricky

[MAY 2036]

“I hate you.”

The words are full of venom, but Ricky keeps on laughing anyways, watches in glee as Yujin tries to rip the phone out of Ricky’s hand. 

They're sitting in Ricky’s living room, Ricky quickly snapping a photo when Iris jumped on Yujin’s shoulder and pawed at Yujin face, causing the younger man to make a hilariously disgruntled face. 

“I’m making this my new wallpaper,” Ricky declares, standing up quickly so Yujin can’t stop him.

He’s been staying at Ricky’s house for a week now, had somehow gotten used to Yujin’s presence in his house in the short time, tried not to think about how they only had a few days left until Yujin would need to return to Korea. 

“Sleep with one eye open,” Yujin threatens again, but it doesn’t really land, especially with Iris still clinging on to Yujin’s sweater.

The push and tease each other, but Yujin makes them breakfast and Ricky makes them dinner, and every taunting word underneath the surface says I missed you.

He started working on the garden before Yujin arrived, shoveled soil and rocks, created planter boxes and garden beds, but the planting goes much faster with Yujin helping him every morning. 

They plant lavender one day, and peonies the next, they venture farther and plant radishes in the morning and sweet potatoes as the sun sets. It doesn’t look like much now—he knows it will take time and care before he sees the garden come to life—but it’s bubbling under the surface, ready to spring out when it’s ready and it fills Ricky’s heart with a newfound joy.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you like this,” Yujin comments. 

They’re both wearing sun hats that had been gifted to him by Mayuko, once she saw Ricky gardening without one, Ricky lifting his hat up to look at Yujin through the morning sun. 

“Hm? You mean digging around in the dirt like this? Trust me, I never thought I would see myself doing it either,” Ricky laughs. 

Yujin shakes his head, stops his troweling in the soil, “No, I mean—happy.”

“Oh.” Ricky replies simply.

“I’m happier when you’re here,” Ricky confesses, smiles when Yujin scrunches his face in response. 

“Don’t tell me your old age has made you sappy,” Yujin complains.

“Hey! You started it. And it’s not my birthday yet, I’m not old until then.”

“Close enough,” Yujin mutters, sprinkles soil over his newly planted turnip seed. “You’ll always be old to me.”

Ricky pinches Yujin’s cheek by his gloved hand, smearing dirt onto his face and making Yujin swat him away, “And you’ll always be a baby to me, even if you’re kinda old now too.”

Yujin turns serious again, “I’m really am glad you were able to move on, be okay.”

He’s not really sure if moved on is quite correct, but he’s content, okay with the hand of cards he’s been dealt, tries to make the best of it each day. 

“Thank you, for being there,” Ricky grins, because as much as he teases, Yujin isn’t just a baby, but someone Ricky has been steadily relying on. 

“Always,” Yujin breathes out, like a promise. 

It’s getting hotter outside, enough to make sweat gather on the back of Ricky’s neck and stick, enough to feel warmth spread to every corner of Ricky’s being. 

“Now, how long do these things take to grow? Because I’m hungry and could go for some radish kimchi.” Yujin complains, standing and brushing the dirt from his pants.

Ricky can only smile and shake his head, “I’ll make you lunch, you baby.”

At midnight, Yujin bursts into his room, a small cake presented in Yujin’s waiting hands, and sheer happiness painted on Yujin’s face.

“Happy birthday, Ricky,” Yujin says quietly, sets the cake in front of Ricky. 

He doesn’t feel older, even though so much has happened in a short year, and he wonders aloud how different he will be the next year.

“I dunno,” Yujin replies, “Don’t change too much without me, though.”

He reaches over and squeezes Yujin’s hand. They've both changed, grown together with roots than have begun to sprawl and tangle together. 

FROM:[email protected]

 

DATE: May 20, 2036

 

SUBJECT: Re: happy birthday, my love

 

dear gyuvin,

 

it’s my birthday again and i really am getting old (or at least, yujin says so).  whenever i imagine you old, i always imagine you with a smile on your face, with deep laugh lines that you’ll frown at in the mirror but that everyone else will think are beautiful because it shows how happy you were in life, evidence of all the smiles you’ve given to the world. 

 

i never really cared about birthdays either, but i care about mine a little more now, because it should be celebrated, making it another year around the sun. it’s a small thing but it’s something to be proud of, to live. 

 

i won’t lie to you, my birthday last year hurt me so much. i know you didn’t know about the emails, that you probably forgot the promise you made, and i didn’t expect you to keep it, but that didn’t stop it from hurting. just like i wish i told you how much i cared, i wish i told you how much i hurt too, because both are important to exist. 

 

this birthday, i don’t hurt as much, and even though there’s still a little piece that stings, the happiness far outweighs it. i still have more things to do in this new year of life, things im excited for and things im dreading. i just hope that these emails aren’t one of the things you dread, please tell me if they are. 

 

(i am the older one, right? i should take some responsibility.)

 

from, 

ricky

[JUNE 2036]

Ricky takes the train to Tokyo to meet him, watches the trees and mountains pass by through the window, still unsure what he will say to him, if anything he could say will be enough.

He’s gotten used to his small town, used to the slower pace of life, so being in the bustling heart of Tokyo is like being doused with cold water, strong and overwhelming, but he takes a deep breath and navigates to the cafe they had agreed to meet at. 

He looks exactly as he lives in his memories, soft brown hair and a face that always seemed to be pouting, and he stands abruptly when he spots Ricky enter the cafe. 

“Hi, Ricky-ge,” Gangyu greets him warmly, gives him a small hug before sitting back in his chair. He notices that Gangyu already ordered drinks for them, Ricky’s favorite strawberry tea waiting for him, because Gangyu always remembered. 

“Thanks for making time to meet me,” Ricky says, follows him into his own chair. 

Gangyu waves him off, “I’ll always make time for you.”

“Have you been busy?” Ricky knows Gangyu and his group have a concert in Tokyo soon, but he doesn’t look too tired, no purple around Gangyu’s eyes and no tremors in his hands from exhaustion.

“I’m always busy,” Gangyu laughs, “But it’s been a little less lately, we’re able to rest a bit.”

“I’m glad.”

“You look well rested,” Gangyu teases, gestures to Ricky’s changed appearance. He’s a little tanner now, from constantly working in his garden, and his cheeks are a little fuller, a little rounder from eating Mayuko’s food and his own that he grew with his two hands. 

Ricky smiles, “I am, I am.”

It’s not awkward, but a bit tense, both of them waiting with held breath for everything to be spilled out.

Ricky sighs, “I’m sure you know why I wanted to meet, so I’ll just get to it.”

Gangyu takes a sharp intake of breath, looks down at his drink and plays with the cup handle.

“I’m sorry,” Ricky says firmly, “I’m sorry for hurting you and dragging you into my mess when you didn’t deserve it.”

Gangyu shakes his head, “I was never mad at you for that.”

“Still,” Ricky continues, “You deserve an apology.”

Gangyu still seems troubled, but says “thank you” quietly. 

“I guess you might want an explanation?” Ricky asks, unsure if Gangyu still cares enough to know how his heart became so broken beyond repair. 

But Gangyu looks up at this, nods rapidly and waits for Ricky to lay it out for him. 

Ricky takes a deep breath, he’s never actually told someone the story of him and Gyuvin, and suddenly it seems like too much to fit into a few simple sentences. 

“I met Gyuvin when I was just a kid. Fell in love with him when I barely even knew what being in love means.” 

Gangyu reaches over and clutches his hand in his, a gentle support to continue. 

“We fell in love together, so fast and so strongly it was overwhelming. And I-” He feels himself getting choked up at the words, all the memories flashing by in an instant. 

“And I loved him so much that I ended up breaking up with him because I thought that was the best thing for him.”

Gangyu’s face drops, his emotions always so clear, “Oh, Ricky-ge.”

Ricky shakes his head, “That was a long time ago, and I’ve had time to come to terms with it. But I never stopped loving him.”

It’s something he’s always known, but it feels strange to say aloud, like the story of someone else, even though he’s the main character. 

“I watched him from afar, watched him get married to someone else. And I tried to forget, used people to forget, but it never quite worked. When I met you I was so beyond broken, I was barely keeping myself together.”

The cafe is loud enough to mask their conversation, but it feels like the whole room holds their breath as he says the next words in a rush. 

“I went back to Seoul, and started sleeping with him again, and I was hurting you and so many other people in the process, and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Gangyu squeezes his hand, “Thank you for telling me this.”

Gangyu contemplates for a long time before responding, “I knew at the time you loved someone else, but I thought I could convince you to love me instead. I realize how naive it is now, you can’t make someone love you like that.”

“It’s not naive,” Ricky reassures, “You were just being honest.”

“Yeah, I don’t regret it, loving you,” Gangyu says earnestly, “But I’ve had this past year to heal and move past it, so please don’t feel worried about me.”

Gangyu releases his hand then, turns to sip his drink.

“I’m glad, but I’ll still worry about you, no matter what.”

Gangyu scoffs, but turns to him eyes shining, “We both deserve to find love, don’t we? Even if it’s not with each other.”

A year ago he would say no, he doesn’t deserve to be loved. But now it’s different, he’s carefully tilled the soil, planted the seeds, scratched the soft underbelly of the creature. 

Ricky nods, “We do. And I know whoever gets to love you will be so lucky to have you.”

“You’re right, I’m a catch,” Gangyu turns the tone light, gives Ricky his best winning smile, “Now tell me what you’ve been up to while you’ve been in hiding.”

“Do you know anything about perennial flowers?”

Gangyu orders them more sweet drinks and the crowded Tokyo streets listens in hushed tones to their gently cascading laughter. 

FROM:[email protected]

 

DATE: June 11, 2036

 

SUBJECT: Re: i learned from you

 

hi gyuvin,

 

this one was the hardest to reply to, but maybe that makes it the most important. 

 

it’s been over a year since i last saw you. and you probably don’t want to hear from me anymore, but i can’t stop until i’ve said everything i’ve needed to. 

 

i’m not like you, i haven’t meant everything i’ve said. i’ve said so many things to you i didn’t mean, and i’m sorry for that, for being dishonest with my heart. i hope you know i never meant to hurt you though, i always wanted what was best for you, even if i was wrong about it sometimes.

 

i never told you why i broke up with you that first time, did i? i’ll tell you now, because you deserve to know. i thought i was holding you back, that you were ruining your whole life to be with me, that loving me was taking things away from you instead of giving. and maybe it was wrong, but i don’t regret it because it’s what i thought was right at the time. but i’m sorry i lied you and told you i didn’t love you, it wasn’t true, and i’m sorry if that scarred something on your heart. it scarred on my heart too, and i’ll never forgive myself for that. 

 

i’ve learned so much from you, how to be happy even in the face of pain, how to live despite the world wishing for me to crash and burn, how to heal even when the wounds are deep and infected. 

 

i hope this helps you heal some of your wounds, i know it’s healing some of mine, so thank you. 

 

from,

ricky

[JULY 2036]

His flowers are in full bloom. 

Iris is romping around the garden, Ricky keeping a close eye on her to make sure she doesn’t stray too far, and he can smell the floral scent of all his hard work finally sprouting under the beaming sun. 

The terrace is finally finished too, wooden seating for people to sit and admire the garden, a bird bath that he has to swat Iris away from when a pair of nesting birds come and enjoy the cool water.

There’s still a bit of snow that can be seen on the distant mountain, a reminder that winter will come again, but this time Ricky will be ready for it. 

Dr. Guo calls him as he enjoys his outdoor space, turns and shows the camera the beautiful view he lovingly created. 

“I don’t think we need to meet anymore,” Dr. Guo says simply after they go through the usual questions of how Ricky’s life has been. Their calls have become few and far between, but it still surprises Ricky.

“Really?”

“If things get bad again, I’m only a phone call away, but for now, I think you have everything you need.” Dr. Guo smiles genuinely. 

He had gotten used to their little check-ups, had slowly opened her heart to telling all the dark secrets written inside Ricky’s body, but he knows she's right, that he doesn’t need to speak to her to be whole again.

“Take care, Ricky,” Dr. Guo saying one final goodbye before Ricky is left alone with his thoughts. 

“C’mere,” Ricky calls to Iris, who comes running obediently, curls into Ricky’s lap and lets him stroke down her back, her black fur warm from the sun.

He knows he’s different—knows because he looks in the mirror and doesn’t see a monster, but sees where Iris scratched him on the cheek, sees where the tattoo on his neck is  fading from the sun, sees someone he doesn’t mind being around, someone he doesn’t have to run from anymore. 

Maybe it lived in him all along, but he doesn’t feel like he needs to be punished or blamed, just given grace, and with that he kisses Iris on the top of the head and lets his final words spill onto the page. 

FROM:[email protected]

 

DATE: July 21, 2036

 

SUBJECT: a happy ending

 

gyuvin,

 

i’ve run out of emails to reply to, so this will be my last one. i think after this one, i’ve had said everything i need to, so it feels like a proper ending. can you pretend it's as romantic as saying it in person?

 

you asked me questions in your first email, so i’ll ask you some now: are you happy? what’s something that makes you smile? do your eyes still crinkle at the corners when you do?

 

you don’t have to answer me, but i hope they’re all good answers. 

 

when i was younger, i had a lot of ideas of how life was supposed to be, what was right and wrong, and we disagreed about a lot of them, didn't we? there’s one part, i think you got right, that you always knew, but i didn’t understand until much later. that the most important thing is to love others and be loved in return. 

 

and i’m so glad that you’re loved, gyuvin. and if you ever think you’re not, please know that there’s one person who will always love you, that has loved you this whole time. i’m sure you know who it is by now, but i’ll say it clearly, i love you gyuvin, and i always will.

 

you might not believe me, i hurt you in more ways than i can count, and i was hurt in return. it took me a long time to heal, to feel whole again. it’s still not perfect, i think once certain pieces break, they can never be put together the same again, but i don’t feel broken anymore, and i hope you feel whole again too.

 

my dream now is for you to have a happy ending, whatever that may mean. but i dream of a happy ending for me too, even if i haven’t quite figured out quite what that is yet. i hope the next time i see you that you’re happy and full of life and that i am too, it’s what we both deserve, okay?

 

i love, love, love you,

your ricky

The  summer storm comes quickly, the air warm but the rain hard and unrelenting, beating down on the roof in a steady rhythm. It’s dark outside now, only the brief flashes of lightning giving light in the darkness.

“Quite a storm, hm?” He comments to Iris, who only meows at him in response. 

He thinks he’s imagining at first, three sharp knocks on the door, the sound of the rain playing tricks on him. No one would be outside in this weather. But then he hears it again, loud and clear, knock, knock, knock, and Iris scampers to the door to investigate. 

He holds Iris back with a socked foot, opens the door slowly to reveal the waiting truth. Ricky’s heartbeat drops to his stomach and the world blurs around him, no more rain to be seen, no more house around him, just a man on his doorstep. 

It’s him.

It’s him, it’s him, it’s him.

“Gyuvin?”

He’s out of breath, like he ran all the way from Seoul to get here, his cheeks red and his hair messy and wet from the rain on top of his head. 

Gyuvin steps forward, into the threshold of Ricky’s home, into the threshold of his heart, circles his hand around Ricky’s wrist and looks at him earnestly. 

“Hi, Ricky. I got your emails. And I-”

He must be dreaming, or gotten washed away from the storm, the impossibility of it all pouring down like warm rain through his body.

“And I love you too.”

Chapter Text

(KGV - 2021)

Kim Gyuvin can map his life into three points, three stars to create Orion’s belt and contain himself.

One—the day he was born, born into a family that was full of love but also with a sense of honor, a burden and heavy weight of sacrifice infected within him since the moment he opened his eyes to the world.

Two—the day his youngest sister was born, and he knew from then why the sacrifices were made and why he must lovingly learn how to be strong and be the protector his family needs. 

Three—the day he met Shen Ricky. Because it flipped everything he had ever known in its head, and suddenly his devotion changed, so scary and real that he felt disloyal to his own heart.

“Hi,” Gyuvin breathes out as he enters the practice studio. There’s other trainees, but only one he’s never met, and his eyes zero in on him. 

He has the biggest eyes Gyuvin has ever seen. So large and round, every passing emotion reflected so clearly in them, so big he’s pretty sure he could fall into them and reach the inside of the boy’s soul through the wide opening. 

[JULY 2036, 439 DAYS LEFT]

The people in town have told Ricky that the creek next to Ricky’s house has been dry for almost ten years. But the night Gyuvin arrives—it pours rain from the sky in an unrelenting waterfall, enough for water to trickle down the dry creek. 

“Gyuvin…” Ricky repeats the name in his mouth, the word still unsure but fitting so perfectly between his lips.

“Hi,” Gyuvin smiles, his eyes wide, brown, and searching. 

Ricky hugs him tightly to his chest, feels his damp clothes and skin under his fingertips from the rain, presses so closely that they stumble a bit in the tight grasp of each other intertwining. 

“You’re shivering,” Ricky comments when he feels Gyuvin tremble again under his hands, “Lemme get a towel.”

He tries not to run down the hallway at the same pace as his rapidly beating heart, but oh god Gyuvin is here, he’s here in his home with love confessions pouring out like the thundering sky. 

He brings the towel to Gyuvin’s head, gently dries his wet hair and face, down his goosebumped arms and hands. Gyuvin is staring. Watching every movement of Ricky’s gaze, can feel how his eyes are unable to leave his attention. 

“Ricky…” Gyuvin is still breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling, still shivering, but the smile never leaving his face. 

“You need to take a hot shower,” Ricky chides, “You’re gonna get sick.”

“Ricky,” Gyuvin repeats again, buries his face into the side of his neck, “I love you.”

“I-” Ricky stops. It hits him then. I love you. He feels tears springing to his eyes like a soft drizzle. “I love you too.”

Gyuvin shudders, can feel his own shirt dampening, not from rain but from Gyuvin’s cries. 

“We have a lot to talk about, don’t we?” Ricky asks, strokes a comforting finger down Gyuvin’s back, and Gyuvin nods rapidly into his shoulder. “Shower first, okay?”

Ricky grabs him by the wrist, drags the other man to the bathroom, Gyuvin loyally stumbling after him. He turns on the hot water for him, grabs his softest shirt and warmest pants for Gyuvin to change into, Gyuvin standing and watching the whole time like an unshakable mountain. 

Gyuvin pulls his rain-soaked shirt over his head, Ricky turning away and a blush creeping up his neck at seeing his bare upper half. It’s so silly, because how many times has he seen Gyuvin naked? And yet it suddenly feels like he shouldn’t be looking, like they’re teenagers again when Ricky felt ashamed for staring at his best friend for a little too long when he knows he shouldn’t.

“I’ll be right outside,” Ricky fumbles through the words, Gyuvin smiling at him one more time before Ricky gently shuts the door behind him. 

It’s then that he can finally release the breath that he didn’t even know he was holding. 

It still feels surreal, even as he slides his back down the bathroom door to sit on the floor, even as he listens to the pattering sound of the shower spray hitting the tiles. Iris scampers to him on the ground, jumps up into Ricky’s arm and licks his face comfortingly. 

It feels like eternity, waiting for Gyuvin knowing he’s only a few steps away. He had missed him so much, missed him—like the sun misses the moon, like the sky misses rain during a drought. And while Ricky was okay with just the sun on the horizon and the sky remaining dry, it was euphoric to have both the moon and and the rain.

Gyuvin pads out of the bathroom, hair still wet but his cheeks are pink from the warm water, wearing Ricky’s clothes and crossing over to the room quickly to collapse on top of Ricky who was perched on the couch.

“Better?” Gyuvins asks, Ricky examining and confirming that he’s no longer shivering. Ricky nods, wants to shiver now, not out of coldness but out of the feeling of Gyuvin’s body pressed close to his. 

They need to talk. But it’s like trying to resist a perfect bite, and Ricky can’t help taking a mouthful, pulls Gyuvin into him and kisses him hungrily. 

Gyuvin replies prettily, like they’re performing a melodic duet, the music passing between their mouths with insistence, Gyuvin pressing in earnestly to taste him like it’s brand new song. 

And maybe it is new, because it feels so different, familiar but like every push of their lips matches their entangled destiny. 

They kiss and kiss and kiss, until Gyuvin intertwines their hands and presses soft kisses across Ricky’s cheeks, forehead, temples. He kisses him one more time on his mouth before pulling back.

“Talk?” Gyuvin says softly, his eyes locking with Ricky looking up at him. It’s a gaze that Ricky used to always resist getting lost in, but now he’s ready to wander, to enter the brown pools of Gyuvin’s eyes and drift into the current. 

Ricky lays on top of him as they talk, his head resting on Gyuvin’s chest, Ricky’s arms wrapped around Gyuvin’s middle, Gyuvin’s fingers gently carding through his hair soothingly. 

“I’m sorry for that night, for everything. I had convinced myself for so long that you didn’t love me, it wasn’t easy to unlearn that.”

Ricky tenses, scoots closer into Gyuvin’s space. 

“I understand, you don’t need to apologize,” Ricky breathes out. 

“I do though,” Gyuvin explains, “I know things were hard for you at that time, but I was so wrapped up in myself, I didn’t realize how bad you were truly hurting.”

“I’m sorry too, for waiting this long to be honest, for hurting you too.”

Gyuvin cups Ricky’s jaw in his hand, tilts his face up so they can look at each other, “Thank you, I needed to hear that.”

Ricky smiles sadly, they can’t change the past, only understand it and shape it into something new. 

“It was easy to be hurt by each other because we loved each other so much,” Ricky continues, “And I don’t want to lie and say we’ll never be hurt by each other again. Because it will happen sometimes, even if we don’t mean to.”

Gyuvin nods, “But we’re different now, we know the hurt isn’t on purpose.”

“Yes,” Ricky agrees, takes Gyuvin’s hand to his mouth and kisses it gently, “It’s never on purpose, when you’re in pain it bruises me too. Because, I know you already know this, but I love you, Gyuvin.”

There’s tears welling in Gyuvin’s eyes, Ricky reaching up and wiping them away as soon as they fall.

Gyuvin sniffles, kisses Ricky once softly, “I love you, I’ve loved you since the day I was born and will until the day I die.”

Ricky knows the smile on his face must be blindingly, embarrassingly wide, but he doesn’t care in the slightest, it’s the infectious side effect of being loved.

“Where do we go now?” Ricky questions. Because he loves the feeling of the warm way in which Gyuvin loves him, the floating, drifting embrace, but he needs Gyuvin to lead him down the steady path as well.

“We have all the time in the world now, don’t we? I want to take things slowly this time, is that okay? I want to learn about you again and fall in love over and over.”

“Please,” Ricky agrees easily, kisses over the mole on Gyuvin’s neck, because it feels right this time to take things slowly, to let the water trickle into the creek and let their love slowly fill the bed. 

He wants to keep kissing him forever, but they have the whole universe ahead of them now, no need to rush, so he only kisses him once before pulling them off the couch. 

“Bedtime now,” Ricky commands, leads Gyuvin down the hallways to his bedroom so he can tuck Gyuvin into the soft sheets.

Gyuvin still can’t stop smiling, his cheeks pink and tear-stained, pulls Ricky on to the bed with him so they can lay chest to chest. He loves the feeling of Gyuvin’s touch, his strong arms circled around him, his soft lips on his hairline, his legs intertwined with his underneath the blankets. He loves it all, but he loves his presence more, that he knows he can wake in the morning and that Gyuvin’s warmth will still be there. 

The storm still rages on outside, but it’s not scary or threatening, the sound of the rain lulling them into sleep. 

(KGV - 2022)

“Gyuvin, wake up.” Ricky shakes him awake from his nap on the couch, his eyes blearily opening.

Gyuvin always had a perfectly laid out plan for his life, like a predetermined destiny. 

Have a long career as an idol, settle into a more simple job eventually, have lots of friends, marry a nice girl, have a few children of his own, retire and travel a bit, and then die peacefully—knowing he had a fulfilling life. 

It was what was expected of him, from his parents, from any person he encountered. Oh what a nice boy, they would say with half-drawn smiles on their faces, never expecting anything different from the carefully drawn strokes of the ink pen of the contract of his destiny.

Being friends with Ricky feels like words have been scribbled out, the ink spilling over the page, the paper being burned to ashes. 

He challenges his way of thinking, in ways no one ever has before.

“You got a tattoo?” Gyuvin asks, shocked when his eyes come into focus and he sees Ricky with letters cascading down his neck.

“Yes, you gotta problem with it?” The skin around his neck still looks irritated, baby pink and soft, and Gyuvin wants to reach out and soothe over the inflammation. 

“Won’t you get in trouble? Aren’t people with tattoos…seen as dangerous?”

Ricky narrows his eyes at him, shakes his head like he’s disappointed in Gyuvin, and it makes him shrink back. He doesn’t like disappointing people, especially Ricky. 

He moves into Gyuvin’s space, hovers over him as Gyuvin’s head lays back on the couch, frozen in place. Ricky’s eyes are quick and searching his, mouth quirked to the side and so close that Gyuvin can see the eyelashes on Ricky’s cheeks.

“Do I seem dangerous to you?”

Yes, a million times yes. But not in the way Ricky is asking. 

“No.”

“Exactly. People with tattoos are no different from you, that’s outdated thinking.”

Ricky moves away from him then, glides into the kitchen to retrieve his drink from the refrigerator, Gyuvin tracking every movement with his eyes, especially how the words on the boy’s neck shift with each turning of his head. 

“Sorry, you’re right, Ricky.”

Ricky hums, comes back with his overly-sweet drink clutched in his hand and straw poked on the side of his mouth, somehow cute even with ink splashed across his skin.

“Remember that, Gyuvin, I’m always right,” Ricky teases.

Gyuvin rolls his eyes, reaches out his hand, a silent signal for Ricky to give him a sip of his drink, and Ricky always obliges.

“I would never get a tattoo,” Gyuvin comments, takes a large gulp from Ricky’s drink, earning him a glare and the drink taken from his hand.

“You might change your mind when you’re older.”

“We’re the same age, dummy,” Gyuvin laughs.

Ricky frowns, “I’m just saying, it’s okay to change your mind about things.”

Ricky finishes his first drink, returns to the refrigerator to grab the next, Gyuvin shaking his head at the amount of sugar the boy consumes. He loves the paradox of it though, the boy with the sharp eyes, piercings, and tattoos, drinking the sweetest drinks imaginable. 

Gyuvin thinks there is something changing inside him, but he can’t quite pinpoint what, just feels like something is slowly melting and morphing into something else the longer he stays away from his parents. 

“Will you change your mind about what you think about me?” Gyuvin teases.

“My mind was made up about you a long time ago,” Ricky sings, “You’re a loser.”

Gyuvin chases him into the bedroom, doesn’t relent until Ricky admits he’s handsome and cool and lovely, tucks each word carefully into his reforming body, the catalyst for change. 

While Gyuvin feels himself changing, Ricky is the opposite, cemented and determined in his ways. Gyuvin learned early in his friendship with Ricky that the other boy was stubborn, more stubborn than any human being he had encountered before.

“But why should I?” Ricky pouts, his arms crossing over his chest.

“Because family is important, your parents are important, you should respect them.”

Gyuvin knows it’s the right thing to do. He dutifully calls his mother every day, goes to church on Sundays and visits with his grandparents, a perfect role model for his younger siblings—the right thing to do.

Ricky scoffs, “My father isn’t like yours, Gyuvin.”

Ricky lived a long time in LA, he knows that things are different there, that the substantial owing of life to your parents isn’t as ingrained, but Gyuvin is happy to teach him, just as he does to his siblings. 

“But still,” Gyuvin argues back, “You should call him.”

“No.” Ricky says plainly, his answer already determined before the conversation even began.

“Why not? He’s supporting your dream, letting you live your life as a trainee.”

Ricky laughs without humor, “Supporting? More like getting rid of me. He couldn’t wait to send me off as soon as he realized I wasn’t like him. He only wants to talk about me taking over his business, has no interest in what I actually care about.”

Gyuvin frowns. There’s no way that could be true, right? That a father could be disappointed in a son for not being like him? But Gyuvin’s father had always told him that they were alike, that he reminded him of his younger self—kind, caring, and determined. 

“But-”

Ricky shakes his head, his mouth forming into a snarl, “He told me I’m a disappointment. That I’ll never make anything of myself.”

Shame creeps up Gyuvin’s throat, red and hot for forcing Ricky to admit to that, for pushing into unknown territory without permission. 

Gyuvin feels his eyes getting watery, grabs Ricky by the wrist, “You’re not a disappointment. You work so hard.”

A normal person would say thank you or smile, but Ricky always did the unexpected.

“I know. I don’t believe everything my parents tell me.”

Now the tears fully form on Gyuvin’s cheek and slide down, because it’s so different from the painted picture of life Gyuvin imagined.

Did he blindly believe everything his parents told him? Was that right?

He’s not so sure anymore.

“Don’t call him,” Gyuvin says, and Ricky smiles at him, gums on display and eyes dancing.

“I won’t.”

The night before they leave for Boys Planet, Gyuvin lays in his bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to drift off to sleep. 

They all had gathered together earlier, playing a stupid game of spilling secrets, a loose pact between them as they came to terms with the fact that some of them may debut and others may not.

“Okay,” Yunseo smiles, “Raise your hand if you’ve ever kissed a girl.”

Ollie snickers behind his hand, and five of them raise their hands.

They’re all distracted by Yujin being one of them, their youngest, all of them screeching in shock, shaking him and interrogating him. 

Gyuvin raises his hand too, but he only notices Ricky, with his knees drawn to his chest as they sit on the hardwood floor, and his hand raised limply, smiling at Yujin being thrown around and not noticing Gyuvin’s gaze on him.

“Who was it?” Ollie shouts, but the words blur through Gyuvin’s mind, barely registering.

What kind of girl would Ricky kiss? He imagines a girl that would match him, someone fierce and small with tattoos and sharp eyes.

Now—laying in bed he thinks about it some more, imagines Ricky grabbing her by the waist and tugging, imagines Ricky biting down on her lip teasingly. He shudders at the thought. It makes him angry for some reason, envisioning Ricky kissing someone else. He can’t quite figure out why, it didn’t bother him thinking about Yunseo or Zhang Hao kissing someone, so why does he clench his fists by his sides when he thinks about Ricky?

It’s easy for his imagination to wander somewhere else, to replace himself with the girl in Ricky’s arms, kissing and licking into him, mouthing over the inked skin of his neck. He shifts in the bed, cheeks reddening with embarrassment. He should stop thinking about it, he needs to sleep, his mind is running so rapidly he thinks it might crack open from the pressure. 

His heart pounds violently in his chest, so loudly he’s worried that Ricky will be able to hear it from across the room where he peacefully sleeps.

He imagines crossing the room in that very moment, imagines pushing on top of Ricky and kissing  him how he should be kissed, lovingly and full of reverence, can already imagine the pleased noise Ricky would make when he kisses him properly. 

Oh, fuck.

He’s used to being in control of his heart, his emotions, but this feels uncontrollable, like a car side swiping him and careening him into a tailspin.

Ricky has always been different than his other friends. He’s well known for loving his friends deeply and purely, but with Ricky—he’s always loved him specially. He could never quite put his finger on it, what made Ricky different, but now it’s written across the ceiling clearly, so bold and sudden it’s scary.

You love Ricky. 

There was no room in the carefully written decree of Gyuvin’s life to fall in love with his best friend. It was written in ink, it can’t be erased, but it feels like it's already been crossed out, and in its place all that is written is Ricky, Ricky, Ricky. 

[SEPTEMBER 2036, 390 DAYS LEFT] 

Just the same as the ease in which Gyuvin settled into Ricky’s heart, Gyuvin settles into their new life as well.

There’s choices to be made in their relationship—necklaces and rings dug out of old corners and pockets, adorned on fingers and necks. Old haunts in their closets, but new beginnings peeking out of the doorframe. 

Iris hesitates before liking Gyuvin, watches him appraisingly before approaching him, but it only takes a few chunks of fish torn from the fresh meat Gyuvin has bought from the market and fed to the small black cat before she’s snuffling into Gyuvin’s arms at every chance she gets. 

Ricky watches them playing together on the floor, Gyuvin teasing by dangling a toy in front of her and snatching it away quickly when she pounces, a kitty and a puppy playing around together. 

The whole town discusses Gyuvin’s sudden appearance in hushed tones—in the market, on the streets, in their gardens, easily recognizable from his years on the screen.

But it’s kept quiet—Ricky waits with held breath at first about the word spreading about Gyuvin’s whereabouts, but somehow the truth remains concealed, an open secret of the village, like they all know that this is their escape from the harsh jabs of the outside world.

“Are you treating our Ricky well?” The older ladies Ricky has grown so fond of ask Gyuvin with a hint of teasing as they shop for groceries together. Sizing him up, but Gyuvin only laughs.

“He takes good care of me,” He croons, looks at Ricky with sparkling eyes. “And I’ll take good care of him.”

(Gyuvin insists on helping the grandmothers carry their groceries to their homes, pulls their carts full of food through the streets, the whole town turning to watch. It doesn’t take long for them all to be putty in Gyuvin’s hands too, doesn’t take long for them to come knocking on Ricky’s door looking for Gyuvin, asking him to lift something heavy, asking him to watch their dog while they go the city for the day, relying on him, a steadying presence.)

Gyuvin finds new things to fill his life with, and Ricky watches him learn this new life as well.

He likes to run now. He wakes up at dawn, gives Ricky a soft kiss before leaving, runs hours and hours towards the mountains, tracks his time and distance and reports back to Ricky when he improves. 

He loves when Gyuvin returns from his runs the most—even if Ricky teases him and pushes him to the shower, complaining he doesn’t want to get his sweat on him, doesn’t want his kisses until he’s bathed. He comes back glowing and happy, the runner’s high washing him in a golden glow. 

“Gyuvin,” Ricky complains when Gyuvin presses his sweaty front to Ricky’s back, “You’re gross.”

He doesn’t say that he actually loves it, the visual of Gyuvin out-of-breath and running home to him. 

“Mmph,” Gyuvin makes a small noise, pulls Ricky even closer to him, ignoring his complaints. “I found these for you, on my run.”

He turns Ricky to face him in his arms,  presents Ricky a few stems of hibiscus flowers, small and barely blooming. Ricky takes them from his hands, careful not to crush the delicate petals. 

“For me?”

Gyuvin kisses him on the cheek chastely, “For you, my love.”

Gyuvin runs off to go shower, leaves Ricky to put the flowers into a small vase, places the vase on the coffee table on the living room first, but it doesn’t feel important enough, moves them to the kitchen counter and the bedroom nightstand before settling on the front windowsill where the whole world can see. 

It becomes a tradition then—Gyuvin running and running back to Ricky, with whatever he finds clutched in his hands. Ricky laughing when he can’t find things easily and brings back silly plants like cattails and milkweeds and shards of grass.

But it doesn’t matter if it’s a beautiful dandelion or a simple weed, Ricky basks in having something new and blooming every day, replaces the flowering plant in the windowsill with a new way in which Gyuvin loves him endlessly. 

It’s on a random Tuesday, while Gyuvin is out running that Ricky decides to paint again. 

His chrysanthemums in the garden are at their best, and he wants to document their ephemeral beauty. He treks into town, buys new paints and brushes and canvases, carts them all home with the sun beaming down on his back.

He sets up the easel and the supplies on the terrace, Iris running out and curling underneath to watch him work. 

It’s been a long time since he’s drawn or painted, but he thinks that it might be like dancing or singing or loving, that it’s something that will always be a part of him and can resurface again with a little coaxing.

He starts with a base coat, builds up the pigment slowly, doesn’t worry about an underdrawing or a plan, just paints with his heart, lets the paint flow out of him without reservation. 

The time passes quickly, the sun moving through the sky until it's perched overhead, and Ricky’s painting isn’t complete, but the canvas of his body is speckled with paint all over his hands and clothes. 

“What’re you doing,” Gyuvin’s voice surprises him, pulls him out of the trance he was under. Gyuvin is fresh from the shower, his body smelling of vanilla and coconut body wash as he comes to rest his chin on Ricky’s shoulder from behind. 

“I wanted to paint the flowers,” Ricky explains. The painting is still half-formed, unclear what the final product will be, but there’s enough first brush strokes for Gyuvin to recognize the flower and hum.

“You’re so talented,” Gyuvin muses, gives Ricky a gentle kiss on the cheek.

“It’s barely anything,” Ricky fights back.

“It’s still better than anything I could do.”

RIcky snorts, “Well, that’s not saying much.”

“Hey!” Gyuvin protests, pinches Ricky side, making him laugh and squirm out of his grasp.

“It’s kinda scary how many things you’re good at. Please be bad at more things so I don’t look so bad in comparison.” Gyuvin comments.

He’s saying it teasingly, but it’s far from the truth and they both know it. Because Ricky has so many flaws, things he can’t control but Gyuvin always seems to overlook those for the best parts of him.

“It’s kinda scary how muscled you are now,” Ricky quips back, squeezing Gyuvin’s bicep and making Gyuvin flush red. Gyuvin’s running has made him toned and defined, not unnoticed by Ricky. Ricky’s own arms and legs are nothing to scoff at either, he likes working out and maintaining his body, but he’s never seen Gyuvin this bulked up and it turns something in Ricky’s chest. 

“I can be scarier, baby,” Gyuvin captures him in a tight hold, Ricky only half-heartedly batting him away, leaves him no room to escape, and Ricky doesn’t want to. 

(KGV - 2024)

Ricky terrifies Gyuvin.

It’s scary, feeling like he’s under no control of his emotions around the boy. 

It started off as a tiny creature, a little crush on Ricky, nothing more, he had convinced himself. Having crushes was normal, even if during Boys Planet he knew it was abnormal that he couldn’t stand being near Ricky without feeling like he would combust into a shower of fractured pieces. 

He had never had a crush on a boy before, though. That was new and scary and making him question everything he believes even more. And then it wasn’t just a crush—as Gyuvin held Ricky lovingly in his hands. 

“You, okay?” Taerae asks as they sit gaming together, Gyuvin’s character unmoving on the screen.

Ricky had kissed him first, all those many months ago after the finale, more confident in himself than Gyuvin ever could be, hesitating at every turn. But then he had kissed Ricky in LA too, let them spiral into whatever messy relationship they were in now. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Gyuvin comments, starts moving again to assist in pushing through the enemy’s base. 

Ricky scares Gyuvin because he feels like he’s wandering into a battle with no map, approaching the nexus with no way of knowing which is the right way to make them triumphant. 

He scares Gyuvin because he can see forever with him even though they’re barely at the starting line. 

“Hyung,” Gyuvin asks suddenly, “You’ve dated boys before, right?”

Taerae sputters in shock, “Excuse me?”

Isn't it wrong to want so much from Ricky? He wants him so much and in every way, so much he feels like it can’t stay contained in his body much longer. He kisses Ricky and gets him off, and it’s so much more than a crush and he knows it, he wants to kiss him and call him mine and pour every ounce of love in his body down his throat.

“Is loving boys different than loving girls?”

It’s the only way he can explain it. That loving a boy is different inherently, that the profound way he wants to be surrounded by Ricky in every way possible is just the nature of loving a boy.

Taerae scrunches his face, “No, not really. Love is love, it doesn’t matter.”

Oh, he’s so fucked. Because he knows, he doesn’t love Ricky like a boy or like a girl, he loves Ricky like he loves Ricky. And that’s so much worse. 

It’s dangerous to love him like that and he knows it, dangerous in so many ways that he’s lost count, but he can’t resist no matter how hard he’s tried. 

“Why do you ask?” They’re close to winning the round, but Gyuvin’s mind is elsewhere, already imagining leaving after this and kissing down Ricky’s throat until he’s gasping.

“Because, I think I’m in love.”

“What?” Taerae screeches out, abandons the game to shake Gyuvin by the shoulders. “With who?”

He looks Taerae straight in the eye, swallows darkly. “You know who.”

It’s the first time he’s said it out loud. But he knows it’s been true for days, months, and years, that falling in love with Ricky was an inevitable part of his being. 

But Ricky—he was harder to read. He doesn’t know what he’s thinking. He kisses him and pleases him, but he never pushes for more, keeps everything at the surface level, shallow enough that he could easily peek his head out of the water and take a lungful of air. 

Taerae shakes his head, sighs with a huff, “Please be careful.”

Nothing about how he felt about Ricky was careful. It was scary and dangerous and made to be daunting, but Gyuvin was standing on the edge of the cliff, considering jumping off into the deep abyss of water anyways.

He goes back to their room to find Ricky sprawled on his bed, his headphones wrapped around his ears and his eyes never leaving the screen clutched in his hand, doesn’t even notice Gyuvin entering.

Ricky is always so beautiful. Even now, with his face bare and his hair messy on top of his head, he’s so beautiful that Gyuvin just wants to stop and admire his face like a magnificent piece of art. He cracks a smile at something happening on the screen, and Gyuvin feels his knees weaken at his beautiful Ricky.

His. Not quite his. Yet, his heart has already decided on him, unwaveringly.  

“Ricky,” Gyuvin calls out to him, plucks the tablet from Ricky’s hand and crawls on top of him, takes the headphones off Ricky’s ears and tosses them aside, Ricky finally paying attention to him.

“I was in the middle of that,” Ricky complains. But his annoyance is drawn elsewhere when Gyuvin starts kissing on the soft spot behind his ear. Ricky makes a sharp intake of breath, his hands reaching to wrap around Gyuvin’s middle and pull him closer.

“Only pay attention to me,” Gyuvin murmurs, Ricky tensing under him. It’s too much, for someone that’s not quite his, can’t tell Ricky what he really feels because he knows his feelings are so much bigger than whatever Ricky’s is. That even if Ricky kissed him first, pulled them into the complicated situation they are in now, that Gyuvin kissed him back with twice as much fervor, had fallen so, so, so much harder. 

When he finally, finally gets to love Ricky how he wants to, it’s surreal.

He’s still pretty sure he loves Ricky a million times more than Ricky loves him, but it doesn’t really matter, even having Ricky love him back, to call him his is enough for bright light to pump through his veins. 

Ricky’s eyes were the first thing he noticed about him. 

Now he pushes into him, so close that their breath mixes, their noses brush and Ricky’s eyes are watery as he looks up at him. 

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” Gyuvin can’t help saying it over and over, feels like a pool of water, filled to the brim with his feelings for Ricky.

“Mmph,” Ricky gasps out, “Slow down.”

He knows he’s being too eager, that every time Ricky lets him have him like this he can’t help himself, that he loves him so badly it burns hotly under the surface of his skin until it bursts out. 

“Okay,” Gyuvin breathes out, slows down his rhythm and focuses on kissing across Ricky’s cheeks and neck, grips onto Ricky’s waist so he can feel how perfect he is lying beneath him. 

“I love you, Ricky,” Ricky blinks up at him, somehow even more beautiful than the moment before.

Ricky, Ricky, Ricky. Every piece of his body is inked with Ricky’s name. 

The pool overflows with water, washes away everything, leaves only Gyuvin and Ricky and his ever expanding heart. 

[JANUARY 2037, 272 DAYS LEFT] 

Just as they agreed, they take things slowly. 

They learn about each other again, the new people they are. Gyuvin tells him stories about projects he’s worked on, Ricky laughing when he learns the behind-the-scenes gossip about Gyuvin’s co-stars, learns the ways in which Gyuvin had grown more confident himself while acting. Ricky tells stories about his days modeling, how he slowly fell out of love with it all, how he learned to start anew.

Ricky is making tea for them in the evening, waiting patiently for it to steep, water in the kettle waiting to boil,  the cold air of winter beginning to press in. 

“Ricky,” Gyuvin murmurs, comes up behind him in the kitchen and wraps his arms around him. Ricky is only wearing his robe, nothing underneath, and Gyuvin’s hands briefly flash across the bare skin. 

Just as they agreed, they take things slowly—but sometimes they burn so hotly for each other it’s scalding.