Chapter Text
“Have the last bite.”
“Nonono, you have it!”
“I insist.”
“Well I insist you have it!”
“No, it’s all yours!”
“You eat it!”
“You—”
Ricky presses down so hard on his mechanical pencil the lead breaks. “Will you please,” he huffs exasperatedly, “please finish your goddamn muffin or take your nauseating act elsewhere? This is public indecency!”
Hao blinks in faux innocence. “Whatever do you mean by indecency?” He drawls, and the act would’ve been a lot more convincing had he not been straight up sitting in his boyfriend’s lap.
Said boyfriend has the grace to at least look sheepish for scarring the youth. “Sorry, Ricky!” Hanbin rapidly bows his head in apology. “We’ll get back to studying once Hao eats the last bite—”
“Ha! Nice try, but you’re eating it!”
“Nooooooooo you have to—”
“I am going to throw myself off a cliff,” Ricky mutters under his breath.
Come study with me! Gyuvin had whined a few hours earlier, dragging a barely awake Ricky out of bed at way too early on a Saturday morning. Hao and Hanbin are helping me with stats, and you know how insufferable they are to third wheel. I need someone to keep me sane!
Literally what the fuck do I get out of this? Ricky had grumbled in response, but he was already in the process of dragging himself to the en suite bathroom to splash water on his face as part of his morning skincare routine.
I’ll buy you as many slices of cake as you want.
Hmm. Deal.
Gyuvin had cheered and bounced up and down like a hyperactive golden retriever, which totally didn’t melt Ricky’s icy facade. Not that Gyuvin hadn’t already known that Ricky would agree regardless, because it wasn’t like he’d ever once in his life been able to say no to his best friend.
Well, sometimes Ricky sure as hell wishes he had the power to shut the guy down, because two minutes into the cafe study session Gyuvin got an urgent call asking if he could pick up his niece from school and watch her for a bit, so he’d gone running with the promise of being back soon. It’s been thirty minutes without any sign of him, meaning Ricky’s been suffering as the Haobin Third Wheel of the Day all alone, without cake because Gyuvin had run out too quickly to buy anything, and it wasn’t like he could flee the crime scene either considering his stupid, traitorous best friend had snatched Ricky’s car keys because Gyuvin didn’t have a ride of his own.
(“When will you stop speaking in italics? You’re too dramatic,” a voice that sounds suspiciously like his mother’s sighs in Ricky’s head.
Ricky pictures his mother in one of her three piece suits and decked out in jewelry pieces that each cost roughly as much as a down payment for a decently sized family house in the suburbs. She’s got her arms crossed and giving him The Look where she’s clearly judging him, but in the fondest, most loving way possible—not that she’d ever admit he’s her precious baby son, because she’s Ricky’s rival for the world’s biggest tsundere. The apple definitely doesn’t fall far from the tree, or whatever Newton said when he invented gravity and physics and calculus and all the other bullshit he’s responsible for)
But anyway. Back to the problem at hand: Ricky is currently cakeless (ha fucking ha, very mature of you to laugh there), stranded with the world’s most insufferable couple (seriously, how the fuck can they be so whipped for each other when they literally met a mere six months ago?), and, worst of all, Gyuvin-less (“What did I say about the italics?).
In summary, Ricky is having a terrible morning.
Hanbin ends up taking the last bite, by the way, but the public indecency doesn’t stop there. Hao coos over how much of a good boy his darling is, and if Ricky didn’t already suspect Hanbin had some kind of praise kink before he definitely would put money on it now after seeing the way Hanbin’s entire face flushes rose red. Hanbin whines about how his Hao-ge (seriously? He’s not even Chinese—he’s Korean, for God’s sake!) needs to stop teasing him (okay, Ricky can agree with this much), which only prompts eternal menace Hao to grin wickedly and squish Hanbin’s hamster cheeks. Hanbin whines even more before taking matters into his own hands and diving in to kiss Hao and, yep, Ricky definitely saw some tongue action. Excuse him while he contemplates double homicide because dear God if you truly exist, please either strike me down with a bolt of lightning or send a savior my way because I cannot deal with this shit any longer—
A small plate carrying a slice of strawberry cake materializes out of thin air. Ricky blinks, gaze traveling from the plate to the ring-laden fingers holding it, up an arm clad in a green sweater, towards an elegant neck and sharp jawline, and oh. Oh.
Lee Jeonghyeon offers him a sympathetic smile. “You look like you need this,” he remarks, eyes flickering to where Hao and Hanbin have stopped sucking face long enough to shamelessly watch the newcomer in interest. Not that Ricky can be too mad at them this time. If he were in their position, he too would be a nosy little shit.
“Thanks,” Ricky clears his throat, accepting the plate so he can at least have something to do with his hands. “I, uh, didn’t know you started working here?”
Jeonghyeon, being the cool older guy he is, shows no ounce of awkwardness as his smile softens. “Just started a few weeks ago, actually. And don’t worry about owing me; the cake is on the house.”
Ricky can only nod and let out a very intelligent “Ah.”
(The Sparknotes summary: Jeonghyeon is a third year, the—this part is a real mouthful—best friend of Gyuvin’s middle brother Taerae’s boyfriend whose name is also Hanbin, unfairly tall and handsome, always wears one dangly earring, has a closet solely consisting of various shades of green, calls himself Genius Lee (whether it’s a joke or not, Ricky has never quite been able to discern), and keeps a Rubik’s cube in his backpack at all times so he’ll have something to fidget with. Apparently he’s a barista now which is interesting because if his coffee making skills are anything like his drink mixing, Ricky fears for the health and safety of the innocent cafegoers.
Jeonghyeon is also the most recent person he’s had feelings for. Ricky, being an angsty college freshman trying to find his way in the world after a messy breakup, had spent an embarrassing amount of time daydreaming of the hot upperclassman after meeting him at a mixer. He’d sworn on his mother’s life that he wouldn’t rebound from his high school boyfriend so fast, but all it took was one look at Jeonghyeon laughing with Taerae and Park Hanbin for Ricky to fall head over heels and land on his ass.
To his credit, the attraction had been mutual. They may or may not have hooked up several times during frat parties last fall, and the hopeless romantic in Ricky that was normally repressed began to be, well, hopeful. Jeonghyeon asked him out on a real date after yet another instance of them waking up in the same bed, Ricky eagerly accepted, and one date turned into two turned into three, only to end at four.
“I don’t think we should do this anymore,” Jeonghyeon had said on Ricky’s doorstep, gentle as ever as he held both of his hands and stared him earnestly in the eye.
Ricky’s mind blanked. “I’m sorry, what?”
Jeonghyeon squeezed his hands. “I like you a lot, don’t get me wrong. I don’t doubt that you like me too, but I can tell there’s someone else you think of first.”
“There is?”
“Yes, there is,” Jeonghyeon tugged him into a hug that only left Ricky feeling colder. His lips brushed against Ricky’s ear as he murmured, “You may not realize it, but you definitely do, and I don’t think I can compete with him.”
Ricky shoved him away with a scowl. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” he’d hissed. “You know, if this is your way of rejecting me you’re a real asshole. A simple no would’ve been fine.”
“I’m not making up excuses,” Jeonghyeon insisted, panic growing in his dark eyes. “Seriously Ricky, I’m not. I just think—”
“Whatever,” Ricky snapped as he kicked his door open with more force than necessary. “I’m sorry I wasted your time then. Bye.”
He didn’t turn back as he slammed the door. Partially because he didn’t want to see Jeonghyeon’s stupidly handsome face ever again, and partially because he didn’t want a boy he liked so much to see him cry. Not again, never again.
So, yeah. Ricky and Jeonghyeon were briefly a thing during fall semester before Jeonghyeon broke it off for reasons Ricky still can’t quite wrap his head around. Ricky’s seen him around since then since their town was only so big to begin with and they went to the same college and had loosely connected friend circles, but they haven’t had an actual conversation since November. When Ricky said he wanted someone to save him from Hao and Hanbin, he hadn’t exactly meant his ex (fling? almost boyfriend? rebound?), but he supposes he’ll take what he can get.)
Flashback over, back to the present. Although Ricky’s grateful Hao and Hanbin are no longer cutting off each others’ circulation, the awkwardness of the current situation sinks in. Jeonghyeon’s making no move to go back to work, Ricky’s clutching onto his cake for dear life, and it certainly doesn’t help that the demon couple aren’t even trying to suppress their giggles. Hanbin knows Jeonghyeon because he knows literally everyone (fun fact: Sung Hanbin is only the second most social Hanbin in town because Park Hanbin, AKA Taerae’s Hanbin, could literally find a way to become friends with a brick wall), and Hao knows Jeonghyeon by extension of being close with the Kim brothers, and because Hao has the uncanny ability to dig up every speck of dirt on Ricky he’s well aware of the nature of Ricky and Jeonghyeon’s relationship. Which means Hanbin knows too, because those two literally share one brain because love is stupid.
Man, Ricky really needs new friends.
“So,” Jeonghyeon breaks the silence at last. “How’s everything going?”
Is this bitch for real? “Fine,” Ricky nods curtly.
Jeonghyeon glances at the pile of study materials splayed across the too small cafe table. “Cramming for finals?”
“Finished already.”
“Ooh, nice nice. It feels great once you’re done with your first year, doesn’t it?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Let me know how the cake is. I know strawberry’s your favorite, so—”
The doors to the cafe burst open as none other than Kim Gyuvin stumbles in, red-faced and carrying a sleeping child in his arms. “I’m sorry it took so long!” He wails, rushing over to their table and almost knocking over several customers like bowling pins in the process. Gyuvin’s mouth moves a mile a minute as he eases his niece into a chair and plops down next to Ricky, rattling off the story of his unexpected detour. “Traffic was awful and then Yura needed to use the bathroom and then I realized the gas was almost empty and—” his eyes finally land on Jeonghyeon “—oh.”
The strangest thing happens. Gyuvin, who takes up a ridiculous amount of space everywhere he goes, shrinks in on himself. His hands lock around his knees as he hunches his shoulders over and ducks his head to avoid eye contact—which is preposterous, because he wouldn’t be reacting this way to Ricky or Hao or Hanbin, meaning he’s making himself uncharacteristically small because of Jeonghyeon of all people. Ricky’s pretty sure he’s seen Gyuvin and Jeonghyeon interact a grand total of maybe two times (once when they exchanged pleasantries during a party, then the second and last time when Jeonghyeon picked Ricky up from class for a date and waved at Gyuvin as they drove off). Do they even know each other enough for Gyuvin to withdraw like this? They’ve certainly heard a lot about each other from Ricky, but he doubts they’ve ever had an actual conversation.
Before he can question his best friend’s odd behavior, Jeonghyeon’s lips flatten to a polite line. “I should get back to work,” he announces breezily. “Nice seeing all of you again. Happy early birthday, Ricky.”
He leaves without waiting for an answer, the only sign he’d ever interrupted their afternoon being the singular slice of strawberry cake. Gyuvin uncurls from his ball as Jeonghyeon’s footsteps patter away, the expression on his face unlike anything Ricky’s ever seen before.
Weird. Just plain weird.
Ricky follows Gyuvin’s gaze to where he’s locked in some staring contest slash telepathic conversation with Hao, whose face is equally unreadable. Hanbin’s gnawing at his lower lip in discomfort over something that Ricky clearly must not be aware of or is too dumb to notice because what on earth could be so secretive that the three of them aren’t letting him in on?
He wants to ask. He really, really really wants to ask. Ricky’s chismosavirus is a chronic disease, but more than that he’s just really fucking protective. People can call him a tsundere all they want because it’s true he doesn’t express his affection well in words and likes to fake punch his friends, but no one can ever accuse Ricky of being uncaring. He’s always cared too much—especially when it comes to Gyuvin. Even when Gyuvin overtook him in height and their academics diverged, it’s always been Ricky and Gyuvin against the world. Gyuvin is his ride or die, and like hell is Ricky about to sit still knowing there’s something Gyuvin’s hiding from him.
Except, he does. He sits and doesn’t dare speak a word. Ricky lets Hao exaggeratedly clear his throat and, with no attempts at subtlety, change the subject back to Gyuvin’s dismal stats grade. Hanbin chooses to gently shake Gyuvin’s niece awake and ask if she wants anything to eat or drink, then leads her to the counter when she nods an excited affirmative. Gyuvin bobs his head along as Hao scribbles practice problems in his elegant handwriting, lips pursed and brow furrowed in concentration.
It takes everything in Ricky to not reach over, grab Gyuvin by his rumpled collar, and shake him until he finally coughs up some answers. Tell me what’s on your mind, he’d demand. What’s such a big deal you can’t tell me? Let me help you.
He knows he’d never actually be able to do that. Not here at least, in public and in front of their older brother in everything but blood. Ricky’s not about to let it go, but he has the common decency to at least not bring it up at the wrong time. Because no matter how strong the urge is to force his way in and crawl under Gyuvin’s skin until there are no secrets between them, the one thing he refuses to do is back Gyuvin into a corner and force truth out of him.
Wordlessly, Ricky picks up his fork and eats his cake.
Hours later, after Hao and Hanbin left hand in hand for a dinner date and Gyuvin’s settling back in the passenger seat after they’ve dropped Yura off at his brother’s apartment, Ricky’s curiosity overflows.
“So do you want to talk about it?” He asks, feigning nonchalance as he drums his fingers against the nine and three o’clock of the wheel.
Gyuvin stiffens. For a moment Ricky fears he’ll shrink in on himself again, but then Gyuvin swallows and meets his eyes with an unconvincing grin. “I’m fine,” he insists. “Don’t worry, I can handle myself.”
Ah, Ricky thinks as he starts the car. So that’s how it is.
The drive back to their neighborhood is largely silent save for Ricky’s favorite Cpop playlist. He’d dialed the volume down to protect Yura’s fragile young ears and it would feel too awkward now if he were to blast the music up. Thankfully it’s only a ten minute drive before Ricky pulls into his driveway and lets out the breath he’d been holding all afternoon.
He thought Gyuvin might make a quick escape, but the lanky boy makes no sign to open his door or even unbuckle his seatbelt. When Ricky turns his head, Gyuvin’s large eyes are already boring into his with an uncharacteristically serious gaze.
“Do you have plans tomorrow?” Gyuvin inquires quietly.
Ricky’s mind races. Tomorrow is his birthday, which Gyuvin obviously knows, and he also knows that Ricky, despite his perennially bleached hair and neck tattoo and multitude of piercings, actually hates being the center of attention. He hasn’t had a proper birthday party since he was six, and that’s the way he likes it. Ricky usually uses his birthday as an excuse to laze around at home and get a low key dinner with his mom and sister. Sometimes Gyuvin will tag along for the meal, but he never fails to climb through Ricky’s bedroom window at some point during the day to harass him. So, no, Ricky definitely doesn’t have plans tomorrow, and Gyuvin is well aware of the fact.
“Not really,” he says anyway, figuring he might as well humor Gyuvin while his best friend is in this weird mood. “Just the usual dinner with Mom and Xiaoting. Are you joining us, by the way?”
Gyuvin shakes his head. “Sorry, I said I’d take care of Yura again in the evening. But you should come over for lunch. Mom and Dad want to see you, and we all got you gifts. Even Taerae and Jiwoong will be there.”
Since Ricky’s mom and sister both have to work during the day, Ricky’s initial plan was to sleep until noon and order a pizza. But he can’t deny the way his mouth already waters at the thought of a homecooked meal from Mrs. Kim, and it’s been a while since he saw Gyuvin’s brothers. “Sure, I’ll be there,” he agrees easily. He tilts his head in the direction of his house, adds, “You wanna come in?”
Another head shake. “I should get some extra studying in, but I’ll see you at lunch. Good night.”
And in the blink of an eye, Gyuvin’s gone.
tall ass motherfucker
Happy birthday!!!
Wish I could be there to tell you in person, but maybe next time
rich bitch
haha, thanks. I still have your shirt from last time, by the way
tall ass motherfucker
Lol we both know that if you haven’t given it back already you never will
Anyway I have to study but hope you have a good day. see you when I’m in town again
Ricky doesn’t remember the finer details of how he and Gyuvin became best friends, but the whens and hows of their origins aren’t all that crucial. The Shens, a little family consisting of a newly divorced (and never happier!) mother and her two young children, moved into the neighborhood some thirteen years ago and were immediately welcomed into the community. The town wasn’t that big to start with, and their street consisted almost entirely of families with young, roughly same-aged children. It wasn’t uncommon to see different combinations of the neighborhood kids running around causing trouble or barging into each others’ houses. They all remained good friends to this day, even after some of the older ones had moved out while Yujin and Takuto, the youngest babies, were still stuck in high school.
The Shens live right in the middle of the Zhangs and the Kims, which is how Ricky and his sister met their best friends. Xiaoting and Hao quickly gained the titles of the Golden Girl and Boy of the Chinese community with their statuesque visuals, prowess in their respective arts—ballroom dancing for Xiaoting, violin for Hao—and overall ability to be annoyingly proficient at literally everything. They were consecutive valedictorians, student council presidents, and debate team captains. Despite the constant snarky comparisons the other Chinese mothers would bring up, Xiaoting and Hao—and by extension their parents too—never saw each other as rivals. If anything, they were each others’ strongest support systems because only they could’ve known how it felt to have so many eyes watching them like a hawk, equal parts envious and praying for their downfall.
Naturally, they dated. Xiaoting and Hao (Haoting? Xiaohao? Damn, it’s not easy coming up with ship names when one party has a monosyllabic name) were a thing, and judging by the way the Asian gossip line goes, all the Chinese mothers were convinced they’d get married. Except, they didn’t. Far from it, in fact. After almost four years of dating, Xiaoting casually dropped the bomb during a vacation in Costa Rica that she and Hao had called it quits without any further explanation. She went on a few dates here and there but no names stuck around. Despite having had more than his fair share of admirers in undergrad (the guy quite literally had paparazzi taking stealth shots of him every day), Hao didn’t pursue anything serious either, claiming he wanted to focus on getting his teaching certification. He ended up staying at the same university for his masters in education, where he stumbled across undergrad fourth year Sung Hanbin at a New Year’s party, discovered how much they had in common, tietie-d their cheeks together, and the rest is unfortunately history. They’re both the cutest couple Ricky has ever seen and the reason why he will always choose homophobia.
On the other side of Maison Shen live the Kims, a Korean couple with three sons. Jiwoong, the eldest, was the beautiful one who turned heads with his strong jaw, inky black hair, and sultry eyes. The middle son, Taerae, was shorter and slighter than his brothers, but his deep, gentle voice and warm smile gained him the nickname of the universal first love. And then there was Gyuvin, the spoiled youngest who in every way resembled a puppy bursting at the seams with all the love he was determined to aggressively bestow upon those around him. Their parents used to be perplexed by how Gyuvin, the most affectionate child alive, could become such good friends with the more outwardly skittish Ricky, but Ricky would like to think that they were made to fit together. Gyuvin provided him with comfort and helped him express himself more freely, whereas Ricky was there to ground him in return.
Soulmates, Gyuvin once declared with glittering eyes. Ricky, in true tsundere fashion, hadn’t agreed out loud, but he didn’t necessarily rebuff the statement either. And if he smiled so hard his cheeks hurt, that was only for him and Gyuvin to know.
Although their house used to shake and shudder with all the havoc the boys wrecked, Gyuvin was currently the only Kim son left in the nest. Despite being a third year at the same university (it was more common than not for kids in their town to attend the local college or one in a nearby town), Taerae started living with his boyfriend a few months ago, citing the need for independence and privacy (read: he wanted to be able to fuck Park Hanbin without fear of Gyuvin or their parents or any of their three dogs judging him). Jiwoong had stayed in the house throughout undergrad and even for a couple months after graduation, but once he’d found his footing and started doing quite well for himself as a software engineer he moved out to an apartment a few blocks over with his daughter Yura (long, long story. Seriously, it’s a whole thing. Ricky’s just glad things are finally working out for the guy now after all the shit he’s had to go through).
Anyway. Although Ricky’s close with the other neighborhood kids as well—most notably his fellow 04s Haruto and Seungeon, Taerae’s best friends Woonggi and Seowon, and his unofficial little brother Yujin (whose unofficial parents are Hao and Jiwoong with Hanbin as his unofficial stepfather. The kid is so attached to Jiwoong that he gets into spats with Jiwoong’s official child, who’s literally five)—the children from the Zhang-Shen-Kim sector of the neighborhood are particularly close. It’s not uncommon to find them breaking in to each other’s houses at odd hours—or in Ricky and Gyuvin’s case, literally sneaking in through their second story bedroom windows. One time Gyuvin fell and broke his wrist, but instead of telling him to maybe go through the front door like a normal person, their parents split the cost of building a mini bridge between the windows so the boys could transport themselves somewhat safely across the five foot chasm. Gyuvin has since only fallen once, and that was because he was drunk off three sips of alcohol and it wasn’t like he got hurt anyway because Ricky was there to grab his wrist and haul his ass back up.
The point is, Ricky feels lucky enough already to have Xiaoting as his sister, and on top of that he has Jiwoong and Hao and Taerae and Gyuvin. The six year old boy who’d reluctantly moved into a brand new house after his parents’ divorce never would’ve thought he’d be here now, at nineteen, holding his best friend’s hand as the Kims laid a lunch feast out before him and sang happy birthday at the tops of their lungs. Only Taerae could actually sing on key and Jiwoong stumbled in late because he couldn’t find one of Yura’s shoes and Mrs. Kim got a phone call halfway through the song and Mr. Kim spilled strawberry milk everywhere—and yet as Ricky sat in a makeshift throne with Gyuvin’s warm hand clasped over his, he supposed that as far as birthdays went, this was easily one of his best already.
“Happy nineteenth, dear,” Mrs. Kim pats him on the cheek after they finish eating. “Feel free to take any leftovers home, and tell your mother and sister to come over soon too. It’s been too long since I’ve seen them.”
“You literally went to brunch with them last week,” Gyuvin points out.
“Yes, but living with men takes a toll on you. Why couldn’t just one of you been a girl?”
“If it makes you feel better, Taerae and his friends call themselves the Gyaruz.”
“I knew he was my favorite for a reason.”
(Side note: That’s not exactly a lie. Although Mrs. Kim is certainly the most protective over Jiwoong considering his circumstances and Gyuvin is her spoiled baby, Taerae’s always been a bit more special. Ricky suspects it’s because she grew up as an often neglected middle child herself, so she did everything in her power to make sure Taerae never felt the same)
Gyuvin’s parents excuse themselves shortly after lunch, citing a Korean church event. They used to be a lot more involved when the kids were younger, but after certain events from a few years back caused a sizable portion of the community to make scathing comments about the family, they were left more than a little disillusioned. For a while they stopped going entirely, but, in Mr. Kim’s words, “We are incredibly petty people who love making others uncomfortable with our presence.” (As they should!)
Park Hanbin pops his head in a bit later to offer Ricky birthday wishes, then proceeds to grab Taerae by the waist and bend him over in a kiss so fierce it’s like they didn’t last see each other a few hours ago and literally live together (Ricky and Gyuvin often engage in discourse over which Hanbin couple is more nauseating. Although Ricky firmly believes Hao and Sung Hanbin are the worst, Gyuvin brings up many good points about why Taerae and Park Hanbin are just as vomit-inducing). Soon the lovebirds are out the door, and then Jiwoong heads out as well to take Yura to the park.
With the house to themselves, Ricky and Gyuvin do what they always do: flop down on Gyuvin’s bed and conk the fuck out.
By the time Ricky comes back to, the sun is considerably lower in the sky. “Shit,” he curses under his breath and grapples for his phone, exhaling in relief when he sees he’s still got twenty minutes to get ready before dinner with his family.
An arm is flung over his stomach. “You’re not allowed to leave yet,” Gyuvin grumbles, eyes thick and puffy with sleep.
Ricky chuckles. “Clingy,” he teases.
“You love it,” Gyuvin huffs in return.
“As much as I do, I actually need to go,” Ricky sighs, reluctantly extricating himself out of Gyuvin’s hold. Gyuvin’s pout is almost enough to get him to give in and lay back down—almost, because he’s well aware of the ass kicking Xiaoting would deal him for skipping his birthday dinner. The woman refuses to wear anything less than three inch heels, too!
Before he can shrug his sweater on—Gyuvin’s bed isn’t wide enough for them to lay down with space between them, and it’s warm for late May—Gyuvin catches his wrist and tugs him back to the bed. Any words of protest dissolve on his tongue when Ricky takes in the determined glint in his best friend’s large eyes combined with his nervous gulp and trembling fingers.
“I got you a present,” Gyuvin blurts out louder than necessary.
Ricky furrows his brow. “Yeah, you gave it to me earlier,” he says, holding out his hand adorned with the fake jewel ring Gyuvin had ceremoniously slid on his fourth finger during the present opening with the rest of the Kims (all of the sons gave him gag gifts, by the way. Jiwoong’s unicorn diary was perhaps the most bizarre of the bunch, but Ricky’s long since accepted that behind Jiwoong’s mysterious sexy guy with chronic bedroom eyes vibe, he’s pretty much just a silly goofy dude).
Gyuvin frowns. “That was the joke gift,” he corrects. “I, um, got you something else too. A real gift.”
And then he’s reaching down and fishing for something under his bed. “It didn’t arrive until this morning—I had to expedite shipping so it would come in time—so I didn’t have time to wrap it or put it in a bag or anything, but you probably don’t care about that. I just thought—ahhh, forget it. Just—here,” Gyuvin thrusts a box into Ricky’s hands, a suspicious pink tint dusting his cheeks as he jerks his head to the side.
It takes Ricky a moment, but when he reads the logo on the box lid, his mouth runs dry. “You didn’t,” he gasps, either in horror or shock or awe or some combination of the three.
Gyuvin’s blush deepens. “Open it before you say anything.”
Obediently, Ricky lifts the lid to find a sleek black drawing tablet nearly identical to the one Gyuvin had accidentally spilled water on six months prior—except he knows that this model is brand new and only dropped on the market a couple weeks ago. Ricky briefly considered asking his mother for one for his birthday but ended up going for a new brush set instead, thinking he’d rather wait another year for the tablet price to drop upon the release of the next version. He’s done his research, meaning he knows exactly how much a brand new tablet costs and it’s far from cheap as well as far out of the price range of any gift Gyuvin’s ever given him before.
It’s gorgeous and exactly what he wanted, and yet he knows it’s only right to say, “Gyu, this is so kind but it’s too much. I can’t—”
Gyuvin cuts him off. “You can,” he insists, determination increasing tenfold. “Look, I was the one who broke your old one and I know you were upset even though you didn’t get mad at me.”
“I told you it was okay,” Ricky protests weakly. It really hadn’t been that big of a deal; his art classes last semester were all on canvas and digital art was more of a hobby anyway. He’d been planning on renting a tablet from school if he needed one for class, but it was about to be summer break so there wasn’t any immediate need for one. And yes, he’d naturally been frazzled when his old tablet died, but still—still! Gyuvin didn’t even know anything about art tools, meaning he must’ve first looked up the brand and planned this ages ago. Judging by the way he had to have shipping expedited, he must’ve just barely saved up enough in time for Ricky’s birthday, which is a whole other can of worms but the main point is that this is too much and the right thing to do is to tell Gyuvin to return the gift and—
Hands clamp down on his shoulders. “Ricky,” Gyuvin says seriously. “I didn’t get this for you because I felt guilty. I did it because I wanted to.”
“But why?” Ricky demands in disbelief.
(Deep, deep within him, shoved inside a safe with a ten digit combination padlock, he thinks he knows the answer. He thinks he’s always known, but whether he’s ready to acknowledge it is another question)
Silence falls upon the room. Gyuvin’s hands haven’t left Ricky’s shoulders, and Ricky is dimly aware of how close their faces are. Waning sunlight paints a golden stripe across Gyuvin’s cheek, and have his eyes always been this wide? The remnants of their afternoon nap are present in his ruffled hair, tempting Ricky to smooth down the strands himself. He knows firsthand how soft Gyuvin’s hair is compared to his own blonde locks stiffened by years of bleach and gel; he was the only member of their friend group with a single iota of fashion and thus the one in charge of hair and makeup for prom last year. No matter how hard he’d tried to get Gyuvin’s hair slicked back, it refused to do anything but flop over his forehead. Eventually Ricky resigned himself to using a bit of wax to part Gyuvin’s bangs in the middle and calling it a day. The whole time he’d fussed over getting the angle of the part just right so it gave less loser nerd and more flower boy Kpop idol, Gyuvin’s gaze never once left Ricky’s focused glare as he leaned in so close they could’ve—well, they could’ve done a lot of things, but the important fact is that nothing happened.
The way Gyuvin’s staring at him now, though, is awfully reminiscent of back then. Except this time Ricky’s not so confident in nothing being the end result again.
Gyuvin leans in a centimeter before seeming to think better of it and pausing. He swallows, then swallows again as he musters up courage. “I-I need to tell you something,” he stammers at last.
The first digit of the padlock clicks into place. “Yeah?” Ricky croaks out. Unconsciously, his fingers curl around the tablet so hard his knuckles turn white.
“Ricky, I—”
And suddenly Ricky’s on the floor.
To be more accurate, he’s fallen on his nonexistent ass because loud chanting about new thangs and Bruce Lee blare out of Gyuvin’s phone. Gyuvin had all but hurled Ricky off the bed in panic, and Ricky would like to let the jury know that had it not been for his steady hands and iron grip, his best friend was nearly responsible for the destruction of not one but two expensive ass drawing tablets.
Said human disaster is currently pawing around his sheets desperately for his phone until Ricky puts him out of his misery by clearing his throat and jutting his chin towards the offensive item resting on the nightstand. Gyuvin flushes and mouths a quick thank you as he brings the phone to his ear.
“Hello? Oh, hey. Yeah, I’m still good with watching Yura tonight. Yes I know about the milk and honey. Dude, I got it, don’t worry. Just enjoy your date—oh, tell Seobin I say hi! Mmm. Right, well I’ll be there soon. Bye.”
Gyuvin hangs up with more force than necessary. “I, uh. That was Jiwoong. I should…yeah.”
“Yeah,” Ricky echoes lamely. “I should also. Yeah.”
Neither of them move. Ricky’s ass stays planted on the floorboards while Gyuvin looks like he wants to strangle himself in his bedsheets, and with each passing second the horror of what almost transpired sinks in like an anchor.
“Um,” Gyuvin coughs. “So, um, I—”
Ricky scrambles to his feet. “Bye, thanks for having me over,” he forces out because his mother raised him to have basic manners and it’s the least Gyuvin deserves for putting so much thought and time and effort and money into the gift and oh god the more Ricky thinks about it the bigger the feeling of dread in his stomach unfurls and nope, this is not happening—not today or ever.
He hightails it out of there without looking back, terrified of what he might find if he meets those honest eyes.
tall ass motherfucker
So how was your birthday?
rich bitch
Uneventful
tall ass motherfucker
Lol so it was pretty good huh
rich bitch
Same as always
Though you’re the only one who didn’t get me a present
tall ass motherfucker
Pffft like you deserve one
You didn’t get me anything either
rich bitch
I assumed letting you have your way with me all night was enough of a present
tall ass motherfucker
Hmm true. should I return the favor next time I’m in town?
rich bitch
I’ll hold you to it
Predictably, they don’t talk about it.
Gyuvin holes himself up inside his room until he’s done with finals (by some miracle he scores a whopping eighty-five percent on his stats final. Hao faints in shock and Hanbin catches him), which is both a good and bad thing because on one hand Ricky uses the excuse of not wanting to interrupt his friend’s studying to avoid him, and on the other their windows are only five feet apart so he still sees Gyuvin all the time. He gets a full view of Gyuvin’s bed too, which only triggers the memories of the almost whatever it was Gyuvin had been about to tell him and the subsequent awkward stalemate they were locked in.
Ricky, meanwhile, busies himself with drawing and harassing his sister and third wheeling the soulmates (if that’s not an act of desperation, he doesn’t know what is). He hits up his other friends too, both the ones who stayed local and the minority who are only back for the summer. Between bowling with Haruto, karaoke with Seungeon, treating Yujin, Ollie, and Takuto to milkshakes and listening to their high school gossip, Ricky doesn’t have—doesn’t allow himself to have—time to ponder too hard over whatever big thing Gyuvin was a millisecond away from voicing out into the open. And maybe he’s a shitty best friend for running away, but he’s also a teenage boy whose love life has been so tumultuous (“Where did you learn such big words? And how many times do I have to remind you about the italics!”) over the past year, so excuse him for getting cold feet at the potential threat of the balance between him and his biggest source of comfort for the past thirteen years being thrown off-kilter.
Along with shoving away his memories, Ricky also avoids any physical reminders like the plague. When he’d stumbled home with only ten minutes to spare before dinner, he’d tossed the box containing the tablet into a random drawer of his desk and refused to think of it since. As for what exactly he plans on doing with the gift, he has no clue. He can’t just return it since Gyuvin’s the original purchaser and even if talking to Gyuvin were on the table the guy would never in a million years send it back. Ricky’s not enough of an asshole to sell it himself or give it away, either. Thus, the obvious solution is to store it away and never think about it again. Out of sight, out of mind. Works like a charm.
“Hey,” Xiaoting raps her knuckles on his already open door, jolting him out of his overthinking spiral from where he’s faceplanted on the bed.
“What do you want?” Ricky lifts his head (when they still lived in China, his parents forced him to call her jie like a proper, respectful little brother. Too bad his dad’s no longer around and they live in America now).
Xiaoting strides in like she owns the place (she technically might, since Ricky is pretty sure their mom’s will says Xiaoting gets the house and he’ll get the company building), all long legs and perfect posture from a lifetime of dancing and gliding in heels. “I’m out of eyeliner, let me steal one.”
“Go buy your own,” Ricky snarks at the same time he gestures in the general direction of his desk where he leaves unopened extras of his favorite products for these specific situations.
He hears Xiaoting hum as she rummages through his drawers, then let out a confused noise. “What the fuck—did you buy this yourself?”
To Ricky’s horror, she’s holding up his personal Pandora’s box. His body moves on pure instinct as he launches himself over to wrestle the box from her hands. “It’s nothing,” he lies through his teeth.
Xiaoting arches a well-manicured brow. “Nothing? Doesn’t this cost hundreds? I know Mom didn’t get you this and you haven’t had time to tutor all year, so how did you get this? Wait a second,” she suddenly gasps, already large eyes doubling in size as she covers her mouth in disbelief. “No way—don’t tell me this is what Jiwoong meant when he said Gyuvin was working hard to surprise you!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Ricky snaps, face burning in rage and frustration and embarrassment at being caught. Things were already bad enough when he thought this was his and Gyuvin’s secret, but Xiaoting finding out and Jiwoong (and god knows who else) being in on it the whole time make it all the more real and terrifying.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Xiaoting retorts. “But why the hell have you been hiding this? Haven’t you been wanting one since the old one broke? Gyuvin cared enough to get this for you and this is how you thank him?”
“None of your business.”
That earns him a smack upside the head. “Mom and I didn’t raise you to be so ungrateful!”
“How did you raise me when you’re only five years older!”
“Take that back!”
Cue Xiaoting smacking him again, Ricky grabbing a fistful of her hair, indignant screeches, several slaps to the face, a few well-aimed kicks, and a grand finale in which they lose balance and go crashing side by side on Ricky’s cat-shaped rug. Ms. Shen, who’d been in the midst of walking by, pauses in front of the open door, takes in the scene of her disheveled children, and shakes her head. “Just a few more years ’til retirement,” she mutters under her breath on her way to the master bedroom.
Ricky waits for the sound of their mother’s Tibetan meditation music before elbowing his sister one last time for good measure. “You’re the worst,” he grumbles.
“And you’re a little bitch,” Xiaoting quips back with a pinch to his waist.
The only thing left to do is, in true sibling fashion, move on like nothing ever happened. Xiaoting gets up first and seats herself at Ricky’s desk, where she plucks a new liquid liner out of the open drawer and pulls out her compact mirror. Ricky remains content with his position on the floor.
“But seriously,” Xiaoting says after she finishes the wing on her right eye with a neat flick. “Why aren’t you using the tablet, anyway? Is there actually something up with you and Gyuvin?”
Ricky picks at the the whiskers on his cat carpet. “What did Hao tell you?”
“Nothing much. Just that he hasn’t seen you two together for a while and that you willingly third wheeled him and Bin. Which makes you either very brave or very stupid, by the way.”
“Well,” he hesitates. How does he explain that even though nothing technically happened, the little safe in his heart he’s locked with a ten digit code won’t stop rattling, shaking his whole body as the contents inside demand to be freed? When he’s never felt so fucking scared in his life?
The easy way out is to admit that he can’t, so that’s what he does. “Don’t worry about it. I can handle it myself.”
Xiaoting swivels around to face him, both eyes now framed with perfect wings. “Did you have a fight or something?”
“No.”
“Then did something happen to make you upset?”
A second’s pause too long. “No.”
“I see,” Xiaoting muses. “Is it because you feel overwhelmed? Because you feel like the gift is too much?”
Ricky considers that. The gift alone was definitely overwhelming, but it wasn’t the tipping point. Still, he doesn’t quite know how to vocalize the extent of his existential crisis, so he settles for a barely perceptible nod.
Xiaoting purses her lips. “I mean, that’s pretty understandable. It’s a lot to take in, knowing you mean enough to someone for them to put that much effort into you. Especially when you feel like you haven’t done anything to deserve it. That’s part of what’s bothering you but not the whole thing, hmm?”
“I hate when you ask questions you know the answers to,” Ricky grouses.
“Then don’t get yourself into situations where you ignore the obvious solutions,” she sticks out her tongue. Xiaoting checks her watch and sucks in a breath through her teeth as she hurriedly caps the eyeliner and rises from her seat “I gotta head out—girls’ night at Mashiro’s—but hey,” her voice softens “I wouldn’t overthink it too much, whatever you’re really angsting over. This is Gyuvin we’re talking about; he may wear his heart on his sleeve, but he’s not naive. And he’d never do anything if he thought it might hurt you.”
“I know,” Ricky agrees. Too kind, yes, and definitely a serial people pleaser, but Gyuvin’s a lot smarter than he lets on—as well as a hell of a lot more insecure. He doesn’t make decisions lightly or on a whim, either; Gyuvin definitely agonized over whether or not he should get the tablet, and for him to think that it was something worth getting—that Ricky is someone worth the trouble—speaks volumes.
A tablet’s just a tablet. A tablet from Gyuvin combined with the magnitude of the determined emotion Ricky would rather not spend too long deciphering lest he find something he’s not ready to confront on his face as he held Ricky close is a different story.
But is it really enough justification for Ricky to keep icing Gyuvin out?
The answer is obvious.
Shortly after Xiaoting rushes out to finish preparing for her girls’ night, Ricky hoists himself to his feet and pushes his window open, slipping through the gap and crawling across the mini bridge with a decade’s worth of practiced ease. Gyuvin never leaves his curtains drawn, so Ricky can see the back of his bowl cut as he and another head of fluffy hair—Taerae probably, judging by the height difference—struggle abysmally with Mario Kart. He can hear Gyuvin’s laugh filter through the window after slipping on yet another banana peel and god, he’s missed that sound. Ricky doesn’t bother giving a warning before he forces his way into the Kim house, effectively startling the brothers in the process.
“Ricky!” Gyuvin exclaims in surprise, like they don’t trespass on the regular despite having copies of each others’ house keys. There’s undisguised joy in his voice as well that might be the reason Ricky’s heart twinges, but the jury’s not out on that one yet.
Taerae murmurs something about giving them space, setting down his controller and patting Gyuvin’s head like he’s an actual puppy. He offers Ricky a smile and a nod before stepping out and closing the door behind him.
Realistically it’s been less than a week since they last saw each other, but actually having Gyuvin in the same room and staring at him with his earnest, earnest eyes affects him more than he’d like to admit. I’m sorry for avoiding you, Ricky wants to say. If he were a bit braver, he might try a Tell me what you wanted to say, and I promise I’ll listen this time.
Instead, he scowls and deadpans, “For someone with nothing but Coconut Mall music playing in their head, you fucking suck at this game.”
“Wha—I’d like to see you try Rainbow Road!”
Quite frankly, Ricky is also terrible at Mario Kart but he has pride so he snatches Taerae’s abandoned controller and proceeds to kick Gyuvin’s ass (read: he finishes 11th and Gyuvin 12th), which causes the latter to demand a rematch, and then another one, and then another and another and another until their fingers cramp and Ricky would rather nyang nyang punch a bear than be subjected to Mario tunes again.
It’s approaching midnight by the time they fling their controllers aside. Like magnets, they’d migrated closer and closer with each game until their arms and legs were pressed firmly together and the space between them had vanished. His eyes already drooping closed, Gyuvin lowers his head onto Ricky’s shoulder in an unspoken Is this okay? or an I’m sorry or both.
Tentatively, Ricky lifts his hand and twirls a lock of Gyuvin’s silky hair between his fingers. “Do you want to talk about it?” He prods.
Gyuvin shakes his head, burying his face in the juncture where Ricky’s neck and shoulder meet.
“Ah.” Ricky’s not sure if it’s a wave of relief or disappointment that hits him, just that it leaves him with all the air punched out of his lungs. “That’s okay. We can try again another time, whenever you’re ready—if you’re ready. No pressure. I’m, um. I’m always here for you, you know that?”
“I know,” Gyuvin yawns, breath tickling Ricky’s sensitive skin.
“And I’m sorry for avoiding you. I don’t really have an excuse and it was shitty of me to leave you hanging, but yeah. I won’t do it again.”
“It’s okay.”
“Seriously though. You’re allowed to beat me up if I pull something like that again.”
“Mmm.”
“Oh! And thank you for the tablet, by the way. That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me. I’ll use it well.”
A hum.
“You mean a lot to me. I don’t want you to think otherwise.”
When several moments have passed without any sign of a response, he turns his head to find Gyuvin fast asleep, a pool of drool already spreading on the collar of Ricky’s shirt. “Idiot,” he grumbles, yet makes no move to push the other boy off.
After all, his biggest weakness has always been Kim Gyuvin.
And thus marks the beginning of summer.
The entire Zhang-Shen-Kim squad attends Hanbin’s graduation to celebrate his milestone as well as his acceptance into the same education master’s program as Hao (Ricky truly pities the department for the unspeakable sights they will undoubtedly be subjected to). Then the Shens hop on a plane for a quick trip to New York City, where Ricky laughs at Xiaoting for being hit by pigeon poop only for him to immediately step in dog shit (which first of all, why are some dog owners so fucking rude, and also this is exactly why Ricky’s been trying to stop finding joy in other people’s misfortune because karma is very much real and she has him at the top of her hit list). A few days after they return, so do the Kims from their stay with the grandparents in Hawaii. Poor Hao doesn’t get time off as a grad student but he makes an effort to treat Ricky every now and then when he’s not too busy practicing or analyzing scores or christening every millimeter of his room with Hanbin (Mrs. Zhang refuses to set foot in that circle of hell after collecting trash from his wastebasket and finding not only an empty box of condoms, but the receipt for it dated from that same morning at the top of the pile for anyone to see). The Kims practically abduct Yura at least three times a week despite her father’s protests—something about the family insisting Jiwoong needs more alone time with his new boyfriend so he can enjoy some semblance of early-to-mid twenties freedom—and every time Ricky sees the little girl he swears she’s grown an extra two inches. Taerae and Park Hanbin suffer through summer classes together and freeload off Jeonghyeon’s employee discount at the cafe on a daily basis. Xiaoting receives a promotion at her office job and starts dating this guy named Xiao Dejun she met on Hinge (“Please don’t change your family name. I don’t think I could say ‘Xiao Xiaoting’ with a straight face,” Ms. Shen remarks). The neighborhood kids help Hao throw a surprise birthday party for Hanbin, who’s so touched and shocked by the gesture due to only being inducted into the friend group six months ago that he sobs as Hao cheerfully force feeds him cake.
In the midst of all the chaos of their little corner of the world, Ricky and Gyuvin seek each other out in every free moment. Gyuvin’s worked at the local library since he was in high school while Ricky helps with art competitions and the annual mural painting on a volunteer basis. Even when he’s not scheduled for anything, Ricky will claim the coziest nook of the library partially for the plush chairs, mostly for the vantage point that allows him to watch Gyuvin putter around with his cart of books or type away at the bulky dinosaur of a computer. Sometimes he’ll flip through his art history textbooks in an attempt to prepare for the next semester. Usually though, he’ll connect his new drawing tablet to his laptop and spend his afternoons doodling little animal cartoons of their friends. Gyuvin’s phone pings relentlessly with AirDrop notifications of the masterpieces—a hamster smooshing its cheeks against a red panda’s, a black cat standing on its hind legs goofily raising its arms in the air while a smaller cat pokes its head out from behind, a fox curled up in a ball while a little duckling rests on its fluffy tail, a bunny squaring up against the same little cat from before, a Shetland sheepdog prancing through the air, the list is endless. Ricky’s personal favorite is of a white cat with eyeliner and a plate of strawberries at its feet being glomped by a golden retriever holding a rose in its mouth, and judging by the way he sees it set as Gyuvin’s lock screen the next day, the feeling must be mutual.
After Gyuvin’s shifts are over, the possibilities are endless. They drag Yujin out on bike rides with promises of free food and dessert. Whenever a high school friend invites them to a party, they show up with booze snatched from Ms. Shen’s stash (“Listen, as long as there is no way this will ever be traced back to me, you can take whatever you want”) and fumble through beer pong and stupid dares together as two of the worst drinkers (Ricky would like to argue that he has an average tolerance but not so great coordination, whereas Gyuvin’s a three season varsity athlete but his soul leaves his body one shot in). They watch all kinds of movies together—animated kids’ features, slapstick comedies with jokes that aren’t nearly as funny as the other’s reaction, four hour long snoozefests that neither of them can remember a single plot point from—in Gyuvin’s room or, if they’re feeling fancier, at the cinema. They drive to cat cafes and boba shops and bakeries until they’re stuffed and pass out side by side after their sugar highs wear off.
Some days, when neither of them have any suggestions and aren’t feeling particularly inspired by any of their Yelp searches, Gyuvin will usher his dog outside—a skinny, weird-looking but cute little Greyhound mix—and they’ll aimlessly wander the streets with a vague destination of the park but no sense of urgency to the journey. Gyuvin, being the world’s most tactile person, always clings to Ricky’s elbow five minutes in to their walks and sometimes he’ll get so lost in his story he’s excitedly recounting that he doesn’t notice his hand has slipped down, down, down the length of Ricky’s forearm until their hands are pressed palm to palm and fingers not quite laced but intertwined nonetheless.
Predictably again, they still don’t talk about what happened. At first Ricky was constantly on guard stressing over whether Gyuvin would spring it on him without warning. But as the end of May bled into June and July quickly approached, Gyuvin never once brought it up and Ricky’s anxieties eased.
It’s okay, he tells himself on nights where insomnia hits and he’s staring at his ceiling trying to burn away the memory of Gyuvin’s determined gaze. No rush, there’s plenty of time.
Summer’s not even half over, and then there’s fall and winter and spring and the next summer and all the seasons beyond that. Time, as far as Ricky’s concerned, is the least of their worries.
tall ass motherfucker
Hey
rich bitch
What’s up?
tall ass motherfucker
Are you busy right now? Or in like ten?
rich bitch
No? I’m just at home
Don’t tell me…
tall ass motherfucker
Wanna cash in that favor now?
rich bitch
My mom and sister are both home
tall ass motherfucker
I have a car :)
rich bitch
You mean your mom’s? She already hates me enough without me defiling her leather seats
tall ass motherfucker
LOL OH GOD NO
I mean my dad got a new one so I have the SUV now
More leg room than your little sportscar :P
rich bitch
Don’t fucking insult my baby
I’ll be waiting outside
It takes eight minutes and twenty-two seconds for Ricky to spritz his hair with enough spray to fashion it into a presentable part, followed by another thirty seconds to slip the necessary materials into his jacket pocket. Xiaoting and his mom are curled up on the couch watching TV—one of those Cpop shows where they send a hundred hopefuls to battle over eleven spots in a group that’ll last for at most three years; reality shows are a huge guilty pleasure in the Shen household—when he thunders down the stairs.
“Hey, you gotta see this—Huang Zitao is yelling at bratty trainees again!” Xiaoting cackles between handfuls of popcorn.
Ms. Shen hums approvingly into her glass of wine. “If only more men were like him.”
Ricky makes a mental note to check out Huang Zitao’s topic on TikTok later. “Sorry, I have plans. I’ll watch the performances when they’re uploaded later.”
“Say hi to Gyuvin for us,” Xiaoting calls out distractedly, re-engrossed in the rapper’s passionate poetry as he utterly destroys a trainee for his audacity.
Ricky doesn’t bother correcting her. The less she and his mother know, the better.
A familiar black SUV is already waiting by the curb. Ricky has to muster every morsel of self-control he didn’t know he possessed to fight off a dopey, giddy grin and channel his face into one of what he hoped was composed indifference instead of constipation. But then the passenger window rolls down and he’s hit with the sight of doe-like eyes and a whirl of black hair and god damn if that weren’t a sight.
“Hey, you,” Ricky fakes nonchalance as he slips into the car. “How was the annual trek to Shanghai?”
The driver snorts, resting his hand on the back of Ricky’s headrest as he reverses and it’s positively criminal how sexy he looks doing so. “Humid ass weather, no one holds doors for you, my grandma calling me fat the second she sees me—so basically nothing’s changed. The food still slapped though, I’ll give them that.”
“Is that your only takeaway? Not, I dunno, something about having quality time with your cousins or enjoying the sights? The culture? The architecture?”
The car comes to a halt in an empty parking lot behind the local Asian supermarket—meaning it’s either the setting for opening of a horror movie where the villain preys on the unsuspecting first victims, or that of a more mortifying experience in which the owner catches degenerate teenagers fornicating on their premises. For better or worse though, this particular scenario is far from unfamiliar and Ricky hasn’t died yet. On top of that, the son of the owners who knows when his parents leave and where the camera’s scope ends happens to be sitting right next to him, so that’s another reassuring plus.
A large hand cups his jaw. “You really want me to tell you about my boring family trip when this is the first time we’ve seen each other in months?”
This time, Ricky can’t help the shiver that runs up his spine. “No, not at all.”
“Good,” the other boy grins rakishly, his other hand snaking under Ricky’s shirt and ghosting across his midsection. “Because I don’t give a shit about any of that when I’ve got you like this.”
Ricky’s well aware he doesn’t always make the best choices in life. If he were to make a list of Terrible No Good Awful Abort Fucking Mission actions to refrain from, he supposes months of sneaking around to sleep with the ex whose heart he broke a year ago would come out on top. But in his defense, the first time it happened wasn’t planned and it all started rather innocently until it just…wasn’t. And now he doesn’t know how to put a stop to the dance they started, nor is he sure if he wants to. Evidently, Ricky also isn’t good at knowing what he wants.
Except, in this particular moment in time, he knows he doesn’t want to think anymore.
Without another word, Ricky drags Ma Jingxiang to the backseat and slots their mouths together.