Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Ricky woke up to pain.

It bloomed right behind his eyes– a dull, persistent throb, like someone knocking from inside his skull. He groaned, arm flinging over his face as he squinted against the sliver of sunlight slicing through the curtains.

His throat was dry. His mouth tasted like whiskey and regret.

“What the hell,” he mumbled, voice scratchy.

The room around him spun slightly as he sat up, sheets pooling around his waist. His blazer was on the desk chair, crumpled. His shoes were on opposite ends of the room. There was a smear of eyeliner on the pillow.

He blinked. “Okay.”

Bits of the previous night trickled back in hazy flashes: laughter, music, the sharp tang of alcohol, someone– Gunwook?– holding his arm. The rest was a blur. A warm, dizzy blur that ended with cold air and spinning lights.

He winced as he stood, joints stiff like he’d run a marathon in dress shoes. His phone blinked on the nightstand — two missed calls from Hao, one blurry group photo in the hallway, and a vague memory of being carried or maybe dragged outside.

Something about a journalist. Gunwook saying something serious with that worried, adorable wrinkle between his brows. Then… flashes. The pavement outside. Cold air. Gunwook’s hand around his waist—

He blinked hard.

Nope. That was it. A clean blackout after that.

Lovely.

He pulled on the nearest clean t-shirt, finger-combed his hair, and threw on some sunglasses before heading toward the breakfast lounge. Hopefully, with enough coffee and carbs, he could survive whatever meetings the day had planned.

The lounge was already half-full, the clink of cutlery and soft murmur of hotel guests padding the air.

Ricky spotted them right away– Hanbin, Hao, and Gunwook at a corner table, plates already half-full. Hanbin waved. Hao smirked. Gunwook didn’t look up.

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Hanbin chirped. “You look like you got hit by a train.”

“Multiple trains actually,” Hao added. 

Ricky slid into the seat opposite them, pulling his sunglasses off with a wince. “I hate you both.”

“You hate hydration and pacing yourself,” Hanbin corrected, pushing a glass of water toward him. “Drink before you faint.”

Ricky grabbed the glass and downed it like a shot, then let his head fall to the table. “What did I do?”

Hao raised an eyebrow. “You don’t remember?”

Gunwook stiffened visibly. Ricky didn’t miss it, even with half his face still pressed to the wood.

“No,” he said slowly. “I remember the party. Bits. Then– nothing.”

Gunwook let out a breath that sounded far too forced for comfort. 

“You were a menace,” Hao said. “Gunwook practically had to wrestle the whiskey bottle out of your hand.”

At the mention of his name again, Gunwook stiffened.

Ricky turned to him, lifting his sunglasses slightly. “Did I?”

Gunwook’s eyes widened like a deer caught mid-exit. “Uh. Kind of. I mean. You were already… you’d had a lot.”

Ricky tilted his head, eyeing him. “You okay? You’re pale.”

“I’m always pale,” Gunwook muttered.

Hanbin leaned forward. “Well, you didn’t dance on a table. That was a win.”

“You did step on Gunwook’s feet like five times,” Hao said, reaching for a croissant. “It was practically choreography.”

Ricky frowned. “Really?”

Gunwook didn’t look up. “It’s fine. Nothing serious.”

“He yelped,” Hanbin added helpfully. “Twice.”

Ricky groaned. “I owe you an apology.”

Gunwook waved it off too quickly. “No. Really. It’s– fine.”

Hao tilted his head at the odd tension between them. “You sure? You’ve been chewing that toast for like ten minutes.”

Gunwook promptly set the toast down, color high on his cheeks. “Just not very hungry.”

Something shifted in Ricky’s gut.

He straightened up a little, blinking. “Wait. We got back okay, right?”

Hanbin shrugged. “Gunwook called the cab. Got you back here in one piece.” 

“I don't think I have seen Ricky this clingy since he was ten.” Hao shook his head. 

“Clingy?” Ricky echoed.

Gunwook coughed violently.

“Like a designer scarf,” Hanbin said with a grin. “Tight around the neck, very expensive, and difficult to remove.” 

Hao added with a smirk, “You kept leaning on him and calling him ‘dependable.’” 

“And affectionate,” Hanbin added. “You were practically draped over him in the lobby. The staff probably thought he was your boyfriend.”

Gunwook made a small strangled sound.

Ricky turned fully to him, leaning forward. “Was I?”

Gunwook wouldn’t meet his eyes.

He looked like he was actively considering slipping under the table.

Ricky watched him, studying the lines of discomfort in his posture, the way his hands gripped the table edge too tight. Something wasn’t adding up.

He tilted his head, slowly. “Gunwook.”

“Y-yeah?”

“Did I do anything else?”

Gunwook’s eyes met his– and then immediately darted away again, too fast.

“No,” he said quickly. “Just… just the usual. You were drunk. It’s fine.”

The way he said it made it anything but.

Ricky watched him for a moment– the downturned gaze, the stiff shoulders, the way his hand trembled just slightly around the fork.

Ricky leaned back, suddenly too tired to push.

Hanbin broke the silence first, clearing his throat and nudging his phone toward Ricky. “Alright, hangover prince. You’ve got a few things today, so try to stay vertical.”

Ricky groaned, letting his head fall back. “Already?”

“Don’t complain,” Hanbin said, swiping to show a checklist. “First, you and I need to go over the updated product photos and finalize packaging for the new spring line. That includes the lease terms, signage permits, and staff contracts.” 

Ricky groaned. “Why can’t someone else do that?”

“Because you’re the boss,” Hanbin said cheerfully. “And also because your signature is the only one that’ll get half those vendors to reply in under a week.”

Ricky let his head thunk softly against the table again.

“Then there’s the sample inspection– same team from last time.”

Ricky squinted. “The intern who nearly cried because I said her layout looked like a funeral pamphlet?”

“You could have said it nicely,” Hanbin offered.

“I said it honestly,” Ricky muttered. “Okay, what else?”

“And then,” Hanbin said, voice rising like a final act, “we have dinner with Minhyuk. Seven o’clock. Private table.”

Ricky froze. Lifted his head slowly. “Minhyuk? Minhyuk who?”

Hanbin sighed, “owner of Lune Skincare. He's flying in just for this and you agreed to it last week so you can't back out.”

At that, Ricky let out a noise like a dying animal.

“I hate him,” he said flatly.

“We know,” Hao said, sipping his coffee. “We’ve all read the emails.”

“He called me ‘Ricks’ unironically,” Ricky continued, tone like he was recounting a crime. “And he uses bubble font in pitch decks. Bubble. Font.”

“He's also rich, owns a skincare brand with decent reach, and wants to slap your name on a collaboration,” Hanbin reminded. “So unless you want to keep doing influencer deals with silicone sheet masks from 2017, smile and get through it.”

“I’ll go,” Ricky said, resigned. “But I’m not talking.”

Hanbin blinked. “Then who’s—”

“You,” Ricky said, tapping Hanbin’s shoulder. “You talk. Pretend I have a bad throat. If I look even remotely bored, kick me under the table.”

Hao let out a short laugh. “Yeah… about that.” He leaned back smugly. “Hanbin isn’t going.”

“What?” Ricky narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

“We have a date,” Hao said, brushing imaginary lint off his sleeve. “Dinner. Reservation made. Outfit selected. Playlist curated. The whole thing.”

Hanbin coughed, cheeks pink. “You weren’t supposed to say all of that.”

“Oh, I was,” Hao grinned. “It’s my turn to gloat.”

Ricky turned between the two of them, scandalized. “You’re ditching me to go on a date?”

“You’re ditching yourself, you literally just said you wouldn’t talk,” Hanbin pointed out, trying not to smile.

Ricky groaned again, louder this time, dragging a hand down his face. “Fine. Fine. Who’s going with me, then?”

Silence.

Everyone turned toward Gunwook.

Gunwook, who had been trying to become one with his chair for the last ten minutes, looked up with a face that could only be described as a tragedy incarnate.

“Me?” he said, voice cracking slightly.

“You’re free,” Hao said sweetly. “And capable. And Ricky seems very… attached to you lately.”

Gunwook nearly dropped his fork.

“I– I mean I could…if you really want me to–”

Ricky eyed him carefully. There it was again, the jittery energy, the flushed neck, the barely-held-together composure.

“I guess that works,” he said slowly. “Can you handle Minhyuk’s bullshit?”

Gunwook blinked. “I’ve… I’ve never met him.”

“Great,” Ricky said. “Then you’ll be disillusioned fresh.”

Hanbin passed Gunwook a napkin like it was a ceremonial sword. “Good luck. He once pitched a hyaluronic acid mist that smells like bread.”

“I like bread,” Gunwook mumbled weakly.

Hao patted him on the back. “Not when it’s sprayed on your face.”

Gunwook groaned softly.

And Ricky, despite himself, found a smile tugging at his lips.

Gunwook looked like he wanted to melt through the floor, but there was something kind of endearing about the way he still nodded, still agreed, even when clearly terrified.

“Okay,” Ricky said, quieter this time. “Thanks, Wook.”

Gunwook blinked at the nickname, then nodded quickly, eyes glued to his plate.

Hao and Hanbin shared a look. 

Ricky leaned back, finally sipping his coffee. His head still ached, and his stomach still turned with the sensation of something forgotten– but at least the morning was interesting.

Even if he didn’t know what it was exactly that Gunwook was so pink about. 

The suite-turned-temporary-office smelled like vanilla diffusers and corporate doom. Ricky sat hunched at the long wooden table, surrounded by samples, packaging mockups, and stacks of documents. A tablet blinked at him. A laptop pinged. The printer coughed out yet another sheet of legal jargon.

Ricky had been in here for what felt like a week– in reality, it was barely four hours– and he was already one espresso away from setting the beige mood board on fire.

He pushed a folder aside. “This is the fourth design in the past hour. Why is everyone obsessed with nude tones? Do they think skin comes in one shade?”

Hanbin didn’t look up from his laptop. “We gave them feedback, they sent alternatives. This one’s slightly peach.”

“It’s still beige, Hanbin. My toner is not boring. It’s a revelation. It deserves packaging that doesn’t look like it was inspired by drywall.”

“You said no gradients.”

“Because gradients are a cry for help,” Ricky snapped.

Hanbin finally looked up, arching a brow. “Okay. So what are you envisioning? Tell me your grand vision, O Art Director of Wrath.”

“Something minimal but sharp. White base, navy accents. Maybe a pop of silver foil on the cap.”

“You said no metallics.”

“I changed my mind.”

Hanbin sighed. “You change your mind more than Hao changes hair gel.”

“Hey,” Hao said from the armchair near the minibar, legs stretched out, still in his robe like it was Sunday at a spa. “This is a judgment-free zone.”

“You’re not even working,” Ricky said, hurling a pen at him with frightening precision.

Hao caught it without blinking. “I worked hard yesterday. I secured the most important appointment of the week.”

“Oh yeah,” Hanbin said, glancing at him. “Our hotpot date tonight?”

Hao simply grinned. 

“Must be nice,” Ricky muttered, flipping to the next folder. “I get to have dinner with Minhyuk.”

Hao made a face like he’d tasted something sour. “Yikes.”

“Alright, alright, no mourning now.” Hanbin didn’t even blink, then turned to Hao. “Do not distract him, we have three contracts left to review.”

“I should be distracted. I’m a visionary,” Ricky muttered, scribbling a signature on another page. “I shouldn’t be drowning in paper and bad fonts.”

“I begged you to let us hire a design consultant,” Hanbin reminded him.

“They didn’t understand my vision.”

“They made a ten-slide deck explaining your vision in hex codes and you rejected it because the font gave you ‘bad vibes.’”

“It was an aggressive Helvetica.”

Hao snorted. “I love how you both pretend this is normal.”

Ricky set down the pen with a flourish. “Fine. What do I have after this? I want to mentally prepare.”

Hanbin checked his calendar. “Finalize product marketing visuals, then dinner with Minhyuk at seven.”

Ricky groaned again. 

“C’mon, it would be fine. Gunwook would be there too,” Hanbin offered. 

“I say just ditch the guy and have a date with Gunwook. That's way better.” Hao didn't even look up from his nails as he said. “You are going to scowl at him anyway.” 

“Very funny.” 

He turned to his iPad again, swiping through the marketing visuals. “Speaking of Gunwook, where is he?” 

Hanbin shrugged, “sleeping, maybe.”

Gunwook was not asleep. In fact, he was wide awake like he had used up all his sleep for the entire week already. 

He was pacing.

Not just pacing– spiraling.

The hotel room looked like it had been hit by a small emotional hurricane. His clothes were flung over the arm of a chair. The bedcovers were twisted into a mess. His phone sat on speaker mode on the desk, where Gyuvin’s voice crackled faintly under the sound of Gunwook’s uneven breathing.

“You’re walking again, aren’t you,” Gyuvin said dryly.

Gunwook ran both hands through his hair. “I kissed him.”

“No, he kissed you,” Gyuvin corrected.

“I let him!” Gunwook nearly shouted, voice cracking. “He was drunk, Gyuvin. He didn’t know what he was doing.”

“You said it wasn’t sloppy.”

“It wasn’t.” Gunwook groaned, collapsing onto the edge of the bed. “It was soft. Careful. Like– like he meant it. But he didn’t. Of course he didn’t. He was three glasses past common sense and I just– stood there. Like an idiot. Like a creep.”

“You’re not a creep.”

“I didn’t stop him,” Gunwook whispered. “He was drunk and I should’ve stopped him and instead I just– let it happen. I just stood there and felt everything I’ve been trying not to feel since the first damn day he looked at me like I was finally capable enough to stand beside him.”

Gyuvin was silent for a moment. Then, gently, “He doesn’t remember, does he.”

Gunwook’s head dropped into his hands. “No.”

And it hurt more than he could say.

This morning, at breakfast– Ricky had looked at him like nothing had changed. Like nothing happened. He’d teased, joked around with others in that casually amused way he always did. And Gunwook had sat there, silently imploding, because every moment felt soaked in something unspoken and unreciprocated and one-sided again.

He remembered the warmth of Ricky’s breath, the way his hand had curled just slightly around Gunwook’s shirt. How close he’d leaned in before—

Gunwook shook his head violently. “And now– now I have to sit through a dinner with him?”

“Wait. What dinner?” Gyuvin asked, alarmed.

Gunwook groaned. “Minhyuk. Some skincare guy. Apparently Hanbin’s skipping out so I have to go with Ricky. Alone.”

“Yeah, you’re cooked.”

Gunwook let out a muffled scream into the fabric.

“I can’t sit next to him,” he said after a moment. “I’ll mess it up. I’ll say something dumb. Or stare too long. Or worse, he’ll remember and I’ll have to talk about it– or he won’t remember and I’ll still have to sit there and pretend my heart isn’t crawling out of my chest.”

Gyuvin snorted. “You’re really good at spiraling. Have you considered taking it up professionally?”

“Not helping.”

“Okay, okay. Deep breath. You’ve done scarier things.”

“I’m twenty and my boss kissed me while drunk and now I have to wear business casual to dinner like I wasn’t emotionally yeeted into space last night.”

Gyuvin paused a beat. “Fair. Continue.” 

Gunwook groaned again, turning onto his side. “I’m not going. I’ll tell them I caught a stomach bug.”

“You literally ate three pancakes and fruits and toasts and posted it.”

“I’ll fake sudden food poisoning.”

“Gunwook.”

“I’m gonna die.”

“You’re gonna be fine.”

“I kissed my drunk boss.”

“You got kissed by your drunk boss.”

Gunwook stared at the ceiling. “I think I liked it.”

Gyuvin didn’t respond right away.

“…Yeah,” he said finally. “That’s the part you’re really spiraling about, huh?”

Gunwook swallowed hard. “I don’t want him to remember. But I don’t want to be the only one who does.”

There was a long silence.

Then Gyuvin said, softly, “You want it to have meant something.”

Gunwook didn’t answer.

He didn’t have to.

The restaurant was dim, luxurious, and already slightly too warm for Gunwook’s liking.

Inside, gold-toned lighting bounced softly off the black stone walls. Glasses clinked in the distance. Ambient jazz played over invisible speakers, and the waitstaff moved with a rehearsed elegance that made Gunwook feel like he was already underdressed, despite his crisply ironed shirt.

Minhyuk was already there.

He sat at the far end of a private alcove table, one arm draped casually over the back of the velvet chair like he owned the place. His suit jacket was designer and just slightly too flashy, his watch a little too shiny, and his smile– wide and immediate when he spotted Ricky– had that unmistakable brand of smarmy charm that made Gunwook’s shoulders tense on instinct.

“Ricky,” Minhyuk drawled, rising to his feet. “I thought you’d ghosted me again.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Ricky smiled with a politeness that didn’t reach his eyes, extending a hand. “Minhyuk.”

His lips curled. “And you brought company. Not Hanbin?”

Ricky shook his hand coolly. “Hanbin’s off tonight. This is Gunwook. He’s my bodyguard for the time being.” 

Gunwook gave a short bow, standing behind Ricky’s shoulder like he’d practiced.

Not a guest. Not a business partner. Just a shadow with good posture and bad nerves.

Minhyuk looked him up and down– once, twice– then smirked.

“Security’s gotten young these days,” he said, as if Gunwook weren’t standing right there. “What is he, fresh out of high school?”

Ricky’s eyes flicked. “He’s more competent than most of the guards you’ve cycled through.”

Minhyuk raised an eyebrow but didn’t press. “Touchy.”

They sat. Gunwook stayed standing behind Ricky for a moment too long before awkwardly sliding into the seat beside him, saying nothing, eyes on the linen napkin like it held state secrets.

“So,” Minhyuk said, opening a glossy black folder, “you got the proposal, right? What’d you think?”

Ricky leaned back, expression unreadable. “It’s ambitious. A little overbranded for our usual tone. And the name? ‘SKINergy’? That’s… unfortunate.”

Minhyuk laughed. “It’s memorable.”

“It’s embarrassing,” Ricky replied flatly.

Gunwook tried not to flinch at the bluntness. It was weirdly comforting, though– Ricky wasn’t pretending.

Minhyuk wasn’t deterred. “You’re still considering it, though?”

“I’m considering not setting my followers on fire,” Ricky said. “And right now, aligning with your brand might do exactly that.”

Gunwook glanced at him— 

Damn. Okay.

Minhyuk sipped his wine again, then tilted his head toward Gunwook. “Is he always this sharp-tongued, or is that just for me?”

Gunwook blinked. “I–”

“He doesn’t speak unless necessary,” Ricky interrupted, voice calm.

Minhyuk gave a little hum. “Too bad. He’s got the whole broody silent type thing going for him. Might look good in one of our upcoming campaigns– you know, shirtless in a raincoat. The whole wet-and-loyal dog vibe.”

Gunwook’s stomach twisted. His grip on the folded napkin tightened.

Ricky’s eyes didn’t blink. “He’s a bodyguard. Not a prop.”

“Didn’t say he was.” Minhyuk smiled like he’d won something. “Just making conversation.”

“You want to talk business,” Ricky said, folding his arms, “we talk business. You want to play dress-up with my staff, we’re done.”

That shut him up.

For a few seconds, anyway.

Minhyuk coughed, sat up straighter. “Fine. Serious mode. The skincare line’s dropping in October. If we co-launch at the end of your fall campaign, we could split PR across both channels. You’d front the ads. We bring in your production house. It’s mutually beneficial.”

Ricky nodded slowly. “Send the revised deck. I’ll think about it.”

He smiled at Ricky again. The food arrived and Gunwook completely zoned them out for the remaining conversation. 

Ricky seemed like he wanted him to not even breathe in the same direction as Gunwook– let alone make conversation with him. 

Gunwook preferred that. Minhyuk gave weird vibes. He was sure Ricky felt so, too, because he kept looking over in Gunwook’s direction with a soft and reassuring look which made his heart beat a little faster. 

After the food, dessert arrived. Ricky’s phone buzzed. He checked the screen and stood.

“Sorry. One minute.” He nodded toward Gunwook. “I’ll be right back.”

Gunwook nodded, trying not to panic.

The moment Ricky disappeared toward the restroom, the air shifted.

Minhyuk leaned back in his seat with a hum, letting his eyes settle on Gunwook with a new, slower interest.

“You always follow him around like this?” he asked. “Even to dinner?”

“I’m here for work,” Gunwook said quietly.

Minhyuk raised a brow. “Must be tough. Always standing behind someone else. Never getting the spotlight.”

Gunwook didn’t respond. He didn’t trust his voice not to crack.

Minhyuk shifted slightly– just enough to brush the tip of his shoe against Gunwook’s under the table.

Gunwook stiffened.

Minhyuk smiled like he hadn’t done anything.

“You know,” he said, voice low, “you’ve got that look. The shy, doe-eyed thing. Bet that works in your favor sometimes.”

Gunwook didn’t move. He couldn’t. His entire body went still with a sick kind of alertness.

Minhyuk leaned in slightly, elbow sliding along the table until his fingers casually brushed Gunwook’s sleeve.

“Ever think of doing something else?” he asked. “Modeling, maybe. You’ve got… potential.”

Gunwook shifted back subtly, pulling his arm away, but Minhyuk didn’t flinch. 

Gunwook tried not to freak out. He was surely taller than him, more bulky, more strong. He had no reason to be afraid. 

“You don’t have to stick around in someone’s shadow forever,” he added with a slow smile. “Pretty boys like you? You could go far– with the right people behind you.”

Gunwook’s jaw clenched. His fingers curled into his lap. He didn’t know where to look. Didn’t know what he was allowed to say.

Minhyuk watched him like he was reading a manual, like every small twitch of discomfort was some puzzle he was eager to solve.

“Tell you what,” he said smoothly, voice dropping just a bit lower as he pushed his wine glass aside. “Ricky might be too professional for… extracurriculars, but you don’t seem so uptight. We could grab dinner sometime. Talk about future opportunities.”

Gunwook’s throat tightened. “I don’t think–”

“Don’t be so quick to say no,” Minhyuk interrupted, grinning. “You’ve got something. I know people who’d pay a lot to put that face in the front row. Hell, I’d pay. You don’t have to play the bodyguard forever. You ever feel like exploring your options… I can make calls.”

“I’m really not–”

Minhyuk leaned forward, hand brushing Gunwook’s arm again, this time more firmly. “Come on. Just dinner. No suits. No boss around. I’ll even let you pick the wine.”

Gunwook’s stomach dropped.

He didn’t know if it was the hand or the voice or the knowing gleam in Minhyuk’s eyes, but it felt like a trap. A promise wrapped in sleaze. And worse– he was stuck. He couldn’t blow up. Couldn’t push back. Because for all he knew, this deal may matter to Ricky. 

And he couldn’t risk being the reason it fell apart.

So he swallowed it down.

“I’m flattered,” he said quietly, trying to smile. “But I think I’d better pass.”

Minhyuk chuckled, leaning even closer, his voice turning velvet-smooth. “You sure? We wouldn’t have to tell anyone. Some deals are more fun off the record, you know?”

Gunwook shifted uncomfortably, glancing to the side. 

Minhyuk drummed his fingers on the table. As if mimicking the ticking of the clock. As if giving him a time frame to choose. “Think about it. Just you and me. No pretenses.”

Ok. Gunwook was freaking out now. 

Sure– he was bigger physically, but Minhyuk held the power. 

He straightened his body– and instantly regretted it. 

Minhyuk was leaning in, breath practically ghosting over Gunwook’s face. 

“Come on,” he murmured. “Don’t play shy. You know what this is. I can make things happen for you, pretty boy. You don’t have to keep babysitting someone who doesn’t even notice you.”

Gunwook’s body went rigid, jaw clenched so tight it hurt.

Then—

“Get your fucking hand off him.”

Minhyuk jerked back in surprise.

So did half the restaurant.

Heads turned.

It wasn't a shout. But the words held power. They held fury.

Ricky stood just a few feet away, eyes locked on Minhyuk like he was seconds from throwing a punch.

His chest heaved once, like he was holding something in– barely.

Minhyuk tried to laugh it off. “Relax. We were just talking.”

“I said, get your disgusting hand off him.”

Ricky’s voice rang out across the room, cold and furious.

The waiter stopped mid-step. Someone dropped their fork.

Minhyuk’s smile dropped as he retreated his hand. “You’re being dramatic.”

“I'm being dramatic? You made him uncomfortable. You touched him when he clearly didn’t want you to. That’s not dramatic, that’s harassment.” 

Ricky took a step forward. His eyes were narrowed, like a snake about to hunt a rat. “Try that again and I’ll make sure every single brand you’ve ever sucked up to knows exactly what kind of creep you are.”

Gunwook sat frozen, humiliated and grateful and panicked all at once. His ears were ringing. The heat in the room had shifted—

Every pair of eyes was on them.

Minhyuk straightened, anger flashing now. “You’re going to ruin a whole business opportunity because your guard dog got his feelings hurt?”

“No. I’m going to ruin it because you’re a pathetic excuse for a man who thinks you can do whatever the hell you want to people who can’t talk back.”

Minhyuk’s jaw clenched. “You’ll regret this.”

“Doubt it.”

Ricky reached for his coat. “I was never going to sign the deal anyway. You think I would seriously be associated with a name like ‘SKINergy'?” He scoffed. “The dinner was just a formality. And now it's over.” 

Gunwook was still tense, still too frozen to move– until Ricky placed a hand gently on his shoulder, grounding him. Not possessive. Not dramatic. Just solid. Comforting.

“You okay?” Ricky asked, quieter now.

Gunwook gave the smallest nod.

Ricky turned back to Minhyuk. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to pay for this overpriced insult of a meal, delete my number, and forget this collab ever existed.”

“Come on—”

“Minhyuk,” Ricky snapped. “I said we’re done.”

The words hung in the air like a slammed door.

Ricky didn’t wait for a response. He gestured to Gunwook, who stood quickly, and together they walked out without another word.

Gunwook was still shaking slightly as the door closed behind them.

But Ricky’s hand hovered near the small of his back the whole way out, steady and warm. And Gunwook could breathe again.

The ride home was silent.

The kind of silence that didn’t just settle– it pressed down.

Gunwook sat stiff in the passenger seat, barely breathing, eyes locked on the blur of passing streetlights. Every so often he glanced at Ricky– hands tight on the steering wheel, jaw set, face unreadable in the dim glow of the dashboard.

The worst part was… he didn’t know what he wanted to see. Anger? Annoyance? Disappointment?

He’d seen them all before, in other people. But Ricky?

Ricky had yelled for him. In public. In a fancy restaurant filled with industry people and money and status and potential, Ricky had stood there and screamed at someone like a storm tearing through glass. For him.

And that should’ve made Gunwook feel safe.

Instead, it made his stomach twist with guilt. With fear. With something else he didn’t want to name.

Because all he could think about was how close Minhyuk’s face had been. The glint in his eyes. The way Ricky had looked like he wanted to tear him apart– like the idea of someone touching Gunwook like that hurt him.

Like it mattered.

His heart was beating so fast it felt like it was crawling up his throat.

Because Ricky had looked at him like that. And Gunwook had wanted to be looked at like that.

Even now, even after, all he could think about was the warmth of Ricky’s voice when he asked “Are you okay?”

The weight of his hand on his shoulder.

The calm, steady fury behind his defense.

And it wasn’t professional. Not anymore.

Gunwook had known it for a while now, if he was honest. That the reason his chest got tight whenever Ricky leaned too close or gave him that half-smile wasn’t nerves. That the reason he never looked at anyone else anymore wasn’t just focus.

It was him.

He liked Ricky. Really liked him. And that realization… that was terrifying.

Because if Ricky had just lost a massive deal because Gunwook froze up like a rookie– if Ricky regretted bringing him, if he resented him now—

Then this thing in Gunwook’s chest would only ruin more.

He gripped the edge of his seat a little tighter.

He didn’t know how to say sorry for something that hadn’t even happened.

He didn’t know how to tell someone “I think I’m falling for you” when they might not even want to look at you anymore.

Then, without warning, Ricky pulled the car over.

Gunwook blinked out of his thoughts. “What–?”

Ricky didn’t answer. He turned off the engine, undid his seatbelt, and stepped out of the car without a word.

Gunwook’s heart shot up to his throat.

He fumbled with his own belt, scrambling to follow. “Wait– Ricky?”

They were at the edge of a beach. Empty. Moonlit. The tide was soft and distant, waves lapping against the shore like a whisper.

Ricky kicked off his shoes first, then rolled up his slacks just enough to walk barefoot onto the sand.

Gunwook hesitated.

Then followed.

The cool grains shifted under his soles. The wind smelled like salt and sea and something unfamiliar. Ricky didn’t say anything. He walked toward the waterline, hands in his pockets, his silhouette carved against the silver moonlight.

Gunwook trailed a few steps behind– not sure if he was allowed to get closer. Not sure if Ricky even wanted him near.

They stood there in silence for a long time. The ocean moving. The sky holding its breath.

Ricky sat down first.

Just lowered himself into the sand with the same tired grace he wore after long days– one knee bent, arms resting on it, eyes still on the sea. Then, without looking up, he patted the spot beside him.

A soft gesture. An invitation.

Gunwook stood frozen for a beat.

Then he moved.

He sat down, careful not to sit too close. Careful not to touch.

But even in the space between them, there was something warm about it. Something that grounded him.

The waves rolled in and back again, steady and quiet.

Ricky stretched his legs out, leaning back on his palms.

“It’s nice out here,” he said finally. “Didn’t expect that.”

Gunwook blinked. “Yeah.”

They let that settle. The wind tugged at their sleeves.

“When I was younger, I used to live here. In LA. And I remember I used to sneak out to beaches like this,” Ricky said after a moment. “When the city got too loud. Or when everything felt… too big.”

Gunwook turned to look at him. “You? Sneaking out?”

Ricky smirked. “I was reckless. Still am. Just better at hiding it now.”

Gunwook smiled faintly, then looked back at the sea.

He didn’t know why, but that made him feel lighter.

“I used to think beaches were boring,” Gunwook said. “Just sand and water. But now I think they’re kind of…” He paused, searching for the word. “Fair.”

Ricky raised a brow. “Fair?”

Gunwook shrugged a little. “They don’t care who you are. Rich, poor, tired, scared– the waves show up for everyone the same. You just sit here and no one asks you to prove anything.”

That made Ricky quiet.

Then he said, voice a little lower, “Is that what it feels like? People asking you to prove something all the time?”

Gunwook didn’t answer. But the way his shoulders rose– and stayed there, tense– said enough.

Ricky didn’t push. He just let the wind speak for a while.

After a few minutes, he turned his head. His voice was gentle.

“You’ve been quiet since we left.”

Gunwook exhaled. “Didn’t want to say something stupid.”

“Understandable.” 

Gunwook gave a small laugh, “you could have lied and said I don't.” 

“But you do,” Ricky responded, a light smile on his face, “I'm just honest.”

Another pause. The tide rolled in. A gull cried far off, lost in the wind.

Then Ricky tilted his head, watching him carefully.

“But you know,” he said, “for someone who keeps thinking he messes everything up, you’ve got a habit of making things better.”

Gunwook froze. His breath caught without meaning to.

Ricky turned back toward the water, resting his arms on his knees again.

“You handled tonight better than you think,” he said simply. “Most people wouldn’t have even known how to react. But you stayed calm. You drew the line. You didn’t let it escalate.”

Gunwook swallowed hard. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You didn’t have to. Your silence said enough.”

Gunwook felt something in his chest twist.

“I didn’t want to ruin it for you.”

“You didn’t.”

“But–”

“Gunwook.” Ricky’s voice was firmer this time. “You didn’t.”

Gunwook looked down at his hands.

The waves crawled a little higher up the sand.

He wanted to say thank you. He wanted to say I’m sorry. He wanted to say something, but the words kept catching in his throat.

So instead, he sat still– beside Ricky, in the sand, with the sea stretching wide before them like a secret too big to hold.

The silence was loud, the kind that wasn’t heavy anymore– just stretched thin between them, soft at the edges.

Gunwook had stopped bracing himself like he was about to be yelled at. His shoulders had slowly lowered. He’d started drawing little circles in the sand with his fingers, absentminded and quiet, and his breathing wasn’t shallow anymore.

Ricky glanced over, the faintest smile tugging at his mouth.

“You can ask, you know.”

Gunwook looked up.

Ricky nodded toward him, casual. “Whatever it is that’s been trying to explode out of your forehead for the last thirty minutes. Before that vein pops.”

Gunwook blinked. “What vein–?”

“That one.” Ricky pointed. “Right there. It’s been flexing since we left the restaurant.”

Gunwook flushed, instinctively covering his forehead with his palm. “It’s not that bad.”

“It’s very bad.”

Ricky was smiling now. Not teasing, not mocking– just soft, like he’d been waiting for Gunwook to feel safe enough to breathe again.

Gunwook hesitated. Then, after a moment, voice low:

“…Were you actually never gonna sign the deal?”

Ricky let out a slow breath.

“I wasn’t sure at first,” he admitted. “When we met him, I thought maybe I was being paranoid. Spoiled rich guy, bit of a sleaze, but that’s not exactly rare in this business. I thought maybe he was just… showy.”

Gunwook nodded slowly, eyes fixed on the shifting tide.

“But tonight,” Ricky said. “I stopped second-guessing.”

Gunwook glanced at him, heart thudding.

“I made the right call. Breaking the deal– walking out of there– it wasn’t just about you.” He paused. “Though I won’t lie, seeing him talk to you like that? It made everything very clear, very fast.”

Gunwook swallowed. “You’re not mad?”

“Not at you,” Ricky said simply. “Never at you.”

Gunwook went still.

Ricky’s voice gentled even more. “I saw how uncomfortable you were. And you still tried to handle it. You were trying to protect my deal. Even then.”

Gunwook’s hands curled into the sand. “It didn’t feel like I was protecting anything. I just… froze.”

“You’re not supposed to be good at dealing with assholes in overpriced suits. That’s my job,” Ricky said, glancing sideways with a crooked smile. “Your job is to be there. And you were.”

Gunwook looked at him, eyes wide.

Ricky’s gaze softened. “You were enough.”

The air felt different now. Warmer. Closer.

And Gunwook didn’t realize it until just then– the way his shoulders had dropped fully. The way his heartbeat wasn’t thundering anymore.

He was okay.

Ricky had made sure of that.

And maybe, more than anything else, that was the part that made Gunwook want to lean in.

Just a little.

Just enough to close the distance.

Their shoulders bump together and Gunwook relaxes. Smiling as the waves curl and uncurl. 

Ricky turned to look at Gunwook, his hair strands becoming one with the soft breeze, his closed eyes as he inhaled and exhaled. 

Without thinking, Ricky’s hand reached out, hovering for just a second longer before it gently landed, patting Gunwook’s hair once. A light touch. Almost fond.

Gunwook’s breath hitched.

He turned, wide-eyed, stilling under the contact. “What… are you doing?”

Ricky’s heart leapt to his throat. What was he doing? 

“Nothing–! I…” He yanked his hand back like he’d touched fire. “Just… you had, uh–sand. In your hair.”

Gunwook blinked. “I did?”

“No,” Ricky admitted, and before he could stop himself, his hand was back, this time ruffling Gunwook’s hair so thoroughly it left it sticking up in every direction. “But now you do.”

Gunwook sputtered, batting at his hand too late. “Hey–!”

Gunwook sputtered, batting at his hand too late. “Hey–!”

Ricky leaned back, laughing. The kind of laugh he hadn’t let himself have all day. Shoulders shaking, head thrown back. “You look like a disgruntled puppy.”

Gunwook gaped, scandalized, but then caught his own reflection in his phone screen as he pulled it out. Hair fluffed and wind-tossed like a chick caught in a wind tunnel.

“Oh my god,” Gunwook muttered, trying to pat his hair back down. More sand sprinkled into his lap. With a deadpan look, he scooped up a small handful and flicked it at Ricky’s chest.

It wasn’t forceful– just petty.

Ricky looked down at the faint dusting of sand across his shirt, unimpressed. “Did you just—”

Before he could finish, Gunwook did it again. Right at his shoulder this time.

“Oh, so that’s how we’re playing,” Ricky muttered, brushing himself off like it personally offended him. He bent down, pinched up a bit of sand, and sprinkled it back onto Gunwook’s knee with all the smugness in the world.

Gunwook narrowed his eyes.

He scooped up another little fistful and lobbed it lazily.

This time, it hit Ricky’s hair. And face.

Ricky froze.

Gunwook’s eyes went wide. “Okay– wait, I didn’t mean–”

Ricky was already reaching down, grabbing a fistful of sand with zero subtlety. His brows lifted, his expression completely unreadable. “You sure?”

Gunwook stood up in an instant. “Nope. I’m out.”

And he ran.

He sprinted barefoot across the sand, laughing under his breath, arms half-flailing as the grains shifted beneath him.

Behind him, he could hear Ricky shouting his name, close on his heels, shoes abandoned somewhere as he charged forward with sand literally spilling out of one shoe he’d scooped up mid-run like a weapon.

“Gunwook, don’t you dare– !”

Gunwook shrieked through a laugh, ducking low as he ran in zigzags. “You’re the one with sand in your hand! Who’s the threat now?!”

“I told you not to aim for the face!”

“You didn’t! That was implied at best!”

Ricky gained on him, fast.

Gunwook turned to look over his shoulder– and tripped.

Not hard. Just enough to stumble, skid slightly in the sand, and slow him down.

Ricky didn’t miss a beat. He caught up, tackling him from behind with just enough force to send them both tumbling down into the soft dunes.

They landed in a heap, breathless and half-laughing, sand clinging to their clothes, their arms, their hair. Ricky hovered above him, still gripping a shoe full of sand he never actually threw.

Gunwook blinked up at him, panting.

Their laughter faded– slow, like the echo of a wave retreating from shore.

And then it was quiet again.

Except for Ricky's thoughts. Running and screaming as the memories hit him like a truck. 

The same position– Gunwook under Ricky, hands on his waist, balancing him as he slurred out some words. 

Then the kiss. 

Oh god. 

I kissed him. 

The force of it all physically jerked him back, creating distance between him and Gunwook. 

His heart did a thing– beating quicker, the sound of it in his ears, the blood rushing to his face. 

He said nothing. Just turned. It was time to leave. 

They walked back to the hotel in silence. Not the kind that was cold or awkward, but the kind that pressed heavy against Ricky’s ribs.

Because he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

About the way Gunwook had looked up at him, wide-eyed and smiling under him, cheeks pink, sand in his hair.

About the way it all slammed into Ricky at once—

That night.

The kiss.

The stupid, drunken words slurred against Gunwook’s lips.

It was like someone had slammed a brick of memory into his skull and walked away.

So, yes. The silence was necessary. Because if he opened his mouth right now, Ricky might scream.

Gunwook didn’t seem to notice. He looked tired. A little dazed. Still grinning faintly from the sand scuffle.

And that made it worse.

Because he looked good. Too good. And now Ricky knew what his hand felt like on Gunwook’s waist. He knew what Gunwook’s laugh sounded like up close. He knew what kissing him felt like.

And that knowledge was going to kill him.

They reached their hallway, and Ricky gave a vague little nod. “Night.”

Gunwook mumbled something and headed to his own door.

Ricky barely made it three steps before—

“…Seriously?”

He turned.

Gunwook was frowning at his door, keycard in hand.

“It’s not working,” he said, trying again. “Hanbin?”

No answer.

Ricky wandered over, watching him knock louder.

“Maybe he’s asleep,” Ricky offered, though his voice was already tightening with the kind of dread that came from knowing he was in a fanfic setup and couldn't stop it.

Gunwook called. No answer.

Then Ricky’s phone buzzed.

He pulled it out and stared.

No.

No.

> my dearest brother 

just share the room with the kid tonight 

me and hanbin are kinda busy…I got lucky 

Bye!

Busy.

BUSY.

His eye twitched.

Gunwook blinked beside him. “Busy?”

Ricky turned his phone to show him. “Busy.”

Gunwook’s expression changed in slow motion. “Oh.”

A beat. Then– 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.”

Gunwook blushed. “I didn’t need to know that.”

“Neither did I,” Ricky said flatly, already unlocking his door. “Come on.”

This could not be happening. This was the universe actively punishing him. First the memory of the kiss. Now a shared room? With one bed? All while his brain was screaming You kissed him. You kissed him. You LIKE him. You IDIOT.

He opened the door. The lights came on.

One bed.

Of course.

Gunwook stepped in behind him and paused. “…This is a queen?”

“Yeah,” Ricky muttered, already rubbing his temples.

Gunwook looked guilty. “I can sleep on the floor–”

“You’re not sleeping on the floor.”

“Then we share?”

Ricky didn’t answer right away. He looked at him instead.

At his ruffled hair, his tired eyes, the faint blush under his cheeks. 

And he thought– I’m not going to survive this night.

He cleared his throat, “we have slept on the same bed before. No big deal.” 

“Yeah…” 

“There are two bathrooms. You can– you can use the one on the right.” Ricky stared down as he said, shuffling towards the bathroom he had claimed first– bigger and with a bathtub, leaving the smaller one for Hao which Gunwook was going to use. 

“Ok. And…clothes? Do I–?” He looked down at himself then towards Ricky. 

“Take something from the suitcase,” he barely completed the sentence before shutting the door behind him. Sliding down against the door and pushed away the urge to pull out his hair. 

He was so fucked.

After a full half an hour, he stared at his own reflection in the mirror, gripping the sink like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

This was fine. Totally fine. 

No, actually he wasn't. He kissed Gunwook when he was drunk. Drunk. For God's sake. 

Now he had to survive one night. In the same bed. With the same guy he accidentally kissed while blackout drunk. The guy he apparently liked now. The guy whose laugh made his heart squeeze and whose hair still had sand in it like a curse.

He splashed cold water on his face.

“Be normal,” he whispered at himself. “Be cool. Be chill. Be–”

He opened the door and nearly swallowed his tongue.

Gunwook was standing by the vanity, towel around his neck, hair damp, dressed in one of Ricky’s slightly-too-small t-shirts (the graphic one he never wore but refused to throw out) and a pair of sweatpants that clung far too tightly around–

Ricky’s brain blue-screened.

Abort. Abort. Look away. Look anywhere else. Up. The ceiling. Yeah, ceilings are safe.

God, is he not wearing anything underneath?

Gunwook glanced over. “Hey, uh, do you have a dryer? I didn’t want to–”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ricky cut in too fast, diving for it. “Here.”

He unplugged it and held it out. Gunwook reached for it, their fingers brushing—

And Ricky dropped it.

Like it burned him.

Gunwook blinked. “Oh. Sorry. Did I–?”

“No,” Ricky said instantly, backing away like the dryer might attack him. “You didn’t. I…hand slipped.”

Gunwook crouched to pick it up. “You sure? You’re acting kinda… weird.”

“I’m always like this.”

“No, I mean– like. Is something wrong?” Gunwook stood again, brows slightly drawn together now, concern creasing his face. “Did I do something?”

Ricky wanted to scream yes, you existed in my clothes which are too tight for you and now I’m dying, but instead he just shook his head, forcing a smile that looked more like a wince.

“No. All good. All fine. Normal.”

Gunwook didn’t look convinced.

“You sure?” 

Ricky nodded. 

“Then why won't you look at me?” 

Look at yourself! How do I look at you without combusting?! 

“...why should I?” was what Ricky settled on. “I have no reason to.” 

Gunwook raised his eyebrow. “I want you to look at me.” 

Ricky stiffened. His throat worked around a dry swallow. He wanted to combust. 

In another moment, he finally turned. His hand reached out to switch off the lights. 

Gunwook let out a confused sound. 

Ricky suddenly realised the dark was no better. It was actually worse. He could make out the outline of Gunwook’s body– but not his expression. 

“That’s not fair,” he muttered.

Gunwook tilted his head. “What’s not?”

“You standing there like that, asking me to look at you– knowing it's hard for me.”

Gunwook took a small step forward. “What? What's hard for you? To look at me?” 

Ricky simply nodded. 

“I…why? You’ve been acting weird ever since we got here. You were nice one second at the beach and then ice cold the next. And now you’re avoiding me like I said something wrong.”

“You didn’t,” Ricky said too fast. “You didn’t do anything. I did.”

“What did you do?” Gunwook asked, softly now. His voice had dipped– gentler, like he was afraid of breaking something.

Ricky squeezed his eyes shut. “You know what I did.” 

“No, I don't.” 

“You do! Don't make me say it.” 

“Just spill it out. It's my last day, anyway. As your bodyguard, I mean.” Gunwook smacked his lips together. “Even if you did something wrong, we can let it go.” 

Last day. Right. The ten days were going to end soon. By the time Ricky would reach back home, Jiwoong would already be waiting for him there. 

Ricky inhaled sharply. He said to say it. It was the only time he could. 

“I kissed you,” he whispered, like saying it louder might make the whole building collapse. “I kissed you that night, while I was drunk. And… and I forgot. Until, like, an hour ago.”

Silence.

Ricky stood at his place– completely still. 

Then the lights switched on. 

Gunwook’s lips were parted, eyes wide, searching Ricky’s face like he didn’t quite believe what he was hearing.

Well. Here goes nothing. 

Ricky went on, the words tumbling now, unfiltered. “And now I can’t stop thinking about it. About you. And I keep remembering what your laugh sounds like, and how you looked under me, and how it felt– God– it felt so good, and now we’re here, in my clothes, in my room, with one bed and—”

Gunwook grabbed him by the nape and kissed him.

Hard.

Ricky’s sentence died against his mouth. His brain flatlined.

Because this wasn’t careful or tentative. This was desperate. Warm. A little uncoordinated. All teeth and lips and breathless want.

Ricky responded instantly, one hand finding Gunwook’s waist, the other sliding up into his damp hair. He pulled him closer, tasting the last of his toothpaste, feeling the edge of a smile against his mouth.

It was dizzying.

Messy.

Too much and not enough.

When they finally broke apart, Ricky didn’t let go. Their foreheads pressed together, breaths shallow.

“You remember,” Gunwook murmured, voice rough.

“I remember,” Ricky whispered.

Gunwook smiled–crooked, flushed, pupils blown wide. “Good. Because now I can stop pretending that I didn't want to kiss you.” 

Ricky barely had time to catch his breath before Gunwook kissed him again.

Sloppier this time. More teeth than tongue. A little off-center, like he couldn't decide where to land first. His hands fumbled at Ricky's jaw, one sliding down his neck, the other gripping his shoulder like he was anchoring himself.

Ricky let out a shaky sound that might've been a laugh— or a moan.

"Sorry," Gunwook muttered against his lips, breath hot. "I don't– I've never-"

"Don't apologize," Ricky whispered, clutching the front of his shirt. "Just come here."

And then Gunwook surged forward, and Ricky let himself fall backward, dragging him down with him.

The back of his knees hit the bed. They landed in a tangle of limbs, mouths never quite parting. Ricky's legs shifted to make room, but Gunwook's knee slipped between his thighs, and Ricky's breath hitched-sharp, involuntary.

Gunwook froze. "Was that– was that okay?"

"God, yes," Ricky rasped, his fingers digging into Gunwook's bicep, nails biting just a little.

Gunwook's hand slid under Ricky's shirt-tentative at first, then bolder, splaying over his stomach. Ricky arched slightly into the touch, the friction already too much and not enough. His hips shifted, grinding up without meaning to, and Gunwook groaned– low, startled, utterly wrecked.

Their kisses turned frantic. Breathless. Ricky's thighs tightening around Gunwook's hips, anchoring him there. Gunwook's hand braced beside Ricky's head, the other gripping his waist, grounding them both.

It wasn't polished. It wasn't smooth.

It was chaotic. Desperate.

Gunwook kissed like he was trying to memorize everything at once– and Ricky let him, gasping into his mouth, chasing the pressure, moving with him in a rhythm that wasn't slow anymore.

Clothes still on. Hands restless. Bodies moving like they had no idea where to stop.

Ricky dragged his lips to Gunwook's jaw, then to the side of his throat, whispering raggedly, "You're driving me insane."

Gunwook shivered. "You kissed me first."

"And you're kissing me now like you want to ruin me."

Gunwook pulled back just enough to look at him– hair a mess, lips red, pupils blown.

"Because I do."

Ricky swallowed hard.

"...Then ruin me.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Gunwook's hands were on Ricky's zippers, mouth on his neck, where the tattoo resided. He removed the pants with ease. 

Ricky let out a strangled moan, hands reaching the hem of his shirt. 

In another few seconds, Gunwook’s lips were further down– placing kisses on his well toned chest– taking his sweet time with the nipples. 

Ricky arched his back, fishing Gunwook’s hair as his other hand reached his waistband– sliding under it as Gunwook gasped against his skin. 

Ricky was right. He wasn't wearing anything underneath. 

His heart thumped as he started stroking the length, listening to Gunwook whimper slightly. 

God– he's huge. He's so huge everywhere. 

“Ric– hyung…” 

“Yes, baby?” 

He was drooling against his chest. Trembling like a leaf. 

“I…it feels so good. Don't stop.” 

He didn’t plan to. 

His hand caught speed– still a little teasingly– as he stroked him, fingers curling around him with the thumb lightly pressing on his tip. 

Gunwook let out a strangled voice and gripped Ricky’s waist to anchor himself– burying himself in his chest and bit back the sinful sounds that threatened to escape. 

Because even though he liked Ricky and Ricky liked him and currently had his hand around his dick– he still knew him first as his boss. And being in front of your boss in this condition would be one of the most embarrassing moments ever. 

But nonetheless, it was arousing. 

So arousing that Gunwook was squirming and lightly biting Ricky's soft skin– feeling the fire pool in the pit of his stomach– his body burning and so so close to combusting. And then— 

Ricky retracts his hand. 

Gunwook’s eyes shot open. 

“Are you going to help me, too, or not?” Ricky questioned and only then was Gunwook made aware of Ricky's throbbing dick at his stomach. Pink and erect and…so beautiful. Ricky was beautiful everywhere.

But…he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. 

He looked up at Ricky then back at the dick. Then back to his eyes looking straight into Gunwook's. 

And straight through him too. 

He raised an eyebrow, “wait. Do you know what to do next?” 

“Uh…yeah–” If he could go a deeper red, he would have this very moment. “Yeah I know. Lube, obviously–” 

Ricky switched positions, sitting on top of Gunwook now as he shook his head. “Have you ever scissored before? Yourself or anyone else?” 

Gunwook covered his face with his hands as he shook his head. The sight infront of him was…too much. 

Ricky chuckled lightly and leaned closer to his face, peeling his hand off his face and— 

Gunwook sniffens. 

Ricky takes his fingers in his mouth– two digits, three fourth of the length in him– as he swirled his tongue around them. Staring into Gunwook's wide open eyes. 

He trembled slightly. From excitement and what was yet to come. He flexed his fingers, hitting Ricky's throat as he deepened his fingers further into his mouth— knuckles deep. 

Ricky gagged slightly. Then took another finger in. Drool was dripping from the corner of his mouth, landing on top of Gunwook’s stomach– hot and wet. 

And soon he was just holding himself back from thrusting inside his warm mouth, fantasizing about how Ricky would look with Gunwook's dick inside his mouth instead of his fingers. 

He thought Ricky must have read his thoughts because the next moment, Ricky was smirking as he let go of the fingers with a small pop. 

Then propped himself up by his knees, guiding his hand. 

“Just follow my lead,” Ricky said, placing a kiss on Gunwook’s jaw. 

He gulped as Ricky curled his fingers, pushing one finger in to open himself up. 

The finger slid in with ease– muscles stretching around his finger and Ricky let out a low moan against his skin. 

He pressed his lips together– then went deeper inside– slowly thrusting his finger inside as Ricky's grip loosened. 

The heat of it all was dizzying. Gunwook’s breath stuttered as he pushed his finger in deeper with each thrust, feeling Ricky tighten slightly before relaxing again, body pliant under his touch.

“Good,” Ricky whispered, voice barely a breath. His fingers curled loosely at Gunwook’s shoulders now, no longer guiding– just holding. “Add another.”

Gunwook hesitated, eyes flicking up to his face. Ricky’s lips were parted, brow faintly creased, a soft flush painting his chest and neck. He looked beautiful. Breakable. And somehow still in control.

With trembling fingers, Gunwook slicked his other hand and pressed a second finger alongside the first. Ricky tensed– then exhaled slowly, eyes fluttering shut.

“There you go,” Ricky murmured, voice lower now, rougher. “You’re learning fast.”

That sent another flush to Gunwook’s cheeks. He looked down, focused, curling his fingers experimentally– then froze when Ricky jolted slightly with a choked sound.

“There?” Gunwook asked, eyes wide.

Ricky’s laugh was breathless, strained. “Oh god. Right fucking there.”

Emboldened, Gunwook kept moving– slow, rhythmic, careful but with purpose. Ricky’s hand tangled in his hair again, this time tugging.

“I swear,” Ricky muttered, voice shaking, “you keep going like that and I might come before you even–”

He slipped another finger inside. Ricky inhaled sharply, trembling a little. He clenched around the fingers, the walls pulling them in.  

“You were saying?” Gunwook grinned as he asked. 

Ricky huffed, “you menace…” 

“You like it.” 

Ricky groaned, hands on Gunwook’s chest as he rose up, shifting around as he opened the packet of condom with his teeth and pulled it over Gunwook’s dick. 

It was big. Like huge. Ricky could just hope three fingers were enough. 

Gunwook slipped his fingers out and Ricky alined his hole to his dick. Inhaling deeply as he sunk down– moans ripping out of both their throats. 

His movements were slower first, adjusting to the size. Gunwook stared at him like he was witnessing a miracle unravel right in front of him. His mouth hung open slightly, breath caught somewhere in his throat as Ricky took him deeper– inch by inch– body tense and trembling and beautiful.

“Holy shit,” Gunwook whispered, hands barely hovering over Ricky’s waist like he didn’t dare grab on too hard. “You feel…fuck, so good….”

Ricky let out a breathless laugh that broke midway into a moan. His fingers slid down Gunwook’s chest, grounding himself.

“I feel everything,” he muttered, voice thin and wrecked, “you’re filling me so– god– deep.”

Gunwook’s hands finally settled on his hips, holding tight enough to leave prints, but not forceful. Just something to tether him to the moment. “I feel like my dick would break, ” he said quickly, chest heaving. 

But Ricky rolled his hips anyway, slowly, experimentally. 

Gunwook’s head slammed back against the pillows. “Ricky–!” 

Ricky breathed, speeding up as he bounced on top of him– feeling his walls stretch around him and suck him in. 

Lewd sounds left Ricky's mouth and Gunwook looked up at him like he was witnessing something divine.

Like Ricky wasn’t just riding him, but owning him– every breath, every inch, every shaky sound that spilled from his mouth.

Ricky was flushed all over, sweat-slick skin glowing in the low light, hair clinging to his forehead. His hands braced against Gunwook’s chest now, nails dragging faint lines as he moved– desperate and deliberate. It wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t slow. It was raw. With desire.

“Ricky– please– ” Gunwook choked out, eyes squeezing shut, hips jerking up helplessly to meet each roll of Ricky’s body.

“Please what?” Ricky asked, a breathy tease. But his voice was already unraveling.

Gunwook whimpered. “Don’t stop.”

“I won’t.”

Ricky leaned down, kissing him like he couldn’t stand the distance, swallowing every broken sound from Gunwook’s throat. His hands slid up, tangling in messy hair, as their rhythm grew frantic.

Gunwook was trembling again, but not from nerves this time. From need.

From the unbearable coil tightening low in his belly, from the way Ricky clenched around him with every bounce, from how every drag and press made sparks explode behind his eyes.

“I– I’m not gonna last,” Gunwook warned, almost in shame.

Ricky smiled against his mouth, teeth grazing his lip. “Good,” he whispered. “Come with me.”

And with one more deep grind, one more desperate kiss—

They came together.

And when it was over, Ricky slumped forward, chest to chest, both of them still shaking. Gunwook wrapped his arms around him without thinking.

Silence stretched between them. Not awkward. Not unsure. Just heavy and warm and full of everything unspoken.

“…Holy shit,” Gunwook finally breathed.

Ricky chuckled against his neck. “Yeah. You did great for a first-timer.”

“Shut up,” Gunwook mumbled, burying his face in Ricky’s shoulder. His ears were burning. Unfortunately, Ricky noticed.

“Aww, don’t get shy now,” Ricky teased, dragging a hand lazily down Gunwook’s back. “You weren’t exactly quiet ten minutes ago. Sounded like you were ready to cry.”

Gunwook groaned into his skin. “You’re the worst.”

“I literally just gave you the best orgasm of your life.”

“That doesn’t cancel it out.”

Ricky smirked, pulling back just enough to look at him. “Okay, but seriously– was it? That best?”

Gunwook gave him a betrayed look. “You can’t ask that! There’s, like… post-nut honesty rules.”

“So… yes?” Ricky grinned, devilish. “You’re glowing.”

“I’m sweating,” Gunwook snapped, face a violent shade of red.

Ricky just laughed and leaned in again, kissing the corner of his mouth gently– annoyingly fond. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

“God,” Gunwook muttered. “I can’t believe I let my boss fu–”

Ricky clamped a hand over his mouth, half-laughing, half-scandalized. “Do not finish that sentence unless you want me to remind you who was begging five minutes in.”

Gunwook let out a mortified sound behind his palm.

Ricky grinned and slowly pulled his hand away, only to intertwine their fingers and hold it to his chest. “Relax,” he murmured. “No one’s here to judge you but me. And I’m very, very biased.”

Gunwook peeked up at him, eyes still wide and flushed. “You’re not gonna let this go, are you?”

“Not a chance,” Ricky said, smug. “You’re way too fun when you’re flustered. I’m keeping this version of you forever.”

Gunwook groaned again, but his fingers squeezed Ricky’s hand just slightly.

“…Fine,” he muttered.

Ricky smiled, softer now. “Good.”

They lay there for a while longer, tangled and sticky and exhausted, but it didn’t feel uncomfortable. It felt strangely safe. Steady. Like something new had started without needing to say it out loud.

And as Gunwook’s eyes finally fluttered closed, Ricky pressed one last kiss to his temple.

“Sleep,” he whispered. “We’ll figure everything else out tomorrow.”

And under the warm sheets, wrapped around each other like it was the most natural thing in the world, they gave in to slumber. 

[Epilogue] 

Two days later, they returned. So did Jiwoong. Gunwook wished he didn’t.

“So let me get this straight,” Jiwoong said, slowly, like he was trying to be patient with toddlers. “The same kid you refused to work with– because, and I quote, ‘Having no bodyguard is better than having to babysit my bodyguard’ –is now your boyfriend.”

Ricky didn’t even flinch. “Technically, he’s my ex-bodyguard.”

Gunwook visibly choked on his coffee.

Jiwoong ignored him, eyes fixed on Ricky like he was a puzzle with a missing piece and a bad attitude. “This is a joke, right? You’re screwing with me. This is revenge for eating your macarons that one time.”

“Nope,” Ricky said, popping the ‘p.’ “Gunwook and I are very much together. Happy. Emotionally stable– mostly. And surprisingly compatible.”

“Surprisingly?” Gunwook muttered under his breath, wounded.

“I mean, you did almost cry when we slept together.”

“That’s because you–”

Jiwoong held up a hand. “Stop. Please. I don’t want visuals.”

Ricky smiled, insufferably calm. “You asked.”

“I didn’t ask to walk into this dystopia,” Jiwoong muttered. He turned to Gunwook, squinting like he still couldn’t believe it. “You realize he called you a literal child the day you showed up, right?”

Gunwook looked away, ears turning red. “Yeah. I remember.”

Jiwoong raised an eyebrow. “And you’re… okay with that?”

Gunwook opened his mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again. “He… changed his mind.”

“I did,” Ricky confirmed, nodding sagely. “Turns out the ‘kid’ is very mature. And flexible. And passionate. And–”

“Enough!” Jiwoong barked, practically hissing. “I’m gonna need bleach in my ears.”

Ricky looked smug. Gunwook looked like he wanted to disappear into the sofa cushions.

Jiwoong rubbed his temples. “You do know I left you with him thinking you’d behave.”

“I did behave,” Ricky replied. “Until he got stabbed to save me, then ran with me on the beach at night and then I kind of fell for him. Blame the dramatics.”

Gunwook made another distressed sound. “Stop telling him everything!”

“Why?” Ricky turned to him, grinning. “You already cried on me. Moaned my name. Made me breakfast in my shirt–”

“Hyung!” Gunwook buried his face in his hands. “Please stop talking.”

Ricky shrugged. “I’m just being honest.”

“You’re being a menace,” Jiwoong muttered, shaking his head. “God, how are you still the same pain in the ass I left behind?”

“Because you left me with him,” Ricky shot back with a grin. “And I ended up happier than I’ve been in ages.”

That shut Jiwoong up.

His arms dropped from their perpetual crossed position. He studied Ricky– really studied him– and for the first time since stepping into the room, the sarcasm in his face softened. Just a little.

“…You actually mean that,” he said, voice lower now. Less teasing. More honest.

Ricky didn’t look away. “Yeah. I do.”

Jiwoong looked between the two of them. Gunwook, still hiding behind his hands, red down to his chest. Ricky, openly smug but visibly grounded in a way Jiwoong hadn’t seen before. Not even back when he was at his most composed, most put-together.

He let out a long breath. “Damn. You really did fall for the kid.”

“He’s not a kid,” Ricky said immediately, almost reflexively. His voice was firm. “He’s mine.”

Gunwook’s ears actually turned scarlet.

“This hypocrite…”

Jiwoong rubbed a hand over his face again, but this time it didn’t look frustrated. Just tired. Fond, even. 

“Fine. I'm happy for you guys.” 

Gunwook snapped his neck, “wait, for real?” 

Ricky lightly hit his arm, “see? I told you he won't beat you up.” 

“Well, he could have.” 

“Look at your muscles.” 

Gunwook blushed. 

Jiwoong stood up as they were bickering about something– Ricky teasing him too much or whatever. 

“Alright. I’m getting out of here before I witness more domesticity. But…” He paused at the door, looking at them both. “I’m glad it worked out for you both. For real.”

Gunwook sat up straighter. “Thanks, hyung.”

“Take care of him,” Jiwoong added, looking at Gunwook directly now. “He’s a lot.”

“I know,” Gunwook said quietly. “But I like all of it.”

Jiwoong gave one final nod. “Good. Then I’ll shut up.”

He left.

The door closed.

Ricky turned to Gunwook, beaming. “He likes you.”

“Because he had dealt with you.”

Ricky raised his eyebrow, “what is that supposed to mean?” 

“Nothing.” He grinned. 

Ricky crossed his arms, “Just two days in and you are already claiming yourself to be everyone's favorite.” 

“Because I am.” 

Ricky rolled his eyes, but he smiled anyway. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love me.”

He leaned over and kissed him, slow and certain. “Yeah,” he whispered against his lips. “I really do.”