Chapter Text
Gyuvin knows that something is up. He just knows. He doesn’t need to be a rocket scientist to figure this out. And he’s not. He’s just a grad student, a normal, nosy college student studying Ethics and Werewolf Politics, with a cute dog who is not ugly despite what his roommate’s YouTube comments say, and a huge crush. He smiles after replying to said roommate, who happens to be the universe’s most amazing person, who also happens to be his aforementioned crush.
And who is totally, definitely, descended from an Angel.
“I personally think Ricky-ge’s a Vampire, like Hao-ge,” Yujin says as he crosses his legs on the living room bean bag — his unofficial spot in Gyuvin and Ricky’s apartment — humming as he sifts through Gyuvin’s binder of evidence.
“But if he was, wouldn’t he have just told us already?” Gyuvin sighs wistfully as he looks at a picture of Ricky he’d printed out for one of the evidence pages. He’d taken it on his phone on a Sunday morning, when Ricky’s bedhead was making his blond hair stick up everywhere. “Think about it. The supernaturals who are Nephilim tend to not want to talk about it the most.”
Yujin makes an apathetic grunt of acknowledgement, handing the binder back to Gyuvin with a slight air of exasperation — he can only witness Gyuvin pining for so many years before it gets vaguely annoying. “I don’t know, Gyuvin… Ricky-ge likes sweet things, and red things, and sometimes he says stuff that makes me think he’s a Vampire. Although, he is pretty Angel-like, so I’ll give you that.”
Gyuvin tries to ignore how Yujin calls Ricky by an honorific but has long since stopped calling Gyuvin ‘hyung.’ It definitely makes his pout larger as he holds up the binder and uses it to nudge Yujin’s shoulder. “Yah. Did you not read any of the other points I had in here?”
Yujin shrugs. “I did, but you sound insane. Because you are.”
Gyuvin feels like tearing his hair out and flicking Yujin’s forehead. He only does the latter, laughing when Yujin swears, pouting again when Yujin flicks his neck in retaliation.
“What was that for?”
“You being an idiot,” Yujin says with a shit-eating smirk, the little brat. “Besides, if Ricky-ge really is a Vampire, he can give you a bite. I just gave you a little sample of what it’d feel like.”
“Ugh,” Gyuvin rubs at his skin. He hates how much shit Yujin gives him for what is apparently, ‘the world’s most obvious crush,’ but he still loves Yujin. “What. Ever.”
“Ricky-ge also inhales boba, which Vampires love. And you already know this, considering you live with him and everything.”
Gyuvin crosses his arms. “Well, yeah.”
Yujin gets up from the beanbag to walk towards the kitchen, Gyuvin following him out of curiosity. “I knew it,” Yujin says as he pulls out the trash drawer, where a pile of empty recyclable boba cups has built up in the recycling bin. He gives Gyuvin a pointed look.
“Just because I think he’s part Angel doesn’t mean he can’t love boba! They’re still people like any other supernatural creature, they don’t only eat honey and bread, or whatever the stereotypes say.” Gyuvin gestures around the air with his hands. “What if all the stereotypes we think about Nephilim are fake or outdated? As Werewolves, don’t we know all about how species stereotypes can be stupid?”
“Hmm. You’re right, I guess.” Yujin pushes the trash drawer back in, taking a few steps and opening the fridge door instead. He takes out a carton of banana milk, looks at Gyuvin again, and then takes out a bottle of a mango smoothie drink Ricky had made a few days ago.
“Yeah. I know I am.”
“Here,” Yujin says, rolling his eyes, holding out the mango bottle.
Gyuvin grumbles a thanks as he takes it, opens the lid, and sips, feeling like a berated child instead of a twenty-two year old adult.
“I’ll believe you,” Yujin says, stabbing his straw through, “if you give good enough proof.”
“You’re so on,” Gyuvin says around a mouthful of mango smoothie. “Just wait.”
Yujin hums around his straw, much like a teething puppy. “Wanna play Mario Kart until Ricky-ge comes back?”
Gyuvin nods. He takes out his phone again and checks to see if Ricky had replied back. Nothing yet. Either he was still filming, or driving back home. He checks Ricky’s location and sees him moving along the road. “He should be back in around half an hour.”
“That’s enough time. He can always join.”
“True.” Gyuvin ruffles Yujin’s hair and laughs when Yujin glares at him. “Let me just put the binder away first.”
Yujin mumbles something that sounds like “Okay, weirdo” but Gyuvin ignores it. (He doesn’t. He sticks his tongue out and tells Yujin to set up the game.)
Once Gyuvin enters his room, he makes a beeline for the designated place where he puts all of his precious possessions — his sock drawer. It’s a place nobody will ever think to look into. Besides maybe his mom.
It’s essential for Gyuvin because, while he and Ricky have their own rooms, Ricky hangs out on his rug or bed so often that it might as well be co-owned. (Gyuvin has to go through great lengths to make sure Ricky doesn’t see him compiling all the evidence in his binder. Namely, printing out pictures of Ricky and gluing them into each page like a ‘psycho-stalker-scrapbook,’ according to Yujin and Gunwook. Gyuvin likes to think he’s not that creepy.)
As he opens his sock drawer, his eyes flit over towards a velvet box in the corner. He places the binder next to it and rubs his finger over the box with a smile. He’s glad that one of the Angel stereotypes which proved to be fake is their allergic reactions to metal, as Ricky loves all things silver and gold in the form of jewelry. It would make buying gifts for Ricky a lot harder if he couldn’t wear necklaces, earrings, or rings.
Gyuvin opens the box, staring at the matching pair of Gucci rings. He’s about to become even more lost in thought until he hears Yujin yelling his name from the living room, telling him to hurry up.
“I have great evidence!” Gyuvin says while choosing his character, because he’s somewhat terrible at letting things go.
“Maybe I’ll believe you if you let me win,” Yujin quips.
Gyuvin scoffs as he picks out his cart. “Never.”
He’s scrolling through the wheel options, but in the back of his mind, he’s going over all of the evidence cases he’s gathered throughout the years.
Case 1:
Ricky’s Killer Looks.
There’s a stereotype for Nephilim, people who are descended from Angels. The main one being that they’re an otherworldly beautiful, so beautiful it hurts your eyes, but you can’t really look away.
The very first time Gyuvin meets Ricky, he’s floored by how someone this beautiful can exist in the same sphere as everyone else. How is it possible? It’s a random Wednesday morning. They’re freshmen, for goodness’ sake.
Suddenly Gyuvin feels severely underdressed for his 10 AM Potions Class. It’s not like he didn’t put in any effort, but compared to the blond, tall, big-eyed and sharp-jawed model decked out in an all black outfit with a leather blazer, flowy dress shirt, and flowier pants, Gyuvin might as well be in pajamas.
By some stroke of luck or fate or destiny or something, the beautiful boy walks over and takes the empty seat diagonally across from Gyuvin. He smells like strawberries and amber. Gyuvin feels like jumping up and down from joy. He checks the clock. Yep. It’s 9:56 AM, and he definitely isn’t dreaming.
The professor is writing something on the whiteboard. Gyuvin is so glad society moved away from chalkboards, the sound of chalk writing always extra grating to his Werewolf ears. It doesn’t seem like the professor is anywhere near done, so Gyuvin takes his chance, wanting to talk to the boy before class starts.
He clears his throat and smiles wide, trying to be as charming as the pack aunties always say he is. “Hey! I’m Gyuvin.”
The boy looks up from his backpack — also black, also leather. He smiles, small but genuine. “Hi,” he says, soft. “I’m Ricky.”
“Ricky,” Gyuvin echoes, hoping to say the name a billion more times. “What are you majoring in?”
“Apparel Design, and I might minor in Marketing,” Ricky answers, eyes lighting up a bit. “You?”
Shit, Gyuvin thinks to himself. He’s so beautiful I feel my chest closing up.
“Ethics,” he answers, hiding his sweaty palms beneath the table.
It all starts from there.
After becoming close freshman year, Ricky asks Gyuvin if he wants to be roommates, to which Gyuvin easily agrees. They become even closer, integrating their friend groups seamlessly.
And as Ricky’s best friend and roommate, part of Gyuvin’s job is to take excellent pictures of him. Ricky was originally shy, but after some encouragement — Gyuvin reminding him that he doesn’t have thousands of Instagram followers for nothing, and some genuine compliments — he slowly became used to Gyuvin being the one behind the camera.
Gyuvin grew up with siblings, he was trained for this. Ricky loves taking hundreds of photos, sometimes thousands, trying to get every possible angle and pose, and to get them just right. It was never a hassle for Gyuvin to do it, to direct Ricky to “look that way!” or “pretend I said something funny” for hours.
Sometimes Ricky will apologize for having them outside for too long, especially if it’s cold. But Gyuvin really doesn’t mind. Every time he takes photos for Ricky, they tend to get dinner or boba together afterwards, and every time he makes Ricky laugh and captures his candid smile on camera, he feels something warm in his chest unfurl. When Gyuvin uses his phone or camera to take photos (because Ricky’s sometimes run out of storage), he never deletes those shots, the ones where Ricky’s mouth is wide open, teeth shining, eyes crinkling.
Beyond simply his otherworldly looks, Ricky says something after a long photoshoot one evening that makes Gyuvin really think he’s part Angel.
They’re scrolling through all the photos Gyuvin just took, trying to favorite which ones Ricky wants to post, when Gyuvin feels Ricky looking at him in the corner of his eye.
Gyuvin smiles, “Something on my face?”
Ricky shakes his head with a soft laugh. “No, no. I was just… do you ever think I take too many photos? We can always take less.”
“Ricky, I’ve been doing this for a year. Don’t you think I would’ve complained by now?”
Ricky’s smile is fond and exasperated. “I guess.”
“Besides, the more, the better. Right? That way you have more to post.”
“Hmm.” Ricky lets out a sigh. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s also… I don’t know how to word this.”
Gyuvin recognizes the furrow in Ricky’s brow. The one that appears when someone tells him his Korean is good for a ‘foreigner,’ that his English is good for an international student. “You could type it in Chinese, and I could translate it?”
Ricky’s brow smooths over. “Thank you, but that’s alright. I think it’s just… I like being able to look at photos of myself from different perspectives, like lighting and poses and outfits, because sometimes I forget how I look. Does that make sense?”
“I think it does.” Gyuvin’s Ricky-is-Nephilim sense starts to tingle. There’s another rumor about people who are part-Angel never being able to see their reflection clearly, as they’re not meant to be fully captured in one singular plane. After all, their ancestors aren’t even from the same dimension.
Still, Gyuvin nods, because however Ricky feels is how he feels. Even if Gyuvin doesn’t understand it.
“Yeah. Like, just being able to see how other people see me is really nice. I feel like my reflection looks weird, sometimes.”
Almost like… you can’t see it clearly? Gyuvin wonders with a secret, internal eyebrow raise. “Well,” he says out loud, mustering all of his courage, “I think how you feel is valid, no matter what. But I think you’re one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever seen.”
Ricky’s ears turn pink at the edges, rolling his eyes before glancing at the phone. “Oh, shut up.”
“Okay, okay.” Gyuvin presses a finger to his mouth. “Boba after?” he whispers.
Ricky looks up from the phone, smiling. “Duh. Now, help me choose between this one,” he swipes the screen, “and this one,” he swipes to another photo that looks almost identical.
Such is Gyuvin’s life.
He wouldn’t trade it for anything.
“Maybe that one,” Gyuvin says, tilting his head. “I think your earrings look shinier.”
And Ricky wordlessly favorites the one Gyuvin chose, easily trusting his judgment. They keep swiping and scrolling as they make their way towards their favorite boba place. Gyuvin adds another mental ‘Angel evidence’ bullet point to his list.
Oh, Gyuvin thinks to himself as he opens the door to the boba place for Ricky. Am I in love with a Nephilim?
He watches Ricky buy three bobas — two for himself, one for Gyuvin — and laughs when they sit at a table and Ricky nearly knocks over the napkin dispenser with his leather tote bag. For someone so beautiful and graceful, he can be awfully clumsy. Like the world is too fast for him. (Maybe because he’s Nephilim!! And Nephilim aren’t used to this world, or whatever!!)
Gyuvin laughs harder when Ricky kicks him (gently) in the shin for laughing.
Yes, he confirms. I guess I am.
Ricky greedily sips at his boba once it’s done, a third of it gone in the blink of an eye.
Maybe, Gyuvin muses to himself, Ricky loves strawberry boba so much because it’s red and liquid and kind of like blood?
No, he tells himself. Yujin's brainwashing is getting to me. He's not a Vampire.
“What?” Ricky says after he swallows, dabbing at his mouth. “Do I have something on my chin?”
Gyuvin just shakes his head. “No, it’s nothing. Wanna watch a movie later?”
Ricky smiles.
Again, Gyuvin thinks Ricky is so pretty, he could just die.