Archive of Our Own ^beta

riku knows how to get what he wants. usually. he knows how to practice a dance until his muscles feel like they’ve been soaked in tar, how to smile in the way that would get the training director to ignore the way he stuttered through korean lyrics, how to get ryo to go get convenience store ice cream with him even though it’s late and below freezing.

riku has always been driven by want, and in complete honesty, it’s worked out pretty well for him so far. he’s learned that the first step is always the hardest, but to achieve, you have to strive. except this time, riku has hit a brick wall in his stride.

tokuno yushi isn’t a difficult choreography. he’s not something riku can just keep pushing himself for until he fills that need. he’s one of the few things that riku has hit a brick wall with.

he tries to ignore it—the aching yearning that slowly knaws away at his insides whenever he remembers. the way his chest aches whenever yushi presses his face into his neck when he’s tired, when yushi holds his hand for too long when he’s feeling worried. it’s the one thing that riku doesn’t work towards a finish line; mostly because he isn’t sure what it looks like.

sometimes, riku thinks he’ll rot from the inside out, that maybe this feeling is just going to sit there, eating at him until there’s nothing left. sometimes, he thinks he wants it that way.

that’s why riku is holding his breath a little in the doorway of the restaurant. yushi is hanging off of his back, chin hooked over his shoulder while they wait for sion to pay the bill. yushi is generally comfortable with skinship, but not so much in public. after a few drinks he seems to forget to be shy.

things have been hectic; schedules packed so tight that it feels like by the time their heads hit the pillow at night they can already hear the next morning’s alarm going off. tonight is the first night that they’ve even had time to get a meal out in weeks.

so of course they drink a little.

it’s just a few bottles of soju with dinner, harmless and a good way to unwind after working so much. no one is drunk; they don’t ever drink much with sakuya and ryo anyway. sion says they shouldn’t be a bad influence even if they’ve only all been drunk less times than could be counted on one hand.

leaving the restaurant, they"re only varying levels of tipsy. yushi has always been a lightweight, and riku has learned to be able to tell through only witnessing it a few times.

he remembers because it"s cute. he can tell now that yushi"s close to drunk—the flush that creeps up his cheeks, the way his gaze softens, voice dipping a little deeper as his guard drops.

riku can feel the heat settle in his cheeks and his limbs feel a little looser and he knows that he’s in the same position. if they stayed like this it might have been fine.

but it doesn’t. everyone else heads off—sion ushers the younger ones back to the dorm, daeyoung disappears to his room, and suddenly it’s just him and yushi with an empty evening ahead and too much room for error.

it’s yushi’s idea to buy dessert at the convenience store.

“it’s dangerous to go alone,” yushi says, nudging riku with his knee, breaking the peace of the corner riku had found on the couch.

“you’re walking ten feet across the street, yuu-chan,” riku answers, pushing yushi’s knee away. his fingers linger on the bare skin. yushi had changed into shorts as soon as they walked in the door, complaining about being hot.

yushi shrugs, trying for a pout. “i could get hit by a car and no one would find me until morning.”

“i’d come looking if you took longer than twenty minutes.”

“you’ll be asleep in five if i leave now.”

riku can’t disagree with that, and it lands him back in the same spot on the couch fifteen minutes later with dessert, but also two more bottles of soju. they don’t have a schedule tomorrow until later in the day, and admittedly, riku is enjoying the alchohol induced feeling of weight lifting off his shoulders.

the actual activity of further drinking is rather lame. they both share the drinks and the packaged sweet bread while they half watch the drama riku had started a few days ago. it"s not exciting by any means, but it’s relaxing, and exactly what they both probably need right now.

they’re slumped against each other on the couch and yushi has taken one of riku’s hands, idly playing with his fingers. it’s relaxing. what isn’t so relaxing is the feeling of the back of his hand pressed against the hot skin of yushi’s upper thigh.

riku is drunk now. he can’t really pretend to watch what’s playing on the tv anymore, his eyes only fixed on his own hand now. then yushi drops it like he’s bored of whatever entertainment it was bringing, leaving his hand against the skin now, nothing to feign a barrier.

stupidly, riku turns his hand over. the seam of yushi’s shorts has been pushed up by movement over time, there’s not much left to cover any skin. he presses his fingers lightly into the flesh, acting without conscience at all now. yushi doesn’t flinch away; it’s safe.

“i’m tired,” yushi tilts his head, rolling it back against the couch cushion, neck stretched, his mouth parted.

riku watches the way his neck streches out with the motion, a plane exposure of skin. he wanted to dip his head down and taste it, but he doesn’t. his fingers tighten a little on yushi’s thigh like he’s holding onto something that might slip away.“you can go to bed if you want.”

riku isn’t sure if he’s imagining this. maybe his alcohol tolerance is less than he thought and he blacked out twenty minutes ago and didn’t realize. that’s possible.

it feels real, though. he can still feel the heat of yushi’s skin under his palm. he didn’t notice until now that the movement had pushed his hand just slightly further up, a few of his fingers under the fabric of the shorts now. the realization makes his heart beat a little faster.

yushi hums in response, turning his head now to face riku. his cheeks are flushed from the alcohol, his eyes half-lidded now with his bangs gently brushing his eyelashes when he blinks. he looks really pretty like this, riku thinks briefly.

“if i told you to kiss me, would you?” yushi murmurs, his voice barely more than a whisper, his gaze flickering over riku’s lips, drunken and warm.

riku’s heart stumbles in his chest, fingers frozen. his mind feels slow, muddled, as though he’s half-dreaming, and he thinks maybe he’ll wake up any second. but he doesn’t.

“yeah,” riku says, barely realizing he’s spoken.

yushi’s gaze drags over his face, dark eyes holding him in place. “then can you kiss me?”

and for once with yushi, riku lets himself do more than just want, lets himself take, leaning in until their mouths meet, and then there’s nothing between them but heat and breath and months of waiting, of holding back. for riku, at least. yushi’s hands are in his hair, pulling him closer, and riku feels like he’s pulling him under.

it’s uncoordinated at first. they knock teeth and riku whimpers a little at the pain, but yushi just swallows it. they quickly gain a sense of coordination and the kiss turns hot and wet. yushi is crowding him into the corner of the couch, just trying to get closer, and riku would let him under his skin if he could.

“you touch me too much,” yushi says when the kiss finally breaks for a moment. he’s half straddling riku now, no room to look anywhere but each other. “like you wanna fuck me.”

riku swallows as he feels his face flush, yet he exhales through his nose has the corner of his mouth turns up with a brief moment of drunken confidence. “i do?”

“do you?” yushi asks. he says it plainly, as if he’s asking riku if he wants to order in for dinner.

riku knows he shouldn’t answer. he knows they’re both drunk, doing whatever this is because it’s what feels right in the moment, but they’ll have to deal with it tomorrow. even if he’s jacked off to the thought of this very thing at least once a week for the past six months (since he’s let it get bad). he should tell yushi they should go to bed and talk about this in the morning. but this isn’t a conversation riku wants to have in the morning, or one that he thinks he could handle sober. he wants exactly what yushi says he does.

yushi is looking at him with a look in his eyes that riku’s never seen before. something darker swirling with desire and it’s almost a little intimidating.

riku presses his fingers into the flesh of yushi’s upper thigh where his hand has stayed, holding him in place. “yeah.”

the air between them is strangling. what’s only a few seconds feels like minutes of them just sitting like this with the words hanging in the air, waiting for someone to make the next move.

yushi does, bringing their mouths together again with the same bleeding desire but a little more tact the second time around. he tugs on riku’s lower lip with his teeth and pulls a gasp out with it. riku retaliates by breaking the seam and licking into yushi’s mouth, being rewarded with a moan in response. they’ve fallen into this momentary battle for power, both losing at their own game.

riku takes his kill shot and pushes his hand completely under the fabric of yushi’s shorts, where his fingers have been pushing under the seam since this started, taunting the idea of contact. yushi’s mouth stutters on the kiss for a moment as he gasps, a little choked sounding.

“okay?” riku asks, his voice adapting a softer tone suddenly. it’s almost out of place with the way he’s palming yushi’s erection through the remaining layer of fabric.

yushi seems to be doing his best to press into riku’s hand. “more,” he whines and riku nods, because if yushi keeps making sounds like that he’ll do anything he asks.

riku dips his head to mouth at yushi’s neck, dragging wet kisses up to the soft skin just behind his ear, where he briefly scrapes his teeth. yushi keeps making these desperate sounds with each press of his fingers, and riku is thanking every god out there right now that daeyoung sleeps with a white noise machine that would probably block out the sound of the apocalypse.

yushi can’t really stay still. riku can’t keep up with where his hands are on him because they don’t stay in the same place for longer than a second, like yushi’s trying to feel every inch of him at once. his brain feels like radio static.

riku wonders if he’s this needy sober. he wouldn’t have guessed it, so he assumes not, but he knows he’d like to find out.

“wanna suck you off,” yushi mutters against riku’s mouth as they attempt to kiss again, but it’s uncoordinated from the start, both too overwhelmed with want and possibility to find rhythm.

“but i’m-” starts riku, confused. he’s drunk, he’s never really done this before, but he’s pretty sure if his hand is currently on yushi’s dick that should be taken care of first. there’s usually some order to things as far as his knowledge goes. but yushi looks at him through his lashes, eyes swimming with want, and riku realizes what exactly was just suggested. “yeah—fuck. okay.”

yushi sinks down to his knees on the floor in front of where riku is still slouched into the corner of the couch. riku’s hand moves instinctively, fingers threading through yushi’s hair, clumsy and soft, trying to hold onto what’s in front of him—using every fiber of his being to try and sober up enough to memorize this image.

riku tries to focus, but yushi is watching him so intently while he works off his jeans and riku feels his face burning as he tries to look anywhere but his eyes.

hot breath hits between his legs and a shiver runs down riku’s spine. he’s watching again because yushi has broken his gaze for a moment so it feels safe, but the heat beneath his cheeks doesn’t settle at the lewd sight. riku gasps when he feels yushi’s tongue on him, his hand tugging on the strands of hair that his fingers had curled around without him even realizing.

suddenly, everything is too hot and riku is biting his lower lip so hard he thinks it might bleed. he tries not to make any sound but it seems to come out anyway every time he exhales. riku’s eyes are squeezed shut, too scared to watch what’s happening between his legs because he knows what will happen as soon as he does, and he wants this to last as long as it can.

perverse curiosity swallows his fear moments later and riku opens his eyes just enough to see blue hair pushed through his fingers and yushi’s eyes fixed on him with his lips stretched around his cock.

and that’s all it takes. riku tries to warn him, he really does, but all that makes it out is a strangled noise before the world goes dark and he’s forced into the orgasm he’ll probably think about on his death bed. he can hear yushi sputter and choke a bit, but nothing could have prepared riku for the sight of tokuno yushi with cum dripping off his lips.

“sorry, sorry,” riku stutters, pushing his hand through yushi’s hair soothingly, his other coming to clean the mess a little bit with his thumb. the scene itself is going to make him hard again.

yushi doesn’t answer, just pushes himself off the floor and he’s crowding riku into the corner of the couch again. he presses their mouths together and when his tongue breaks the seam riku can taste himself on yushi’s tongue. he’s hard again.

they kiss heavy and slow and riku thinks briefly how strange it is how much he likes the feeling of yushi’s molars against his tongue. he can feel that yushi is still achingly hard, grinding kind of frantically against his thigh now. the kiss breaks for a fraction of a second and the words of his offer to exchange the favor die on his tongue because suddenly yushi gasps, whimpers almost cat-like while his hips stutter. his mouth is gaping against riku’s cheek and he can feel the hot air splayed across his face, seemingly painting the red blooming darker on his cheeks.

if nothing else, riku’s just gained jerking off material for the next thirty years with the knowledge that yushi came from just that alone.

they’re silent for a moment, the sound of their ragged breathing steadying and the sound of the tv they’d left on the only filling the room as they stay slumped against each other.

“i’m gonna have to rewatch this episode,” riku mumbles after a minute passes. possibly the stupidest thing to say to someone after cumming in their mouth, but he can’t think straight right now.

yushi’s face is pressed against his neck now and he can feel his breath when he huffs out half of a laugh. “sorry.”

riku wants to kiss him again, but he knows the seal has been broken now. there’s no reason to kiss anymore, so they don’t.

yushi pushes himself up to stand first (not that riku could if he wanted to with yushi on top of him, but he didn’t want to anyway). “i’m gonna shower,” he says, his gaze towards the bathroom instead of riku. he looks kind of wrecked and riku tries his best to memorize it as much as he can.

“yeah,” riku says and he doesn’t really know why. now he’s wishing he had drank enough to not feel the tension in the air.

(riku never really dreams, but that night he swears he sees blue hair and he feels like he’s falling)

“we should talk about it,” yushi says. he’s standing in riku’s doorway the next morning, but won’t step any further into the room.

riku just barely became a part of the world again less than five minutes ago and it was to the realization that his head was pounding despite really not having drank that much. its really not the best time to have this conversation, but he doesn’t seem to have much of a choice.

yushi’s uneasy—riku can tell. yushi has always had this subtle discomfort about him, like the world around him is just a little too tight. he never quite settles into situations; there’s a tension in his posture, a guarded smile, and the occasional awkward nod, as if he’s only playing along because it’s expected of him. it didn’t take long for riku to notice, and once he did, it became something he found oddly endearing. yushi’s politeness, combined with that inability to hide his discomfort, made riku want to peel back those layers and see the real him. and over time, he’s been pretty successful at it.

but now, it’s been a while since yushi has acted this way, stiff and uncertain, and the thought that riku might have ruined everything sinks like a stone in his stomach.

“it’s okay if we don’t talk about it,” riku mumbles, his voice thick with sleep. he presses his face into the pillow, craving the brief escape from reality, but then he hears the soft click of his bedroom door. a sharp panic flares in his chest—did yushi leave? great, he somehow just turned this from a life-altering problem to a life-ending one.

a quiet voice breaks him out of his panic. “i don’t regret it,” yushi says.

riku’s mind freezes. he lifts his head, his gaze snapping to the door where yushi stands leaning against the wall, staring hard at the floor. the late morning light filters through the blinds, enough for riku to catch the flush spreading across yushi’s ears, a deepening red.

“oh.” it’s the only word riku manages, like an idiot. thoughts are running through every corner of his mind, but his mouth can’t seem to keep up.  a second stretches by. then another. too long. yushi shifts uncomfortably on his feet.

“i don’t either. i liked it,” riku blurts out, the confession hanging heavier than he intended. too much.

the silence following is all consuming and riku is hoping that the hole yushi seems to be trying to stare into the floor eventually opens up and swallows him whole, preferably soon.

“um. we could keep doing it,” yushi suggests, his voice dipping into that barely-audible octave he uses when he’s especially nervous. “you know, just for now. we’re together all the time, we’re stressed, and… well, it’s a need taken care of. technically it’s like damage control because instead of looking for it elsewhere, at least we’re people we can trust. if you’re good with that. don’t feel like you just have to agree. I just thought because I don’t regret it, and neither do you, and you said you liked it…”

he’s rambling now, and if riku weren’t half-paralyzed by the situation, he’d find it cute.

“huh?” there’s nothing to blame. he’s not still drunk, he didn’t drink enough to warrant a life altering hangover, the start of this conversation woke him up enough that grogginess isn’t a factor. maybe he got a concussion last night and doesn’t remember, because that’s the only reason he would answer such a suggestion.

“or not. sorry. never mind. i’ll just—” yushi starts to backtrack, his face rapidly draining of color.

“no!” riku’s response comes out too loud, too sudden. “no, uh—keep doing it. yeah. that’s… a good idea. we could do that. we can do that.”

riku’s heart feels like it’s going to break out of his ribcage and splatter on the floor. still not a great answer, but he’s getting closer to coherence.

“yeah?” yushi’s voice holds a slight note of excitement, and riku curses the way it makes something low in his gut stir. he’s come to terms with the fact that there’s something seriously wrong with him.

“yeah, what you said about needs and… damage control.” the words scrape against his throat, thick with the weight of what they imply. he knows how lucky he is that yushi even wants him for this. that he likely could go find practically anyone else. he’s well adored, half of his friends probably want to fuck him too. it’s not like he’s going to turn down the opportunity to stop that from happening. “it’s a good idea.”

yushi clears his throat, nodding. the room feels a fraction lighter, enough for riku to breathe again. “okay. nice.” he pauses, a beat passing between them. “not now, though. i have a lesson in an hour.”

riku huffs out a laugh, relieved at the break in tension. “we’ll see when we can pencil it in,”  he teases, his voice lighter, though his heart still beats too hard.

they fall into it surprisingly easily. it"s strange, how things fall into place without falling apart first.

the first time after the conversation is a little awkward, at least in that tentative way where neither of them knows if they"re allowed to want it this much. enough time having passed since they had the sheild of intoxication for it to feel brand new again. they kiss tentatively on yushi’s bed the following night, like it’s the first time they’ve done it at all and they want to see what it feels like.

the shyness only lasts a moment before riku feels yushi"s teeth sink into his lip, that familiar hunger slipping through. their breathing turns ragged, and it"s all heat and impatience now, the taste of each other layered with the faint salt from the sweat they never bothered to rinse off. they’re both still sweaty from the practice they just came back from, but riku"s too far gone to care if it’s a little gross because he was wondering what yushi tastes like when he watched the sweat drip off his lips in the mirror an hour ago. daeyoung takes enough time in the shower for them to get away with rushed handjobs.

its also enough time for riku to accept that his life ends here because now that he’s heard what yushi sounds like when he comes he thinks it’s become a necessity for life to hear it again. riku decides that maybe if this is all he can have it can be all that he needs.

evidently, it isn’t, but riku doesn’t have much time to think about it soon. they start their tour and schedules fill to the brim again. he’s not getting enough sleep to have the brain function to worry about problems of the heart.

all they get for the next month are stolen moments, rushed and quiet, in hidden spaces no one else can see. during the day there’s always someone around the corner, something demanding their attention, their time, their focus. a couple times they’re fortunate enough to be paired as roommates in the hotel they’re in for the night, and if sleep doesn’t take them too soon they can take a little longer getting each other off.

this strange routine they"ve fallen into seems to be stuck on repeat. sometimes they fuck and sometimes they don’t. sometimes they just kiss until they fall asleep, like people do when they’re in love. except they’re not.

it’s almost funny, but riku can’t ever bring himself to laugh.

and the more this goes on, the more it twists something inside him. riku has only ever known want when it comes to yushi, but now it’s all dulled under the weight of something he can’t even name. because in his core he knows that it’s love he wants, he knows that, but what he gets isn’t love—can’t be love, he tells himself, because love wouldn’t leave him feeling like this, hollow and desperate, clutching at something that slips through his fingers like smoke.

when they’re not alone, yushi smiles at him like nothing happened. nothing changed. just a friend like everyone else. a good friend who you have no idea what he looks like on his knees.

riku’s never crossed lines like this before, blurring the boundaries that honestly exist for a reason. the whole thing leaves him with this ache he can’t shake, a reminder that this—whatever this is—will never be enough.

there’s been times before this started that riku considered it happening, daydreamed about it, convinced himself that maybe it would put the nagging in his mind to rest. he’s heard tales of people who fuck their friends and make it out alive—better on the other side. (maybe those people were never in love with the other party involved, but minor details.) riku thinks its all heresy now anyway because fucking his friend has made his life exponentially worse than it was before. but he ignores every reminder, shoves every thought of ending this into dark corners where he hopes he can’t find them again. he lets himself go wherever yushi tells him because riku feels outnumbered against his own feelings with even the sound of his name in yushi’s mouth these days.

it’s in their shared hotel room in daegu that riku comes to with a familiar weight against him, a mouth trailing warmth down the column of his neck, a hand slipping beneath his shirt. which is funny, because yushi was not in his bed when they went to sleep last night.

it was unlike them to not take advantage of the opportunity of a shared hotel room to do anything, but at this point, they were too exhausted from the draining schedules of the day to do more than make out lazily for ten minutes in the doorway. they would have attempted something more, but riku muttered something about how badly he needed a shower. by the time he was finished, yushi had already fallen asleep.

riku hums in return, sleepy and pliant, instinctively arching his back to offer more of his neck. he doesn"t say a word, lets himself melt into the warmth as yushi’s tongue presses just under his ear, slow and teasing, a touch that burns even in its softness. riku’s mind is still foggy with sleep, a gentle throb of want pulsing beneath his skin, half-formed thoughts slipping away as yushi’s lips travel up, inch by inch, until they finally meet his mouth.

riku whines, displeased. “breath,” he mumbles, fingers ghosting down the curve of yushi’s side, a gentle, lazy reminder.

“you’ll live,” yushi whispers, the atmosphere between them light and warm, like if he speaks too loud he’ll break it. the ease of this kind of interaction makes something run down riku’s spine, realizing momentarily how simple it’s become for them to exist together like this. he doesn’t allow himself to dwell on it.

riku’s hand finds the dip of yushi"s hip, a grounding touch, as yushi leans in again, kissing him slow, heavy, like he wants to sink into him completely. there"s an edge to yushi"s touch, a barely restrained hunger that pulls riku further into the heat pooling between them, each shared breath, each stolen gasp tightening something deep in his chest. it’s unhurried but needy, a soft, silent plea to stay tangled together, right here, even if just for these few precious morning minutes before the world pulls them back apart.

and then, just as riku fluidly pushes a knee between yushi’s legs, ready to swallow whatever sound he can pull out of the younger, a sudden, sharp noise fills the room. yushi’s alarm. the spell shatters, the quiet broken, and they pull apart, blinking, the real world slipping back in.

yushi fumbles to turn it off, muttering something under his breath, but when he looks back at riku, there’s a small, unguarded smile still lingering. it’s softer than the usual way his mouth curves in these moments, almost shy, and riku feels his heart twist, wishing they had just a few more stolen minutes.

riku curls into yushi’s side as he sinks back into the mattress, pressing his face into yushi’s neck, breathing in the now-familiar scent. “we should get up,” he says, though there’s nothing convincing about it. his words barely push past the warmth that has settled over them. he doesn’t want to break the seam of this world in here that only holds the two of them.

silence holds over them for a moment—keeping them in place. “i set my alarms early. you know that.” yushi’s voice is soft, words tumbling out in a whisper, like anything louder would break the fragile quiet between them. his arm tightens around riku, a gentle pull that holds him in place.

you know that. the words carry more weight than riku can bare in the early hour.

 the mattress dips beneath them, and riku’s weight shifts into yushi’s embrace as if it’s the only place he’s ever belonged.

riku lifts his head, and his gaze finds yushi’s, still hazy, just barely awake but awake enough to know. awake enough to make the moment last. he opens his mouth to argue, maybe to tease, but yushi’s thumb brushes over his jaw, just a faint touch, trailing up to his cheek as if he’s memorizing him all over again.

“i guess no one’s going to come looking for us. not yet.” riku speaks like he’s trying to convince himself.

it’s a dangerous suggestion, one that they should resist, and yet neither of them move away. riku’s pulse skips, and his breath catches. he knows he should pull back, but yushi’s hand slides into his hair, drawing him closer until there’s nothing left but the warmth of his touch, the quiet that stretches between them, the heartbeat he can feel under his fingers as he curls them into yushi’s shirt.

“quickly,” yushi whispers as he leans in, and riku lets his eyes fall shut as yushi’s lips brush his, gentle at first, just a hint of warmth, shared breath, before it deepens again, a quiet surrender that leaves him anchored, steady in the hazy morning light.

morning sex is for couples, riku’s mind supplies conveniently while yushi has three fingers inside him. its romantic to wake up tangled together from the night before and fall into each other naturally without the intent that comes with full consciousness, while the soft sunlight washes over through the curtains. there’s something more sacred about it. riku lets this be sacred for now.

riku’s birthday comes around quickly. life has felt like everything is coming quickly lately. maybe its because they haven’t stopped working—have hardly had a second to breathe in the last ten months. but maybe even that’s not enough because someone who is so busy shouldn’t still have time to make such terrible decisions.

they have a full day of practice, but riku treats himself to hitting snooze a few extra times as a birthday present. maybe a few too many times it seems when there’s a soft knock at his door, presumably someone coming to drag him out of bed.

“i’m up,” he says, trying to sound awake, but his voice still coming out addled with sleep.

the door creaks open to reveal yushi, apparently not here to scold him for sleeping in again. he’s standing with a small tray, a careful balance of rice and miso, the steam curling up in lazy wisps. yushi’s voice is barely above a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile peace of the morning. “happy birthday,” he says, his eyes warm, gentle in a way that makes riku’s chest ache.

riku sits up slowly, blinking the sleep from his eyes, and tries to swallow the lump in his throat as yushi hands him the tray. it’s simple—breakfast, the meal accompanied by a few slices of fruit cut into neat little pieces. it’s not much, but it’s enough to make riku’s eyes well up with tears that he hurriedly blinks away.

“you didn’t have to make me breakfast.” his voice is soft, trailing off like he’s not sure what else to say, like he’s trying to hold back the feeling that’s pressing at his chest, spilling over in ways he can’t quite control.

yushi just smiles, warm and familiar. riku’s chest aches. “it’s your birthday.” he says it like it’s the simplest thing in the world, like it’s obvious, like there’s no place he’d rather be than here.

riku takes a bite, the warmth of the miso settling into him and slowly waking him up, filling the empty spaces he’s been carrying around lately. it tastes familiar. like home. something he’s been thinking of more than usual lately. and yushi stays beside him, cross-legged on the floor, watching him eat with that steady, unassuming presence, like he knows this is exactly what riku needs today.

they don’t say much, the silence stretching between them comfortable. riku can feel yushi’s gaze, the quiet weight of it, and it’s almost too much, almost enough to unravel him. he clears his throat, tries to push past the swell of emotion he can’t shake.

“thank you,” he murmurs finally, his voice barely a whisper, thick with the words he doesn’t know how to say.

yushi just nods, like he understands every word riku left unspoken. he rests a hand on riku’s knee, his thumb stroking there a few times. “i’m gonna get dressed.”

its when the door closes behind yushi that riku feels the weight as its entirety, but he still doesn’t let the tears fall. he shouldn’t cry on his birthday.

when sion carries his cake into the practice room, riku feels a warmth that’s more than just from dancing, more than the embarrassment of being the center of attention. he’s not used to it, the focus, the way everyone’s looking at only him with genuine affection. its different from getting attention on stage—then he can push through the shyness and react the way he thinks people want. the love feels a lot stronger now, like he can’t avoid it, but he doesn’t try too hard to. he closes his eyes and blows out the candles. cheers fill the room, their voices echoing off the walls, and for a moment, he lets himself just enjoy it, lets himself be loved. he wishes for the same thing he does every day, but maybe the candles will make a difference.

“strawberry, strawberry,” yushi keeps repeating as he points at the cake, his voice in the tone that makes riku’s heart melt into a puddle and start leaking out of his ribcage. he’s watching yushi’s hand, the way his fingers hover, almost shyly, as he gestures toward one of the strawberries perched on top. “you should have it.”

riku hesitates, glances from yushi to sion, confused, but something in yushi’s eyes—bright and waiting—pushes him to reach out. he picks up a strawberry, its surface cool against his fingers. ryo laughs at yushi’s tone and insistence, but riku’s too distracted, too aware of the way yushi is watching him with a bright smile like he’s holding his breath, like this small thing matters for some reason.

the taste of the strawberry is sweet on his tongue, but there’s something heavier in his chest as there always seems to be these days, something that doesn’t make sense. it’s just a strawberry. the weight of it all—yushi’s gaze, the way he keeps his eyes locked on riku’s mouth as he chews—settles in him like a quiet ache, warm, confusing, something that feels too close to love to possibly be true.

he can’t shake the thought, can’t understand why yushi cares so much about him tasting the first bite, why it feels like it means more than it should. its his favorite cake, sure, but if yushi cared so much about the fruit then he could’ve just had some. riku should probably admit himself soon for insanity because that’s the only reason someone would be thinking so much about a strawberry.

yushi is beside him, close enough that their shoulders brush as they sit on the floor, sharing slices of cake. he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t need to, just watches as riku takes a bite of his slice, a hint of frosting left on his lips. riku feels yushi’s thumb brushing it away, the touch lingering just a second too long, and it makes his heart skip, a familiar ache building.

the others are laughing, talking, the remnants of the cake scattered around them, and riku’s aware of it all in the background, but all he can focus on is the quiet bubble he and yushi seem to have found within it. yushi’s hand slips around his shoulder, pulling him close, and riku leans into it without thinking, lets himself be held, lets himself feel the quiet, steady rhythm of yushi’s heartbeat against his own. attention like this from yushi is unpredictable these days. he doesn’t usually treat riku like he’s special in front of everyone, spreading his choice of physical affection evenly amongst them. sometimes riku even feels like yushi is unfairly cold to him but he doesn’t need a therapist to knows those thoughts shouldn’t be taken too far. even if they seep through when he lets his day be swayed by how many times yushi touches him instead of someone else. today is a good day so far.

“happy birthday, riku-chan,” yushi says, his voice low against riku’s ear, meant only for him, and riku can feel the warmth of it settling over him, soft and heavy.

they stay like that for a while, close, comfortable, and riku lets himself pretend that this is something real, that he’s allowed to hold onto it. the others don’t seem to notice, or maybe they just choose not to, too wrapped up in their own jokes, their own pieces of cake. but eventually, they gather their things, and yushi’s arm slips away, the moment gone as quickly as it came.

everyone gathers for a meal that night, letting riku choose his favorite restaurant to eat at (he chooses one he knows that yushi enjoys). it’s a gift in itself that yushi chooses to sit next to him at the table unprompted. closer than he usually sits, close enough that their knees bump under the table, allowing for brief moments of contact that make riku’s pulse trip every time. he’s trying to hold onto it, this quiet attention that yushi gives him. he tries to let himself sink into it like it’s something he’s allowed to have, but he know it isn’t. even in a universe where yushi loved him back it wouldn’t be.

and riku wants that—wants it so badly he can barely focus on anything else, can barely hear the conversations around him, can only feel the press of yushi’s leg against his, the sound of his voice resting on the surface of riku’s mind. it’s these tiny gestures that make his heart ache, and it makes the feelings of hate and love feel not so different from each other.

yushi is watching him tonight, more than he usually does, eyes soft and steady as he nudges bits of food onto riku’s plate. “you should eat more,” he says. “you have to take good care of yourself.”

riku swallows, nods, but he doesn’t trust himself to say anything back. he feels the words pressing against his chest, all the things he wants to ask, to know. he’s not sure yushi has even noticed how much all of this has been weighing on him. its too much to feel the care in yushi’s tone—to feel how close it sounds to someone who loves him.

riku laughs along with the others and lets himself be happy despite the burning in his throat, tries to keep himself grounded in the moment, but his mind keeps slipping, keeps reaching for that feeling, the one that flares up every time yushi looks at him like that.

its nice, all of the extra attention today, but its just as bad as it is good. its nice to feel the way yushi loves even for only a day, but it feels like a trick in the same respect. tomorrow will come and it won’t be riku’s birthday anymore. there won’t be any reason for added attention and affection, because they aren’t in love. riku will still be there for what he knows he’s wanted for though, and he can just hope that yushi keeps wanting him.

when they’re back home, yushi whispers praises in riku’s ear while he fucks him, slow and drawn out like for tonight they’re in love. it’s past midnight, but riku lets his last gift to himself be to believe it.

a few days pass by and they’re all slumped on the floor of the practice room, boxes of delivery food scattered around them, and riku’s eyes keep drifting toward yushi without permission.

yushi, who’s slumped against the wall, leaned into sion’s side. sion is talking, smiling, holding a cheese ball between his chopsticks and pressing it toward yushi. it’s a casual gesture—probably innocent—but riku feels something ugly stir in his chest as yushi leans forward, eyes half-lidded, mouth parting around the bite. sion is saying something, voice low, and yushi laughs, soft and easy.

riku looks away. he’s been staring too long; it’s obvious by now, maybe even desperate. he bites into his rice, trying to ignore the tight coil winding through him, the sense that this is something he’s not supposed to see. it’s stupid, really. just food. just lunch. they’re all exhausted, and it doesn’t mean anything if yushi’s letting sion feed him. they all do this sort of thing, especially sion. he shouldn’t be feeling this way.

but his fingers twitch against the edge of his box, a low frustration bubbling up that he can’t quite shove down.

“riku,” yushi’s voice cuts through, startling him from his thoughts. “you okay?”

riku raises his head, too quick, to find yushi’s gaze trained on him, head tilted, concern softening the lines of his face. sion’s still holding the chopsticks, eyes flicking back and forth between them, something almost curious in his expression.

riku nods, tightening his grip on the box. “fine. just tired.”

and maybe yushi believes him; maybe he doesn’t. but as he leans back into sion’s attention, riku feels the pang low in his chest like a bruise spreading under skin.

and it’s funny, riku thinks, because a week ago, he was putting on his usual flirting performance with daeyoung, just for a laugh, and yushi left a mark on his collar so dark he had to spend an hour covering it up.

which is fine. that could have been unrelated (unlikely). yushi isn’t his. yet it still feels unfair that yushi lets sion lean in close, lets him talk softly, feeding him with that easygoing smile, like there’s no boundary to be crossed, nothing at stake.

riku grips his chopsticks tighter, trying to ignore the low buzz of jealousy under his skin. it shouldn’t matter; he knows it shouldn’t, and yet he finds himself watching yushi’s mouth around sion’s chopsticks, the way his lips linger, the faint flush creeping into his own cheeks that feels shameful. yushi catches him looking, brows raised slightly, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes, and riku’s chest goes tight.

to think yushi knows what he’s doing would be too selfish. there’s no point to trying to make riku jealous, he already throws every ounce of attention he posesses towards yushi. its pathetic, really. too much so to deserve any type of targeting attention like this.

and in the most pathetic fashion, riku acts cold towards sion for the rest of the day.

it’s a quiet night when they’re laying on riku’s bed, both on their stomachs facing the foot of the bed while they watch a video playing on his phone. practice let out early on account of enough perfect run throughs in a row—giving everyone a few hours to feel like they can breathe again.

they’ve been in here for around an hour now and haven’t so much as kissed. it’s not something riku would ever expect to feel happy about the absence of, but he kind of likes that. it feels nice just to spend time together because they like each other’s company and no other reason. it’s a closer display to the friendship that riku so desperately wanted out of than whatever they are these days, but he’s enjoying the simplicity of it.

the person he was a few months ago would hit him over the head for even thinking about giving up an opportunity for sex with yushi, but he doesn’t exist anymore so it doesn’t matter.

when the video ends, yushi silently gets up to take a sip of the coffee he’d left on the desk. riku watches, because his eyes always follow yushi. but when he notices that yushi locks the door as he passes it on the way back and he feels like something chips off in his chest.

how stupid is he to forget what they’re here for? they’re home for the evening, daeyoung’s been silently in his own room for a while, they’d be foolish to waste the opportunity.

when yushi is back on the bed there’s a hand pushing up riku’s shirt and a mouth on his neck, and as always, he melts into it.

it’s not like he doesn’t want this. he’d say something if he wanted to stop and he knows yushi would listen. the problem is that he doesn’t want to stop, he never does, no matter how much it burns afterwards. it never hurts when yushi’s there to do all of the right things that make every thought leave riku’s mind. so he pushes yushi’s shoulder to guide his back onto the mattress, and yushi goes easily because he always does.

doing this has gotten too easy.

yushi is pliant under him and riku can taste the caramel from his coffee when they kiss. clothes seem to come off without much effort at this point as they manage to push anything separating them out of the way without breaking contact for too long. again, they’ve gotten good at this now.

its only been a couple months since that night, but they’ve done this enough times to have the basics memorized at this point. the first few times were fumbling and a little awkward, both lacking much real experience, but they’ve quickly become experts. even with all of the heartache, at least riku can say that he knows things like how yushi likes being pulled apart slowly but not too slow or he gets impatient. it’s a formula that riku knows by heart, but sometimes he likes to pretend he doesn’t.

like now, he can tell it’s too much by the way yushi squirms with each crook of his fingers inside him, the sounds coming from him becoming too stuttered and urgent. riku slides their mouths together again and yushi bites his bottom lip too hard.

“annoying,” he warns when riku yelps, but his voice is laced with a whimper when he says it because of the way riku’s fingers curl in reaction. “i know you don’t want me to come like this so get on with it.”

“that hurt,” riku pouts, but there’s a smile tugging at his mouth threatening to show.

“i’ll kiss it better if you ever get to fucking me.”

heat pools in riku’s gut at how words like that sound coming from yushi’s mouth. he’s heard it enough times now but he’ll never really get used to it. he listens, and lets himself enjoy how he can feel yushi shudder against him when he’s empty again.

when riku thrusts in its slow again at first, but he can’t maintain it. something sharp runs down his spine when he feels the way yushi’s nails scrape over his shoulder blades and it all becomes a bit more urgent. there’s no need to rush tonight but they do anyway because they’re both too lead by greed.

it’s a string of desperate sounds of wanting and needing and trying to consume each other. yushi spills onto his own stomach with a strangled whine only moments after riku wraps a hand around him, getting no more than a few strokes in. it’s the way he can see the attempt and failure to stay quiet on yushi’s face that pushes riku over the edge only shortly after, teeth sinking into his lip with a groan.

they breathe against each other for a second—then another—before riku pulls out. he almost misses the trash can when he tosses the condom into it from the bed because he’s trying not to lose yushi from the corner of his eye. yushi, who looks so beautiful like this. dark hair damp and plastered to his forehead, lashes fluttered against the warmth of his cheeks. riku feels himself get caught in it, in the soft, flushed calm between them. when he settles back, he presses his face into the curve of yushi’s neck, breathing in, hoping for a moment that he can hold onto this—the warmth of him, close and real—for a little longer.

“it’s hot,” yushi mutters, but hand drifts up anyway, fingers sliding through riku’s hair, soft and absent. riku melts into it. “you’re sweaty.”

riku laughs a little, quiet and low. “so are you.” it’s too intimate again. they’ve both gotten off, the task is over, yet they’re both still here. the lines blur and blur and blur.

they don’t move for a moment. yushi’s fingers stay tangled in riku’s hair, lazily trailing at his scalp, and riku can feel himself sinking, trying to press closer, to memorize the weight of yushi’s hand. maybe if he doesn’t move they’ll fall asleep like this.

yushi sighs, as if he’s just remembered where he is and where he should be. his hand slips away, and riku feels the absence of it like something hollow. “we should sleep soon. it’s late,” yushi says, voice soft and reluctant.

riku wants to say something, anything to make him stay. he wants to reach out, to grab his wrist, to pull him back down into this quiet where everything feels right, where he doesn’t have to think about the moments slipping through his fingers. but he doesn’t; he just watches as yushi sits up, hair still sticking in the wrong directions, eyes a little too heavy for this hour.

“night, riku,” yushi says gently, a small, tired smile just for him, and riku feels it settle, warm and soft, somewhere deep in his chest.

“night,” he whispers back, voice barely there, as if speaking too loud will shatter what’s left of this moment. he lies back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling after yushi slips out of his room, and the quiet feels too big, too empty.

riku waits until he hears the shower turn off and yushi’s bedroom door close before he decides he should probably stop wallowing and shower too.

it’s only when he comes back in his room he realizes it smells like sex. he chokes on it.

it’s past midnight the next day that riku and sion are alone in the practice room. riku is sitting on the floor, back against the mirror, eyes closed as his head falls back against the mirror, legs sprawled out in front of him like he can’t be bothered to hold himself up anymore. he’s so exhausted he feels hollowed out. he’s been fumbling the same choreography all night, missing beats he should know by heart. he can’t seem to pull himself together and their first stage is in two days. it’s humiliating.

he lifts his head when sion steps closer, but he feels the weight of his gaze, heavy with concern, and part of him wants to disappear into the floor. of course sion knows something’s off. he should know better than to think sion can’t tell when he’s not himself, and lately, riku knows he’s been slipping. the way he acted the other day was a mistake. he isn’t hiding as well as he thought.

“you okay?” sion asks, voice tentative, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to ask.

riku swallows, feeling the tightness in his chest grow sharper. he doesn’t feel like lying. he nods, keeping his eyes on the floor. “yeah. just tired,” he says, though it feels like the words are falling apart as they leave his mouth. the same excuse he always has these days. it sounds weak, flimsy, and he knows it’s not enough to convince sion, but it’s all he’s got.

he hears sion sigh softly, sees him shift out of the corner of his eye. “it’s just, you haven’t seemed like yourself lately. i mean, everyone’s tired, but— i don’t know.” he’s leaving space for riku to be honest, to let him in.

tears well behind his eyes way too soon. it hurts worse than he thought it would to hear the worry in sion’s voice. riku wants to brush it off, say something light and reassuring, but he can’t even muster a smile. he’s exhausted in a way that sleep won’t fix, in a way that goes deeper than any of them know. “it’s just the choreography. it’s not clicking for some reason and i feel like i don’t have enough time to practice,” he says, forcing the words out, trying to sound casual, like it’s nothing. “i’ll be fine once we get through the next few days.”

sion stands there, silent for a beat too long, and riku can feel the worry radiating off him without words, the way he’s debating whether to push or let it go. riku feels like he’s balancing on a thin line, a fragile barrier between himself and the truth, and he’s terrified of what’ll happen if it breaks.

riku shifts uncomfortably when sion slides down the mirror to sit beside him, feeling exposed, like sion’s gaze is stripping away all the defenses he’s barely holding together.

then sion’s eyes catch on something, his gaze sharpening as he notices the edge of a bruise peeking out from where riku’s shirt has slipped down his chest, the collar drooping low. it’s faint, a shade of purple fading into yellow, right on his collarbone. riku’s face flushes instantly, heat creeping up his neck, and he yanks his shirt up, trying to cover it.

“does this have anything to do with what’s bothering you so much?” sion’s tone is light, teasing, but there’s something else beneath it, something cautious, like he’s aware of the lines he’s toeing, testing how far riku’s willing to let him go.

riku’s cheeks burn, and he shakes his head quickly, averting his gaze. “no,” he answers (lies). the word burns on his tongue. “i’m just really tired.”

sion’s frown deepens, and he watches riku, eyes searching, like he’s piecing together a puzzle riku hasn’t handed him all the pieces for. and riku feels the guilt prickling at him, heavy and insistent, because he doesn’t lie to sion. he’s been doing a lot of lying lately and it’s starting to feel like it’s staining his soul.

“okay,” sion says finally, voice soft, resigned. he doesn’t push any further, and it doesn’t feel relieving like it should. the guilt just drives deeper into riku’s chest. “just— you know that i’m here.”

riku nods, blinking back the sting in his eyes, his throat tightening painfully. “thank you, hyung,” he whispers, barely able to get the words out without tears making it out too, and he hates how small it sounds, like it’s not nearly enough for everything sion’s offering him.

when sion hugs, him riku allows a couple tears to fall. sion may be able to feel his shirt dampening where riku’s face is pressed against his shoulder, but he can’t bring himself to care. for just a moment, he lets himself accept the comfort he doesn’t deserve.

he’ll feel better later; he always does. it doesn’t hurt like this all the time. riku worries and worries and worries and yushi presses him into the mattress and kisses all of it away. still, there’s a part of riku that has a sneaking suspicion he’s spitting venom in his mouth each time.

the car’s hum fills the air on the ride back from the music station; the only sound that can be heard amongst the steady breath of the bodies filling the car mixed with the remaining sounds of the city in the late night hours. moonlight spills in thin threads through the window, covering yushi’s face in the softest glow, eyes heavy but alert, fixed on riku in the shadows. they’re close, close enough to share warmth that they don’t need in the middle of july, knees brushing, shoulders pressed tight, feeling the shift of every inhale between them.

usually a car with all six of them together doesn’t see a moment of silence, but they’re on their second week of promotions now and everyone’s been burnt down. any moment to sleep should be taken advantage of and four in the morning at the conclusion of their work day (night?) is one of those moments. riku’s head is resting on yushi’s shoulder and he should be sleeping too, but it’s more enjoyable at the moment to watch the light move over yushi’s face with each passing block. a yawn comes out anyway.

“tired?” yushi’s voice is low, slipping out in a breath, not enough to stir anyone. but it sends a ripple through the stillness between them and a shiver down riku’s spine.

“yeah,” riku murmurs back, a lie and a truth. his gaze flickers away, but he can’t stay like that, his eyes dragging back to yushi’s, drawn to the curve of his cheek, the gentle slope of his mouth. he looks beautiful like this. riku would tell him that if they were in love.

yushi’s face softens, and there’s that slight tilt to his lips, his eyes dark with the weight of all he’s not saying. he leans closer, their foreheads almost touching, breath mingling in the space between, so close riku feels it, warm and steady, pulling him in. “kiss,” yushi whispers, just a brush of sound against riku’s lips.

riku’s heartbeat stumbles, but he doesn’t move. they’ve never taken the risk of doing anything without at least a closed door. “they’re right there,” he breathes out, barely a sound.

yushi’s gaze flickers down to riku’s mouth again. “you don’t want to?”

“i do,” riku’s answer slips out too quickly, rough-edged, and he feels his cheeks flush, knows yushi can probably see it, can feel it in the way their breaths hitch, almost synchronized. he shifts, careful. he glances around the van, the faint shapes of the members still sleeping, undisturbed and unaware. riku should pull back, he knows, but the weight of yushi’s gaze holds him there, the soft, insistent press of his fingers holding his breath hostage.

a beat passes, the silence thickening, filling with every glance that lingers, every excuse to stay close. yushi inches nearer, his lips just a hair away, his voice soft as a sigh, stubborn. “just one.”

and it’s there, hanging between them, heavy and electric, the kind of closeness that makes every nerve sing, the kind of tension that blurs the line between wanting and needing. its been a while since those words have had a different meaning anyway. riku can feel his strength waver, caught in the pull of yushi’s gaze. he leans in, just enough for his breath to brush yushi’s lips, their eyes locked, desire reverberating in the narrow space left between them.

riku’s lips part, hesitation clinging to his breath, but yushi’s so close, eyes gentle and unrelenting, and he feels himself moving, inch by inch, pulled in as if the choice was never his. his heart stumbles as their lips first meet, cautious and gentle, just a brush at first.

it’s careful, so careful, just the barest contact, but it’s enough to make his pulse race, his hand twitching at his side as he fights the urge to pull yushi closer. yushi’s lips are warm, a quiet invitation, and riku’s world narrows to that small point of connection, every other sound, every other thought slipping away.

the kiss lingers, just for a heartbeat, then another. riku pulls away first, breathless, cheeks warm, eyes flickering up to find yushi’s gaze still steady on him. he probably should have left it at that, but as has become a running theme, good is never good enough. so riku closes the gap between them again—and of course the kiss can’t stay a simple exchange. it can’t stay as the just one that yushi asked for.

tongues pass the seams of lips too soon to be safe, want building with each slow movement of mouths against each other. they kiss slow and careful to stay quiet, but somehow that’s worse. it only makes stopping an impossible task. riku’s hand is curled tightly in yushi’s shirt, using it as an anchor.

then, a rustle—a shift in the row just ahead of them. someone stirs, the sound breaking through the silence like a stone dropped into still water.

riku pulls back, too fast, his heart leaping to his throat as he glances around, bracing for someone to wake, to turn and see them. no one does. sakuya just settles back into his seat in front of them, facing away from the window where the light was probably bothering him. something like guilt pangs in riku’s chest.

yushi’s hand tightens, gentle, reassuring. he doesn’t pull away, just leans a little closer. its grounding. “he’s still sleeping,” he whispers, his voice a warm brush against riku’s cheek. “it’s okay.”

riku lets out a shaky breath, relief washing over him, the tension in his shoulders easing as he looks in the rear view mirror to see their manager’s eyes still fixed on the road, everyone else still asleep. but his heart is still racing, his skin still tingling, and he feels yushi’s gaze on him, quiet and intent, catching his eye with a soft, knowing smile.

“sorry,” riku murmurs, voice barely a breath, cheeks flushed, embarrassed at the way he’d been startled

“it’s okay,” yushi whispers again, his hand still resting over riku’s wrist. he doesn’t move to close the space between them again, doesn’t ask for another kiss, but his thumb brushes riku’s skin in a soft, lingering touch. and it’s another reminder of why this is so easy to fall into. when the world is just yushi, nothing matters.

“have you ever been in love?” ryo asks over a mouthful of cereal.

it’s eight in the morning and riku has barely had the chance to register what day it is, yet ryo has the capability of forming introspective thoughts and possibly loaded questions. he’s convinced this kid’s brain never rests.

“huh?”

“when you were younger or whatever, before all this, were you ever in love with anyone?” ryo stirs his spoon around in his bowl for a moment. “or now.”

riku"s body tenses. he forces a spoonful of cereal in his own mouth to buy himself a second, decompressing as much as he can in the short amount of time. there’s no way ryo is asking this because he actually knows anything, they’ve been really good at hiding it. he’s just being curious.

“i’m not that old,” riku says, forced humor in his tone to frame the absurdity of the suggestion. “who would i even be in love with now?” it’s a fair question; he really doesn’t have the time to fall in love with anyone that he isn’t living with.

“yushi,” ryo answers with a shrug, like this is a normal thing to be talking about, like its normal to accuse someone of being in love with their friend over breakfast. riku’s wall that he"s built up is only made of glass and that"s becoming unfortunately evident.

riku came down here because they were out of milk upstairs, but he starts thinking he should’ve just stayed in his own dorm and had toast for breakfast.

“yushi,” riku parrots, but the name probably feels sharper in his mouth than it did in ryo’s.

“you guys spend a lot of time together these days,” explains ryo, again, like this is a reasonable conversation.

“we all spend a lot of time together. we’re scheduled to spend like twenty hours of the day together most days, actually.”

ryo gives him a look that says i’m not stupid. the part of riku that denial has consumed feels offended.

“saku said he saw you guys go to the bathroom together twice and you whisper a lot to each other. you look at him a lot when he’s not looking." ryo"s voice is steady, unrelenting.

sakuya probably wasn’t sleeping in the car the other night. riku thinks briefly that he hates him, that he hates yushi too, but the thought retracts itself, morphs into a now reoccurring fantasy of laying in the middle of the street.

riku points his spoon at the younger, accusatory. “stop gossiping.” his voice lacks any bite, attempting to pull any reason from the conversation. he lowers his spoon, stirring around the remaining cereal in his bowl for a moment. he’s not really hungry anymore. “i’m not in love with yushi. or anyone. i never have been.”

surprisingly, ryo seems to take his word for it. maybe he believes him or maybe he decided to drop it out of some weird sense of mercy because he can see through riku’s thin veil, but it’s not worth pushing.

they talk idly about the things they’ve lost in getting lucky and about how feeling something as strong as romantic love in your youth sounds like a nice experience if you get to have it. riku feels like a liar.

promotions finish up but nothing slows down. they’d already started preparing for the next comeback halfway through this one. riku’s mind is weighed down with choreography and lyrics and notes from producers about everything he could be better at—and it’s all shoved into a corner of his brain because there’s no room left for it when yushi is taking up all the rest of the space.

it’s been overwhelming for a while, but it’s getting worse. he’s avoiding yushi a little now. not that he’s very good at it, but he tries. he just needs some space, but that doesn’t feel good either. it feels too lonely.

riku doesn’t know what else to do, so he calls his mom.

he calls his mom and cries like a little kid.

he doesn’t tell her the truth; he can’t bring himself to. even a censored version, because he’s definitely not going to tell his mother the whole truth. she would still scold him for putting himself in this situation in the first place.

he knows that this is his own fault, that he’s being wreckless and irresponsible. he’s embarrassed. so he blames it on work. says the choreography’s brutal, that he’s exhausted from everything, from trying so hard. he lets his voice break, lets himself stumble over words he would never stumble over normally, and when she says something gentle, something soothing, he sobs harder. she doesn’t press him, doesn’t ask why he’s unraveling like this over a few long hours and missed hours of sleep, and he pretends she doesn’t know. for his pride, he lets himself believe she doesn’t know.

 he doesn’t think about how pathetic it is that he’s crying to his mother because he’s stuck in some sort of situationship with his friend slash coworker who he’s in love with but he can’t even bring himself to face reality and tell her the real reason he’s so upset so he just cries aimlessly, and it brings a moment of relief.

when riku hangs up he sets his phone down on his bed, the locked screen lighting up as a response. his phone wallpaper is a four-cut photo of all of them, but now he can only see yushi smiling in the way that shows all of his teeth as riku is poking his cheek. something hot rushes under his skin and riku throws his phone into his pillow with enough force to make it bounce off and onto the floor with a forceful crash. he doesn’t check if it’s broken.

“riku riku,” yushi mumbles sweetly against the curve of his ear like his dick isn’t buried inside riku right now. he’s been doing things like this more lately—things that make all of this seem so normal. riku’s brain feels like it’ll pour out of his ears when he does these things. yushi slows the rhythm of his hips while he speaks and it makes riku’s whole body shiver. “it’s okay?”

“hm?” riku isn’t all there, and it’s probably noticeable. probably what made yushi ask in the first place. it’s not that the sex is bad (really it’s quite the opposite), he’s just so tired. the kind of tired that sleep won’t fix, that numbs his chest through his fingertips. its been getting harder to ignore lately. he’s known the wall has been approaching, the moment where all of this really stops being enough. he just didn’t know it would be while they’re fucking on a random thursday night. riku gives a real answer, his voice coming out in a mumble. “yeah—good. good. more.”

its honest. more is what he wants. more than whatever this is, more after they’re done doing this, more than a see you in the morning before yushi goes back to his own bed and riku sleeps alone with nothing but an empty feeling. but he’ll take the way yushi grinds deeper for now, desperate sounds ghosting over riku’s ear because yushi fucks like he’s the one taking it and riku knows there’s no one in the world like him.

riku can feel himself coming back, inching away from the wall that was pushing his breath back on his face a moment ago. he’s reteaching himself to find what he needs in just this and it’s going well until yushi kisses him. riku can feel the poison slip into his mouth with the first exchange of saliva and it tastes so familiar. he can’t breathe anymore.

“tell me you love me,” riku mumbles when their mouths part, because he really doesn’t care anymore. he can feel yushi’s hips stutter and then stop. his eyes are screwed shut, but he can imagine what yushi must look like. he doesn’t let himself look.

“what?” yushi’s voice is small. he sounds scared.

“i don’t care if you mean it. i just need to hear it,” riku reasons, something aching in his voice. he would open his eyes, but there are tears pooling now that he can’t let fall. “please.”

“riku,” yushi says, his voice holding a roughness that wasn’t there before. he’s frozen now, but he hasn’t pulled out yet. “what the fuck?” he does and the empty feeling travels through riku’s whole body like a shock.

it crashes down on him a moment later—the weight of what he‘s just done. riku opens his eyes but he’s staring through yushi, past him, somewhere else entirely, even as yushi sits back on his knees, drawing the blanket over his lap. it’s still covering riku too as he pushes himself up to lean against the headboard, but he still feels exposed in a way that layers over his bare skin won’t ease. daring to finally read his expression, it’s obvious now that yushi looks startled, but hurt paints his face too. riku feels like throwing up.

“sorry,” riku forces out. his voice is cracked, hollow, barely scraping its way up his throat. he can’t meet yushi’s eyes for longer than a fraction of a second. “sorry.” other words flow through his mind but they won’t make it out. for a second, he forgets to hold the tears back and they fall. “i didn’t mean that.” liar. the words don’t sound real over the ringing in his ears and he hopes he won’t be able to hear yushi’s either because if he does the sound of his heart breaking this time will be loud enough for both of them.

“riku.”

riku’s always loved the way his name sounds in yushi’s mouth. it always comes out like cotton candy. this time it comes out like a knife.

“we shouldn’t do this anymore,” riku manages. somehow he thinks it’ll hurt less if he says it before yushi. it doesn’t, but he’s already driven the knife into his own chest, so it’s too late.

“riku,” yushi repeats. riku wants to tell him to stop, to leave, but the words won’t come out. more tears fall before he can stop them.

tears flow uncontrollably for a moment until yushi breaks the barrier between them swipes them away with his thumb, his fingers brushing riku’s cheek in a way that’s so careful like he knows riku could break. “riku-chan,” he murmurs, so gentle it aches, the way he pulls at threads riku’s already trying to cut away. “don’t cry.”

and such kind words are so cruel because riku wishes he could stop, but the tears don’t stop falling now, even when yushi is trying to brush them away. he’s endured so much embarrassment in the last few minutes that he’s numb to the feeling now. he just feels bare.

“can you tell me the truth?” yushi asks after a moment of silence passes through them. he’s inched closer to riku again since he started crying for real, petting his hair soothingly. it should be comforting but it just makes riku feel more pathetic.

riku huffs out something between a sob and a laugh. there’s no use lying, not when he’s already lost everything he tried to protect. “i’m in love with you.” his voice is laced with something bitter like the words taste sour in his mouth. riku’s breathing steadies enough to speak, but the weight in his chest doesn’t ease. “sorry. i know that’s wrong. i was supposed to get over it.” i’m sorry i lied to you. i love you. i’m sorry i took things that weren’t mine. i love you. i’m sorry i let you think you could trust me. i’m sorry i love you.

silence hangs heavy again. riku’s tears haven’t stopped but rather slowed now, his body no longer wracked with sobs but still while a steady flow of tears drip down his cheeks. yushi silently wipes them away like he can fix it, but he can’t. riku gently takes ahold of his wrist and pulls his hand away.

“it’s my fault,” yushi finally speaks, voice barely above a whisper, the words falling heavy into the quiet.

riku lifts his head, daring to look at yushi again, who’s taken his turn to stare down at the blanket. he wants to ask how that’s even possible but the words die on his tongue.

“it was my idea to start doing this,”  yushi says, his voice soft, small like he’s not sure he wants to hear himself say it. “i knew we shouldn’t but i started it anyway. i guess i just thought—” he stops, his words hanging, and riku feels the ache stretch between them, silent and raw.

“i know you didn’t ask for this.” riku’s voice trembles but he forces himself to speak. “and i know it wasn’t supposed to mean anything. i just…” he swallows, his throat thick. “i thought i could handle it. thought i’d be fine if it was just this.”

yushi’s face twists, a flicker of something sharp. “you really think it meant nothing to me?”

the question catches riku off guard, stealing the air from his lungs. he opens his mouth, but no words come out. he closes it. yushi’s eyes are searching his, too open, too honest, and riku feels the weight of it pressing down on him. yushi has seen him naked more times than he could count now and he’s gotten used to it, but riku suddenly feels completely bare.

“i—” riku tries to piece himself together, but everything feels scattered, like he’s breaking apart in front of him. “i didn’t think you felt that way. you never—”

“never what?” yushi’s voice is quiet, his tone careful but not gentle, like he’s trying to hold something in. “never said it? never showed it? did you?”

the words hit riku hard, leaving him reeling, like he’s just stepped off solid ground and into freefall. “no. i didn’t.”

yushi’s hand comes to where riku’s fingers are twisted around the blanket in his lap, slowly loosening his grip to fold their hands together, grounding him, holding him steady. “i’m scared,” yushi’s voice softens, and now it’s him who looks fragile. “i tried to be okay with what you were willing to give. i tried. i didn’t want to push, but i don’t think i’ve been very good at not pushing anyway. it wasn’t enough.” his breath hitches, and riku feels his heart pound painfully in his chest.

“then why didn’t you… why didn’t you tell me?” riku’s voice cracks, and he hates himself for how small it sounds. “you could’ve said something. we could’ve figured it out. i would’ve—”

“would’ve what?” yushi asks, and there’s a bitter edge to his tone now. “told me i was wrong? told me it was a mistake? i couldn’t hear that. we’d already gone too far.” he stops for a second, his breath steadying. “you could’ve said something too.”

guilt twists in the pit of riku’s stomach. he’s spent so much time feeling bad for himself that he never even considered yushi could be just as scared as he is. the feeling that he never deserved any of this rings in the back of his mind again.

“i know. i’m sorry,” riku mumbles, and it feels pathetic. he doesn’t have a good answer or an excuse. he’s just a coward, and there’s no good way to say that. without good reason he adds, “i don’t think this was a mistake.” it’s a half truth. not ever starting this would have probably been a good thing, but riku is too greedy to admit that. he wants to keep all of the memories for himself.

“you don’t?” yushi’s tone hasn’t softened completely yet. he’s treading carefully.

riku shakes his head. “i don’t think anything with you could be a mistake.”

“but i don’t know what to do now,” yushi says, and his voice is small again. riku recognizes the look in his eyes, he can see the way he always tries carrying so much weight. he’s been trying to carry this too. “i don’t know if we should keep doing this now. it’s too much with everything. since…” he trails off, his gaze flickering away, his voice barely a whisper. “since i’m in love with you too.”

the admission hangs between them, heavy and raw, and riku feels it settle deep in his chest, leaving him breathless. he doesn’t know what to say, how to make sense of this, of everything that’s unraveling between them. yushi alluded to sharing feelings of more than just what they were doing, but hearing him say those words hit heavier than could have been expected.

“yuu-chan,” riku whispers, his hand reaching up to brush against yushi’s cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath his fingertips. he isn’t really sure what to say. neither of them have said it, but the problems that come from this are obvious. they aren’t normal people who can just be in love and carry on in a relationship. there’s so many complications that would bring that they can’t take on. not when they’re still only finding their footing in everything else. all riku can do is apologize. “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.” for taking part in this. for putting this weight on you. for letting it get this far.

yushi closes his eyes at the touch, his face softening. he leans into riku’s hand, just a little, like he’s letting himself believe in something, if only for a moment. “don’t apologize,” he murmurs. “just…stay here.”

the simplicity of it makes riku’s chest ache. he wants to stay, wants to hold onto this, onto yushi, but the deep-seated terror that they’ll only end up hurting each other more sinks heavy in his chest.

“we could try,” riku’s voice is barely there, wavering in the quiet. “i know maybe it’s stupid. i don’t know what’s best for everyone, but we’re a strong team. i don’t think it would do any more harm, even if something went wrong.”

“i don’t want something to go wrong,” yushi admits, his voice so small, so unsteady, that riku has to look down at the floor to keep the tears from welling up in his eyes again. he really wishes sometimes that he wasn’t so quick to cry. yushi, who’s always sure, always steady, doesn’t let things linger or pull him under like riku does. and seeing him like this — quiet, vulnerable — it makes everything ache.

riku lays himself bare and says what’s been echoing in his head. “it already feels wrong to not be with you. it hurts.” he pauses, inhales. “i don’t know if you feel that too. i can get over it if i have to. we can stop doing this and i’ll learn to be your friend again and it doesn’t have to affect anyone.”

“i don’t want to be your friend,” says yushi, and the words don’t come out with any bite but it cuts deep into riku’s chest. his eyes are wet, his mouth open like he’s about to say something he hasn’t quite found yet, and when riku just looks at him, something shifts, tightens. “i don’t think i can.”

riku swallows, lets the silence settle over them, feels the words in his mouth like something caught in his throat. they don’t come out.

a few seconds pass by in silence, but it feels like hours. “we can try,” yushi murmurs finally, softer than riku’s ever heard him, and when riku looks up, he sees it — that unspoken thing in yushi’s eyes, something he thinks he recognizes from all of the times he’d convinced himself he’s insane.

“you really want to?” riku asks. he’s terrified of the answer, but it’s an unavoidable question.

yushi’s lips press into a thin line, and he looks at riku with something that borders on pleading, a hope buried so deep that riku can see it almost hurts him to let it out. “i think it’s worth it. if you want to.”

riku nods, and the space between them feels heavy, burning. “then we’ll try. for real.”

and in that moment, riku feels something shift, something fragile but real, taking root where all his fears had been. he doesn’t know if it’s hope, or just the courage to let himself believe, but he leans forward, resting his forehead against yushi’s, and lets the warmth of him steady the broken pieces.

“i love you,” he whispers, barely audible, but the smile comes out through his voice. “it feels good to say it now.”

yushi laughs, probably partially out of relief. the sound has never been so sweet. “i love you too.” he kisses the corner of riku’s mouth and riku welcomes the way warmth blooms in his chest. “i think daeyoung will be relieved he can stop pretending like he can’t hear us.”

“we’re quiet,” riku scoffs, sitting back again. “seriously, we do a good job.”

“you sleep in too late to see the look he gives me when i see him in the kitchen in the morning.”

riku feels the warmth come to his face again as he groans. “that’s embarrassing. now at least we can say we’re in love so it’s an excuse.”

yushi smiles, warm and happy. its enough to fill the gaps that have formed in riku’s heart. “yeah. we’re in love.”

it feels just as good to hear as it does to say.

(that night, yushi doesn’t go back to sleep in his own room. riku dreams of dark hair and toothy smiles and saying i love you i love you i love you.)