Chapter Text
Gyuvin knew something was wrong with his best friend.
Ricky had always been his constant—the one person who never got tired of his rambling, his endless energy, or the way he always seemed to overcomplicate everything in his head. But lately, something had shifted. Ricky had grown distant, and that word, when it came to them, felt so alien, so wrong. Distance wasn’t supposed to exist between best friends, not the kind they were.
“Do you think they’re dating?” Taerae asked, eyeing the two guys that seemed to have stolen Ricky away from him.
“What do you mean?” Hanbin replied, finishing off the food they’d grabbed from the cafeteria in the middle of their faculty buildings.
“All of them?” Matthew exclaimed, a little too excitedly.
Taerae rolled his eyes. “I don’t know. I mean, they’re always together, right? They could be, you know, open-minded.”
Gyuvin glanced over at the trio in question again. Ricky was seated at the far end of the cafeteria, between Zhang Hao and Jiwoong; it seemed that they were having a conversation. His cousin Zhang Hao had an unreadable expression, but Jiwoong’s gaze was sharp, as if he was aware of every movement around them. And Ricky? He was quietly listening to the others, but his expression seemed forced, lacking the easy warmth Gyuvin had known so well.
Gyuvin looked away, a sharp pang of jealousy twisting in his chest. He’d been trying to ignore it the last months, but every time he saw Ricky with them, it stung just a little more.
“I don’t think it’s that,” Gyuvin mumbled, his voice quieter than he intended as he played with his food, pushing it around his plate in aimless circles. “He’s just… busy, I guess.”
“It’s weird, though,” Hanbin chimed in, glancing over his shoulder in a way that tried (and failed) to look casual. “Ricky didn’t even tell us he was going to China. And then he comes back with all this… baggage.”
Gyuvin flinched at the word but nodded, swallowing hard. He wasn’t wrong. Ricky had kept everyone in the dark about his summer plans. He hadn’t even told his closest friends he’d be spending the entire summer break in China. Gyuvin only found out a week before Ricky left, with nothing more than a vague heads-up: I’ll be gone for three months.
It had stung more than Gyuvin wanted to admit. He’d spent those 7 days imagining what those months might look like—maybe Ricky would invite him along for part of the trip, or at least suggest he visit for a week or two. But there’d been no invitation. Ricky hadn’t even left room for Gyuvin to ask.
At first, the distance was manageable. They video-called every day—well, almost—and even though Ricky looked hella stressed since he got to China, Gyuvin was happy because he seemed to relax when they got to talk. So he held onto that little thread. He could handle three months apart, as long as they kept sharing this little connection.
But then, the days started to go by, and the calls became shorter and less frequent until they stopped altogether.
Ricky claimed to be “too busy with family stuff,” but the excuse felt thinner the more he used it. Even his social media had gone silent—no more selfies, no more fancy food on the stories, no more shopping spree hauls, no more glimpses of the life Gyuvin wasn’t being part of. He hadn’t realized just how much he relied on those updates until they were gone.
They still texted, but even that felt like it was forced and somehow a burden for Ricky. His replies got plain, more spaced out. Gyuvin kept telling himself it was fine, that he was just busy. But the silence was starting to mess with his head.
By the second month, Gyuvin was desperate for something—anything—to fix the widening gap between them. So when Ricky’s name lit up his phone screen after 72 hours of complete silence, his heart leapt.
“Gyuvin,” Ricky said, his tone flat. Too flat.
His chest tightened. “What’s up? You’re okay, right?”
“I’m fine,” Ricky replied quickly, almost dismissively. “How have you been?”
Even if Gyuvin was hesitant at first, the next few minutes were a blur of him rambling. He dove headfirst into everything that had happened in his absence—the funny stories, the small victories, even the embarrassing moments he would have told him while having dinner together if he was there with him. Ricky acknowledged him with occasional murmurs, but he didn’t engage much, fueling even more his yapping.
The shift in the conversation came suddenly, like a drop off a cliff. When he finally asked if Ricky had any news of his own, the response hit him like a punch to the gut.
“Yeah, I actually do. Listen… this semester, I won’t be able to stay in our apartment anymore.”
Gyuvin froze, the words not registering at first. “Wait, what? Why? Where are you going?”
There was a pause—too long, too heavy. “Zhang Hao is transferring to our university. He’s my cousin. I need to be with him.”
Zhang Hao. Gyuvin had heard Ricky mention him only a handful of times and during their video calls that summer. Back then, the name had seemed like a small detail, barely noticeable. But now, it pressed down on him, heavy and suffocating, as if the weight of those words alone could crush him.
“But… can’t we all just share the apartment? You know it’s big enough for three people, plus it will—,” he felt how his own voice tinged with desperation.
“No,” Ricky interrupted, sounding sharper than usual. “Hao’s too shy for that. It wouldn’t work.”
The finality in his tone was like a door slamming shut.
Gyuvin swallowed hard, his throat tight as he forced himself to sound calm. “Okay, I… get it. But… did you know about this already? Why didn’t you tell me sooner? We could have tried to figure out another solution together.”
Another pause. Then, a long sigh. “I didn’t want to make this harder than it already is,” Ricky admitted, his voice quieter now. “It’s just… complicated. I have to do this, Gyub. We’re family.”
Gyuvin’s chest ached. The word family carried a weight he couldn’t compete with, a barrier he couldn’t break. “Yeah, of course,” he managed weakly, though his voice wavered. “I understand.”
“Thank you, I’ll make sure you’re okay.” Ricky said softly, almost in a whisper.
When the call ended, Gyuvin sat there, frozen. The phone screen dimmed in his hand, but his thoughts burned bright, spiraling out of control.
Ricky’s tone hadn’t been right. Cold. Detached. Not like him. The whole conversation felt off, like a carefully constructed wall Ricky had built to keep him out.
Why does it feel like he’s pushing me away?
Over the rest of the summer, there weren’t any more calls. They exchanged only a few messages, each one feeling hollower than the previous one. The warmth they always shared and the easy familiarity—both gone.
When the first semester of their last year finally started, Ricky sent Gyuvin a message to say he’d be stopping by their apartment to grab his things. Well—not their apartment anymore, was it? He didn’t even get an invitation to pick him up from the airport. Gyuvin couldn’t stop himself from spiraling. When did he arrive in Korea? Where had Ricky been staying since then? Did he already find a new flat? Was he sharing the place with someone else besides his cousin?
The answer arrived soon enough in the form of someone Gyuvin hadn’t seen before—a tall, broad-shouldered, self-assured man named Jiwoong.
The name alone made Gyuvin’s stomach twist.
It wasn’t really a reunion. Ricky showed up, but he wasn’t alone. His cousin was there—quieter and softer than Gyuvin had imagined, blending into the background and barely speaking. But Jiwoong? He was impossible to ignore.
He had an energy that felt completely out of place, his presence commanding in a way that made Gyuvin shrink back. Worst of all, his face and words were nice, polite, even calm—everything about him was the opposite of Gyuvin’s own bursts of chaotic energy. Gyuvin was used to filling a room with noise and movement; Jiwoong filled it effortlessly with quiet confidence.
Ricky introduced him as “an old family friend,” but there was something about Jiwoong that didn’t sit right. He wasn’t just there—he was with Ricky, in a way that felt too comfortable, too close. Jiwoong’s presence threw everything off. It made Gyuvin hesitate, holding back the clumsy, one-sided hugs he usually gave Ricky whenever they’d been apart for even a few days. Ricky always pretended to hate them, but Gyuvin knew better. He’d seen the way he always leaned in, even if he complained afterward.
And now, after three months apart, all Gyuvin wanted was to pull him into the biggest hug. But the trio’s dynamic—the way Jiwoong stayed glued to Ricky—made it weird, impossible even.
It didn’t feel like Ricky had come back. Not really. It felt like he was still miles away, even though they were standing in the same room.
Gyuvin tried to focus, doing his best to ignore the knot in his stomach as he introduced everyone to Gunwook, one of his new roommates. He caught the way Ricky glanced at him—curious, maybe even bothered—but there wasn’t a chance to talk about it. He wanted to tell Ricky how nice he was, how easy it had been to get along with him, but the moment never came.
Instead, they worked together to help Ricky pack up his things from what had once been his room. Every step felt like a blow to Gyuvin’s chest, a sharp reminder of how much had changed. The room looked so bare without Ricky’s things, and Gyuvin hated how quickly it all felt like someone else’s space entirely.
The final punch landed after they left the apartment.
“Did something bad happen between you, guys?” Gunwook asked casually, breaking the heavy silence. “Things were so tense.”
Gyuvin let out a long sigh, avoiding Gunwook’s gaze. “I don’t know,” he muttered before heading to his own room, shutting the door behind him. I don’t fucking know what’s going on.
From there, things only got worse. The news arrived that Jiwoong had transferred to their university too—supposedly to finish his PhD. The timing felt too perfect to be a coincidence. Jiwoong wasn’t just close; he was everywhere, always in Ricky’s orbit. It wasn’t just the proximity that stung; it was the way Jiwoong seemed to belong there, effortlessly sliding into a space Gyuvin had been pushed out of.
The worst part? The few moments when Jiwoong wasn’t around, Ricky didn’t seem like himself. He was distant, uneasy, like something vital was missing. No matter how much Gyuvin tried to bridge the gap between them, Ricky would pull away, deflecting questions, making excuses, or shutting down altogether.
Gyuvin wanted answers—needed them—but every word, every moment felt like chasing something that wasn’t there anymore. Ricky, his Ricky, was slipping away, piece by piece, leaving him drowning in questions he didn’t know how to ask.
A teasing pat pulled him out of his spiraling thoughts.
“That for sure is a huge baggage, but, you know how much he likes to bicker, maybe he’s just playing hard to get.” Matthew joked, nudging him with a laugh.
Gyuvin forced a smile, though his heart wasn’t in it. “Yeah, maybe,” he muttered, though the pit in his stomach said otherwise. Maybe there was nothing going on—maybe Ricky and Zhang Hao were just making up for their lost time together and Jiwoong was a close friend of their families.
But then why did everything feel wrong?
He glanced around at his friends, pretending to be part of the conversation, but his thoughts were a blur. Ricky. Jiwoong. Hao. He couldn’t shake the feeling that they were part of some puzzle he didn’t have all the pieces for.
Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. The words spilled out before he could stop them. “I just don’t understand why he’s like this now.” His voice cracked slightly, and he shook his head, frustrated. “Since he came back, he’s barely spent any time with us. It’s like… he’s a whole different person.”
Taerae tilted his head, clearly intrigued and not commenting on the abrupt change of topic. “Different how?”
Gyuvin hesitated. “He’s quieter. More... intense, I guess? Ricky’s always been reserved, but this is something else. It’s like there’s this wall between us now. He used to tell me everything, even if it took time. Now, it’s like he doesn’t even want me to ask.”
“Do you think he’s hiding something?” Hanbin asked, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully as he followed Gyuvin’s gaze to Ricky across the cafeteria.
“I don’t know,” Gyuvin admitted, running a hand through his hair. “But he’s not the same. Even the way he looks has changed. And I know it sounds dumb, but… people notice him more now. Everyone. He walks into a room, and it’s like he glows or something.”
Taerae smirked, leaning back with a teasing grin. “Sounds like someone’s crushing on his best friend.”
Gyuvin’s cheeks burned hot. “That’s not… That’s not it!” he stammered, the words rushing out too quickly. “I mean, it’s just… weird, okay? He wasn’t like this before. It’s like he went to China and came back as someone completely different.” He paused, his voice softening. “Even his hair. He told me he really liked going back to black, and now he’s blonde again? It makes him feel further away, you know? Unreachable.”
Matthew raised an eyebrow. “You miss the black hair?”
“I miss him,” Gyuvin confessed quietly, barely above a whisper. “Blonde, black, whatever—I just miss him.”
His friends fell silent for a moment, the weight of Gyuvin’s words hanging between them.
“I can’t even get him alone to ask what’s going on,” Gyuvin continued, frustration bleeding into his tone. “Every time I try, he dodges me. It’s like... like he doesn’t trust me anymore.”
“Maybe he does have something to hide,” Hanbin said, glancing at their friend again. “I mean, think about it. He suddenly meets this cousin and brings him here to live with him. And Jiwoong? He’s practically glued to Ricky’s side. Doesn’t that seem... off? Ricky does not make friends easily, and we had never heard about them before.”
Gyuvin nodded, his chest tightening. “Exactly! And they’re all living together now, and he didn’t even mention it until Matthew asked about it. I don’t know what happened over there, but it feels like he’s keeping this whole part of his life secret from me.” His voice cracked as he added, “And after all the years being best friends and everything we’ve been through? It just… hurts.”
Matthew placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Don’t overthink it, man. Sometimes people get weird and distant, but it doesn’t mean it’ll stay that way forever.”
Gyuvin offered a weak smile, but a quiet voice in his head whispered otherwise. Ricky wasn’t just distant—he was actively avoiding him. And Gyuvin couldn’t shake the fear that whatever had changed Ricky wasn’t something time could fix.
“He needs to come to our getaway,” Taerae said suddenly, breaking the tension.
Gyuvin blinked, caught off guard. “New Year’s?”
Taerae nodded. “To my family’s place in the mountains. If he comes, you’ll have a real chance to talk to him. Away from... everything.”
Matthew grinned. “Yeah! That’s perfect! Fresh air, snow, and you’ll finally get him alone.”
Gyuvin sighed, slumping back in his chair. “He’s been avoiding talking about the trip. He said he didn’t know if he could make it, but honestly? I think he’s just looking for an excuse not to come.”
“Then we make sure he doesn’t have one,” Hanbin said simply.
Gyuvin’s head snapped up, hope flickering in his chest. “You’d help me?”
“Of course,” Taerae said, flashing a grin. “We’re all worried about him, Gyuvin. It’s not just you.”
Matthew leaned in, eyes twinkling mischievously. “And I’ve got the perfect plan. Trust me, there’s no way he’ll be able to say no.”
All eyes turned to Matthew, their curiosity piqued. Maybe he still had a chance.
࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ
The plan wasn’t ideal—it was actually pretty terrible—but it was the only thing Gyuvin had to work with. Matthew’s suggestion had been to invite the entire “trinity” to the trip. He didn’t love the idea. In fact, he hated it. If it were up to him, Jiwoong and Hao wouldn’t even be part of the conversation. But deep down, he knew the truth: the only way that he might come was if he convinced the other two it was a good, fun idea. After that, it’d be on them to give him a shot at some alone time with Ricky.
Gyuvin’s heart pounded as he approached their table, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. Ricky was still sandwiched between Jiwoong and Zhang Hao, and even though Gyuvin was already used to seeing it, his stomach churned uncomfortably. The easy camaraderie between them, the way Ricky laughed at something Jiwoong had just said—it all felt too comfortable, too permanent.
This used to be his place by Ricky’s side. Now, he was a bystander.
Jiwoong reached out, lightly patting Ricky’s arm as he spoke. It was such a small gesture, but it sent a pang of jealousy slicing through Gyuvin’s chest. He bit down his frustration, forcing himself to step closer and clear his throat.
“Hey, guys.”
Ricky’s head snapped up at the sound of his voice, his grin widening in that way that always made Gyuvin’s heart ache. “Hi, Gyub.”
The nickname—once something he adored—grated on him now. It felt hollow, like Ricky was trying to keep things normal when everything between them was far from it. But Gyuvin reminded himself to stay calm. He had a mission, and losing his cool wouldn’t help.
“Are you guys doing anything after Christmas?” Gyuvin asked, his tone carefully casual. He made sure to look at Jiwoong and Zhang Hao directly, so it was clear he was including them in the conversation.
“I don’t think so,” Hao replied thoughtfully. “I’m not flying to China until mid February, so we’ll just be hanging around.” He glanced at Jiwoong, as if silently confirming that answer.
Jiwoong nodded. “Yeah, no big plans for me either. Why?”
Gyuvin forced a smile, pretending this was just another friendly chat. “I don’t know if Ricky’s mentioned it, but we’ve planned a trip to the mountains for a few days, including New Year’s Eve. Since you guys have been joining our hangouts with Ricky lately, we thought we’d officially invite you to come along.”
Ricky stiffened in his chair at the mention of the trip, and Gyuvin didn’t miss the way he immediately glanced at Jiwoong. Hao, on the other hand, seemed perfectly at ease, his eyes still on Jiwoong, waiting for the older man to weigh in. The dynamic was infuriating—like Jiwoong was the unofficial spokesperson for their little trio.
“Would you guys want to come?” Gyuvin asked again, forcing his voice to sound light. He glanced at Ricky, whose expression was unreadable. Gyuvin could tell he was holding back from answering right away, waiting for the others to speak first.
Jiwoong tilted his head, considering. “Yeah, that sounds fun. I wouldn’t mind getting out of the city for a bit—if you are okay with it.”
Hao nodded awkwardly, and Gyuvin turned to Ricky, holding his breath.
Ricky finally looked back at him, his lips curving into a small smile. “Of course I don’t mind. We can make it work.”
For the first time in weeks, Gyuvin felt a flicker of hope spark in his chest. Maybe—just maybe—this trip could be his chance. His chance to get Ricky alone, to finally talk to him, to figure out what had gone so wrong between them.
The warmth of that possibility settled over him like a fragile flame, and Gyuvin clung to it with everything he had.
🥭🍓
Finals had been a nightmare, but they were finally done, and that was all that mattered. After weeks of late-night caffeine binges and existential crises, the group finally got to their holidays. Gyuvin spent Christmas with his family, but the cozy vibes hadn’t lasted long, though, because preparing for the New Year’s trip to Taerae’s house turned into its own kind of chaos.
Everyone swore they’d “pack light,” but somehow, by the time they loaded up the cars, it looked like they were moving to the mountains, not visiting for a week. Three cars ended up being the only solution. Jiwoong drove Hao—no surprises there—and Taerae played chauffeur for Gunwook and Matthew.
Hanbin got stuck with the wild card car: Yujin, Gyuvin, and—surprisingly—Ricky. They had all assumed he would go in Jiwoong's car, which made sense—minimal drama, plenty of space—but no. Yujin, in all his chaotic glory, had somehow convinced Ricky to switch. Gyuvin couldn’t wrap his head around it. Their car barely had room for the four of them, especially since the third seat in the back was buried under a mountain of luggage and blankets. But there Ricky was, casually agreeing to squeeze into the back seat with Gyuvin like it was no big deal. The only explanation Gyuvin could come up with? Ricky probably thought Yujin was cute.
All he could do was survive the ride, pretend the proximity wasn’t making him lose his mind, and maybe figure out why his best friend felt like the hardest puzzle in the world.
The ride started off tense—at least for Gyuvin. His shoulder brushed against Ricky’s every time Hanbin took a turn or hit the brakes a little too hard, their legs constantly pressed together due to the lack of space. The proximity was both thrilling and terrifying. Meanwhile, Yujin seemed entirely oblivious to his undercurrent of tension, chattering away from his prized shotgun seat like they were heading to a theme park instead of Taerae’s house in the mountains.
They’d left at five in the morning to make the most of the day, but outside, the world was still cloaked in darkness, the faint glow of dawn nowhere to be seen. Gyuvin couldn’t help but wonder how the maknae of their group had so much energy at such an ungodly hour. It was perplexing. Did the guy ever run out of fuel?
“So, Ricky,” Yujin began, twisting in his seat to grin at them, his seatbelt straining against his eagerness. “Gyuvin told me so much about you. Like, so much. I feel like I already know you.”
“Oh?” Ricky’s tone was amused as he leaned back casually. His sharp profile shone in the sunlight streaming through the car, making his skin glow like polished marble. “What did he say?”
“I don’t know where to start!” Yujin said, as if this were the greatest dilemma of his young life. “Okay, okay, okay, first—Gyuvin said you can speak a bunch of languages and your Korean is so good too. That’s so cool! How do you do it? I suck at learning new languages.”
Ricky turned his head slightly, his big boba eyes flicking to Gyuvin for the briefest moment before returning to Yujin. “Well,” he said, his voice smooth and deliberate, “when I first arrived in Korea, I was lucky to have a great teacher. Someone who… made it easy to want to learn. But I also studied a lot on my own, and I’ve been here long enough now that it just clicked, I guess.”
Gyuvin’s breath hitched. He knew Ricky wasn’t the type to hand out compliments lightly, especially not ones that felt so loaded. He ducked his head, pretending to adjust his phone, his cheeks burning. What was even going on with the topic of this conversation?
“That makes sense,” Yujin said, nodding enthusiastically. “But Gyuvin told me you’re, like, scary good at everything. He’s always bragging about how he has the most perfect best friend in the world.”
Gyuvin nearly choked on his own breath. His face burned, and he groaned inwardly. Did he really talk that much? Why would you tell him that, Gyuvin? What were you thinking?
Ricky’s lips curved into a smirk, and he glanced at Gyuvin again. “I wouldn’t say I’m perfect.”
“Oh, come on!” Yujin leaned further back to wag a finger in Ricky’s direction. “Gyuvin even said your bleached hair would look stupid on anyone else, but on you, it’s, like, you were born blonde.”
Gyuvin groaned aloud this time, sliding lower in his seat until his legs couldn’t reach further away. “I—I don’t know. It’s just hair. Can we drop this, please?” Gyuvin mumbled, wishing the car seat would swallow him whole.
Ricky chuckled softly like he was thoroughly enjoying Gyuvin’s meltdown. “Noted,” he said, his voice low and teasing.
For a terrifying moment, Gyuvin was convinced Yujin was about to drop an even more embarrassing fact of his when luckily, Hanbin interjected, his voice ringing out from the driver’s seat. “Yujin, if you don’t stop leaning back like that, I’m gonna hit the brakes, and you’ll learn physics the hard way.”
Yujin huffed, sliding back properly into his seat. “Fine, fine. But I’m just saying, Ricky’s, like, annoyingly cool, and I get why Gyuvin—”
“Yujin,” Gyuvin said sharply, completely cutting him off. He leaned forward, glaring at his newest roommate. He cursed Matthew internally for making them meet in the first place, but then remembered how much he had grown to love Yunjinnie in such a small amount of time and stopped that thought. “Don’t you want to save some of your energy for Taerae’s house?”
Yujin blinked, his innocent expression almost convincing. “Why? Am I embarrassing you?”
“Yes,” Gyuvin hissed, glancing at Ricky, who—of course—looked entirely unbothered. In fact, he was smiling, like he was enjoying the whole thing.
Ricky leaned a little closer, his voice low enough that it sent a shiver down Gyuvin’s spine. “I didn’t know you talked about me so much.”
“I don’t!” Gyuvin said, too quickly, too defensively. He was certain the tips of his ears were red by now. “Yujin’s just—he’s making stuff up.”
“I’m really not,” Yujin added helpfully from the front.
“Anyway!” Gyuvin blurted, desperate to change the subject. “How much longer, Hanbin?”
“About an hour and a half,” Hanbin replied, eyes on the road. “Unless you guys keep distracting me, in which case we might not make it at all.”
Ricky chuckled softly, the sound so warm and rich that it made Gyuvin’s stomach flutter. “I don’t mind the distractions,” he said.
The damn conversation finally died down, and Gyuvin pressed his head against the cool glass of the car window, pretending to sleep. After some time, when complete silence had settled in, he cracked one eye open, just to check. Yujin's head was resting against his window and soft snores came out of him. Typical Yujin—completely out of it, as if he’d never done a bad thing in his life. Gyuvin’s lips twitched in quiet amusement before his gaze shifted, almost involuntarily, to Ricky.
And that’s when everything went south.
Ricky was asleep too, his head swaying gently with the rhythm of the car, like it couldn’t quite decide whether to lean into Gyuvin or stay upright. Each slight tilt made Gyuvin’s stomach knot tighter, a coil of something he didn’t want to name. Ricky’s face, relaxed and peaceful in sleep, wasn’t fair. How could someone look like that without even trying? The faint glow from passing streetlights brushed over his features, making them almost surreal. It was too much. Way too much.
Gyuvin turned his face toward the window, squeezing his eyes shut, as if that could stop the wild thud of his heartbeat. It didn’t.
The car hit a small bump, and Ricky shifted in his seat, his head finally settling—on Gyuvin’s shoulder. Just like that. A feather-light brush of hair against his cheek, warm breath so close it made Gyuvin’s skin tingle.
Oh.
His breath hitched. His whole body froze, it wasn’t just the closeness—it was the fact that it felt right. Too right. Like it was supposed to be this way. Every nerve in Gyuvin’s body was screaming at him to stay still, to not ruin this moment, but his mind was a riot.
They’d been best friends forever. Ricky was his constant. They’d had their fights—who doesn’t?—but nothing serious. Nothing that explained the distance now. Had it been something he’d done? Something he’d said—or worse, something he hadn’t ? Ricky had always been so honest with him, but now Gyuvin couldn’t help but wonder if he’d missed something. Maybe Ricky had figured out his intentions before he even had the chance to act on them.
This past summer he had wanted to confess, but that was before he knew he was leaving. He had slowly fallen in love with him during the many years they’ve known each other, but it was just quite recently that he embraced it and decided to try and take their relationship one step further.
Ricky had been open about his sexuality since high school—Gyuvin was the first person he told, but it had never been weird between them. They’d talk about relationships like any friends would. It was easy.
Except now, Gyuvin couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe Ricky had pulled away to protect their friendship. That thought stung. Was it possible that he knew? Had he sensed the shift in Gyuvin’s intentions? Or worse—had he avoided him and moved on because he thought Gyuvin was not worth the risk?
A slow, shaky breath escaped him, but it wasn’t enough to calm him. Ricky shifted again, his body pressing slightly closer, and Gyuvin thought he would lose it. His breathing was soft and steady, a quiet rhythm that Gyuvin’s own breaths unconsciously began to match, though it only heightened his awareness of their closeness.
He risked another glance, just for a second. Big mistake. The soft light caught in the strands of his hair, the curve of his jaw, the way his lips parted slightly in sleep. Gyuvin tore his gaze away, pressing his head back against the seat. This was impossible. He was impossible.
“Fuck,” Gyuvin whispered, so soft he almost didn’t hear it himself. But Hanbin did. His eyes met Gyuvin’s in the mirror—just for a moment, but it felt like an eternity.
Hanbin didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. The understanding in his gaze said enough, and Gyuvin’s stomach churned with both relief and dread. Because he probably knew, and that made it all the more real.
He slumped back against the seat, his shoulder still pressed against Ricky’s. The warmth lingered, unbearable and perfect all at once, and Gyuvin knew he needed to come back to the place they were before, even if that meant he had to keep his feelings hidden.
࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ
The first few days at Taerae’s family home passed in a happy blur of activity. They spent hours playing with sleights, with Yujin predictably being the “driver” at every opportunity. Gunwook declared himself the reigning basketball champion after a series of heated games in the clearing, though Matthew insisted he’d been cheated out of victory. Evenings were spent around the bonfire, roasting marshmallows, singing loudly and off-key, and teasing Taerae whenever Matthew found more of his baby photos in the house.
Gyuvin noticed that Ricky seemed to be slowly coming back into the group dynamic with ease. He laughed at Gunwook’s ridiculous jokes, joined Matthew and Hanbin in cooking duties, and even managed to get Yujin to sit still long enough to learn how to play poker. Zhang Hao, too, had started opening up, drifting from Jiwoong’s shadow to join the others in group activities. It seemed that Jiwoong encouraged it, quietly letting Ricky go little by little, and Gyuvin couldn’t help but feel a twinge of relief.
But despite the growing sense of normalcy, Gyuvin and Ricky still hadn’t had a proper conversation. It was like they were dancing around each other, the familiar rhythm of their friendship slowly returning, yet the silence surrounding everything that had happened remained.
After spending four full days with Ricky around, an ache started growing at Gyuvin’s chest. He was happy one second, then crushed the next, thinking about how the distance had broken something in their relationship and how he wouldn't allow that happening again. Not when it was so difficult to build things back up.
It was during the morning of New Year’s eve, as they split into pairs to gather firewood for the barbecue, that Gyuvin finally found himself alone with Ricky. Taerae had paired them off, being as obvious as he could be.
They trudged into the woods, the snow crunching underfoot as they wove through the trees. Ricky walked a few steps ahead, his usual ease making Gyuvin feel clumsy in comparison. He was aware that he was being uncharacteristically quiet, his thoughts too loud and jumbled to form words. He glanced at his friend, who was shifting fallen branches into a neat pile. The sight of him—familiar and foreign all at once—made Gyuvin’s heart twist.
“You haven’t talked in two full minutes, Gyub,” Ricky said suddenly, his voice cutting through the stillness. He turned, his expression light but his eyes scanning Gyuvin carefully. “You’re scaring me.”
Gyuvin blinked, startled out of his thoughts. “Huh? Oh, sorry. Just thinking.”
“That’s new,” Ricky teased, but there was a softness in his tone. “What’s on your mind?”
Gyuvin hesitated, biting his lip as he picked up a log and added it to their pile. “Do you remember summer camp when we were fourteen?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual. “I tripped over a branch about this big.” He gestured to a log nearby. “Scraped my knee so bad I thought I’d never walk again.”
Ricky smirked, crouching to pick up another branch. “I remember. You were crying like you’d lost a limb.”
“Hey, I was bleeding!” Gyuvin protested, though he couldn’t help but smile. “And you were so unhelpful, just standing there laughing at me.”
“I wasn’t laughing,” Ricky shot back, a small grin tugging at his lips. “I was trying not to laugh. Big difference.”
While reminiscing about the summer camps they had been to, they fell into an easier rhythm—the pranks, the late-night sneaking out, and the time Gyuvin fell into the lake trying to catch a dragonfly. For a moment, it felt like old times, like nothing had changed between them. But the warmth of nostalgia only made the ache in his chest more pronounced.
“Do you remember Jeonghyeon?” Gyuvin asked, steering the conversation toward more recent memories. “I saw him this summer. He was with someone new, looked happy.”
Ricky raised an eyebrow, his expression neutral. “Good for him, I guess.”
Gyuvin shifted awkwardly, lowering his gaze. “I couldn’t help but think... if he saw you now, he’d probably regret breaking up with you.”
Ricky chuckled softly. “What do you mean?”
“Well, you’ve been working out,” he said, trying to sound casual but feeling his cheeks heat up. “And you’ve been spending all this time with Jiwoong. I just thought maybe…”
“Maybe what?” the blonde asked, his voice carefully even.
Gyuvin hesitated, then forced the words out. “Maybe you two are, like, together?”
Ricky blinked, then let out a quiet laugh. “No, Jiwoong’s not my type.”
“Then why have you been spending so much time with him?” Gyuvin blurted, his voice tinged with frustration. “I feel like I've done something wrong. Is there something I can do to make things go back to normal? Because, Ricky…” His voice cracked, and he looked away, swallowing hard. “I really need you.”
Ricky’s teasing demeanor melted away, replaced by something softer, almost regretful. He set the bundle of logs down and stepped closer, his gaze steady on Gyuvin’s. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Gyub. And you don’t need to change a thing. I’m the one who’s been a mess.”
“Then tell me what’s going on,” he pleaded. “I don’t care how complicated it is—I just want to understand.”
Ricky exhaled slowly, his breath visible in the crisp air. “It’s family stuff,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Stuff I barely knew anything about until a few months ago. It’s... a lot, and I’m still figuring it out. But I promise, it’s not you. It’s never been you.”
Gyuvin’s shoulders sagged with relief, though the ache in his chest didn’t entirely fade. “I just miss you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Living together, our K-drama Fridays, all the dumb things we used to do… I’ve been missing you so much.”
Ricky’s expression faltered. “I miss you too. More than you know. The situation is getting better but please give me a little more time.”
The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken emotions. Gyuvin nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. It wasn’t everything he wanted to hear, but it felt enough—for now.
As they gathered the rest of the wood and headed back toward the house, Gyuvin’s hope grew stronger. Maybe things wouldn’t go back to exactly how they were, but they could find a new normal. And maybe, just maybe, he’d find the courage to tell Ricky his full truth someday.
࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ
Later that day, after having a huge barbecue for dinner, the countdown to the New Year echoed through the living room, everyone’s voices growing louder with each passing second. The fireplace—which had taken Matthew and Gunwook at least an hour to get going—bathed the room in a soft, flickering glow. The warmth spread over the group of friends, who were all huddled together, laughing and shouting.
But Gyuvin wasn’t really paying attention to any of that.
His eyes were fixed on one person.
Ricky.
He was standing off to the side, leaning casually against the wall like he wasn’t the most ridiculously perfect person in the room. The light from the fire caught the silver in his hair, making it shine in a way that was just unfair. He’d changed into a black shirt that fit him too well, clinging to his shoulders and chest in a way that made Gyuvin feel self-conscious about his own outfit. And those black pants? Gyuvin didn’t even want to think about those, because they only made Ricky’s legs look longer, leaner and… and he should stop there before having a problem growing up from his own thoughts.
But that wasn’t all, he had styled his bangs down tonight, and Gyuvin couldn’t stop staring at how the hairstyle framed his face, softening the sharpness of his jawline in just the right way. He secretly adored when Ricky let his bangs down, though he suspected his feelings weren’t as hidden as he’d hoped.
And the makeup. God, the makeup.
Ricky’s signature double eyeliner sharpened his gaze, giving his eyes an edge that felt both dangerous and alluring. But there was still a softness to them—something delicate and pretty that drove him crazy. His eyes lingered on the faint red tint brushing over Ricky’s full lips, making them look impossibly plush. Too soft. Too tempting.
Stop.
Desperate for a safe place to look, his eyes drifted away, landing on the tattoo peeking out from Ricky’s collar. Inked lines traced the curve of his neck, bold and elegant. Gyuvin’s throat went dry, a treacherous thought flashing in his mind; he wanted to lick it.
He swore under his breath, cursing himself for creating problems he didn’t need. For letting his thoughts wander somewhere they definitely shouldn’t. For being so bad at looking away.
Summoning what little willpower he had left, he dragged his gaze back to Ricky’s eyes. And froze.
He was staring right at him.
And smiling .
It wasn’t a big smile, just a small, knowing curve of his lips. But it was enough to make Gyuvin’s heart slam against his chest. He felt heat rush to his face and tried to play it cool, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Ricky’s gaze was intense, almost too much to handle. It felt like he knew exactly what Gyuvin was thinking—like he could see every embarrassing, lovesick thoughts running through his head.
And yet, there was something in the way Ricky looked at him now, something that sent hope fluttering widely in his chest.
He wanted to kiss him.
No—he needed to kiss him.
The thought hit Gyuvin so hard he almost laughed at himself. He’d been feeling this way for years, but tonight it felt different. He had to let Ricky know how he felt. Because the idea of staying silent? Of letting Ricky leave another day without knowing? That wasn’t an option anymore.
ten
Gyuvin’s eyes drifted to Ricky’s hands as he slowly approached him, noticing the way his slender fingers toyed with the hem of his sleeve. It was such a small, uncharacteristic movement, so unlike Ricky’s usual calm and confident self. It tugged at something deep in Gyuvin—something protective, something tender.
nine
His mind raced, a thousand words tumbling over each other, begging to be said. No more waiting. His chest tightened, his resolve settling firmly into place, even as his heart pounded like a drum.
eight
He took two more steps forward, the heat between them almost palpable. The tension tethered them, an invisible string that drew him closer. His lips parted as he imagined what Ricky’s lips would feel like against his.
seven
A soft, unguarded smile spread slowly across Gyuvin’s face, full of all the secrets he’d kept over the years.
six
Ricky’s gaze flicked up, locking onto Gyuvin’s. And for a moment, everything froze.
five
The warmth in Ricky’s expression faltered. His body stiffened, his shoulders tensing as though someone had flipped a switch. Then he saw it—the dark midnight of Ricky’s eyes shifting, flickering, until they turned a vivid, unnatural dark red.
Gyuvin’s heart stuttered, confusion overtaking the warmth in his chest as shouts erupted around them, cutting through the bubble he’d been lost in. He spun around to see Hanbin on the floor, clutching his arm. A line of blood seeped between his fingers, glass shards glinting around him.
four
Chaos erupted. Voices overlapping in panic, hands scrambling for towels, water, anything to stem the flow of blood. However, his body didn’t move and followed Hanbin’s gaze instead. It was then that he caught sight of Zhang Hao. He wasn’t rushing to help or reacting to the commotion like the others. Instead, Hao was frozen, his wide eyes locked on Hanbin’s bleeding arm, his body trembling as if trying to hold something back.
three
Jiwoong appeared beside Ricky’s cousin, his expression calm but tense as he fully grabbed his center just on time to avoid Hao launching forward. “Come on,” Jiwoong said softly, his voice firm.
two
Amid the commotion, he felt the cold sting of absence next to him. When he turned back, Ricky was gone. Desperation clawed at Gyuvin as his eyes scanned the room, catching sight of Jiwoong pulling Hao toward the door, their movements urgent and out of place. It wasn’t hard to imagine that Ricky had preceded them.
one…
“Happy New Year,” he muttered under his breath, the words hollow as he rushed forward to help his injured friend.