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Nine members. Four from the same company.
The posts about it make Ricky laugh. Some ask how much Yuehua paid to make this happen. Most comments say that Yuehua would probably pay more to not lose so many popular trainees.
They move into the dorms in sets of two. Gyuvin and Yujin will come later. It’s just Ricky and Hao for now.
Hao crosses the entrance like he’s floating a foot above the ground. “Oh, it’s kind of small,” Ricky murmurs in Mandarin, watching Hao’s face curiously. Hao doesn’t even flinch. He’s been like this for some time now. On and off. Phasing in and out. Ricky gets it on a very personal level. Fourth, he thinks again and gets physically nauseous at the very idea.
Not bad kind of nauseous, though. It should be bad nauseous. Maybe. He’s not sure. He feels like he’s at the top of a rollercoaster, peering over the edge before it plummets. He wonders if Hao’s tipped over the edge yet.
“Hyung!” Someone greets, and Ricky startles. Gunwook pops his head out of one of the rooms with a bright grin. His eyes are red, but his smile doesn’t seem forced at all. “You made it!”
Hao laughs, and he sounds like he’s in his body, for once. “Of course we did,” he says fondly, stepping into Gunwook’s massive hug. He adds, somewhat uselessly, “Congratulations.”
Gunwook makes a wheezy noise of complaint like he’s the one being crushed. “I’ve heard that so many times. Please, no more.” When he steps out of the hug, his eyes are bright and pleased.
Unexpectedly, he looks past Hao’s head. At Ricky, but hardly for even a breath. Just long enough to register, to identify, and then he’s looking behind Ricky as well. Something slightly disappointed pinches his features when he finds nothing.
“They’re coming later,” Ricky feels compelled to explain. He says it like an apology, and he wants to wince at the way his own voice sounds, but he feels like his face is frozen at the same time. He finishes his explanation weakly. “Gyuvin and Yujinie, I mean.”
He looks at the back of Hao’s head a little helplessly. He can already tell by the tightness in Hao’s neck that he’s lost his hyung to outer space again.
Gunwook nods and makes a valiant effort to school his expression into something welcoming. “Makes sense,” he lies, because it really doesn’t. He grins up at Ricky. “Congrats, by the way. Hope you don’t snore.”
God, he’s good, Ricky thinks, half-jealous. Friendly but respectful of their distance. The perfect thing to say. It even gives Ricky something to say back; “Not as much as Hao-hyung does.”
Gunwook’s laughter sputters out of him like a cough. Hao blinks back to earth to whirl around and glare at Ricky. “Don’t start,” he warns, in a tone that suggests he’s not going to shut up for a while. “I can’t believe they played that clip live in front of everyone–”
Hao putters off, his steps as aggravated as his voice. Gunwook follows him, grinning and interjecting at all the right times. It’s fascinating, the way he knows just the breaths to listen to versus the ones that allow him to add his own comments.
Ricky follows them, maybe a step off beat. Idly, he sympathizes with Gunwook. He wishes that Gyuvin were there too.
After the commentary episode is filmed, Matthew finds him in the bathroom. “Sorry,” he says, eyes wide and earnest. “For forgetting about the signal song test. The three-star group. That was really bad of me. I can’t believe I forgot.”
He doesn’t look ashamed, or embarrassed. His ears are crimson but he looks apologetic, more than anything. He squeezes Ricky’s wrist once.
“It’s okay,” Ricky manages to reply. Because it is. The sting has soothed. Honestly, considering how long ago it was, it’s not something that Ricky should’ve expected to remember. Even if they were on stage just days before, and Matthew caught Ricky by the waist as he walked by. Besides, there were cameras, and they were all trying to be funny, and Ricky’s always remembered things that he doesn’t have to-
Matthew shakes his head fiercely. “It’s not,” he insists. “Let me buy you dinner. Let hyung make it up to you.”
Ricky can’t help but grimace and blurt, “Not my hyung.” It’s only after he says it that he realizes how it sounds. “Wait-“
“Not your hyung then!” Matthew laughs, switching to English and winking. Ricky finds himself mesmerized. How does he make it look so easy? “Honestly, that’s a relief. It’s kinda weird thinking about you calling me hyung.”
If it’s a lie, something to soothe Ricky’s ego, then it’s impossible to tell. Ricky gets the feeling that it’s not something he should worry about at all. At least, not with Matthew. “Can you buy me milk tea instead?” He asks, hesitantly teasing in tone, and Matthew laughs brighter.
And that’s kind of the end of that.
The entire conflict, from start to finish. Open and close. Neatly with a bow. It’s not a return to what they had before. There’s no normal to go back to. Now, Matthew is just Ricky’s not-hyung, but Ricky is definitely Matthew’s dongsaeng, and from time to time, Matthew buys Ricky bubble tea.
Matthew slots into Ricky’s life like a– no, not like a puzzle piece. It’s more like a book on a shelf. Or a flower in a garden. It’s not meant to be exactly there, but it fits, and it stays, and it… well, it works.
It takes the others some time to adjust to the way they talk. Sliding between languages, no honourifics between them. “Matthew, the shower’s free,” Ricky calls in Korean, and Taerae twitches, looking between them in surprise. The look on Taerae’s face compels him to finish the rest of the sentence in English. “If you don’t go now, then Gyuvin’s going to use all the hot water.”
“Yeah, got it,” Matthew groans, sliding off the ground and rolling over on the ground, belly up. He’s mostly asleep, but he clambers up without prompting. “Thanks, Ricky-yah.”
Started in English, ending in Korean. Perfect parallel. “No honourifics?” Taerae asks. The curiosity in his voice is tinged only slightly with judgment.
Ricky shrugs and tries not to shift. “Feels weird with him,” he explains, and it isn’t an explanation that Taerae’s satisfied with, but he doesn’t pry further. He just hums and turns back to his phone and Ricky is left standing there uselessly. No dismissal to send him away, no words to keep him.
He moves when Taerae glances warily. That’s enough of a reason to leave. The interaction sits a little in his throat, and Ricky coughs to clear it.
Through the door of the bathroom, Matthew calls, “Good night, Rick.” He’s taken to using it when he wants to be funny. This time, it sounds like he’s too tired to get the rest of the word out.
“Good night, Matt,” Ricky says back, accidentally pronouncing his name in the Korean way. Maet, and that makes him grimace. Too late, he finishes the rest. “...tthew.”
Matthew’s laughter is audible even under the spray of water. Ricky shakes his head and shuffles off to bed.
Zerobaseone member-deul. It’s very long. Ridiculously so. The name of their group will never cease to confuse Ricky, for reasons that extend well beyond just language. Hanbin manages to say it dozens of times a day without stumbling over the words.
It’s a title that fits Ricky like- like a uniform. Like the Boys Planet uniform. Tailored for measurements that he managed to outgrow in just a few weeks. Not by a lot, not enough to warrant a new one, but just enough for every movement to make him wonder, will this tear? Will this last until the end of the performance?
They had the chance to get it adjusted maybe halfway through the show. Ricky hesitated just long enough to miss the window of opportunity. He ripped the damn thing at the finale in the middle of a hug with Seungeon. Which, for the most part, was how he expected his run on Boys Planet to finish.
It fits everyone else better. At least, that’s what Ricky thinks. He could be wrong. Maybe they’re all floundering as much as he is. Maybe their uniforms were also too tight. Maybe he was just too wrapped up in his own head to notice.
He tries to notice. “We’re Zerobaseone!” They greet, over and over and over again, and some of their hands falter. Some of them stumble over the words.
They stick the landing though. Even when Ricky makes it through the phrase, he feels like he falls on his ass at the end.
Ricky isn’t lonely. It’s hard to be lonely in a dorm with eight other people, in a life that he spends in constant motion. If anything, there’s rarely the chance to be alone. He should feel suffocated. He should feel cramped. He should want to run away and leave town and find a place in the woods where no one will know his name or bother him at all.
Ricky wants to remove his ribs and lungs. He wants to let the blood from his chest. He wants to make room around his heart for people to lay there. He wants to make his muscles and bones the foundation of their home.
Which is a lot, considering he’s known some of these people for maybe a couple of weeks.
Some of them fit there already. Hao and Yujin have been there for some time. Matthew’s made a home in everyone’s heart, and no one seems inclined to stop him. Gyuvin–
“Woah, your eyes are huge,” muffled by a mask but the sincerity still overly apparent, as was the nervousness, and it caught him so off guard that he couldn’t help but laugh–
Gyuvin’s been there for some time.
Gyuvin got there first, really. Folding all his lanky limbs to fit. When Ricky’s heart beats, it pulses against Gyuvin’s cheek, and wow what a thought to have about someone who makes Ricky want to rip his own hair out most of the time.
He wonders if that’s how it’ll always be. If he’ll always want to kill the people that he loves the most. If they’ll always be the ones to irritate and aggravate.
Or maybe it’s just a Gyuvin thing.
He doesn’t see the moment, but he hears the slap. Ricky turns and Gyuvin is standing there with his hand clutched to his chest and his eyes wide. Taerae’s, however, are closed, and he’s stepping back. “Don’t touch me,” he says, evenly, and Gyuvin swallows and nods and moves away. Taerae moves faster though, and he says something about needing some air and pushes out of the practice room.
The door slams shut behind him. Matthew is pushing it open again when Hanbin says, “Let him be.” He sounds so tired. “Give him some time.”
Ricky sidles up to Gyuvin. “What did you do?” He asks in a mutter.
Gyuvin scowls at him. “Nothing!” He hisses. “I was just– I was joking around–”
“Yeah?”
It’s just a question, just a raise of an eyebrow, but Gyuvin bristles. “Oh, he doesn’t exactly seem to be warming up to you either,” he snaps, irritated.
Hanbin interjects again. “There’s three days til KCon. We don’t have time for this.” Next to him, Hao stares at them disapprovingly.
Gyuvin nods but whispers, out of the corner of his mouth, “Jackass.”
Ricky snickers and says back, “Fuck you.”
Gyuvin kisses Ricky on the same day that they’re confirmed to be joining Boys Planet.
It’s a very simple affair. They’re at their dorms. They’re in Ricky’s room. Gyuvin is on Ricky’s bed, and Ricky is sitting in his chair trying to kick him off. “It’s my bed.” They have this fight at least three times a week. “I should be in it.”
The way that this usually goes, Gyuvin just grins at Ricky and says something stupid. Like make me, or I’m the guest, or wow Ricky, you’re so cruel. Something that makes Ricky’s blood boil and his hackles rise. Then, they start fighting in earnest, at least until Hao or one of the other older trainees stumble in to chuck something at their heads and yell at them to stop waking everyone else up.
This time, Gyuvin miserably groans, “We’re enemies now.”
“We’ve always been enemies,” Ricky replies because it’s true. Gyuvin just glares deeper. Again, following the script, except he’s not doing it right. The glare is supposed to be exasperated but understanding. Fond, in a way. This time, it comes out frustrated. Genuinely so. “Wait, are you actually upset about this?”
“Shut up,” Gyuvin mumbles, which means Ricky’s correct. Ricky sighs and stands and shuffles over to him. Gyuvin makes room for him without a word. “They– shows like this are edited weirdly. You know that, right?”
Ricky shrugs. “Maybe.”
Gyuvin frowns at him. “Okay, we definitely watched Girls Planet together, right?”
“Do you think I remember anything from that?” Ricky says, like he doesn’t dedicate large swaths of his memory to the most useless shit imaginable. He can name forty Naruto characters just by being shown their eyes, and Gyuvin knows this, which is why he sits up in absolute outrage.
“You are not doing this to me right now!” He snaps, offended.
“Doing what?” Ricky replies innocently, and it’s at this point that Gyuvin grabs the front of his shirt and kisses him.
Ricky, of course, gasps into it and kisses back.
It’s the first night they don’t get yelled at for making too much noise, even if Ricky smacks his head into the wall when Gyuvin shoves his hand down Ricky’s pants. The number of noise complaints goes down in general, after that, because they spend most of their nights trying to eat each other’s faces off.
The trade-off is, of course, that the amount of laundry they have to do goes up exponentially.
It’s worth the glazed-over look in Gyuvin’s eyes whenever Ricky sucks on his tongue just long enough.
They practice Kick It in their respective groups of four. They make out pretty much every single night. Whenever Gyuvin starts to wonder and worry, Ricky kisses him quiet. Whenever Ricky falters, Gyuvin kisses him back into motion.
The night before the first episode, Gyuvin kisses Ricky just once. His hand cupped behind Ricky’s head, his other on Ricky’s hip. “Good luck tomorrow,” he breathes, and Ricky tries his best to smile back, and it’s the first night in months that they sleep in separate beds.
The next day, on a gaudy soundstage, Ricky lifts his fists in front of the camera and pretends to swing right at Gyuvin’s face. Gyuvin blinks, his eyes going wide, and then they go wicked with his smile as he lifts his fists right back.
Again, Ricky finds himself shuffling after Hao through an unfamiliar room while Hao mostly ignores him in favour of someone he performed G-Idle’s Tomboy with. There’s a joke from a cartoon that Ricky watched as a kid, something about nickels, right on the tip of his tongue.
Hanbin interrupts before he can piece it together. “And you, Ricky?” He asks, eyes shining. “How did you feel about today’s Meet and Greet?”
“Good,” An answer that leaves his lips immediately, locked and loaded, like he’s been waiting for it. He almost says it too fast. “It went well. It was fun.”
Despite having nothing to work with, Hanbin replies earnestly, “I’m glad! It was exciting, meeting our fans like that.”
“Oh, the airport photos look good,” Hao says from one of the beds. “Our standing order is great.”
“You’re just saying that because you look tall next to me,” Hanbin huffs, but he joins Hao there anyway. When Hao turns his phone screen to face him, he makes an appreciative noise. “Oh, Gunwook and Gyuvin…”
Wordlessly, Hao waves Ricky over, and then shows him as well. Ricky understands. “Wings,” he mumbles before he can think about it, forced to piece together the rest of his sentence around it. “I mean, they look like that.”
Hanbin nods and beams at him. “They are our wings, in a sense.” Sometimes, when Hanbin talks, Ricky feels like he’s nine years old again. Like he’s in his first American classroom, and everyone thinks his English is worse than it actually is.
Hao groans, “You don’t have to talk to him like that,” He grumpily sits up on his elbows and asks, bluntly, “Are you and Gyuvin fighting, Ricky?”
Ricky blinks at him. “Not more than usual?”
“There,” Hao says resolutely, slapping Hanbin’s thigh. “See? Everything’s fine.”
It’s impossible for Hanbin to ever properly glare at Hao, but he gets really close this time. “That’s not– Hao-hyung, I was trying–”
“Ah,” Ricky blurts, and he thinks that he gets it. “Hyung, don’t worry. Gyuvin’s just being himself. You know how it is.”
Hao looks like he’s about to kill someone. Maybe himself. “Hanbin knows Gyuvin, idiot, he’s worried about you.”
Ricky stares at him. “I’m fine?” He looks at Hanbin next and says, with more confidence, “I’m fine, hyung. Really.”
Hanbin’s face is red with embarrassment but his eyes are still sharp with concern. “I realized that I don’t know you too well, Ricky,” he starts. This isn’t his teacher voice, thankfully, but it might as well be worse. Something so earnest that it makes the hair on the back of Ricky’s neck stand straight. “There’s a lot happening, and we haven’t really had time to slow down, or get to know each other.”
There’s… not a lot that Ricky can think to say. Hi, my name is Quanrui Shen, but you call me Ricky. You probably called me Young and Rich first, because that’s what I was mostly remembered as during the show, at least until I stopped getting shitty teams. Or maybe you didn’t, because you’re Sung Hanbin, and probably were kissed by an angel as a baby, so I shouldn’t assume the worst of you.
“What do you want to know?” He asks instead, because that feels like the most civil option.
Hanbin pauses and tilts his head, considering. “Who do you want to get close to?” Hao groans at him and Hanbin just ignores him steadily. “Out of everyone.”
Matthew is the obvious answer, because that’s the one that Hanbin knows, but that’s been packed away neatly for the most part. Taerae as well, because Taerae is a boat adrift at sea and they all know it, even if he does come back to port every once in a while. People online seem to think that Ricky’s crushing on Jiwoong, and he is, but also who isn’t, it’s not that serious, and that’s slowly been fixing itself the more time he spends in Jiwoong’s company. Saying Hanbin is burdensome, and saying Yujin would be weird because they’re expected to know each other well–
Hao pinches Ricky’s thigh unsubtly. “Gunwook,” Ricky hears himself say in response, and he’s not surprised that it sounds like the truth. But, every answer must have a justification, or else you lose marks, so Ricky adds on, “He’s… he’s cute. And earnest.”
They didn’t talk a lot at the airport, mostly because they were too busy being mobbed. Gunwook made a hand heart with Ricky, though, before their fans rushed them. They looked good together in those photos.
Gunwook- Gunwook fascinates Ricky, visually. Broad shoulders, big palms, the kind of build that only comes naturally. Even without working out, Gunwook would cut an imposing figure. But his face betrays so much softness when he’s not being styled like he’s twenty-three years old.
Even in the airport, in the middle of the mob, when Gunwook’s lips had pursed tight and his eyebrows had set hard on his forehead, he had looked gentle. How Ricky ever thought him to be so cold, he’ll never know.
Hanbin takes a deep shuddering breath. He looks so proud. “That sounds nice,” he smiles, and he sounds kind of like he’s on his deathbed. Ricky squirms, uncomfortable, but managing a smile back. It’s the wrong thing to do. Hanbin’s eyes start to glisten a little. “Oh, you two will make such good friends.”
“Sung Hanbin,” Hao scolds, exasperated, reaching up to tug Hanbin’s ear. Hanbin squawks but lets Hao pull him down, down, until he’s kind of lying on top of Hao.
Ricky immediately gets up and walks to the other bed, leaving them behind.
It’s not- what’s between Hanbin and Hao is none of his business. Truly. And if what they have between them is weirdly intersecting with Matthew, and thus overlapping with Jiwoong by association then truly, Ricky wants nothing to do with that at all. He’s happy to let them figure that out by themselves.
What he does know is this—shortly after the finale, Hao and Hanbin had a fight. Hanbin proceeded to have a breakdown in front of everyone, but not actually. It was like an explosion kept within the walls of a fish tank. Something that they could see, but not reach. He spent more time with Matthew, and that seemed to make him feel better. He spent time with Jiwoong, and that seemed to make him feel worse.
And then, one day, Ricky woke up and Hanbin was fine, because Hao was sitting next to him again.
It feels weird to say it was like watching his parents fight. It’s weirder to say that watching Hanbin and Hao share the same bed feels like watching his parents flirt. Not because- they’re not his actual parents, of course. It’s not even about the intimacy, or the flirting, or whatever.
Just… the way that Hao’s pinky finger plays with the hair on Hanbin’s nape. The way that Hanbin’s leg slots between Hao’s legs. The way they make an effort to not let their chests touch, to not let their faces get too close.
Ricky busies himself with his bag. He feels like he can’t breathe, watching them like that. He can’t imagine what it’s like to be there. To be either one of them. To be between them.
Ricky’s parents are happily married. Have been for years.
Moving from China made things a bit rough for a while. Not insanely rough. No threats of divorce, or screaming arguments, or anything like that. Ricky did not come from a broken home.
But there’s a memory that he has. It comes to his mind like a poorly lit scene in a movie—the lights golden but just too low to show anyone’s faces. The sound quality is muddy, like it was recorded on a cell phone from the early 2000’s. Maybe it’s not even his own memory. Maybe it’s his sister’s, and she told it to him, and his young brain kind of just decided what it would look like.
The scene is as follows:
Ricky, in the backseat, sandwiched between his sisters, not yet tall enough to escape the middle seat. The car is running, but unmoving, parked on the side of the road, the flash of the hazard lights turning the ground red. His mother’s face in her hands, his father’s hand on her shoulder. He can’t make out the details of their faces.
He says; “We’ll be okay. We’re strong.”
She says; “But I’m tired. I want to rest. I don’t want to be strong anymore.”
When he doesn’t reply, she continues, and her voice cracks when she says; “I’m tired of the world shifting under my feet. I’m tired.”
And that’s where it ends.
Ricky kisses Gyuvin backstage at Jamsil Arena, with six thousand people waiting in the audience, mere minutes before their world is about to end.
It’s not done privately. It should be, but Ricky can’t quite manage to make that work. He’s been trying all day to find a quiet corner to slip away to. But the apocalypse is incoming and Gyuvin’s doing what he should be doing, dotting the i’s and crossing his t’s and playing blissful ignorance for the beginning of the end.
Ricky isn’t given the luxury of innocence. He’s come to terms with his future already.
If only Gyuvin can come to terms with it as well.
“Stop avoiding me,” he says. They’re being lined up to receive their mic packs that don’t even work. Live audio was not something that MNet wanted to deal with, apparently.
Gyuvin doesn’t flinch when Ricky rasps directly into his ear, which is annoying. “I’m not avoiding you,” he mutters back, carefully staring at the back of Keita’s head. Which doesn’t really work, considering that Keita’s half his height, so really Gyuvin’s just boring lasers down into poor Keita’s scalp. Keita, however, doesn’t seem to mind at all. “I’m avoiding the conversation you want to have. I told you yesterday. You’ll be okay.”
Yesterday was yesterday, Ricky wants to say. It’s easier to be positive when tomorrow hasn’t even come.
He doesn’t say it, because it’ll start a fight and for once, Ricky doesn’t want to fight with Gyuvin at all. Instead, he reaches up and pinches Gyuvin’s waist hard.
The yelp that Gyuvin lets out draws some eyes, but they quickly turn away when they find Gyuvin whirling around to look at Ricky in indignation. Same old, same old, they must think. Ricky and Gyuvin, again, at each other’s throats like always. Gyuvin starts the script the way it tends to go, “What’re you-”
Ricky breaks form by leaning forwards and kissing the rest of Gyuvin’s lines off his lips.
Barely. It’s not really a kiss. Ricky’s too cowardly to pucker his lips, to cup Gyuvin’s face, to take it slow and sweet like he might’ve wanted to. Does he want to kiss Gyuvin? Maybe. He’s not even sure. But it’s what he does, in that moment, when he’s so achingly empty for Gyuvin’s attention and so deeply terrified about who he might be by the end of the night.
So, Ricky brushes his lips against Gyuvin’s and pulls away. In front of him, Keita accepts his useless mic pack. “I–” Ricky starts, and that’s the only sound he can manage. There’s so many words, so many things. Not even to say, to do and to feel and to burn and to destroy and become.
“Gyuvin,” Keita says, tugging at his sleeve. He looks up at them and his eyes are much too kind for Ricky to feel even the slightest bit comfortable. “Your turn.”
Gyuvin swallows. “Yeah,” he croaks, blinking stupidly at Ricky. “You–”
“Hurry up,” Ricky says, and it’s technically a victory. The way that he’s able to smile while Gyuvin looks as if he’s been ejected into the stratosphere. Never mind the fact that his own voice sounds hollow. Never mind the fact that he’s still waiting to wake up. “You’re slow.”
There’s a flicker of a scowl on Gyuvin’s face. The gentlest pinch of brows, the slightest curl of a lip.
“Kim Gyuvin-ssi,” the staff snaps, exasperated, and Gyuvin turns away.
KCon ends without an explosive fight, somehow, and Ricky turns nineteen-but-also-twenty while they’re filming their teaser trailer. They bring out a cake and Gyuvin scoops icing off the top and smears it on Ricky's cheek and laughs when everyone yells at them about hair and makeup.
It’s nice, even if Gyuvin’s laughter is so god damn annoying.
Ricky spends basically the entire day getting laughed at by Gyuvin. During the filming, and between each cut, and then after during his birthday livestream when Ricky pulls out the most heinous diary that he’s ever seen in his entire fucking life.
“Ricky, when you’re stressed, rub the fur to calm down,” Hanbin giggles, and Gyuvin folds himself over the table, well past the point of even making sound. Ricky stares at the camera and kinda-sorta wants to die. When the livestream ends, he shoves the diary to the bottom of his backpack and uses it to beat Gyuvin over the head.
It’s a good birthday, all things considered. He puts on the slippers as soon as he gets back to his dorm, and arranges all the other stuff on his humble shelf.
“Oh hey there Birthday Boy,” Gunwook greets, in English, the smiling crescents of his eyes deepening when he looks down at Ricky’s feet. “Oh, you’re putting my present to good use!”
Ricky blinks. “Your present?”
Gunwook pales. “Did I ruin it?”
“No, you didn’t,” Taerae laughs, walking past him. He says, to Ricky, “They posted who gave what gift. You can find it on Twitter.”
His voice goes weird and soft when he talks to Ricky. Not like Hanbin’s, who sounds like he’s talking to a child. Taerae sounds kind of like he’s talking to a cat that he accidentally stepped on. Ricky doesn’t know what to make of it. “Oh, okay,” he says, eventually, but Taerae’s already moved on.
He asks Gunwook why he’s always at their dorm. Gunwook grins and says that it’s because he loves his Taerae-hyung so much. They both laugh and know that it’s because Gyuvin is here.
Ricky shuffles back into his room and pulls out his phone.
They film the rest of the trailer the next morning. Before it’s their turn on set, Ricky pulls Jiwoong aside and says, earnestly, “Thank you for the present. Yours was my favourite.”
Jiwoong’s face does something complicated. “Really?” Jiwoong asks, and he doesn’t sound entirely thrilled. “Really, you- mine?”
His confusion is expected. Ricky can understand it. He’s confused himself. It shouldn’t have been his favourite gift. A gold handled mug, an expensive set of hair care products, an adorable line up of animal figures from his favourite little brother—that’s more in line with what he should like.
Ricky grew up rich. That, of course, is known. But what isn’t often known is that Ricky grew up socially rich. Rich not just in the sense of finances, but community. Richness by association, and in turn, by exclusion. You can’t stop someone from being rich just through conversation and gossip, of course, but status and esteem—well, that’s easy enough to take away.
His parents claimed to never be into all of it, to only really play along, but Ricky and his sisters had rules growing up. Who was appropriate to smile at with teeth? Who should they greet with a hug and who should they greet with a handshake? Who do they tell their summer plans to? Who is in their circle, and who is at the fray?
The easiest part for Ricky to remember was the gifts. It was simple enough. You spend a little money on people you don’t like, you spend a lot of money on people you do, and you don’t think about money at all when you spend it on friends.
The mug that Taerae gave him is neatly placed in their kitchen cabinet. Now that we’re debuting together, let’s get closer~! A nice, thoughtful gift. Practical. Taerae was right. Ricky didn’t have his own mug before that point.
The stupid fucking unicorn diary is still shoved at the bottom of Ricky’s bag.
“It felt-“ Ricky fumbles for the words, the same way that he has for years now. Sometimes, Ricky can’t help but wonder if his tongue actually belonged to someone else. If they were trying to control it while it was still in his mouth. If he should give it back and apologize. “It felt easy. Natural.”
He says the first part in Korean and the last word in English. He doesn’t say, Because you were born today, there is Zerobaseone, even though it’s been looping through his head since he opened twitter the night before.
Jiwoong tilts his head but his brow unfurrows. “Okay,” he nods, slowly, placing his hand on Ricky’s shoulder. “I’m glad you like it, then.”
That is said sincerely. Ricky’s shoulders unwind with tension he hadn’t even known he was carrying, and he manages a small smile. Jiwoong, thankfully, is much better at smiling back.
They go camping, which was not what Ricky expected after he became an idol.
It’s hard. They fold pizza boxes and drive for hours, they hunt through a village full of old people—why are there so many old people? —and shuffle through a haunted house and do more physical labour with old people. It’s a lot, really.
It’s fun.
The exhaustion wears away at his inhibitions. After a certain point, Ricky just can’t give a fuck about the cameras. He’s sleep deprived and his shoulders are sore and they’re shuffling in a line around a tape course while holding balloons between their bodies. Sure. Why not, right?
They’re all so tired by the end that Hanbin and Taerae are completely exempt from driving duties. They’ll be going back to Seoul the same way that they go mostly anywhere, shuttled in black cars with tinted windows. Matthew whines, mostly playful, and says it’s not a real camping trip if they don’t fight on the car ride home. It’s a testament to their exhaustion that no one interrogates him on just what the fuck he’s talking about.
They keep the same split between the cars. Ricky tries not to be disappointed.
In the car, Gyuvin leans over a completely unconscious Matthew to ask, “You wanna be friends with Gunwook-ie?”
He doesn’t say it like he’s trying to tease, and so Ricky fights down his impulse to snap back. If anything, Gyuvin’s eyes are wide and bright and excited. He’s almost entirely in Ricky’s space, despite there being a full person between them. Matthew snuffles and shifts, but his eyes don’t open.
Carefully, Ricky replies, “I want to be close to everyone. We’re a team.”
It’s still a bit snippish, but Gyuvin doesn’t falter. He’s always understood what Ricky was trying to say, and Ricky still doesn’t know what that means. “Yes. Yes,” Gyuvin hisses, delighted. He grabs Ricky’s hand and squeezes it, shaking it slightly. “I’ve been waiting for this. Okay, I’ll help.”
Ricky’s just a bit too loud when he replies, panicked, “Please don’t.”
Matthew makes a noise between them. Gyuvin pulls away and starts petting Matthew’s hair until he settles again. Still, he makes those same delighted eyes at Ricky. Ricky glares at him and tries to kill Gyuvin with his mind.
At some point he blinks, and then they’re pulling into their dorms. His head is on Matthew’s lap and his back hurts like fucking crazy. When he blinks away the gunk from his eyes, he finds Gyuvin snoring on Matthew’s shoulder. Matthew, predictably, hasn’t stirred.
“We’re here,” Ricky hears from the front. He turns back to see Hanbin smiling at them, his eyes suspiciously bright. He’s holding his phone, and Ricky realizes that he needs to figure out what Hanbin’s password is immediately if he wants his dignity preserved.
Then, Hanbin says, in that same little voice, “We’re home.”
The panic eases a little at that. Ricky even manages to smile back.
Debut crawls closer. They continue their preparations, and try not to fucking die in the process.
The choreography is fucking hard. Hard to learn, harder to perform. It’s fun, all of this is fun, but it’s so thoroughly exhausting that it sends them all to their knees after each and every run through.
“Can’t do that on stage!” Hanbin orders sharply, clapping his hands. He’s the only person who’s left standing, even if he does look red enough to catch fire. “Come on, back up and at it!”
Several people groan, Ricky included. He’s not sure if they share his thoughts— how can Hanbin be thinking about the stage? They haven’t even filmed the music video yet.
Then again, his urgency is understandable. They have the moves down, mostly, but their formations are still a mess. The song is fast and unforgiving and one moment of hesitation leads them to topple like dominos. Hanbin looks at Ricky in particular with something shy of sternness.
On instinct, Ricky’s gaze slides away.
Immediately, he regrets it, and looks back. Too late—Hanbin is explaining something to Taerae, who heaves for air in his sweat soaked shirt. Still, he shadows Hanbin’s movements half a beat slower. Behind his foggy glasses, Ricky knows that Taerae’s eyes are intently tracking Hanbin’s movements in the mirror.
Ricky stands on wavering legs and almost knocks his own fucking teeth out when he trips on his shoelace.
“Woah!” A hand catches his elbow, massive but comfortably cool. Ricky isn’t yanked back up to his feet, but he’s not at risk of a concussion anymore. Gunwook asks him with airy casualness, “Are you alright? Hyung?”
The rhythm of it makes Ricky smile, even through his embarrassment. Alright—hyung, the honourific tacked on just a little too late. When he looks at Gunwook gratefully, the expression he finds doesn’t betray any embarrassment. The redness of his cheeks is just as easily explained by exhaustion as it is sheepishness. “Thank you,” Ricky says in English, and Gunwook helps him the rest of the way up.
“My pleasure,” Gunwook replies, carefully enunciating the foreign words. He says pleasure like play-zure, and Ricky snickers at the sound. Gunwook’s hand leaves Ricky’s arm and he steps back, gesturing politely. “May I help you?”
You already did, Ricky wants to say, but Gunwook’s eyes have that sharp intent of his that makes Ricky fall silent.
Everyone watches as Ricky faltered in place, forgot which way to go, and almost caused a full on collision between the members. Everyone has been watching for the past few weeks—months, for some, years for others. It’s more than enough time for them to piece it together. His difficulty with remembering formations, with keeping track of where and when he goes.
Gunwook wets his lip and says, in Korean, “I can ask Hanbin-hyung–”
“Of course you may,” Ricky says before he can think about it. He doesn’t regret the words, just the desperation with which they’re said. “Thank you.”
Gunwook blinks and then his smile widens. His cheeks apple with it, going rosy. “Of course!” He says, bright and pleased. “So, for that part…”
He trots to the middle of the room. Ricky takes deep breaths, heart still racing, and follows him.
There’s movement at the corner of his eye. Ricky turns to look.
With his hands cupped around his mouth, Gyuvin mouths, good start! He gives Ricky a big thumbs up.
Ricky lifts his fist threateningly, and turns back around to follow Gunwook. Gyuvin’s laughter is silent, but it follows him, soft and warm and irritating like the summer’s warmth.
Gyuvin kisses Gunwook during Boys Planet, in the bathrooms after the third round of eliminations.
Ricky isn’t meant to be there at all.
He’s hiding in a stall and spiralling over the fact that he just barely slipped into the top nine in the eleventh hour. He hears footsteps, multiple steps, and he barely has time to tuck his feet onto the seat before he hears Park Gunwook giggling, “I’m just saying, if you really liked me, then you would’ve looked at me when I was giving my speech.”
“Please leave me alone,” Gyuvin begs, but he’s laughing. “I was nervous, okay, there was a lot going on.”
“There’s nothing going on, are you kidding me? All we do is sit around and wait for MNet to kick our asses.”
Park Gunwook barks out another laugh, and Ricky realizes that he’s never heard Park Gunwook make that noise. He’s still Park Gunwook in Ricky’s head, at this point, because it still doesn’t feel right to drop that. It’s what Ricky likes about Korean, at least, one of the things. It’s easy to draw those lines.
But then Park Gunwook keeps giggling and Ricky– it’s hard not to smile at the sound. Which is weird. It makes Ricky weird. Creeping in the bathroom, listening to a private conversation between his best friend and a stranger. Smiling along as if he fits between them.
What Ricky knows about Park Gunwook is that he’s ambitious, and he’s definitely not twenty-five years old like they all thought. He knows that Park Gunwook is a strong dancer and a stronger leader, he knows that Park Gunwook attracts the cameras, he knows that Park Gunwook goes completely red when he’s embarrassed.
In the bathroom, Ricky learns what Park Gunwook sounds like when he’s kissed.
He only realizes that’s what happens because he knows what Gyuvin sounds like when he’s kissing someone else.
It’s a quick, brief thing. Ricky knows when they pull apart because Park Gunwook physically stumbles away. There’s a beat.
And then they’re laughing again. Tighter, this time. Earnest, but anxious. Ricky understands immediately. It’s the same type of laugh he was letting out before they wandered in. “Not now,” Park Gunwook is saying, and that makes sense, with what Ricky knows. He’s logical. He’s smart. “After. After.”
After a moment, Gyuvin croaks, “After.”
They leave. Ricky holds his breath until his vision goes spotty, and then he leaves after them.
When they first moved from China to America, Ricky had asked his mother, “Will we never come home again?”
They were sitting at the airport. Ricky, for the life of him, cannot remember which airport it was. All he knew was that the air was too dry and his chest was too tight. He had a backpack with a Nintendo DS and a book that he wouldn’t touch once. He was holding the straps so tight that his fingers lost circulation.
One by one, his mother pried his fingers off the bag. “Quanrui,” she had said, massaging feeling back into each digit. “We’re going home right now. Wherever we go together is home.”
The state that they’re in is weird. It feels like they’ve debuted, because they’ve definitely accomplished something. They stood in front of a stadium chanting their names, the earth shaking beneath their feet. But that moment, it’s something that Ricky still can’t put a name to. Calling it debut is inaccurate, because their debut date is still approaching. And calling it the finale feels, well, wrong, at least to Ricky. It was the finale of something, but it wasn’t The finale. Unfortunately, Boys Planet finale is just too long as well. So Ricky thinks about it as just making it. A verb. Making, in the present tense, like it’s something that he’s still doing.
He made it, but he’s still making it.
Realize real lies, Ricky thinks, and he giggles to himself. He’d look insane if not for the fact that he’s sitting next to Yujin, who manages to be weirder than everyone else in the room without saying so much as a word.
Still, Yujin looks at him. He blinks and says nothing. There’s an emptiness to his eyes that Ricky grins at.
Out loud, he says, “Real eyes realize real lies.” In English. Because it definitely wouldn’t make sense in Korean.
Yujin nods sagely and then looks back at his phone.
“What was that?” Taerae asks, but he sounds fascinated. He looks back and forth between them wildly. “What was that, just now?”
Half-asleep on Taerae’s arm, Hao murmurs, “They’re communicating. It’s okay.”
You were even more confused at first, Ricky thinks, but doesn’t say. Hao is kinda scary when he’s disturbed from sleep. Taerae also seems to be aware of this; he gets more intense, but his volume remains the same when he asks, “That’s how they communicate?”
“Jealous?” Yujin asks, not looking up at Taerae. He’s still in his school uniform, and he seems to be putting off changing for as long as humanly possible. They’re waiting for the other members to finish some kind of meeting. Ricky doesn’t know the details, because it doesn’t concern him.
What does concern him is the sheer bafflement that Taerae directs his way. He’s the only person who seems willing and able to answer.
Ricky opens his mouth. He can’t quite summon the words.
There aren’t really any words to explain whatever the hell he and Yujin have. Yujin joined Yuehua, and Ricky came a month later. They didn’t really talk at first, because Yujin was basically a toddler and Ricky was a little weirded out by that.
Two months into training together, Yujin asked Ricky if he wanted to go get ice cream together. Ricky agreed and was promptly swindled into paying.
That’s just kinda how things go at Yuehua. One minute, someone’s a stranger and then the next, they’re taking advantage of your good will.
In the end, Ricky just shrugs. “He’s Yujin,” he says, and that explains even less. Before Taerae can actually start despairing, Ricky is sure to add, “It’s easy.”
Taerae’s expression clears a little. “Like you and Gyuvin?” He asks.
Careful, Ricky thinks, and then immediately fucks it up when he says, “Yes?”
Taerae looks at him. Yujin looks at him. Even Hao looks at him, opening his eyes and straightening up and saying, “Oh no, please don’t tell me you two are actually fighting.”
“We’re not!” Ricky insists, but he still sounds a little like he’s going to cry. And he doesn’t cry. He’s very proud of the fact that he’s the only person who didn’t cry at the finale. He will not break his streak over Kim fucking Gyuvin.
Except it’s not just Kim fucking Gyuvin. It’s Kim fucking Gyuvin, and the side of the road with the hazard lights on, and the smell of their old dorm, and the way that the cheers were so loud that it started sounding like silence, and it’s Park Gunwook’s carefully clumsy English, and it’s Seoul, and it’s Los Angeles, and it’s Shanghai, and it’s purple unicorn diary that’s still at the bottom of his bag.
Weakly, Ricky asks, “If being jealous is a bad thing, why does it feel worse to not be jealous at all?”
He asks the question in English, and Hao groans. “Do not try and dodge this.”
“I’m not,” Ricky insists and he feels exhausted. He can hear the hazard light blinking in his head. He wishes that he was able to dodge this, but it’s crushing him instead. “I just– I don’t know the right words.”
That’s a lie. They’re very simple; how come, when I heard Gyuvin kiss Gunwook, I just wanted to kiss Gunwook too?
Hao crosses his arms and cocks his chin. “Try me,” he says, and Ricky feels like a blood vessel is about to burst in his head.
Hao arrived a year after Ricky did and looked at all of them with a simple sense of certainty; yeah, I can beat them, his eyes seemed to say, and he seemed so sure that Ricky couldn’t even be pissed off at him.
Maybe it was just a delay. He’s certainly pissed now. “I don’t know who I am, here,” Ricky snaps, and it’s not what he means to say. Hao’s jaw shifts and his eyes get a little sad. Irritated, Ricky pushes further. “I don’t know what I’m doing here.”
Hao wets his lips. Next to him, Taerae breathes, almost hurt, “Ricky…”
There’s a snort. “Yeah.”
Ricky turns and meets Yujin’s gaze. He looks a little sad, but mostly amused. “What?” Ricky asks, wary, because that’s the exact same look that Yujin gave him two years ago at the corner store.
“You’re Ricky,” Yujin says, nodding, like he’s confirming it. “And you’re here to debut as a member of Zerobaseone.”
He’s been writing the name everywhere. On his test papers, on his hand, on the scrap pieces of paper that’re left around, in the dirt, in the fog on the mirror. Ricky’s half convinced that Yujin would get it tattooed on his forehead if he was legally able to. It’s cute, earnestly so.
Ricky was half-convinced that he would never see this Yujin again after Boys Planet turned him into a skittish little animal. On the show, Yujin had this frantic anxiety in his eyes like he was being actively hunted. Looking at Yujin now gives Ricky the same slew of emotions that he gets watching shelter dogs find a forever home.
“Well I know that,” Ricky replies. “But that’s not–”
“I dunno, then,” Yujin shrugs. “But I’m happy that they’re both true.”
Yujin’s lips remain in a flat line, but his eyes smile a little bit. The same little smile that he gave Ricky after being handed his popsicle two years ago. Again, it gives Ricky the same sinking feeling of, this brat is going to be a problem, huh?
Ricky reaches over and musses Yujin’s hair, hard. He imagines that he’s punching Kim Gyuvin in the faces and rubs harder. He tries to imagine that he’s punching Park Gunwook and feels bad and pulls away. “No, wait,” Yujin says, grabbing his wrist. “Do it harder. There was this really cool thing that my eyes did when you started to use your knuckles.”
On the other couch, Hao says to Taerae, “I can’t understand them either. Don’t worry.”
“Yeah,” Taerae replies, and he sounds oddly thoughtful. Ricky doesn’t put much thought into it. He’s too busy trying to noogie Yujin into a coma. “Okay.”
By the time that the others come back, Yujin’s trying to rip Ricky’s hair out of his head. “Yujin-ah, no!” Gunwook cries immediately. “It’s so damaged already!”
Mid-assault, Ricky shouts back, “Fuck you, Park Gunwook!”
He’s pretty sure that Gunwook laughs. He’s not sure. If he does laugh, then Ricky can’t tell if it’s earnest or simply just polite. But Ricky is far too busy trying to throw Yujin onto the floor to care.
Later that day, he seeks out Hao on his own. “You’d tell me if I was being stupid, right?” He asks in careful Mandarin.
“Yes,” Hao replies, immediately. “And you’re not.”
Certainty in his eyes, plain and simple. Ricky nods and lets out a breath. “Okay.”
He goes to walk away. Hao doesn’t let him. “I’m proud of you,” he says, in Korean, and squeezes Ricky’s wrist once. “I'm so glad that you made it. That we’re debuting together.”
Ricky inhales slowly. He doesn’t have any words, not in any of the languages they share. He just nods. Hao smiles with his eyes and lets go.
That night, Ricky forces himself not to hesitate when he walks into Gyuvin’s room. Gunwook is sitting on the floor, and Gyuvin’s on the bed. He’s both relieved and disappointed that they’re not sitting closer. “I’m bored,” he declares, and then bodily throws himself over top of Gyuvin. “Let me hang out too.”
Gyuvin squawks and tries to push Ricky off. “Who said you were invited!?” He demands, and Ricky just tries to make himself even heavier.
“I did,” Gunwook declares from the floor. He sounds a little shocked, but mostly excited. Ricky can’t really look at him, still preoccupied with crushing Gyuvin with all of his bones, but the little he glimpses is good enough. Gunwook’s lips are turning towards the sky, and his cheeks are going red with delight. “I texted him and said, hey Ricky, I need you to come jump Gyuvin right now, he’s being a total-”
He says a word that Ricky does not understand. “Ricky doesn’t even know that word!” Gyuvin puts Ricky into a headlock.
“Yeah I do,” Ricky wheezes, refusing to tap, pinching the squishy part of Gyuvin’s thigh with his nails instead. “It means you.”
Gyuvin swears and throws them both off the bed to get better leverage. Gunwook laughs and clambers back onto the bed to watch.
When Ricky moved to Korea to become a trainee, his mother asked, “You’ll come home, right?”
They were driving to LAX, and she hadn’t looked back at him. She kept her eyes trained forwards and her hand on her husband’s forearm. She had been the one to fight the hardest for him to go. Ricky caught her crying in the kitchen that morning.
Clumsily, Ricky unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “I’m taking you with me.” He pinched his palm, and tried to distract himself from the tightness in his chest. He refused to let her see him cry, so he didn’t try to finish the sentence, even though it didn’t make sense.
Still, she laughed, and it sounded like she understood. “I was asking if you’ll visit when you’re rich and famous,” she joked, and then swatted Ricky’s dad when he let out a disbelieving snort. “But you’re right, of course.”
Then, she said, a little too tearful, “Your heart is so big, Quanrui. You’ll have no problem fitting us in there.”
His dad had laughed and added, “There’ll even be room for your new Korean friends!”
Ricky smiled at the backs of their heads and looked out the window.
Eventually, the anxiety melted into excitement. It’d freeze back over soon enough, but he was fine with that.
Things always came around, in the end.
They film a shit ton of variety content and interviews. They set the date for the music video filming. They set the date for filming the comeback stage, and they throw themselves even deeper into their practices. They wind tighter and tighter with excitement and anxiety and everything in between as their debut date draws closer and closer.
With each day that passes, Gunwook and Ricky get closer and closer.
Gunwook calls Ricky hyung, but he calls Gyuvin anything but—simply by name, or you there, or Kim Gyu, or Kim Gyubig, or one of the thousand other mangled iterations that Gunwook churns out the way a printing press churns out the Sunday morning paper.
“Hey, you bastard,” is today’s name, delivered liltingly and teasingly. With it, he chucks an unopened bottle of water at Gyuvin’s head. It nails him directly in the temple. “Oh. Whoops.”
Now on the floor, Gyuvin wails, “You fucker.”
Ricky covers his mouth and hiccups with how hard he’s laughing. When he straightens, somehow, he meets Gunwook’s eye.
It’s not that they’ve never looked at each other. Ricky just can’t quite remember a time when they looked at each other without reason.
Gunwook winks, and his cheeks are rosy and full with pride. Ricky laughs louder, delighted and endeared, all at once. Gunwook’s smile stretches wide enough to show his teeth.
“Can someone help me!?” Gyuvin cries. They ignore him a moment longer, just for the bit.
Sometimes, he dreams of them.
In flashes and glimpses. Smiles and bright eyes. Words that he can’t hear but that he understands. Arms over his shoulders. Lips against his cheeks. They’re blinding under the light—on stage, under the sun, in a dark street with a flickering street lamp that makes their skin look that much more pale.
I want, Ricky thinks when he wakes up. I want, Ricky thinks as he goes through his day. I want, Ricky says in interviews, out loud to his own reflection, in his stupid fucking purple unicorn diary, over and over again, in every single language that he knows.
His chest hurts from how bad it is. He feels like there’s a knife carving him open from the inside out. He wants them, and he wants Jiwoong’s childish laughter, and Hanbin’s kind eyes, and Hao’s exasperated sigh, and Taerae’s broad hand on his back, and the squeak of Matthew’s deep voice speaking English, and Yujin’s scrawl of their team name over each and every single one of their bones.
Ricky wants to win on a music show. He wants to win rookie of the year. He wants to sell ten million albums and go to the Grammys. He wants to know what Gunwook and Gyuvin look like when they kiss each other.
His bed sinks under someone’s weight. “What’re you writing, hyung?” Gunwook asks. Down the hall, he can hear Taerae telling Gyuvin to please go to Gunwook’s dorm sometimes instead.
Ricky doesn’t panic to close the journal. He’s written the entry in Mandarin. “Nothing,” he says, and he closes the journal and taps Gunwook on the head with it, grinning when Gunwook’s face scrunches but he accepts it without protest.
Would you let me kiss you? He thinks about asking, but then Gyuvin is stumbling through Ricky’s door, and throwing himself on top of both of them, and Ricky puts the thought aside for another day.
Against all fucking odds, they go to Jeju-do.
They go to Jeju-do.
Well, the others do. Ricky is left behind for a bit.
The first text comes through after about fifteen minutes, which means that they must’ve cleared security. It’s from Jiwoong. Sit tight, the staff will take care of you. Immediately, it’s followed by, even if they forgot to take care of you now…
Accompanying it is a particularly disgruntled sticker. Before Ricky can reply, their group chat explodes.
Hao is furious, Matthew is somehow even more mad, and Taerae’s trying to crack jokes to alleviate their tension. Yujin sends a selca that mostly consists of his nostrils. Hanbin only replies to that with several question marks. Ricky assumes that he’s herding the rest of the members.
Privately, Gunwook messages him, Ricky-ssi, I trust that the cookies will be taken care of?
Ricky snorts. He sends back the saluting emoji, and in English, yes sir. Another thing about Park Gunwook that he’s learned; he thinks that English is the funniest language in the world.
It’s why he uses Korean when he follows his message up with, tell Gyuvin not to laugh at me when I get there.
Gunwook’s reply is immediate. He’s not laughing, he’s mad haha.
It’s attached with a picture. Gyuvin, his tiny face practically drowning under his mask and his bangs, but just enough of his face visible for Ricky to see the sharp glare in his eyes.
As soon as he gets it, he gets another text, this time from Gyuvin himself; did Gunwook send you a photo of me?????????
Ricky can’t reply for at least a minute from how hard he laughs. Then, he sends a quick lol to Gunwook, and then a malicious looking sticker to Gyuvin.
Every time he switches between their chats, the tightness in his chest eases just a little bit more.
He gets to Jeju-do soon enough, and no one laughs at him. He’s put in between Taerae and Gunwook, the former poking through his pockets while the latter wraps an arm around his shoulders and keeps it there. He admits to forgetting the cookies, and still, no one laughs or teases him.
“It’s okay, we’ll make it up!” Gunwook declares from next to him. At the other end of their line up, Gyuvin says something in agreement, too far for Ricky to hear clearly. It should feel like pity, and it should feel terrible, but Ricky is kind of tired and still embarrassed, so he accepts it as it is.
Our wings, he thinks, and he can’t help but smile to himself, cringing a little as he does.
They go out to the beach, Gunwook’s hand still on his shoulder, and his small voice asking, still in English, how Ricky’s liking Jeju-do so far. They climb onto the rocks and almost fall into the water. Gyuvin straight up almost pushes him and scampers away before Ricky can retaliate. He makes a beeline to Gunwook, as if they’re magnetically drawn together, and together they accost Matthew and start pushing him around. Matthew, predictably, just lets them. They take a photo as a team and from a couple yards away, a couple dozen fansites take their photo too.
Just like when they went camping, it’s more than easy enough to ignore them soon enough. It’s just too easy to get lost in the fun of it—bickering with Gyuvin as they rock in a transparent canoe and hunt Hanbin down. For once, he looks at Ricky with outright exhaustion and not just gentle tenderness, and Ricky grins with all his teeth as he rams his canoe into Hanbin’s.
They eat dessert and look out over the water. “I wish everyone was here,” Ricky says, and Hanbin’s hand settles on his shoulder.
He’s heard about Jeju-do for years. About its majesty, about how beautiful it is. Ricky thinks that there must be something in the air. His heart has never felt so light. His head has never felt so clear.
He feels home, and then he thinks about his mother’s hands around his, and he knows that he wouldn’t feel the same if the situation was reversed. If he was the only one to get on the plane, while everyone was left behind. He knows the air wouldn’t taste as sweet if he didn’t have anyone waiting for his arrival.
The rented house has a ridiculous number of rooms. They use none of them, and pile into the living room instead. Ricky and Gunwook and Gyuvin end up in a corner. Not isolated. Just, together. The three of them.
Gyuvin and Gunwook lean on each other, propped against the wall. Ricky takes a wall for himself and grins at them. For a moment, Gunwook hesitates, shifting like he’s trying to make room. “Don’t bother,” Gyuvin mumbles, mostly asleep. “He doesn’t like getting too hot.”
“Other people’s sweat is gross,” Ricky explains. Gunwook blinks and then his eyes curl with his silent laughter. His shoulders shake, though, and Gyuvin whines as he’s jostled. “I used to kick him out of bed all the time.”
He gestures at Gyuvin with his chin, and it’s only with the motion that he realizes what he’s said. As always, he’s the last to know. Gyuvin has gone still. Gunwook’s eyes have gone wide. “You mean–” he starts, hushed and slightly strangled. They have to speak in code. The cameras are still running. “You two–”
Luckily, they’ve all spent enough time under surveillance. Subtext is something they’re all fluent in. “Yeah,” Ricky nods, and it’s the easiest word in the world. It’s basically the same across Korean and English. One syllable, just like that. One syllable, and everything is out in the open.
Well, not really. Ricky makes sure to add, “I was in the bathroom. In a stall. You didn’t see me. Sorry.”
It takes them a moment to understand. Gunwook gets there first, based on his quickly pinking cheeks, but Gyuvin gets there much more violently, slamming his head against the wall with how fast he shoots up.
Further down, Hao groans, “Kim Gyuvin, I’ll kill you.”
It’s the perfect moment to roll over to go back to sleep. To leave them stewing in their own thoughts. For Ricky to be the one on top for once.
He looks between the stark looks of panic on their faces and sighs, rising to his feet. “C’mon,” he whispers, and leads them into one of the abandoned bedrooms.
As soon as the door shuts behind them, Gyuvin whisper-shouts, “You were there!?”
As always, Ricky finds himself on the defensive. “I didn’t mean to be!” He tries to keep his voice low, but he’s kind of naturally bad at whispering. “You guys were the ones who didn’t check.”
Gyuvin splutters, outraged. Gunwook asks, also in a whisper, “You guys slept together?”
When Ricky turns to look at him, he’s gone white as a sheet. “We weren’t dating,” he says, and he can physically watch the tension leave Gunwook’s body. “We were– we were something, and we put that something on hold for Boys Planet.”
“It’s my fault,” Gyuvin blurts immediately. He reaches out for their hands and then flinches away, curling his fists by his sides instead. He looks horribly guilty. It’d be funny if it didn’t make Ricky so sad. “I– I shouldn’t have– I’m sorry–”
His knuckles have gone white. Ricky reaches out and takes Gyuvin’s hand in his. “You know me,” he murmurs, and unfurls Gyuvin’s fingers one by one. “You know what I’m like when I’m mad, or when I’m upset.”
Gyuvin’s hands are so big. So big. They look powerful, and Ricky knows very well just how much strength they have. Gyuvin doesn’t use any at all to fight Ricky off. He lets Ricky lace their fingers together, and exhales a shuddering breath when Ricky squeezes his hand. “We can still be friends, Gyuvin,” he jokes, the same way that he did that morning, and Gyuvin’s eyes are bright when he laughs.
Gunwook shifts. “I should–” he starts, and then falls silent when Ricky extends a hand out to him.
“You should stay,” Ricky smiles, a smile that stretches wider when he hears Gyuvin inhale. “We want you to stay.
He wants to take it. Ricky can tell. But Gunwook hesitates a moment longer, wetting his lips and then asking, nervously, “Are you sure that you want me?”
“You belong here,” Gyuvin insists, immediately, before Ricky can even think of a reply. “We want you here, but also, you belong here, with us.”
Gunwook swallows thickly and Ricky has the sudden realization that maybe he wasn’t the only one feeling out of place. “There’s room,” he offers. He doesn’t say, you’re really big, but my heart is bigger, as much as he wants to. Instead, he says, “I want to know you more, Gunwook-ah.”
Slowly, Gunwook takes Ricky’s hand with trembling fingers. “Wow, hyung,” he croaks, and his voice shakes a little bit. “When did you get so cool?”
Ricky grins and watches as Gyuvin and Gunwook lace their fingers together too. “I’ve always been this cool.”
In the dark, their hands are warm. They stand in silence and listen to the sound of their own breathing. Laboured, relieved, exhilarated, exhausted. As if the night has gone still with them. As if they’re the last three people left in the world.
“...should we start dancing, or something?” Gunwook mutters after a moment, and just like that, it passes, disappearing in the wheezing rush of their laughter. “We’re just standing in a circle– guys, what’re we doing?”
They’re all people who move when they laugh. It’s not a collision, too soft to be that. Ricky takes a step inwards at the same time that Gyuvin and Gunwook do. He tips his head onto Gunwook’s shoulder. Gyuvin reaches up to grab Ricky’s arm. Gunwook’s thigh presses flush with Gyuvin’s.
They’re still giggling when they sneak back down to the living room and return back to their makeshift beds. Again, Gunwook shifts, making room for Ricky. Ricky shakes his head, and then realizes that Gunwook can’t see him. “Here,” he whispers instead, and takes Gunwook’s hand in his. “How’s this?”
It’s pitch black. Gunwook’s smile is still blinding. “Perfect,” he whispers, and Gyuvin nuzzles further into his arm, and Ricky feels like his ribs could break from the force of his own happiness.
The next evening, after the rolling papers, Taerae pulls Ricky aside to apologize. When he says so, Ricky blinks in confusion and asks, “For what?”
“I thought you were stuck up,” Taerae tells him in the apologetic tones of a confession. He grimaces as it leaves his lips, and the shame on his face burns brighter than the Jeju sun. “I thought- well- I don’t know. I thought you were fake. That you kept people at an arm's length.”
Arms length. Ricky has to pause to consider it. His proportions are a blessing. Long and lean and slender. For him to keep someone at an arm’s length—no, it hurts too much to think about. Only able to feel their warmth with the tips of his fingers, just close enough to see the inevitable acceptance in their eyes when the distance has been kept, not close enough to grab them and drag them back when they eventually decide to leave.
“I’m not that kind of person,” Ricky says. Taerae starts to apologize but Ricky waves it away. He’s not hurt, at least not by Taerae. He’s seen the shadows under Taerae’s eyes, he’s heard the tightness in Taerae’s voice. Taerae carries enough hurt for both of them, Ricky thinks.
Instead, Ricky spreads his arms. “I’ll show you,” he declares, immediately embarrassed by the sheer force of his own words. Still, he finishes, “I promise, I'm not that type of person at all.”
Taerae blinks and then looks at his face and laughs. His real laugh. The one that builds into a shriek that makes everyone look at him. “I know, Ricky,” he replies with a full-faced smile. He steps into Ricky’s embrace and squeezes tight. Ricky’s big and broad enough to dwarf him. Still, it feels as though he’s the one being held. “I know what you’re like now, you cute little brat.”
Ricky grins into Taerae’s hair, warmed by the Jeju sun, and squeezes his hyung tighter. In the distance, he can hear his friends laughing.
Ricky kisses Gunwook for the first time in Gunwook’s room after asking if he can watch Gyuvin and Gunwook kiss first.
Gunwook frowns, confused, but Gyuvin doesn’t even hesitate. “Hell yeah,” he grins, and yanks Gunwook in by the shirt.
Some things never change.
They hold each other so gently. For all their energy, for the size of their hands and the strength in their bodies. Gunwook’s cheeks go cherry red. Gyuvin smiles the entire way through.
Ricky doesn’t even wait for them to pull apart before he wriggles in between them. “There is not enough room on this bed for three people over 180 centimeters tall,” Gunwook protests, but he’s a little too breathless for it to be believable.
“I don’t care,” Ricky smiles. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He takes Gunwook’s soft cheeks in his hands and kisses him. Gunwook puts his broad hands on Ricky’s hips and kisses back.
Next to them, Gyuvin says, “I wanna kiss Ricky next.” There’s not an ounce of impatience in his voice. He sounds absolutely mesmerized.
Ricky laughs into Gunwook’s mouth and holds him tighter, half convinced that his heart is going to beat out of his chest.