Archive of Our Own ^beta

As far as luck goes, Sunghoon has always lacked it. He’s never won any radio contests, never found a four-leaf clover, and he’s definitely never found the missing fifty-dollar bill in his pocket. 

Ending up with Jay Park as his roommate only seems to add insult to injury.

Generally, Jay is a fantastic roommate. He cleans well, cooks well, and stays out of Sunghoon’s business. He does have a habit of walking around shirtless, but that Sunghoon can work around. He’s a good gym partner and more importantly, handles the finances of their apartment lease far better than Sunghoon ever could. 

Jay has also never gotten over his ex.

This minor defect, this tiny flaw—it has a tremendous impact on their lives. Jungwon Yang appears in approximately a third of their conversations. Jungwon Yang pushes Jay to do impossibly stupid things, such as take a different route through the city in the fear he might drive past him walking to work. Jungwon Yang has such a hold on Jay that, even a year after their breakup, he agrees to drive him to Seattle. 

“You did what,” Sunghoon asks flatly. He’d been enjoying his first paid vacation in the year, curled up in his bed doing nothing, when Jay had burst in, face haggard and pale. 

“I agreed to take Jungwon with me to Seattle for his internship, since I’m already going to visit my family,” Jay whimpers. Not only does he look pathetic, he sounds like it too. “I can’t go alone with him, Sunghoon-”

“I thought Jake and Sunoo were supposed to go with you.”

“They canceled. They’re planning to go to a resort in Miami or something-”

“Heeseung?” 

“He doesn’t get time off.” Jay seizes his sleeve. “Sunghoon, you’ve gotta-”

“No,” Sunghoon says firmly. “I worked all year to take these weeks off. I am going to sleep and do nothing, and I’m not changing my mind.”

He announces this with such finality, he assumes the conversation has been closed. 

Which is why he can’t comprehend why, three days later, he’s seated in the backseat of Jay’s car, duffel tucked into the trunk and his pillow tucked under his arm.

Save me, he texts Jake.

Jake sends him a selfie of him and Sunoo, off vacationing in Miami. 

Fuck you, he texts Jake. 

Belongings packed tight, Jay wipes off his hands. “We’re good to go,” he says. “Do keep me from doing anything stupid, okay? You’re my accountability police.”

“That’s a difficult thing to promise,” Sunghoon mutters.

To his surprise, Jay doesn’t immediately make a great fool of himself in front of Jungwon when they pick him up. He does pretty well, actually, until Jungwon strolls up to the passenger’s door and climbs in. 

“Um,” says Jay. Jungwon looks at them cooly.

“Something wrong?”

“No, not at all,” Jay squeaks. He’s doomed.

This is only a minor setback. Sunghoon has faith that Jay will persevere. He thinks this as he looks up, just in time to catch Jungwon reaching for the air conditioner.

Jay beats him to it, twisting the knob without sparing a glance. “You get hot easily, I know.”

He doesn’t realize what he’s said until he spots Jungwon’s wide eyes. He balks. 

“Oh. I mean-”

Sunghoon buries his face into his pillow. It’s going to be a long ride to Seattle.

Sunghoon notices him first.

He’s just woken up from a nice, three-hour nap with his headphones blaring Keshi at the max volume—anything to drown out Jay’s playlist of Harry Styles, Niall Horan, and some more Harry Styles—which means he’s rather disoriented and doesn’t immediately comprehend the muted sound coming from his right. 

“Hey! Stop the car!” the strange, distant voice shouts again, and Sunghoon turns around and squints out the window to where the sound is coming from, and suddenly, there’s this tall, gangly creature running behind their car, a pair of goggles propped up on his forehead and a massive backpack slung over a shoulder, and fuck, is Sunghoon experiencing a caffeine-induced hallucination? 

Upon closer inspection, the creature turns out to be a teenage boy, waving his arms wildly and hollering at the top of his lungs. He doesn’t disappear when Sunghoon rubs his eyes and squint, so he leans forward to poke Jay, who ignores the first and the second and then yelps. “What?”

“There’s… someone behind us.” 

Jungwon whips his head back and squints. “Jay, keep driving.” 

“Huh?” Jay’s eyes flicker to the rearview mirror. They crinkle in concern. “What’s a teenager doing out here all alone?”

Perhaps Sunghoon shouldn’t have said anything at all. Jay’s parental instincts tend to kick in whenever he spots a stray creature in need. Not only does it make him an easy victim of pickpocketing, it also gets them in trouble one too many times. Sunghoon doesn’t know how many more wet, half-drowned kittens in their apartment he can handle.

“He looks perfectly fine,” Jungwon says. He reaches out to grasp the wheel, in case Jay starts getting any ideas. “Just keep going.”

“He’s stopping,” Sunghoon observes. The boy doubles over, probably trying to catch his breath. It’s impressive that he’d even been able to keep up with them. 

Jay glances from where Jungwon’s attention is skewed outside to the boy. Sunghoon sees the resolution on his face even before he cranks the wheel to the left, swiveling the car into a turn and ignoring Jungwon’s scandalized cry of his name.

They roll to a stop beside the boy and Jay rolls down the window across from Sunghoon. Without hesitation, the boy hops up to the side, all previous signs of exhaustion gone as he props his arms against the door. Sunghoon wonders if he’d been playing it up. 

Up close, he’s even taller and lankier, enough that he has to duck to look through the window. It turns out the lenses aren’t goggles after all, but rather, round sunglasses. He’s fully geared up for the outdoors, clad in cargo shorts and combat boots, thermos at his hip and a bandana strapped to his forehead. 

Sunghoon’s turtleneck itches at the very sight of him. He’s just begun to take notice of his gloved hands when sharp, slanted eyes flicker to him. 

“Yo,” the boy says. He directs this at Sunghoon after shaking out long, blonde-streaked bangs from his eyes, as if they’re friends meeting after a long time. Sunghoon echoes the greeting, although it comes out edged in confusion. He sure feels confused—maybe he hasn’t fully woken up from his nap.

The skewed grin the kid shoots his way, all sharp-edged like a wolf’s, only adds to the strangeness. He scoots back a little. 

Jay leans back, one hand on the wheel. “What’s a kid like you doing out here?”

“Bus broke down on the way to the city,” the boy says. “Been hitchhiking for a couple of days now, but I’ve got no clue where I’m at. There aren’t any bus stops down here, either.” He leans back, running an appreciative eye over Jay’s Cadillac CT4-V. “Nice ride.”

Jungwon interrupts before Jay can reply. “Likely story.” He surveys the boy with suspicion. “Give us one reason you’re not going to rob us.”

“He doesn’t really seem-” Jungwon shushes him and Jay falls silent. 

The boy blinks. He holds up his hands. “Oh, no. You got me. Cuff me, officers,” he deadpans. They all stare at him and he drops his hands. “I’m not gonna rob you. Where’re you guys headed to?”

“Seattle,” Sunghoon answers, just as Jungwon hisses “none of your business.” Oops. 

“Sweet!” To Sunghoon’s bewilderment and Jungwon’s horror, the boy pulls the door open and hoists in his oversized bag, as if they’ve been friends for years and hadn’t met all of three minutes ago. “You wouldn’t mind giving me a ride, right? Since we’re heading in the same direction, after all. I’m Riki, by the way.” 

He juts out his hand to Sunghoon. When he doesn’t receive a response, Riki takes his limp hand and shakes it firmly. 

Jungwon is absolutely fuming. Sunghoon drags his attention away from this… Riki and to where Jay is, looking torn. His lips are pursed, fingers drumming on the wheel.

Predictably, he shrugs. “Sure,” he says. “We’ll drive you.”

Riki whistles and slides in. He’s situated in a matter of moments, arms tucked behind his head and grinning. “Just so you know, I don’t have any money.”

Jungwon buries his face into his hands. “We are so getting robbed.”

Those sharp eyes return to Sunghoon and he thinks there’s some merit to Jungwon’s distrust—there’s a dangerous sparkle in the guy’s eyes, putting him on edge. “I didn’t catch your name.”

It probably isn’t the best idea to share his name with a boy they’d picked up from the road, whose only piece of information Sunghoon knows is his first name.

He finds himself sharing it anyway. “Sunghoon. Sunghoon Park.”

psh.02
weird kid in our car, will update

Jake responds to his text with something predictable along the lines of pics or it didn’t happen. Sunghoon ignores his message in favor of peeking at their newest passenger.

For bursting in as impressively as he had, Riki has been surprisingly quiet since he boarded a little over two hours ago. Probably because he’d knocked out cold ten minutes in. 

Sunghoon has his reservations regarding Riki’s presence. Even after tossing his monstrous baggage into the trunk, the space in the back has dwindled significantly, now that both of their legs are sprawled across the floor. Since moving around means risking touching the other, he’s been driven into the corner, back stiff and legs cramping from his position. 

The other has no such reservations. He’s slumped against the window, hood drawn over his head and arms crossed over his chest as he snoozes away.

“At least one of us can,” Sunghoon mutters, shifting to keep his right leg from falling asleep. He’s been floating in and out of his head for the past hours, unable to really sleep. This isn’t what he’d been promised from Jay. 

The two up front aren’t doing well either. Jungwon refuses to speak to Jay, and any word that comes out of his mouth is petulant. Sunghoon considers it a win that neither of them have brought up their breakup yet.

Jungwon’s fast asleep now, curled up in a fetal position with his head crooked at an awkward angle. One would have to be a fool to miss the glances Jay throws at him; when he finally reaches out to adjust Jungwon’s head, he’s met with Sunghoon’s stare. 

“I just don’t want him to get a neck cramp,” Jay whispers furiously.

“I’m keeping you from doing something stupid.” 

They stare down each other until Jay drops his hand. “Fine. But if he starts complaining when he wakes up, that’s on you.”

Sunghoon shakes his head and settles back. He ends up startling at the sight of Riki straightening, squinting out the window with bleary eyes. He’d taken off his bandana earlier, allowing his shaggy bangs to fall over his forehead. His sunglasses are tucked into the collar of his shirt. “Where’re we?”

“Santa Fe,” Jay says. “We’ve got a long way ahead of us.”

Yawning, Riki stretches out both his arms and legs, shaking the sleep from his body. Sunghoon draws himself away before he can brush against him. Doesn’t this boy have any perception of personal space? He watches, perplexed, as Riki pops his shoulders before ducking under the seat and then twisting over to peek at the trunk. “What are you doing?” 

Riki plops back down. “Don’t you guys have any food back here?”

Wordlessly, Sunghoon retrieves a pack of veggie straws. He pulls up short at the sheer repulsion on Riki’s face. 

“You can’t be serious.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” Jungwon says. He’s apparently woken up thanks to a speed bump, no less cranky than he had been previously. “You ride with us, you eat our food.” 

With a conflicted expression and two fingers, Riki reaches out to pinch the packet from Sunghoon. He’s hardly ripped it open when he spots something out the window and his eyes widen, veggie straws forgotten as he scrambles to press his face against the glass. “Oh my god.”

Sunghoon dives to snatch up the veggie straws before they can spill. He frowns; he’d been the one to bring them along. Riki remains oblivious to his disgruntlement, sliding forward to poke his head between Jay and Jungwon.

“Dude, there’s a McDonald’s up front. I’m fucking starving.”

“Not our problem.” Jungwon pushes his head back. “Besides, Jay doesn’t eat fast food.”

Jay frowns and Riki remains steadfast. “No one passes up McNuggets and there’s no way you guys have been surviving on veggie straws.”

“What’s wrong with veggie straws?” Sunghoon asks, put-off. Riki ignores him, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.

“Pretty boy over there says he’s hungry too. Are you really going to let your friend starve?”

“I did not-” As if on cue, Sunghoon’s stomach emits a growl. Riki grins, pleased. Goddammit.

“See?”

Ever the pushover, Jay glances over at Jungwon. He doesn’t look pleased but shrugs. “Do what you want.”

Riki whoops when Jay pulls into the parking lot of the restaurant before hopping off with an even louder, unnecessary groan. Sunghoon revels in the freedom to finally stretch his legs while Jungwon narrows his eyes at where Jay’s produced his wallet, counting out bills. “Oh, come on. You don’t have to pay for him.”

“It’s just six bucks,” Jay says, handing the money to Riki, who gapes before grasping it with glittering eyes, “and he’s a growing boy.”

Growing boy seems to be an understatement. Standing beside the kid now, Sunghoon is struck with the realization that he isn’t only tall—he stands above Sunghoon by at least half a head, therefore joining Heeseung on the short list of people who are taller than him. The notion makes him uncomfortable. What if Riki just—turns around and licks his head? He seems unpredictable enough.

Currently, he’s occupied with beaming at Jay. “Thanks, dad!” he chirps before scampering off. Sunghoon blinks and Jungwon gapes. 

“Dad?”

“We had a couple conversations while you two were asleep.”

“They must have been invigorating,” Jungwon mutters. 

Sunghoon hums. “I don’t remember taking a kid under our wing being part of the plan.” 

Jay places a twenty dollar bill in his palm. Sunghoon chooses to keep quiet for now.

“Thirty minutes,” Jay reminds them once they’ve all filed in, before heading for the restroom. Riki’s already found a place to sit, squeezed into one of the family booths with a tray of chicken nuggets and fries. Sunghoon gingerly sits across from him, wincing at the ungodly amount of ketchup the other squeezes out onto his meal. 

Jungwon hovers by the table, expression conflicted. When he finally takes a seat, it’s to stand up again a minute after. “Restroom,” he says to no one in particular before walking off. Sunghoon considers whether to text a warning to Jay.

Whether it would be the right move or not, he never manages to reach a decision because Riki pauses from gorging on his meal to push the basket of fries towards him. “Fries?”

He does have some semblance of manners, at least. Sunghoon shakes his head.

“You another one of those gym junkies who don’t eat fast food?”

“No,” Sunghoon says, slightly disgruntled by how well he’s been read. To prove a point, he reaches over and plucks up one of the fries to nibble on. The greasy taste of fat and oil filling his mouth is annoyingly good. Satisfied, Riki resumes his pillage and this time, Sunghoon watches with something close to morbid fascination as he stuffs his mouth with as many fries as he can. “You might actually be able to taste something if you ate a little slower.”

Riki’s throat works furiously to swallow the food. He doesn’t reply until he manages to gulp it down. “I don’t want to hear it from the guy who eats veggie straws as a snack.”

“They’re good-” Sunghoon tries to argue but doesn’t have the momentum to continue as Riki finally does slow down, taking a moment to sip on his fizzy cola. 

Sunghoon isn’t one to get curious about others, but he can’t deny the wonder that creeps in. 

“How’d you end up stranded on the highway, anyway?” he asks. All he receives is a shrug and he leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. “You look pretty young. How old are you?”

“Bet you’d like to know,” Riki says loftily. Sunghoon’s uncertain on what he’s implying so he just stares. He’s very much considering filing a police report when Riki groans, dropping the fry back into the basket. “Stop looking at me like that, I’m nineteen.”

Oh. Sunghoon’s arms drop. Well, that’s a relief. For a moment, he’d been convinced they’d gotten a criminal case on their hands thanks to Jay’s generous nature.

Riki’s looking at him expectantly. “So?”

“So?”

“What about you? You don’t look all that old, either.”

“Twenty-two.” He has the sense he’s made a mistake when Riki whistles.

“Nice, ” he mutters, more to himself than Sunghoon. He shuffles forward, elbows balanced on the edge of the table. “What’re you doing out here?”

“Jay—the guy who gave you the money—is my roommate. He asked me to come along,” Sunghoon says. It occurs to him only after that he doesn’t need to be telling Riki any of this. “You didn’t-”

“And the other one? Small and angry?”

Using context clues, Sunghoon deduces that small and angry refers to Jungwon. “He’s…” It doesn’t feel quite right to spill the contents of his best friend’s personal life, so he settles with “a mutual friend?” 

Riki nods, thoughtful. Sunghoon tackles the chance while it’s there. 

“And what’re you doing out here, all alone?” When Riki doesn’t answer, he tries a humorous, “are you a runaway or something?”

“Sure.”

Sunghoon raises a brow. “You’re serious?”

“Runaway, hitchhiker, stray, choose your pick.” Riki sucks the grease off a thumb before spreading his arms wide. “I like the term wanderer.” He grins at Sunghoon’s bewildered expression. “Sounds way cooler.”

“I… guess,” Sunghoon says. Another question creeps in. “You didn’t mention your full name,” he tries, but Riki’s already gone off into another tangent. 

“Sunghoon. Sung-hoon. Cool name.”

“Thanks-”

“Got a girlfriend?”

“Um,” Sunghoon says, blinking rapidly. How does one answer such an invasive question, after all? Riki notices his hesitation and gasps.

“Oh, shit. Or boyfriend. Not tryna stereotype or anything.”

That really isn’t the problem but he’s able to avoid answering as Jay and Jungwon emerge, seemingly on speaking terms once more. Jay slides in next to Sunghoon while Jungwon warily takes a seat next to Riki, a strawberry milkshake clasped in his hand. 

“I thought you never ate fast food,” Jungwon’s saying, eying the tray Jay carries, full with a burger, fries, and an apple pie. Jay shrugs.

“I started.” His eyes fall to Riki’s empty tray. “Here, take some of mine.”

Jungwon intercepts the basket before it can reach Riki, pushing it back. “You’ll drop dead from exhaustion, idiot,” he hisses. Riki watches the two of them curiously before a realization seems to dawn on him. 

“If he’s dad, you must be papa, huh?” he asks, just as Jay takes a bite of his burger. He chokes, hacking out lettuce. Sunghoon’s blood goes cold. Jungwon’s eyes go wide and his knuckles turn white around his milkshake but other than that, he has no outward reaction. 

Sunghoon shakes his head imperceptibly, conveying abort mission as well as he can. When Riki only squints at him with a “what,” he kicks him under the table. He finally takes the hint.

“Oh. Oh.” Riki looks between the two exes, one who’s turned bright red, thumping at his chest, while the other resolutely looks the other way. “It’s complicated? Sorry.” 

Sunghoon presses the heel of his palm to his forehead. 

The atmosphere thoroughly destroyed and Jay and Jungwon once more unable to look the other in the eye, they depart. Sunghoon lags behind to order a coffee before hesitating, staring up at the menu. 

If he’d truly been stranded for a couple of days, like he’d said, Riki probably hadn’t had a proper source of food. With the way he’d devoured the food, as if it would run away from him, it sure seems that way. 

He does have that extra cash Jay had just given him…

Riki’s face slackens with surprise when Sunghoon climbs into the car and shoves a heavy, grease-bottomed paper bag against his chest. “Since you enjoyed the fries so much,” he says before pretending to busy himself with the seat buckle, ignoring Riki’s eyes. He’s never been great at soaking up gratitude. 

Jay makes a dumb, dad comment about putting on their seatbelts before they speed off. To his chagrin, they shove his Harry Styles's CD’s into the glove compartment and flick through a dozen different radio stations before finally finding one that they’re all satisfied with, playing old 2010’s hits. 

In a stroke of misfortune and to Jay’s delight, the first song is “Night Changes.” Sunghoon feels a headache coming on as One Direction begin to croon through the speakers. 

He’s in the midst of memorizing the first chorus when Riki shifts beside him, leaning a little closer until only Sunghoon can hear him.

“Nishimura,” he says and Sunghoon breaks off mid-lyric to glance over at Riki. The boy isn’t looking at him; his eyes are fixed outside, on the Santa Fe sunset. The dying sunlight streams through the glass, bathing their limbs in hues of orange.

“What?”

“My name. You asked earlier.” Riki drags his eyes away from the view and to Sunghoon. “Any more questions for me?”

There should be dozens; hell, there should be thousands, but sitting in the soft swathe of orange light, Jay’s voice in his ear as he belts the song out to his heart’s content, none of them appear in the forefront of his mind. He shakes his head.

Riki’s eyes crinkle. “Cool,” he says, before joining Jay in for the second chorus. Clearly, he’s eons ahead of Sunghoon in memorization. 

Nineteen. Wanderer. Riki Nishimura. Within the span of a few hours, Sunghoon has gone from knowing nothing about this boy to three pieces of key information. Briefly, he wonders how much he’ll learn—or rather, how much he should learn.

Those are matters to worry about later. For now, he chimes in for the final chorus. 

we're only gettin' older, baby
and i've been thinkin' about it lately
does it ever drive you crazy
just how fast the night changes?

There’s a terrible crick in his neck, an even greater ache in his thighs. Sunghoon groans, peeling his cheek from where it sticks to the window before wrenching his eyes open. Light assaults his vision and, with a curse, he snaps them shut. Cupping a careful hand over his brow, he dares to squint. 

The source of the third problem turns out to be the early morning light, directly in his line of sight. The car engine rumbles under his feet and he can hear the soft sounds of Jay and Jungwon conversing, which makes him wonder whether he’s still asleep or not. Are they really capable of carrying a civil conversation?

He discovers the origin of the first and second problem next to him. Or rather, slumped against him. Mouth half-open and snoring without a care, Riki has somehow managed to cross the makeshift barrier of bags between them, his head now pillowed onto Sunghoon’s shoulder. 

Sunghoon breathes slowly, disoriented. The tickle of Riki’s breath against his neck draws a flinch out of him and he startles, hairs standing up on end. “What the,” he mutters, immediately attempting to move away.

There isn’t far to go, especially with how he’d already been plastered against the window. Sunghoon settles for prodding at the boy’s forehead, trying to push him off. Riki doesn’t budge, only letting out a snort before trying to huddle closer.

Enough. Sunghoon pushes at his shoulder, hard. Riki goes swinging away, and there’s a moment where he seems to be in suspended midair, before he comes crashing down again. This time, he’s slumped against Sunghoon’s side, rather than his shoulder.

Sunghoon sighs and resigns himself to his fate.

“What time is it?” he asks, briefly startling Jay and Jungwon and bringing their conversation to an abrupt end. “How long have we been driving for?”

“Good morning,” Jay says, nodding at him through the rearview mirror. The hours of driving are already taking a toll, the corners of his mouth drawn downwards and his skin taking on an ashy undertone. “It’s been a little over an hour.” 

The shuffling at his side alerts him to Riki. He wakes up much like how Sunghoon had; squinting at the sun before rubbing his aching neck. That bit was his own fault. “-what's goin’ on.” He takes them all in, the memory of the previous day sinking in. “Oh, yeah.”

Cognitive processing completed, he flops against Sunghoon once more, and resumes his nap. The shamelessness almost impresses him.

“Hey,” Sunghoon says, laying a hand onto Riki’s shoulder and shoving. “Move. I said move-”

Finally, Riki obeys, shuffling over onto the other side and leaning heavily against the door. His bleary eyes scan the car before they settle on something and he sits up. “You guys stopped at Wendy’s without us?”

Now that he mentions it, Sunghoon is quite certain the half-finished, red beverage cups in the drink carriers hadn’t been there the day before. Riki looks quite affronted.

“Oh, pipe down,” Jungwon says. “You two were fast asleep. Jay didn’t want to wake you guys up.” 

“And we’ll be stopping at a gas station in a bit,” Jay adds hastily as Riki turns his vengeful eyes on him. “We’re almost empty.” 

Riki grumbles but accepts this, hunching over and crossing his arms over his chest. He tugs his hoodie over his head to block out the sun, probably intending to try and get some more shut-eye. Sunghoon takes the opportunity to study the other. 

Riki Nishimura. He’d been given that name the day before, and it doesn’t seem like the boy had any reason to lie—unless he’s on the run from someone. He'd also claimed to be nineteen. He does look the part, the blonde streaked-hair that curls down to his neck playing a large role. Although, Sunghoon notes, fast asleep, he looks younger. 

He’d also admitted to being a runaway. Where had he run away from? How long has he been on the run? How had he managed to scrape by all this time? These are all questions which remain unanswered. Unless he asks directly, Sunghoon supposes he’ll just have to live in uncertainty. 

A single eye cracks open a smidge. Sunghoon doesn’t manage to avert his gaze on time and ends up engaging in an awkward staring contest until Riki cracks his neck and sits up. Thankfully, he doesn’t prod at Sunghoon for his staring. “What’s up?”

His voice is rough, thick with sleep. Sunghoon had been intending to confront him on his sleeping habits but ends up unable to muster up the words. “Not much, since we’ve been in the car for eight hours.” Riki somehow seems to find this funny, because he snorts. Sunghoon blurts out his question before he can stop. “Why’d you decide to go to Seattle?” 

Although the others only shift in their seats and lean a little closer, that’s enough indication that they’re listening. “It’s a little early, Sherlock.”

“That’s not an answer.” Jungwon peeks over the head of his seat, pinning Riki down with a look of suspicion. His red hair sticks up, mussed over the course of his sleep. “You’d better have a place to stay-”

“Don’t shit yourself, I’ll be gone the moment we hit Seattle. I wasn’t heading there.” Jungwon opens his mouth to speak but Riki beats him to it. “Not at first. The plan was Colorado.”

Silence greets his statement. “That makes no sense,” Jungwon says. 

“I adapt quickly.”

“What changed your mind?” Sunghoon asks.

Riki considers it, fingers tapping his chin. His eyes shift to Sunghoon. “You?”

Sunghoon blinks. 

“You guys,” Riki clarifies. “And your car. I’ll take what I can get.” 

With nothing left to say, Jungwon grunts and faces the front. Riki reclines, rolling his shoulders before noticing Sunghoon, still looking at him. He raises a brow in question.

“It’s nothing,” Sunghoon says. He’s about to reach for his phone before he changes his mind, fixing Riki with a look he hopes comes off as stern. “Do you always treat whoever’s next to you like a giant teddy bear?

Somehow, this ends up backfiring him. This is why Sunghoon despises confrontation. “You’re pretty comfortable,” Riki says, without even a semblance of regret. He pulls out a volume of manga—”Chainsaw Man”—from his backpack, dog-eared and creased, effectively closing the conversation. 

Sunghoon hears you’re pretty and temporarily loses hearing in his right ear. His brain fizzles out and back in as the rest of the sentence processes. His shoulders lose their tension. He’s been hearing all sorts of strange things lately; he should probably get that checked out.

Deeply engrossed in his manga, it doesn’t seem like Riki will respond to anything he asks of anymore, so Sunghoon allows for silence to descend upon them. He retrieves his phone, flicking it open to his texts. It’s woefully empty. 

simjk
whats weird kid like

A question indeed. Sunghoon types out three different replies, ranging from weird to interesting and ends up just leaving the other on read. He settles on squandering away his time on crappy mobile games instead, half of which he doesn’t recall downloading.

He’s behind on three customers and angered at least four more on Cooking Fever when Riki drops his manga onto his lap, groaning. “I’m hungry.”

“When aren’t you,” Jungwon murmurs. 

“Huh. Last I remember, someone got food without us-”

“Don’t include me in this,” Sunghoon adds in quickly. Jay looks up, alarmed.

“Now, now,” he says, earning him unimpressed looks from Jungwon and Riki. “We’ll be at the gas station in ten minutes. Try to hold on for a bit longer.”

Riki releases a pathetic warble before flopping his upper half onto the middle seat between them. The crown of his head presses against Sunghoon’s thigh. “I’m gonna die,” he says.

“We have veggie straws-”

“Quit it.”

Sunghoon wisely does. 

It takes him a moment to realize that Riki’s been staring at him—or rather, his hands—for an uncomfortably long time. He only picks up on it when Riki goes “huh.”

“...What is it?”

Riki gestures to his wrist, where a stretch of elastic wraps taut around his skin. “What’s that? Good luck charm?”

“Something like that,” Sunghoon says. Truthfully, he’d pulled it on one day and then had never bothered to take it off—it’s frayed at the ends, slated to fall apart any day. He’s worn it enough for a thin, pale line to appear under it—the spaces where the sun hadn’t been able to touch. “It’ll probably come apart soon.” 

“And then you’ll run out of luck?” Riki says, and Sunghoon mulls over it—he doesn’t believe in the influences of exterior powers, but that would probably be an issue. Maybe he should invest in a new one. 

He’s dragged out of his thoughts by the sensation of Riki’s fingers against his wrist, somehow having crept up when he hadn’t noticed. He thumbs the strand of elastic before pulling it back and letting go, the band snapping against his skin. Sunghoon hardly feels the sting, too bewildered to process it.

“Two days tops,” Riki confirms and Sunghoon draws his hand away, back to safety. He’s preparing a few choice words when Jay whistles, capturing their attention. 

“We’re here, kids.”  

God bless. 

Jungwon doesn’t join them, staying behind in favor of some “peace and quiet.” Jay looks as if he wants to stay back with him, but Sunghoon seizes his arm and drags him out, effectively expelling the idea. 

His expression is distraught. “I wasn’t going to do anything.”

Maybe he’s telling the truth but Sunghoon would rather not return to find the two back to ignoring each other. They’ve been finally getting along, although the bar for that has sunk down to holding a civil conversation.

“Preventative measures,” he says. Jay mutters unkind words under his breath.

Over the course of the morning, they’d crossed into Arizona, and the copious amount of souvenirs clogging the gas station makes this abundantly clear. Painted mugs, cartoonish photocards, and detailed miniatures all depict red-stained canyons, gaining dust from where they sit on shelves. 

Riki takes an avid interest in these, pausing at a display overflowing with souvenirs to fiddle with them, shaking a snow globe here and tinkling a keychain there. Sunghoon leaves him behind in favor of surveying the beverage selection. 

When he turns around, Riki has disappeared. Sunghoon’s brow wrinkles but he chooses not to dwell on it, instead making his way to the counter. Initially, he’d taken a protein shake but then traded it for a cold coffee—he needs all the caffeine he can get if he’s going to be stuck with the younger boy. 

“$2.39,” the cashier informs. He’s hardly reached for his wallet when Riki sidles up next to him, sliding a packet of gummy worms and three suckers next to his meager coffee. He leans on the counter, shooting the cashier a smile.

“Add these in too.”

Mystified, the cashier obeys. Sunghoon stares as the total ticks upwards before whipping his head towards Riki. “Hey-”

But he’s already gone and disappeared. Sunghoon sighs and swipes his card, finalizing the purchase, now four dollars higher than originally projected. He knew he’d been right to go for the coffee.

Well, it seems he’s learned another fact today; he peers inside the plastic bag, where hardened candy gleams. Riki definitely has a sweet tooth. 

Before he can step out from the store and into the sunlight, warm fingers curl around his wrist. He startles, nearly dropping the bag. The culprit turns out to be Riki, grinning sheepishly. “My bad, sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Sunghoon says after swallowing down his surprise. He holds out the bag. “It’s your stuff anyway.”

Riki doesn’t seem to notice the note of indignation in his tone, eyes glittering as he peeks at the contents. “Did you see they’ve got a claw machine here?”

“What?” 

“Behind us.” Riki turns on his heel, gesturing to where a claw machine stands proudly. It’s filled with small containers, probably filled with useless trinkets. He pauses, considering, then grins. “Think I could win something?”

“Well,” Sunghoon hesitates, but it’s clear his answer doesn’t matter as Riki bounds towards the game machine. Without any other choice, he follows the other, watching as he feeds it a few nickels before planting his feet firmly and cracking his knuckles. 

“Watch and learn,” he tells Sunghoon, before his hands dive for the controls.

To his surprise, Riki doesn’t immediately face a devastating loss. He’s pretty good, actually, eyes trained onto the claw with fierce determination. Despite himself, Sunghoon leans in.

“You’re experienced,” he comments. Riki must regularly stop at arcades while hitchhiking; when he voices these thoughts, Riki confirms it with a grunt.

“I do, if I’ve got the money. Otherwise, it’s a waste.” 

Sunghoon digests this statement just as Riki releases a whoop of got’em! The machine emits a number of clicks and clunks before it spits out a cloudy container. He disguises his interest but watches as Riki snatches it, popping the top open.

Out tumbles something small and shiny. Upon closer inspection, it turns out to be an elastic band, similar to the one on Sunghoon’s wrist. He snorts. “Congratulations.” Turning away, he sets off for the car. Jay’s probably already making a fool of himself by now. 

“Hold up,” Riki calls, stopping him in his tracks. Fingers wrap around his wrist again and Sunghoon looks down just in time to see Riki pull the shiny elastic past his knuckles. He lets him go and Sunghoon lifts his hand up to his line of sight.

He’d missed it before, but a number of bumps are grooved onto the surface of the elastic. Morse code, perhaps. Sunghoon lowers his arm. “What’s this?”

Riki raises a brow. “A bracelet.”

“No, I mean—what for?”

“Your elastic,” Riki says. “It’ll be bad if it snaps without backup. This way, you won’t run out of luck. Anyway, consider it an exchange for the snacks.” He rattles the candy. “I gotta pay you back somehow.”

“I didn’t ask to be paid back,” Sunghoon says, but Riki’s already patting his elbow, moving past him. “You don’t-”

Apparently, he can, because Riki jogs back to the car, leaving Sunghoon clutching at his coffee. He frowns at the bracelet. Although it’s a cheap thing, it feels wrong for Riki to spare any money for him, especially since he’d admitted earlier, however indirectly, to not have enough for a meal at times.

This way, you won’t run out of luck. Sunghoon shakes his head; little does Riki know that luck constantly evades him. He lifts his eyes to where Riki’s signing dramatically outside Jungwon’s window, apparently trying to convince him to unlock the door. 

Two hours in, as if spurred on by the appearance of a new lifeline, the previous elastic snaps. 

For some peculiar reason, Riki consistently buys something from any gas station they stop at. He pawns these baubles over to Sunghoon, who doesn’t understand but accepts the offering anyhow. 

Before long, his bag will be stuffed full of these worthless trinkets but refusing doesn’t deter the other at all. Perhaps this is just another game for Riki; searching for the most useless thing he can find, cackling at Sunghoon’s reaction to it. 

Sunghoon learns to not question it by the third idiotic postcard. 

“-So you can make a four-day trip for some internship but not make a thirty minute drive to see your boyfriend, I see how it is.”

Jay’s statement is followed by a disbelieving snort from Jungwon. “Oh, look who’s putting his hurt feelings above my education again-”

For the past hour, they’ve been stuck in a traffic jam, reducing the car’s progress to a sluggish crawl. The result of this is Jay and Jungwon breaching a new topic every few minutes, which, more often than not, dissolves into an argument. 

Riki has devised a new game—take a shot for each time their breakup is referenced. He takes a swig of his water bottle before passing it to Sunghoon, who sighs and takes another sip. 

Even while they argue, Sunghoon watches, bemused, as Jay’s arms shoot out to ensure Jungwon doesn’t slide forward each time he brakes. He wrinkles his brow when Jungwon reaches to turn up the air conditioner, only for Jay to beat him to it, although scowling. He pinches the bridge of his nose when Jungwon makes an offhand stab at Jay and his expression ripples with dejection. 

He’s a lost cause. 

They only pause when Riki kicks open the door and hollers about needing to take a piss, hopping out before any of them can butt in. With how slow their pace has been, Sunghoon doubts they’ll be moving anytime so he shrugs, following suit. 

He’s washing his hands in the bathroom of a Walgreens when Riki pops out of the stall, giving him a fright. “You know, there’s an arcade next door,” he says conversationally.

“Uh-huh.” Sunghoon considers whether he should take off the elastic band but ends up scrubbing his hands with it on. Riki shifts his weight.

“We should go.”

At this, he looks over at the other. “‘We?’”

“Yeah. Do you really want to go back to the car and listen to them arguing?” 

No, Sunghoon supposes he doesn’t. The traffic jam isn’t slated to clear up until an hour later, either. He dries off his hands, aware of Riki’s hopeful eyes following him. If he’d been asked this the day before, he’d have rejected the suggestion without question, eager to not spend even a minute longer in Riki’s presence. 

Currently, however, with a slow drive ahead of them and Jay and Jungwon going for each other’s throats at any chance… He shrugs. “Sure.”

Riki beams. “Race you there!” he calls, before running off. Sunghoon sighs and jogs after him. 

It’s an old-fashioned arcade, with game machines that take a kick to work lined along the walls and a dusty film settled over the place. None of this dissuades Riki, who hops onto the nearest Street Fighter cabinet.

“C’mon,” he calls and Sunghoon approaches tentatively. His knowledge of games mostly lies in playing League with Heeseung or Jake. 

“You probably won’t have to try very hard,” he says, and it rings true. Riki’s ruthless and before long, Sunghoon’s pixelated characters are wiped out. Riki finds this hysterical. 

“I didn’t know you could even kill someone that fast,” he says as he crushes Sunghoon for the third time in a row. Sunghoon grumbles, hands sliding off the controls.

“Can’t we play something else?” 

Riki snickers but grabs his elbow, pulling him over to Space Invaders.

It’s Pong next and Paperboy after, and when they’ve exhausted nearly all the games in the arcade, Riki pauses by the snack station to grab a cola, tossing another over to Sunghoon. “My treat.” 

Sunghoon wants to point out that he doesn’t drink soda but Riki’s already moved on, digging through the jar of lollipops. He cranks open the can and takes a sip, the cola fizzing in his throat.

The taste of the bubbly soda remains imprinted in the back of his throat when they stumble out from the arcade, spreading warmth down his spine. Riki’s got a sucker dangling from the side of his mouth and he huffs a laugh when Sunghoon trips over a road bump, grabbing onto his elbow just in time. 

By now, the road has mostly cleared. Sunghoon squints to see if he can catch a glimpse of their car. It’s nowhere within sight. 

“Think they left us behind?” 

“Wouldn’t be the first time. Good thing you’re here.” When he glances over, Riki grins around his sucker. His tongue has been stained red. “You’re my hostage.” 

The statement earns a raised brow from him before the implications sink in. Riki’s hitched rides with strangers before, and has, apparently, been abandoned by them at times. He opens his mouth, ready to ask, when his phone rings. 

“About time,” Riki says when Sunghoon digs out his phone to find the call to be from Jungwon. “I was beginning to think you weren’t important enough.”

The call goes through. Sunghoon puts it on speaker. “Hey-”

“I’m sending our location.” Jungwon’s voice comes through sharp, a note of tremor edging his words. “It’s not that far. Come quick, there’s something wrong with Jay.”

A beep follows his statement and they stare at the screen as it goes dark. “Well, that wasn’t ominous at all,” Riki says. 

His phone trills with a notification; Jungwon, sending his location. It isn’t far and with their long legs, they manage to make it in record time. It seems that Riki’s time on the road has blessed him with superhuman stamina, because while Sunghoon is panting by the time they arrive, he hasn’t broken a sweat. 

Jay’s bent over the grass, Jungwon crouched by him, patting his back. Although he seems composed, his face is white when he looks up. Sunghoon jogs over. “What’s wrong?”

“Think it was the fast food,” Jungwon says. He’s worrying his lower lip, a tentative hand still laid on Jay’s shoulder. “He doesn’t eat it often and it’s all we’ve been having recently-” He winces when Jay jerks forward and hunches over even further, clapping a hand over his mouth. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to be hurling just yet.

“Can he drive?” 

Jay answers him, lowering a shaky hand. He’s had far better days, lips twisted and forehead drenched in perspiration. “I’ll be fi-”

“Absolute not,” Jungwon cuts in. His round eyes are narrowed into slits. “He nearly swerved into a fence.”

“Yeah, I don’t know,” Riki comments. He’s been surveying the scene up until now, peeking at where Jay is crumpled. “I can’t really trust his abilities when he looks like that.”

Two pairs of eyes shift expectantly to Sunghoon, who realizes that they’re waiting for his decision. “Let’s just get him back to the car first.”

Although he bats away Sunghoon’s helping hands and Riki’s offer of a piggyback, Jay allows Jungwon to keep a firm hand on his arm. He all but crawls into the backseat, collapsing heavily. Sunghoon wouldn’t put it past him to already have fallen asleep—he’d gained a skill of sleeping practically anywhere after college. 

Their driver out of commission, they stand in pregnant silence. They’re posed with a number of problems: Jay’s sickness, their lack of a driver, and the fact that his car is manually driven, which none of them are familiar with. 

Jungwon breaks it first. “I don’t have a license.”

“Well-” Sunghoon intends to take one for the team and volunteer but Jay groans, promptly cutting him off. They watch as he raises a hand, beckoning Jungwon closer. Obediently, he leans in.  

“What is it?” 

Jay gestures for him to move even closer and Jungwon does. When he’s near enough, he props himself up onto an elbow to whisper into Jungwon’s ear.

“Do not-” The hoarse whisper is loud enough for them all to hear. “-let Sunghoon drive.”

With that, he sinks back down, unmoving. Sunghoon is struck with a sense of betrayal.

“I—I wasn’t even going to offer to drive anyway,” he says, miffed. He spots Riki trying to muffle a snort and bristles. “Oh, and you have a better idea?”

“Of course, I do.” Riki slides off from where he’d been leaning against the car and pulls open the front door. “Seeing as I’m now the designated driver.” 

“Oh, joy,” Jungwon mutters. Sunghoon raises a dubious brow. 

“You know how to drive stick?”

Riki frowns, as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Duh. I’ve been around, you know. Now, hop in.” 

Jungwon sketches a quick cross in front of his torso before crawling into the back. Sunghoon doesn’t recall any of them ever being religious but he’s struck with the sudden compulsion to follow suit, especially as Riki switches on the engine, rubbing his palms together. 

The only seat free is the passenger seat, so he slides in, triple-checking his seatbelt. Riki revs the engine and grins, pleased. He spits out the stick of the lollipop he’d been sucking on, tossing it out the window before leaning back, looking over at Sunghoon.

“Hold on, sweetheart,” he says in a terrible imitation of a Western accent before reversing out of the packing space quick enough for Sunghoon’s back to slam against the seat. 

At this moment, he learns one more, essential fact about Riki. 

He cannot drive. 

Sunghoon ends up taking Riki’s suggestion seriously. His hands scramble to catch himself against the dashboard as they zoom down the street, eyes blown wide. Jungwon splutters out a few choice words, clutching onto Jay before he can topple off the seat.

The car careens into a turn, wheels screeching loudly, and Sunghoon briefly sees God. It’s all he can do to stare ahead and clutch onto his seatbelt, mouth open in a soundless scream as Riki switches the gears and brakes, throwing them all forward. 

They nearly run a red light, swerve past three honking cars, and anger at least thrice more than that. All the while, Riki remains overwhelmingly confident, one hand on the wheel. When he catches Sunghoon’s eye, he winks.

Sunghoon feels vaguely sick.

A hand lays itself on Riki’s shoulder as they shriek to a stop. Both of them turn to find Jay, green-faced and sweating, but the steely look in his eyes conveys enough. 

Riki dismounts at the next stop. Somehow, even with Jay clutching at the wheel and twitching at intervals, Sunghoon’s safety seems more guaranteed as the older navigates to the nearest shoulder on the road.

“I thought you said you know how to drive stick,” Sunghoon says as he steps out. His legs still have tremors from Riki’s earlier display.

“I never said I knew how to drive stick well.”

Three pairs of eyes stare at him blankly. Jay sways and Jungwon catches him, dragging him to the back once more. “Stop overdoing yourself,” Jungwon hisses before—to Sunghoon’s astonishment—he pulls Jay closer, lifting his head up to his thighs. Jay’s lashes flutter before he bolts upright. 

He doesn’t get very far. Jungwon grabs his shoulder and pushes him back down. Jay manages to catch himself onto an elbow, lifting himself upwards. “W-what’re you doing-?”

“You’ll feel worse if your head isn’t elevated,” Jungwon says. “Lie down.”

Sunghoon considers whether he should step in or not as Jay blinks violently—he had agreed to play the part of the accountability police. However, Jungwon is right and he’d rather not serve as Jay’s personal pillow. If Jungwon feels up to the task, why stop him?

“Are… are you sure?”

“We’ve done this hundreds of times, what’s the big deal now?”

“Well, we were, uh… dating then-”

“Put your head in my lap, Park.” 

Jay’s throat bobs in a swallow but slowly, he lowers his head. Riki distracts him from whatever happens next, tugging on his sleeve. “It’s getting dark,” he says. “We should set up camp soon.”

“Set up camp?” Sunghoon echoes.

“We won’t be able to move from here until he’s good to go,” Riki says. “And we’ll get cold soon. You guys bring a lighter with you?”

There aren’t any lighters but Riki procures a bundle of matches from his backpack. They pull open the doors of the car wide and collect the few blankets they’ve brought along, one of which Jungwon tucks around Jay. Their supply of food consists of leftover soggy fries, a handful of snacks, and some loose ingredients Jay had brought along to make sandwiches. They’ll have to go shopping soon.

Riki, Sunghoon discovers, does not know how to make sandwiches. He watches with bewilderment as the other struggles to spread an even amount of crushed eggs, slathered in mayonnaise, onto slices of bread. 

“That’s too much egg,” Sunghoon says. Riki scrapes off half of it. “Now that’s too little. And that’s-”

With a groan, Riki tosses the bread to Sunghoon. “I give up. You do it.”

“I find it hard to believe you’ve spent all this time on the road and don’t know how to make a proper sandwich,” Sunghoon says as he scoops up a hearty portion of the mixture and lathers it onto the bread. “Do you live off of fast food?”

“I know how to make sandwiches,” Riki grumbles. He’s cracked open the carton of soggy fries, picking them off one by one. “I’ve just never met someone so picky about how they’re made.”

Sunghoon lifts himself up from his crouch, sandwich in hand as he approaches the car—it’d be best to wake Jay and try and settle his stomach. He peeks in to call the other but pauses as he’s greeted with the sight of Jungwon long asleep, fingers half-tangled through Jay’s hair and the other settled atop his blanket, as if guarding him.

The best course of action to salvage Jay’s heart would be to wake the both of them up but Sunghoon steps back quietly instead, leaving them to their devices. 

What Riki lacks in his knowledge of sandwiches he makes up for in everything else. With a match and various tinder and kindling, he sets a fire going and as the sun goes down, they huddle against the side of the car.

“You seem comfortable,” Sunghoon says. Riki’s crouched by the side of the fire, poking around it with a stick. “Do this often?”

“More often than you probably do. I’m pretty surprised you even know how to set a fire.” 

“Boy scouts,” Sunghoon grunts. Riki hums, abandoning the fire in favor of sitting next to Sunghoon. 

“You live in a penthouse back in the city or something? Going to Seattle for a conference?” 

“No way. Jay and I room in a shitty apartment complex. He’s going to visit his parents and Jungwon has a weekend internship-”

“And you got dragged along as the unlucky third person.”

“I’m the unlucky third person dragged along to keep an eye on Jay, so he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

Riki glances up, over to where Jay and Jungwon are fast asleep. “You’re doing a great job,” he says. “It’s good I’m here, then.”

“What?”

“So you aren’t suffering alone.” Riki’s eyes slide over to his frame. “It’d suck to be stuck with just those two.”

“Oh. That’s true.” It is true, Sunghoon realizes. Although Riki’s presence is a strange one and Sunghoon still hasn't been able to make sense of him, it is good that he is here, if not for at least this very moment. If he hadn’t been here, who would’ve lit this fire?

Sunghoon stares at Riki, the sharp edges of his side profile illuminated by the flickering fire. Like the flames, his interest flickers, heightening at some points, dying down once more. Who is Riki, really?

“You can ask me things, if you’re curious.”

Caught in the act, Sunghoon startles. “What? I—no. I mean… I’m not really a curious sort of person.”

“I am, though.” Riki rests his chin onto his knees, cocking his head. The fire paints his face in dancing shadows. “I’m curious about you.”

This puzzles Sunghoon greatly. “There isn’t really anything interesting about me.” He’s lived a fairly conventional life, earned an average degree, worked a job like everyone else. This never upset him—rather, this is how he preferred to live. Sudden changes made him squeamish. Why would Riki be curious about him? “Unless you want to hear about my clients,” he jokes. 

Riki raises a brow. “Nothing? Really?”

“Well… I’m good at ice skating?” he tries weakly, wincing at how droll it comes out. “Better than most. I was-”

Astounding. Breathtaking. The ice had been his second home, and it had been all he’d wanted to do for the rest of life. 

The words die in his mouth. Suddenly, he regrets breaching the subject. 

Riki studies his face. “Why’d you stop?”

He struggles for words for a moment. When he speaks, his voice is dim. “It wasn’t for me any longer.”

Riki takes in these words, digests. Sunghoon shifts his focus back to the fire, dancing before his eyes.

And then, quietly: “My town wasn’t for me any longer, either.”

“So you left.” Just like him.

The silence serves as his answer. 

A chilly wind curls past them and wordlessly, Sunghoon offers the other end of his blanket to Riki. No other words are exchanged between them, but somehow, it feels like a fitting end to their conversation. 

It’s unnerving to think he has something in common with this unpredictable boy, a boy who’s like ash blown away by wind after a fire, when Sunghoon has spent most of his life keeping it as predictable as he could. 

Yet, here they are. On the side of the same road, headed for the same place. Both having grown out of something beloved. 

Sunghoon nods off to sleep with Riki’s head laid on his shoulder. He dreams of skates against ice and blinking arcade lights and warming hands over campfires.

“Two queens.” Sunghoon places the cards atop the slowly-growing pile, keeping his face as clear as he can while Jungwon and Riki squint at him. His lip twitches. Jungwon, unfortunately, catches this.

“Bullshit,” he says cheerfully and Sunghoon scoops up the rest of the deck with the practiced ease of someone who’s been called out multiple times. Jungwon cackles and smacks his palm against Riki’s. It’s a sight that’s getting increasingly old.

“This isn’t fair,” Sunghoon grumbles, shuffling through his new collection of cards. At this point, he’s collected the whole deck. “This isn’t a team game but you’re ganging up against me.” 

“Don’t be bitter just because you’re terrible at bluffing,” Jungwon replies before putting down his last card. “One king.” 

It turns out he’s lying, but the card is a joker. Jungwon wins for the fourth time. Before him, Riki had won thrice, and Sunghoon has yet to claim first place.

“It’s good you’re an honest person,” Jay says from the front, probably trying to cheer him up from another devastating loss. Sunghoon drops his cards and slumps back, resisting the urge to pout.

As a result of Jay’s unforeseen sickness the day before, their initial arrival date has been pushed to a day later. It hadn’t been a big deal—as long as they got in time for his internship, Jungwon had stated. 

“I get the aux now!” Jungwon cheers, ripping the cord out of Riki’s phone and jamming it into his phone. Although he’s yet to play his own music, he supposes it’s a relief that his taste in music aligns with Jungwon’s as “Seattle” begins to filter through the speakers.

Jay hums along to the opening notes with recognition, fingers drumming against the wheel. “You’d listen to this song all the time,” he comments off-handedly, before he pauses. “Because it reminded you of…”

They exchange a look, heavy with meaning, before Jay clears his throat and averts his eyes. They’ve been doing that often, and not in the awkward manner they peeked at each other previously. 

Sunghoon may not be the brightest, but he’s not stupid—after the events of the past day, the atmosphere between them has shifted. Not only is Jay finally able to hold a conversation, but Jungwon’s indignation has quelled, and he’s become tolerant of RIki as well, if their past hour of playing cards is any indication. 

“Another round?” Riki asks. He’s finished shuffling the cards, which he’s rather skilled at—he’d shown off a number of fancy tricks earlier, soaking in their amazement. 

“I think I’ll call it a day for now,” Sunghoon says wearily. Riki either doesn’t hear him or doesn’t care, because a stack of cards are handed to him and he sighs, ready to face another disastrous loss.

Riki places down a card and doesn’t even try to lie well. Sunghoon frowns. “Bull-”

“Shit,” Jay curses, and they all raise their heads. The other is staring at the road, horror creeping into his features. Before their car, a large road closed for work sign blocks their path, with no way to get around. 

“Your GPS didn’t reroute you?” Jungwon says and Jay shakes his head, fumbling for his phone.

“It must’ve been closed off recently—fuck, we’ll probably have to go all the way around-”

Sunghoon spots Riki stealthily slide some of his cards into Jungwon’s while he’s distracted. “Hey-”

Riki holds a finger to his lip, hushing him. “I’ll let you play whatever you want,” he whispers and Sunghoon considers the offer; he doubts he’ll be winning anytime soon. When Jungwon picks up his cards, he frowns at the added weight but doesn’t question it. Riki reigns victorious and true to his words, allows Sunghoon to take a turn with the aux. 

“West Coast Love” thrums through the speakers and Riki nods approvingly. 

“Good choice,” he says before he begins a personal karaoke session. Sunghoon wonders if he knows the lyrics to every song. 

They make a pit stop to fill the car with gas and take a quick bathroom break. Predictably, Sunghoon gets another coffee. Even more predictably, Riki buys a pack of raspberry suckers—he’s fond of those. He also gets a flimsy postcard, which he hands to Sunghoon. Yet another souvenir for him to add to his collection.

With the road blocked, they’ve rerouted the long way around, along the coast. Although it adds hours to their trip, none of them can find it in themselves to be upset over it as the ocean flows into view.

The empty road stretches before them and the sea sparkles outside of Sunghoon’s window, reflecting the gleaming sun. He snaps a photo to send Jake, just in time for Riki to lean over and press his face to the glass. “That’s awesome,” he says, breathless.

His voice is close to Sunghoon’s ear, their shoulders knocking together. Sunghoon nods in agreement, murmuring along to “West Coast Love.”

“‘West coast love, never left my mind…’”

The shoreline expands, morphing from a thin sliver into a wide expanse of sand. Riki grows quieter as they drive, quieter than he’s ever been. They’ve been sitting close together all this time, thighs pressed together, as Riki stares out at the ocean. 

Earlier, Sunghoon had intended to push him away while muttering something about personal space. He’d stopped upon noticing the look on the other’s face. 

Eventually, Riki speaks. “Can we stop?”

Jay glances over at them through the rearview mirror, meeting Sunghoon’s eyes questioningly. Sunghoon shrugs. Pausing here would probably delay them further but since none of them object, Jay nods. “Sure. I’ve always wanted to watch the sunset on the beach, anyway.”

“Nice,” Riki says. Whatever had come over him seems to have dissipated and Sunghoon is strangely relieved. A quiet, brooding Riki troubled him more than a pesky, bothering one. Jay cranks the gear as he makes a u-turn, parking at the side of the road. 

Riki’s out before Jay’s even turns off the engine and Sunghoon fumbles to keep up with him, kicking off his shoes, peeling off his socks, and shrugging off his jacket. It’s a relief he hadn’t donned any of his numerous turtlenecks today, instead clad in a simple sleeveless shirt. 

His toes sink into the sand and the salty beach air fills his lungs. The ocean spreads, glassy, into the dusk, the slight chill raising goosebumps along his bare arms. Riki’s shoes and socks have been abandoned in the sand, shoe marks morphing into footprints and Sunghoon uses them as guidance to locate the other. 

He’s knelt by the shoreline, fingers dipped into the water. Following his lead, Sunghoon sticks his hand into the water, pleasantly surprised to find it not as cold as he’d expected it to be. “It’s cool.”

“Perfect for swimming,” Riki agrees. He turns his head, eyes skating over Sunghoon’s form. Sunghoon frowns. 

“Swimming?”

“What did you think we came out here for?” Before he can react, Riki seizes his wrist with surprising strength, tossing him into the water. Sunghoon gasps, swallowing a mouthful of saltwater.

He splutters as he stabilizes, shaking his wet bangs out of his eyes. He’s definitely glad he hadn’t worn a turtleneck. Riki grins before him, thrilled, while Jay, having caught up to them, laughs hysterically.

Sunghoon scowls. He doesn’t hesitate to reach forward and yank Jay into the water, whose laughter seizes as he falls face-first. One down, Sunghoon wheels around to Riki. “You-”

Riki’s practically glowing. “Me?”

“Get over here.”

“Sure. Gimme a sec.” He turns to Jungwon, who stands a safe distance from them—probably for the best. “Jungwon, catch!” 

Stripping off his hoodie leaves him in a sleeveless shirt, similar to Sunghoon. He tosses the bundle of cloth over to Jungwon. Before, Riki had seemed to be made of mostly bone, and while that remains true to some degree, Sunghoon can now tell he hadn’t been entirely correct. Riki’s shoulders are broad, his arms strong and sinewy—surely a result of lugging around his heavy baggage. 

He finds himself tracking their movements as Riki raises them to gather the strands of his hair, tying it back into a tiny, stubby ponytail and subsequently, exposing his nape, so often covered by his hair or hood. Sunghoon only realizes he’s staring when the boy turns, meeting his eyes and grinning. 

Sunghoon blinks, a little disoriented. Jay doesn’t allow him to remain that way for long as he appears at his side, earning revenge by tackling him back into the water. Sunghoon’s back hits the ground and he hacks out a wheeze of air, furiously blinking sand out of his eyes. 

“Jungwon! Come here!” Jay shouts over to Jungwon, still holding onto Riki’s hoodie and seemingly content with just standing. When he shakes his head, Jay pulls himself out of the water and sprints over to him, snagging his wrist to drag him over. 

“Jay, I said no—I don’t-” Despite his complaints, his eyes are crinkled, and he doesn’t seem very angry at all when Jay wraps his arms around his shoulders and throws both of them in. “Jay-!” 

They’re both laughing, Jungwon shoving Jay off of him playfully. When Sunghoon looks over at Riki—his bangs clinging to his forehead, nape once more covered by the wet curl of his ponytail—he’s laughing as well, pink gums peeking out. 

The corner of his lip curls up. 

The sun sinks under their splashes of water and wet laughter, pink seeping into the blue waves. Riki comes up with the brilliant idea to play tag in the water, which ends up as failure since he always chases after Sunghoon while Jay makes it his goal to grab Jungwon. 

Jay and Jungwon pull themselves out first, teeth chattering as they head for the car to warm themselves up. Sunghoon lags behind, collapsing onto the shallow shore. Although gritty sand clogs his trousers and his wet clothes stick to his skin, all his attention remains skewed onto the sunset. 

Riki holds out his hands and Sunghoon accepts them, allowing himself to be pulled up. His grip doesn’t loosen instantly; instead, Riki’s eyes shift off towards the horizon. Sunghoon follows his gaze to where a thin, yellow sliver of the sun remains.

“I used to live by the beach,” Riki says suddenly, and Sunghoon stills. He’s tempted to look over at the other, but he smothers it. “The sun used to set like this every day.”

His hands are speckled with sand, warm in Sunghoon’s. An understanding creeps over him. 

“That’s why you wanted to stop,” he says, slowly. “Because you wanted to watch the sunset.”

“Yeah. I thought I’d left everything from that place behind but—I ended up missing this. I guess I wanted to see it one more time, after all.” 

“Why can’t you…” Riki’s gaze meets his and he swipes his tongue over his lips. They feel dry. “If you miss it, why don’t you go back? Or come back here?” 

Riki doesn’t respond immediately and he wonders if he’s overstepped. He’s about to draw his hands away and apologize when Riki clutches on tighter, murmuring so soft Sunghoon nearly misses it. “I can’t.”

“You… can’t?”

“I can’t go back,” Riki says. His throat bobs in a swallow. “I… don’t go back. To anywhere I’ve been to.”

“Why?”

“There isn’t anything left for me.” Sunghoon tries to speak, to ask him what he means, but it’s too late; the boy lets go, swiping the salt off his cheek. “I think I can hear them arguing,” he says. “Aren’t you supposed to be policing Jay?”

“Yeah,” Sunghoon says, but what he really wants to do is stay behind here, suspended in the moment between evening and dusk, grab Riki’s sun-warmed palms, and listen. Jay’s boisterous laugh shakes him out of his thoughts. “Yeah. I better… make sure he isn’t making a fool of himself.”

Riki hums in assent and they set off, sand clumping wetly around their feet. A wind sweeps past them, lifting Riki’s curls off his nape. 

Sunghoon stares at the back of his neck, “West Coast Love” playing on repeat in his head. 

jukebox on the black top, that’s that west coast love
after school, hooking up in your drop top
west coast love

The stench of salt follows them as they make their way through store aisles, not overpowering but still noticeable if Sunghoon sniffs himself. Although they’d swapped their clothes and washed off as much as they could, the smell still clung to them like a second skin.

It had been particularly noticeable when Sunghoon had woken up with his face half-buried into Riki’s hair. He should really work on his habit.

To prepare for the final stretch to Seattle, they’d stopped briefly at a Kroger. Jay had instructed them to purchase only the “necessary” items, which means coffee for Sunghoon and…

He turns around just in time to witness Riki dump an offensively bright package into the cart.

…poptarts for Riki.

“You want to buy sugar?” He wrinkles his nose. “The thing that killed Jay?”

“He survived. Also, I’m not judging you for all the coffee you drink.”

Sunghoon wraps a protective arm around the bottle. “My coffee is a necessity.” 

“Caffeine junkie,” Riki mutters under his breath. He ducks into the next aisle before Sunghoon can argue with him. Shaking his head, Sunghoon turns back and tries to decide whether he wants double-shot or triple-shot. 

He makes it to self-checkout just in time for Riki to pop in, adding a pack of M&M’s to his growing stockpile of snacks.

“Sugar junkie,” he mutters before the package in Riki’s hands catches his attention. “What’s that?” Riki passes it to him and Sunghoon flips it over to find it to be an assortment of cords, all various colors. “Paracords. You know how to make bracelets?” 

“Nah. Found it on a shelf and thought it looked pretty cool. You do?” 

“Uh-huh. We made a ton of these back when I was in Scouts.” He pauses, chewing on his lip. “I could teach you, if you want.” 

Riki perks up. “Hell, yeah.” His gaze shifts from the package to Sunghoon’s wrist. “Which reminds me—where’d your bracelet go?”

“I didn’t take it off-?” Sunghoon begins, lifting his hand before pausing. Where the bracelet had sat the day before, there’s nothing but pale skin. “Oh, no. It must've fallen off while swimming.”

Before he can lament over it further, Riki waves him off. “Oh, well. It was cheap anyway.” He deposits the pack of cords onto the scanner before scampering off. “I’m gonna take a shit, I’ll meet you back at the car.”

“Thanks for the information,” Sunghoon mutters, turning back to the scanner. He frowns at his bare wrist, thumbing the space where the elastic had been before. He’d just been beginning to grow attached to it. 

Jay’s in the midst of an argument with Jungwon when Sunghoon returns, hands heavy with bags—while he wants to take the shorter route, the latter is insistent on the longer one.

“We’ll be getting there today, one way or another,” Jungwon argues. His palms are flat on the hood of the car as he leans back, forehead crinkled delicately. “I’d rather just take the safer route.”

“If we’re going to get there today anyway, I’d prefer to eat dinner over a midnight snack,” Jay counters. He stands close to Jungwon, closer than Sunghoon thinks is necessary, hand balanced just a ways from the other’s hip. “Why waste time and gas?”

“To be safe. If anything happens, we’ll be delayed even more, and we’re already a day late-”

“Let’s not make it longer.”

They lock eyes, engaged in a silent argument. Sunghoon clears his throat, interrupting them. Accountability police, or whatever. It works because Jungwon drags his eyes away from Jay to frown at the plastic bags. “That looks like way more than necessities.”

“Riki took some liberties,” Sunghoon says, loading up the trunk. He tosses the cords into the backseat. “I paid for him, so don’t get hissy.”

Jungwon, about to remark, closes his mouth. With a sigh, he pushes himself off the hood, dusting off his jeans. “Fine. We can go with your plan.”

“Finally,” Jay says, ducking into the car. Sunghoon follows suit just as Riki appears, still patting his wet hands dry.

A minor squabble over the aux (“not Ariana Grande, please anyone but her”), a little shuffling here and there (“Riki, stop kicking my seat”), and a rev of the engine later (“put on your seatbelts, kids”), and they’re off. 

Plastic crinkles as Riki tosses the cords into his lap. “You going to teach me or not?”

Vibrant cords and buckles form a wonderful collection of his childhood. Sunghoon evokes this memory as he explains the method of attaching the cord to the buckle. 

“-cross it over these middle strands, then through this loop right here.” As he speaks, he pulls the cords tight, showing off the created knot to Riki. “Just like this.”

Riki nods, slowly. He doesn’t look very confident but grasps two of the cords anyway. “So I just…” Although his movements are slow and stilted, he manages to get through the first few steps with relative ease. It’s in the weaving where he gets stuck. “This looks like dogshit.”

“It’s not that bad,” Sunghoon says. He glances over and winces. Nevermind. It really is that bad.

Riki spots his expression. “Help me. I’ll understand if you show me.”

“Alright.” Sunghoon reaches over to untangle the work Riki’s done. “Hold onto this. Cross it over here.”

Their hands bump as Riki obeys him and instinctively, Sunghoon’s hand twitches. For the sake of teaching, he manages not to shy away—especially as Riki requests help for the next knot, and the next, and their fingers brush more than once. By the time the bracelet is completed, he’s relieved to retract his arms. 

“Nice!” Riki admires the finished product, weaved in a simple cobra stitch. He tries to pull it on and frowns when it gets stuck at his knuckles. “It’s too small.”

Sunghoon’s about to suggest he show him a method to extend it when Riki’s struck with an idea, wheeling around. Those bright eyes settle on him. 

“Give me your hand,” he says. The confused “what” has hardly crawled out of his mouth before Riki’s hand slides over his, tugging it closer. He watches, unblinking, as the boy slides the bracelet over his knuckles to sit snugly on his slimmer wrist. Riki bobs his head, satisfied. “There. To make up for the luck you lost.”

“Oh,” Sunghoon says, or tries to. Instead, it expels from his mouth in an exhale as Riki’s fingers abandon his wrist, trailing over to his knuckles instead and turning it over. The pad of his thumb rubs the tip of Sunghoon’s pinky. 

“Woah, don’t you have any callouses?” he marvels, and Sunghoon opens his mouth. Nothing comes out. That’s a little concerning. “How?”

“Um,” he finally manages. His eyes flicker over to the front and his eyes meet with Jungwon’s in the rearview mirror. The contact kicks his cognitives back into gear and he tears his hand out of Riki’s grasp, tucking it into the safety of his lap. “I don’t play any instruments?”

Riki must find him funny because he snorts. Sunghoon scoots over to his side. He’s gotten too comfortable these days and made the mistake of forgetting that Riki is prone to being peculiar. A miscalculation on his part.

There’s a short, stilted silence. When Sunghoon turns his head, Riki is still looking at him. Sunghoon grounds his palm deeper into his lap. “...What?”

“Nothing. You’re just like… really red right now.”

Sunghoon coughs, turning away. “I need to go to the bathroom,” he announces loudly. “Can we stop?”

Jay’s brows knit together. “We just went thirty minutes ago.”

“I drink a lot of water. Where’s the nearest rest stop?” 

To his dismay, they won’t be off the highway for another hour or so. Sunghoon resigns himself to his fate, stuffing earbuds in to drown out the noise as he settles back. May as well catch up on sleep. 

Plastic crinkles as Riki shifts beside him, pulling out a handful of colorful cords. Sunghoon doesn’t open his eyes, but he imagines the other boy hard at work, lips puckered and forehead creased. 

His thumb runs over the ridges of the cords around his wrist. He suppresses a smile.

Sunghoon feels the tire blow out rather than hearing it. It begins as a low tremor at his knees before the car jolts, sending him sliding against the door. His eyes fly open as a firm hand clasps his shoulder, minutely saving his head from bouncing against the glass.

Riki’s concerned face fills his vision and he fumbles, yanking off his earphones. “What’s going on?” he manages. He doesn’t receive a reply, the other busy looking over his shoulder. 

“Shit , shit, fuck,” Jay curses, shoving open the door and scrambling out. Riki’s hold on his shoulder slides down to his elbow as he opens the door, dragging him out. Sunghoon’s confusion ceases as his feet touch the ground just in time to witness the rear tire release a cheerful pop . 

Oh. Huh. That’s not good. Sunghoon watches as the tire deflates, shrinking smaller and smaller each passing second. “You got an extra tire in the back, right?” Riki asks.

Jay shakes his head. He’s sunk to his knees, pale face in his hands as he stares at the tire. “Used it up a year ago. Never replaced it.”

If Jungwon wanted to snap a “I told you so,” now would be the time. He doesn’t speak however, lips pressed into a thin line as he surveys the damage. Somehow, that’s far more intimidating.

“Where are we?” Sunghoon asks, and Jay passes him the GPS. About ten hours away from Seattle. He chews his lip. “We need to find an auto shop for a tire.” 

“Here?” Jay asks, incredulous, while Riki chimes, “already on it.” They stand with bated breath as Riki furiously slides his thumb across his screen. He looks up.

“There’s one six miles from here.” 

Jay groans, dropping his head onto his knees. Sunghoon quickly adds in: “They could probably tow the car.” 

“Let’s pray they do,” Jungwon says. It’s the only thing he’s said all the while, and it stays that way as they wait for Jay to finish exchanging words with whoever’s on the phone. Hope floods his face when he lowers the phone from his ear.

“They’ll be here in ten minutes,” he says. A collective exhale of relief expels from the group.

A stocky, well-muscled man by the name of Taehyun arrives at the ten-minute mark, sticking his head out the window to greet them. He scans their tight, distraught faces and wisely, doesn’t make any attempt at small talk. He does, however, offer a ride in his truck.

“Might be pretty uncomfortable in there,” he says. “You’re welcome to climb in my truck. Got space for all of you.”

“Oh, we’re good,” Jay says. Before he can thank the other for the offer, Jungwon strolls past them and, without sparing them a single glance, climbs into the front of the truck, pulling the door shut behind him. Sunghoon and Riki exchange a look.

“Great. Trouble in paradise,” Riki mutters. 

The silence that follows is interrupted by Jay clearing his throat. “He’s right. It’ll probably be more comfortable there. You guys can go ahead, I’ll stay.” 

With a curt nod, he turns, making his way back to the car in stiff, mechanical movements. Sunghoon only entertains the option of a smooth ride momentarily before trailing after Jay. His brow furrows when Riki remains on his heels. 

“You don’t have to come with me,” he says. Although he doesn’t see it, he thinks Riki might shrug.

“I don’t really care about being comfortable,” Riki says. He climbs in, snapping the door shut before Sunghoon can get a word in.

Without a wheel, the ride is bumpy, the flapping of the tire hitting the road repeatedly unbearable. Sunghoon peeks at Jay now and then, but his face remains stony. 

The auto shop is a small, compact place, stuffed with gears and tires and grease. A tall, lanky boy pops up from where he’d been slumped over a counter, introducing himself as Kai. He ties back his blonde hair with a checkered bandana as he assesses the situation. 

“Yeah, we can fix it up,” he says. “Quickly, too. We’ve got a problem, though.” He jerks his thumb behind them, where stacks of tires are jammed along the walls. “We don’t have this tire in.” The little delight that had filled Jay’s face seeps away. Kai notices and quickly adds in, “We’re receiving a shipment soon, though.”

“How soon could the tire be swapped?”

“I can’t promise you tomorrow morning, but it’ll definitely be ready by the afternoon.”

Jay swears, dragging his fingers through his hair. “There’s no way it can be done faster?”

“No, sir.” 

This far from Seattle, even if they requested for Jay’s family to drive over and fetch them, it would be far past midnight. Without any other auto shop nearby and the place mostly barren, they have no other choice. Sunghoon shakes his head when Jay shifts his pleading eyes to him. 

He sighs, dropping his hands. “I don’t have any other choice, I guess. How much will it cost me?”

While he consults the price with Kai, Taehyun approaches them. “There’s a motel near here,” he says, before nodding at Jungwon. “Probably best if you all stay there for the night. It’s a little beat down, but it’s safe. I could take you there.”

Jungwon smiles. “That’s really kind of you-”

“Thank you,” Jay interrupts. “But we can find our own way. We wouldn’t want to be a hassle.”

“Not at all-”

“Stop being so stubborn, Jay.” Jungwon’s words are sharp, cutting. “What’re we going to do with our luggage?” He lightens as he inclines his head to Taehyun. “We’d be glad if you could take us there.”

Thankfully, Jay doesn’t argue. Sunghoon squeezes his shoulder, a reminder. Jay pays no heed to him, his jaw twitching from how tightly it’s clenched. 

Sunghoon ends up squeezed between Jay and Riki during the drive. It’s uncomfortable for a number of reasons; one, because Jay is brooding, and two, because Riki is… Riki. Thankfully, he isn’t getting up to anything strange right now, busy fiddling with the cords he’d rescued from the car. Sunghoon rubs his own bracelet. 

The motel is less of a motel and more of a glorified shack. The peeling paint and battered, grime-packed windows have Sunghoon’s stomach squirming. It doesn’t help when Riki leans over, murmuring: “I checked the Yelp reviews. People are convinced it’s haunted here.” 

A middle-aged woman greets them at reception, checking them in for two rooms and handing them each a key for either of the two rooms. “Stick 'em in either and see which works,” she tells them, before returning to Candy Crush on her phone.

They exchange looks before Riki shrugs. He and Jungwon set off while Sunghoon lags behind Jay to heave their baggage into the motel. “Jungwon’s just stressed right now,” he says, cautiously breaching the subject.

“Me and him both.” 

“He’ll cool off in a bit,” Sunghoon continues, since he hasn’t gotten a negative response yet. “Once we plan for tomorrow, he’ll go back to normal-”

The heavy clunk of Jay’s luggage meeting the floor drowns him out. Jay sighs, turning to him. “There’s nothing normal about Jungwon and I. We were in love once and he left, and like an idiot, I stayed. We’ll never be normal.”

Pulling up the handle to his luggage, he sets off. Sunghoon bites his lip and slings his duffel over his shoulder, following him. 

It only occurs to him that he probably should’ve checked with Jungwon or Riki for which room their key had let them in. He tries it on the first and gives up when it won’t twist, moving onto the second. This one slides in easily, opening the door with a clink.

The two beds that greet him when he steps in the room floods him with relief; he hadn’t been looking forward to sharing with any of the others. His eyes shift, landing on a stunned Riki and he points, surprised. “Oh.”

Riki clutches his stomach, doubling over, and Sunghoon fears for a moment he may be sick. It takes him a moment to realize he’s laughing, guffawing madly. “How quiet is it in their room right now?”

“It’s not funny,” Sunghoon says, although it is a little funny. Privately, he’s thrilled he doesn’t have to share a room with a moody Jay or a cross Jungwon. “I’m showering first.”

The bathroom is in better shape than he’d expected to be. There are no fancy lights or spray bidets, but just the prospect of a clean bathroom is cause for celebration now. Sunghoon had gotten sick of swapping clothes in public restrooms. 

He makes quick work of his clothes, eager to climb into the shower. The spray of water is a godsend and he turns it up as hot as it’ll go, scrubbing at his skin until it’s pink and lathering his hair until the soap suds obscure his vision. When he steps out of the bathroom, a billow of steam follows him. 

“Make it any hotter and you’ll roast yourself,” Riki says. Sunghoon ignores him, toweling off his hair when Riki’s shoulder knocks against his. He hears the unmistakable sound of an inhale and goes stiff. 

Sunghoon releases a strangled half-choke, half-wheeze, wheeling around as he clasps a hand to his neck, strangely ticklish. Riki leans away before the towel can smack him in the face. “Did you… just sniff me?”

Riki holds up his hands. “Just checking for burnt flesh. You’re all clear. All I smell is sandalwood.” 

He ducks under Sunghoon’s arm to slip into the bathroom, snapping the door shut behind him. Sunghoon doesn’t know which bothers him more; the fact that Riki had recognized the scent in a heartbeat or that his neck still tingles. 

The water begins to run in the bathroom and Sunghoon furiously wrings the dampness out of his hair. 

His phone dings with a notification as he’s finishing up and he reads the text. “Dinner is at eight,” he calls. “Jay says not to be late.”

“That’s just great,” Riki calls back before popping out of the bathroom. His bangs are wet, plastered to his forehead, and he’s swapped his hitchhiking gear for a simple shirt, loose around his shoulders. When he yawns, stretching his arms above his head, the shirt creases and rises. “Just what I wanted to end my day with—the bitter taste of ex-lovers.”

“Don’t let them hear you say that,” Sunghoon says, too weary to tell him off any further. Freshly-showered and skin still warm to the touch, they track down the dining hall. It’s mostly empty, save for the occasional patron, and even quieter, those few who are there conversing in low, hushed voices. They spot Jay and Jungwon and jog over. 

Like the two of them, they’ve both taken advantage of the shower, hair glossy and damp. Unlike the two of them, they aren’t speaking. The small hope Sunghoon had been harboring of them to work out their differences is quashed. 

“Mashed potatoes!” Riki gasps, startling all of them. “It’s been years! Come on, Sunghoon, before it runs out.”

While Sunghoon doubts that’ll come to pass, he tackles the excuse to leave the table. Riki jams his plate with as much as food as it can possibly hold: scoops of mashed potato, clusters of boiled green beans and carrots, stacks of biscuits. 

It reminds him of how Riki had practically inhaled his fries that first day. His statement of if I’ve got the money, careless but heavy with implications. Without much thought, he plucks a biscuit from his plate and drops it onto Riki’s, earning him a quizzical look.

“Took too much,” Sunghoon says, brushing past him to avoid any questions. 

The table is just as awkward as they’d left it. Jungwon pushes his fork around and Jay’s eyes flicker to him repeatedly, but he doesn’t speak up. Riki has no qualms about this, pulling up the seat next to Jay and digging in. Sunghoon finds it harder to ignore.

“So…” he begins, awkwardly. Riki spares him a look of pity. “They say this place is haunted.”

It probably isn’t the best place to begin with. Jay lowers his fork, eyes going wide. “They say what?”

“Oh, yeah,” Riki chimes in, and a rush of gratitude surges through Sunghoon for the backup. “There’s loads of ghost stories surrounding this place. Apparently an old lady in a gown walks around at night and asks for toilet paper.” 

“Toilet paper?” Sunghoon snorts but Jay just seems more terrified. Riki notices this and grins, mischievous.

“What, scared of ghosts?”

Jay opens his mouth to speak, probably to deny it, but Jungwon beats him to it. “Ghosts aren’t real,” he says. “And whoever thinks they are clearly isn’t very bright.”

Sunghoon’s eyes dart to Riki’s—was that…? It had clearly been a dig at Jay, and this isn’t lost on him as his mouth snaps shut. 

“It doesn’t matter. We’re only here for tonight, anyway.”

“We’d be in Seattle by now, huh?” Jungwon muses. His eyes are still fixed onto the mess of mashed potato and peas on his plate and he misses Sunghoon’s expression. “But we’re here, instead.”

“Nothing to be done about it.” Although Jay’s voice is light, his face has gone tight. 

“Nothing to be done about it,” Jungwon agrees. “Since it’s too late to change your decision.”

Jay’s brows lift and Sunghoon quickly tries to bring the topic back. “So, the ghost lady-”

“My decision?” Jay echoes, an edge to his voice. Jungwon raises his gaze from his plate. He looks utterly bored.

“Yeah,” he says, like it’s obvious. “We're here since you decided to take this route.”

“I didn’t decide for our tire to blow out.”

“You didn’t. But it could’ve been avoided.”

“How could I have known?” Jay asks, incredulous. “I-”

“Could’ve thought about all the other people in your car other than yourself?” Jungwon sets down his fork, finally abandoning his meal. “You could’ve. But you decided not to.” 

“Don’t paint me a self-centered prick, Jungwon,” Jay says and Jungwon’s eyes narrow. Sunghoon has a distant idea that he should be butting in now, but remains helpless, only able to watch. 

“I wouldn’t, Jay,” Jungwon snaps, “if you weren’t giving me reasons to. This isn’t the first time your poor decisions have held us back-”

“I was sick-”

“-because of the fast food you ate, to prove me wrong . Are you that pathetic?”

Pathetic. The word has Sunghoon’s heart dropping and if this is how he’s feeling, he can’t imagine how Jay is. It’s a wonder his words are still level when he speaks. 

“Clearly not enough for you to avoid me, since you’ve come along with us after all.”

“And what a choice that’s been. Stranded on the side of the road, stranded at some shady hotel-”

“You didn’t seem too upset by it when you were chatting up those boys you found while stranded,” Jay sneers. Jungwon’s eyes snap to him.

“...What did you say?” 

“I might be pathetic, but I’m not stupid. I have eyes, and I use them.”

“You-” Jungwon’s fork clatters, not gently, as he sets it down. “Thanks to you, I might miss the opportunity of a lifetime, and you’re making this about yourself.” 

“I didn’t tell you to come with me. You agreed.”

“I never should’ve,” Jungwon says, more to himself. “I should’ve known. You’re always like this, refusing to accept your bad choices-”

“And you were always like this,” Jay shoots back. “Always pinning the blame on me. It’s my fault we’re here and that we didn’t reach Seattle by now. It’s my fault we broke up. It’s my fault I got a job in the city and I didn’t frequently visit you, when you knew I was busy and wanted nothing more than to be with you. You—you were always innocent.” 

Silence fills the space between them and Sunghoon can see the realization sink into their faces. In the end, this is what it had come back to—them and their muddled, kaleidoscope of emotions, resurfacing after hours of spending time close to one another. Jungwon drops his face into his hands.

“This was a terrible idea,” he whispers. 

Pain ripples through Jay’s face and he swallows. “Of course, it was,” he says. “Because I’m pathetic, right? Because you can’t stand the sight of me. Because this-” He gestures between them, hands shaking, “this mess, this is all my fault.”

He receives no reply. Riki gently grasps Jay's shoulder. “Jay, why don’t we-”

“Because you thought you’d never have to deal with me again, and yet, I’m here. Because I was such a terrible boyfriend, such a terrible person. Because-”

Jungwon’s hand slides off his face. His face is clear, a silent pool. Sunghoon reaches for him, ready to drag him off before he says anything that’ll potentially scar Jay forever-

“Because I’m still in love with you.” 

The words are quiet, yet impossible to not overhear. Sunghoon notices it then; his curled knuckles, shaking in his lap. Jay blinks, opens his mouth, closes it. Riki’s in a similar state. 

“Happy now?” None of them grace with a reply and he lifts himself out of his seat, neatly arranging his utensils and folding his napkin. He leaves uncannily like a ghost, Sunghoon thinks, dazed—quiet and pale and poignant.

Jay’s throat works soundlessly, until finally, an exhale spills from him, followed by a “wait. Wait, Jungwon.”

“He’s already left,” Riki says and Jay’s head swivels to him. He closes his mouth and slowly stands up. Sunghoon only needs to shake his head and Riki snags the other’s wrist, yanking him down. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

“I need to get to him,” Jay says. “He-”

“Probably doesn’t want to see your face right now,” Riki finishes. “So pipe down.” 

His chin lifts, eyes locking onto Sunghoon’s. He mouths a single word.

What?

The trickle of running water fills the otherwise-silent room. One of Sunghoon’s hands card itself through his hair while the other pinches the bridge of his nose. Riki dangles off the side of the bed, lips pursed in thought.

“Woah,” he says. “I didn’t see that coming. Should I have seen that coming?”

“No,” Sunghoon says. He’d been so absorbed in Jay’s emotions he hadn’t once paused to comprehend Jungwon’s. All this time, he’d been in the very same position. “But I should’ve.” 

The door to the bathroom squeaks open, followed by the padding of socked feet. Jay emerges, towel slung over his shoulder and face surprisingly clear of any tears. After the spectacle downstairs, it would be laughable to expect him to return to his room with Jungwon.

He shuffles up to the unoccupied bed, wobbling precariously. Sunghoon glances over at Riki.

“You’d better share with me,” he blurts out. Jay collapses face-first into the bed and Riki flutters a brow. 

He shrugs. “Sure.” 

A low, pathetic whine resounds from where Jay’s head is buried into his pillow. It’s starting. Riki considers his options only briefly before drawing himself up.

“I’ll go and check on how Jungwon’s doing,” he informs Sunghoon. Jay’s shoulders twitch at the mention of the boy. “You can…”

Deal with this mess, his tone implies, but he leaves it unsaid. A scuffle of shoes and the door creaks open, slamming shut shortly after. Jay releases a sigh, rolling over and spreading his arms on either side. “Did I ever tell you why we broke up?”

The question returns him briefly to a little over a year ago; it’s not a time Sunghoon prefers to reminisce about. Jay had been inconsolable, digging out beers from the fridge daily, refusing to eat properly, uninterested in his job. It had taken Jake and Sunghoon’s joint effort to wrestle him out of his cocoon of depression and get back to his feet. 

Throughout it all, not once had Jay spoken an ill word against Jungwon.

“You didn’t,” Sunghoon answers. 

“I was struggling to love him, he told me. We didn’t see each other often, our schedules kept clashing, life kept getting in the way. Back then, I thought he was right.”

Sunghoon digests the information, slowly. “You broke up with him?”

“No. I asked to work it out, at least, give it some time. He said he’d already burdened me enough, something he’d never wanted to do. If I cared about his feelings, he told me, I’d agree.”

“So you did.”

“I did.” Jay runs a hand over his dry face. “It seemed the right thing to do and truth be told, our relationship was stressing me out. It was only until after I realized how wrong he’d been. He’d never been the burden, and he knew it, which meant he must’ve been talking about me.”

“But today-” Sunghoon begins before pausing. “Doesn’t today prove otherwise?”

“I guess it does,” Jay sighs, rolling off the bed and onto the floor. The pop of a can has Sunghoon peeking up curiously. His brows raise at the beer in Jay’s hands. Noticing his look, Jay tosses him a can. “Hotel minibar,” he says in an explanation.

“You’re driving tomorrow.”

“Not until late afternoon.” Jay tilts his head back and takes a swig. “If it comes to it, we’ll get Riki to drive us.”

“I think I’d prefer Jungwon over him,” Sunghoon says dryly.

He doesn’t argue any further, peeling the tab off the can and following Jay’s lead. The grainy, smoky taste of the liquid has him coughing but he gulps it down anyway, exhaling heavily as he straightens. 

“Tastes like shit,” he announces, tossing away the empty can before holding out an expectant hand. Jay snorts and passes him another.  

The effects of drinking settle in shortly; colors glow brighter, he’s inexplicably giddy, and Jay has made him laugh more than once. He isn’t drunk, Sunghoon thinks to himself, he’s just tipsy. His alcohol tolerance is better than a couple cans of beers.

Jay, on the other hand has had at least three more than Sunghoon and it shows, from how he hopscotches from cracking up over a joke to plunging into moody silence. 

“Jungwon,” he mutters during one of these silences and Sunghoon looks up, alarmed. “I need to get to Jungwon.”

He sits up, starting to crawl away. Sunghoon seizes his ankle and drags him back. “You can’t,” he begins. A fit of coughs interrupts him. “You can’t go-”

The click of the key and shift of clothes has him looking up through squinted eyes. Sharp relief spikes in him at the sight of Riki, forehead heavily creased. “Riki! Jay’s trying to-” He coughs again and releases Jay’s ankle to muffle it. “-get to Jungwon. Stop him.”

“...I don’t think he’s getting anywhere at that speed.” Riki moves into the room, crouching beside Sunghoon’s limp, sprawled out body. He cocks his head in wonder. “Woah. How much did you drink?”

“I’m not drunk, ‘m just tipsy,” Sunghoon says, although the back of his throat burns and his tingling fingers have him reconsidering the statement. Riki pokes him and he scowls, twisting away from his fingers. “Jay drank way more than me. Stop—stop that!”

“Sorry. This is just really funny.”

The coughs seize him once more and Sunghoon’s chest tightens painfully. Riki disappears from his line of sight and returns with a water bottle. 

“Here.”

Cradling it to his chest, Sunghoon fumbles to twist off the cap for a half-minute before Riki does it for him. Through his blurry vision, he manages to wrap his mouth around the bottle opening and take a long, much-needed sip of water. From the corner of his eye, he spots Riki hooking his arms under Jay’s, dragging him to bed.

“But—Jungwon-”

“I think Jungwon’ll just take his confession back if he sees you like this,” Riki says. To Sunghoon’s addled mind, this is the funniest thing he’s ever heard, and he giggles. 

“I didn’t know you were so funny,” he says as Riki turns his sights on him next. He allows himself to be pulled to his feet, instinctively clutching onto Riki’s arm as he sways. “The floor’s spinning.”

“‘Tipsy,” my ass,” Riki mutters. “That’s really flattering, but I think it’s just the alcohol in your system.”

He drops him unceremoniously onto the mattress and Sunghoon sprawls out. “I’m not tired,” he says, but as he does, his lashes weigh heavily. He turns his head so he can squint at Riki. “Wanna hear something funny?” 

“Go for it.” 

“What did one nut say when it was chasing the other nut?” He waits for Riki to shrug before answering, keeping back his laughter. “I’m a cashew.” 

He dissolves into a series of wheezing and across from them, Jay joins in. Riki exhales and drags the covers over Sunghoon’s head. “Go to sleep.”

It takes some time for his giggles to taper off but once they do, it’s silent. The sheets are soft against his cheek and he breathes in, reveling in the scent of clean linen. He can hear Riki shuffling around and Jay’s snores, finally having given up on tracking down Jungwon. 

Some part of him wants to say something but when he opens his mouth, his tongue is heavy and weighted in his mouth. He closes his eyes. 

The mattress dips and Sunghoon opens his eyes. The room is cool and dark; it takes a moment for his eyes to adjust and take in Riki across him, outlined in the shadows. “Hey.”

Sunghoon feels similar to driftwood; floating back and forth, drifting closer to sleep and right back out. “...Hi.”

“Sobered up yet?”

“Yeah.”

Riki slides in, pulling the covers over his head. Their knees brush. With their long limbs and wide shoulders, if either of them move, it’s more likely than not they’ll brush the other. “Is this okay?”

“Better than the car,” Sunghoon says. He’ll take sharing a bed over sleeping in the car or on the side of the road any day. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“Hm?”

“Wandering all the time. I’d get tired.”

“I do get tired, sometimes. But I keep going. If I stopped, I wouldn’t have seen all the things I do, or meet the people I have. I wouldn’t have ended up meeting you.”

Sunghoon thinks about this, thinks about the number of factors that had to be perfectly aligned for them to meet. What if he hadn’t wandered? What if Sunghoon had held his ground and refused to come? What if Jay and Jungwon had never broken up, and none of this would have come to pass?

The thoughts frighten him more than he’d care to admit. Riki drags him out of them.

“I thought it was only Jay who hadn’t gotten over their breakup.”

“You and me both,” Sunghoon mutters. He opens his mouth, ready to remark on how random the confession has been, when he stops. 

But had it really been random? Their laughter at the beach rings in his ears. Jungwon’s softened features as he curled his fingers into a sleeping Jay’s hair remains imprinted against his eyelids. Their shy eyes and Seattle playing and Jungwon’s insistence on always responding to Jay with a biting statement, when he’d never been quick to anger, weighs heavy in his mind.

“I guess,” he begins. “I guess we all end up missing things we used to love, even if we’ve left them behind of our own will. That’s why Jay and Jungwon—they’re still hung up on each other.”

Sunghoon keeps himself awake by counting on his fingers. He thinks Riki might have fallen asleep when the other finally speaks. “What about you?”

“Huh?”

“Do you miss skating?”

His breath hitches momentarily; when he releases it, it flows out smoothly. “Yes,” he admits, softly. “I do. So much that it hurts sometimes.”

A hum. Sunghoon chews on his lip, squeezes his knuckles into fists. 

“And you? Do you miss your town?” 

Riki’s expression is unreadable. Their easy breathing fills the space between them.

“Sometimes. I miss… the sunsets. The bicycles. My sisters.”

My sisters. This is the first time Riki has made any mention about a family and Sunghoon takes in the information as if it a precious jewel to be handled with care. 

Riki’s eyelids slide shut. In the darkness, Sunghoon can only make out the outline of his features. Dark hair, curving at the nape and sweeping across his forehead in waves. His long, straight lashes, laid soot-stained against his cheeks. The purse of his lips, creasing his face into an eternal state of concern even when he’s sleeping.

So young. So wrecked.

He scoots closer. His ankle grazes Riki’s.

“When I was seventeen, I injured myself on the ice.”

The opening of eyes is the only indication Riki is listening to him. Sunghoon exhales slowly. 

“I missed a triple axel and saved myself from a head injury by landing on my foot. The weight crushed my ankle immediately. The doctors said I probably wouldn’t ever be able to skate again.”

He can recall it all clearly, as if it had happened yesterday. His crushed bones, the sheer pain, the tears. His ankle aches and he curls his toes.

“I couldn’t accept it. I did all the physical therapy I could, worked on my motor skills daily. It was nearly impossible, but I pulled it off. I could skate again.” 

Riki hasn’t made any comment yet and Sunghoon appreciates it. He collects himself together, strings words into sentences. 

“The ice was everything to me but when I stepped on it again, it was different. I… I couldn’t trust it anymore. And if there wasn’t any trust, how could I continue to love it? I realized—my ankle might’ve healed, but that was it. There wasn’t anything left for me on the rink.”

Those were the words Riki had shared with him. Hands salty and shipwrecked in Sunghoon’s, wet hair curled against his neck. 

“Why-” Riki falters. “Why are you telling me all this?”

It’s a question Sunghoon asks himself, too. Perhaps because Riki is a stranger, and there’s no one safer to spill the contents of your heart to than someone who’s going to leave. Maybe because Riki had shared parts of himself with him and this is Sunghoon’s way of paying him back. Or, perhaps-

“I don’t know,” Sungoon says. “I think I just wanted to.”

Riki disappears from his sight as he stares at the back of his eyelids. Sunghoon assumes the conversation is done and over and he shifts, ready to twist over.

“My mom died three years ago,” Riki whispers into the darkness.

Thud. Sunghoon’s heart squeezes against his ribcage. He opens his eyes—or tries to. Darkness continues to fill his sight as a palm gently cups over them, blocking out his vision. His fingers curl around Riki’s wrist, ready to tug.

“Keep them closed.” There’s a plead tucked away in the words, unlike anything Sunghoon has heard from him. “Please.”

His fingers fall away and he nods. Riki releases a little sight and shuffles closer, chin resting against his hand.

“When I was fourteen, she started forgetting things.” Sunghoon feels, rather than hears, Riki speak, lips moving against his hair. “Little things. What we were supposed to have for dinner. What time to pick us up from school. Whether the stove was off or not. We didn’t take it seriously, not until she stared forgetting our names.”

The pads of his fingers are calloused against Sunghoon’s skin. They’re a road map of his history, his fears, his struggles. 

“She had some form of dementia—lewy body, I think. There wasn’t much we could do for her. My mom fell apart right before my eyes and slowly lost her mind. By the end, she couldn’t recognize who I was, and she wasn’t the only one. I had no idea who she was, either.” 

Sunghoon’s throat is painfully tight. He tries to swallow down the sensation, but all it does is pull it into the pit of his stomach, festering into an ugly clump of sorrow. 

“My sisters went to my aunt and I went to my uncle, because there were only so many kids she could take in. He-” For the first time, his voice slips. Sunghoon’s fingers twitch to pull the hand off his face. “He wasn’t a good person. A year in, I left.”

“But you were seventeen.”

“I was seventeen,” Riki says. “I think some part of me stayed seventeen. Young, dumb, and slow to heal.”

For one, terrible moment, his voice fills with such sorrow, with such weariness, he no longer sounds nineteen. He’s older and younger all at once, an amalgamation of his pain and growth. 

He doesn’t realize his face is wet until Riki slides his hand away, revealing his concerned face to Sunghoon. “You-”

Riki never finishes. Sunghoon pulls himself forward, wraps his arms around his shoulders, and presses himself fiercely close. 

He’s never been good with words, so he tries to channel that ugly clump of sorrow through his arms, through his clenched fists. He holds tight, until Riki’s shaking arms wrap around him and he buries his face into his shoulder. 

“Sunghoon,” he thinks Riki murmurs, but it’s lost somewhere in the space between their bodies and the shadows. 

Waking up with his throat parched, head pounding, and half-tangled in Riki’s arms hadn’t been on Sunghoon’s bucket list and he thinks he could have gone without experiencing it. His heart rate is elevated and his body feels flushed as he extracts himself from the boy’s clutching hands, probably a result of a night of drinking. Groping around yields him a bottle. Thank God.

The covers of Jay’s bed are mussed and empty, and when Sunghoon glances at the clock, it makes sense—it’s past two. He’s probably already gone to fetch the car. The thought of moving makes him queasy so he lays still, just in time for Riki to release a low groan and roll over, throwing an arm over his stomach. 

Riki. Fluttering lashes, damp eyes. Road maps, no way home. Histories and tragedies spilled from wet lips. Riki.

Although his memory is spotty, everything Riki had told him—entrusted him with—is imprinted onto the forefront of his mind. As for anything before or after…

A shift, followed by a sigh, alerts him to Riki waking up. The boy blinks sleepily, first taking in who he’s sprawled against and then the lack of distance between them. He yawns. “Sorry, I should’ve told you. I need to hold things when I sleep.”

“It’s fine,” Sunghoon says. He pushes the hand off his stomach and makes an attempt at standing. “I can’t remember what happened after. Did I fall asleep?” 

Riki stares at him, horrified, and Sunghoon’s stomach churns. But then he smiles, wolfish. “Nothing happened, I’m just playing with you.” 

Thank God. Sunghoon takes a sip of water just as Riki drops another comment.

“Who knew you’d be the little spoon.”

Sunghoon chokes and ends up spraying water all over himself. Riki curses and leaps away.

“Dude-!”

Clearing his throat, Sunghoon tries to look composed—as composed as he can with a large, wet splotch on his shirt. “We should get ready. Jay’s already gone to get the car.”

They get dressed slowly, still sluggish from the events of the night before. Sunghoon is struggling to figure out why his left shoe doesn’t fit on his right foot when Jay strolls in. He’s managed to make himself look somewhat presentable, although the dark shadows under his eyes are something he’ll just have to work with.

“We’ll head out in fifteen,” he says. “Check-out is then, anyway. Make sure you’re all out.”

“Talked to Jungwon yet?” Riki asks, and Jay stiffens. “Guess not.”

“He-” Before Jay can cook up a defense, knuckles knock against wood. Riki snorts.

“I wonder who that could be,” he says. Jay ignores him in favor of pulling the door open. He stills. 

Outside, eyes puffy but otherwise fine, Jungwon stands. Sunghoon and Riki pretend to be occupied, although they’re probably doing a poor job of it.

“Jungwon,” Jay says, breathless. “What…”

Without a word, Jungwon extends a bundle of cloth to Jay. “Your shirt,” he says stiffly. “You let me borrow it.”

“Oh, right. Yeah. Thanks for bringing it back.” Jay reaches for it and pauses; this isn’t just a visit for Jungwon to return a shirt, Sunghoon thinks. This is him extending an olive branch. 

Jay curls his fingers into the fabric and takes it. “I’ll see you in the car,” Jungwon says, lifting his head. He meets Jay’s gaze momentarily before scampering off. 

“Hm. Lacked creativity. Two out of ten,” Riki says. Sunghoon grasps his arm and hauls him out the door. 

The car is good as new. As a complimentary, perhaps because they’d noticed the tension brewing the day before, Taehyun and Kai had cleaned the car for them, scrubbing the windows squeaky clean and vacuuming the mats until not even a speck of dust remained.

“It was nothing,” Kai says before sweeping off his cap for them. Taehyun chimes in with a “ride safe!” 

They’ve got ten hours on the road today. “It’ll be late,” Jay says, “but as long as there aren’t any accidents again, we’ll be able to get there tonight.”

Jungwon frowns. “Tonight?”

“Yeah. Tomorrow’s your internship, right?” Jungwon nods slowly. “We’ll make it in time.”

“Four out of ten,” Riki mutters.

It’s a long way to Seattle but Sunghoon is grateful for it. It gives him time to sort out his thoughts, prepare himself to be forced into attending every one of Jay’s family events, and for Riki. 

The boy who’d strolled in a week ago, who Sunghoon had been mildly perturbed by. The boy who, until a little while ago, he’d known nearly nothing about. The boy who he can’t look at without seeing road maps and shipwrecks. As quickly as Riki had appeared into his life, he would disappear again.

I don’t go back. To anywhere I’ve been to.

The memory leaves a dull ache in Sunghoon’s stomach. Riki notices him looking and tries to swindle him into playing another game of cards. Sunghoon allows himself to be swept away.

It’s different, now, he thinks. The press of Riki’s thigh to his when he leans forward. Their squabbled exchanges. The bracelets Riki weave, proof that Sunghoon had been in his life, however short a while that had been. The trinkets Riki buys for him at gas stations, postcards and keychains and figurines. 

There are layers behind each of their exchanges now. Not simply acts between two strangers, but-

But what? Friends doesn’t seem like a suitable name for their relationship and neither does strangers.

“Sunghoon,” Riki says, “what’re you thinking about?”

“What song I’m going to play when I finally beat you,” Sunghoon says. His statement is followed by a disastrous loss from him. 

Aside from Riki’s usual complaints of hunger and Sunghoon and Jay’s brief argument over the aux, the drive is peaceful. There are no spontaneous illnesses, no punctured tires, no great need to use the bathroom. 

Sunghoon knew it had been too good to be true. 

When the GPS initially cuts off, none of them worry about it. It will come back with time and Jay already knows which way to go. It’s when half an hour passes and they’re driving through the streets of some desolate town that the dread begins to sit in.

“We’re lost,” Jungwon announces and Jay’s head slumps onto the wheel. Upon the realization they had no idea where they were, they had parked in the lot of an abandoned grocery mart, attempting to get the GPS to function. “There’s also no service.”

Unlike them, Riki’s content. “We’re really lost. Cool. I never managed to cross this off my list.”

Sunghoon scrubs his face with a hand, trying to think. Jungwon’s already looking shifty and Jay is pale; he doesn’t think he can go through a repeat of the day before. The half-formed idea is making it out of his mouth before he can think it through. “Why not ask the locals for directions?”

Jay raises his head and blinks at him. Sunghoon crosses his arms over his chest, strangely defensive.

“Hey, do you have any better ideas? They might at least point us in the right direction.”

“No, I’m surprised.” Jay says, shaking his head. “That’s the first good idea you’ve had this year.”

Sunghoon would rather not hear that from the guy who’d made the genius decision to go on a road trip with his ex. Before he can fire a comment back, Jay unbuckles his seat and jumps out, jogging away. Jungwon’s hand moves to the handle to follow him, but he hesitates.

“Just go,” Riki grunts, taking the both of them by surprise. “He’ll probably shit himself from joy.”

Peculiarly, this is what spurs Jungwon into action, pushing the door open and calling for Jay to wait up. Sunghoon glances at him. “I didn’t know you were invested in them.”

“I’m not. Just doing you a favor, for a nice trip home. You’ll thank me then.” 

Absorbed with reaching Seattle, Sunghoon hadn’t even paused to consider returning. He’ll be all alone in the backseat, finally having enough room to stretch his legs and at no risk of getting smothered by Riki. It should sound glorious.

“Right,” Sunghoon murmurs. “I guess you already have a plan for what you’re going to do after we arrive in Seattle.”

“Kind of. I didn’t think about it much. Maybe… Wyoming? I haven’t been there yet.”

“You were telling the truth, then.” Riki raises a brow and Sunghoon wets his lips. “When you told me you don’t go back to the places you’ve seen or people you’ve met.”

“I was,” Riki says. It’s the answer Sunghoon had been expecting, but his heart does this funny little thing where he thinks he’s dying for a moment anyway. “D’you think it’s stupid?”

“I don’t,” Sunghoon says and he realizes he’s being truthful. He may not comprehend it to its full extent or ever be able to go through the motions of farewell oh-so often, but he doesn’t think Riki is stupid or immature or a coward. “But… it must be hard.”

“Which part?”

“Living like every moment is a goodbye.”

Silence greets him and Sunghoon studies the lines of his palms. He’d never realized it before, but they were strikingly similar to a map, leading to an unknown destination. 

“Sometimes,” Riki says. “Sometimes, it is hard. But it’s the only way I can— know —how to live. Pretty shitty, right?”

His voice is light but his words betray him. All the way up to this very moment, Riki’s life has been a series of farewells. To this family, to his town, to the world.

I think some part of me stayed seventeen. Young, dumb, and slow to heal. 

That seventeen-year old Riki remained steadfast, anchored to him. He appeared in his constant craving for sugar. He manifested in his wandering hands, searching for the warmth of others. He showed up when Riki was fast asleep, tucked into a fetal position.  

“It isn’t shitty,” Sunghoon says, and it comes out loud enough that he flinches. Still, he carries on. “Just because you didn’t learn to live like how others do. Or to heal slower than most. Or to still be lost on the road, even if it’s been years.” 

Jungwon had left “Seattle” on. Sam Kim’s voice lilts tenderly, filled with melancholy.

“I think… I think you deserved way more than a deadbeat uncle and a town you couldn’t go back to. Even past that, you’re still holding on, in whatever way you can. There isn’t anything shitty or dumb or stupid about that. It’s… It’s amazing.” 

He feels raw, exposed. As if he’d peeled back a layer of his skin with each word, until all that remained was the white bones of his skeleton. Riki’s eyes are fixed on him and he wonders if the other can see it; his pulsating heart, pounding loudly in his chest.

Sunghoon can hear it. Thump. Thump.

“Well, yes. That’s it.” He clears his throat and twists around, peering out the window. “They’ve been gone for a while. Maybe I should-”

“Sunghoon.”

The memory resurfaces. Sunghoon , formed against the side of his neck, before he’d been swept up in the haze of exhaustion and dreams. Sunghoon. The whisper echoes in his head now as Riki’s solid palms find the sides of his face, turning his head. 

His hands are warm against Sunghoon’s skin. They are very, very warm, and yet, they provide relief when they cup over his overheated ears. Riki’s fingers curl against his skin.

“Sunghoon,” Riki says again and it’s curious, how the two syllables of his name can metamorphose him so, rendering him utterly helpless. “Do you mind?”

He doesn’t understand, but as Riki’s breath ghosts his skin, as his hands cradle Sunghoon’s face, he thinks he might. 

When Sunghoon shakes his head, the chorus of “Seattle” is well on its way. 

oh, please, my heart is all for you
just please take care of me
i’ll all for you

The rush of blood in his ears is deafening when Riki leans forward. In a moment of hilarity, he marvels over how ironic it is for this boy, quick-footed and zealous and impulsive, to kiss him as tenderly as he does.

well, take, take, take me all for you
take, take, take me home to you

Today, there is no palm blocking his vision, no darkness enveloping the room, but he discovers he can’t open his eyes as Riki parts from him briefly, drawing breath. It hardly matters, not as Riki tilts his head oh-so-slightly, oh-so-sweetly, and kisses him again. 

Sunghoon’s hands settle, finally. They curl into Riki’s sweatshirt. 

as if we’ve always been together
take, take, take me home

When the song tapers off, his fingers are still curled loosely into fabric, back of his eyelids still painted in the reddish-brown of the sunlight. It takes all of his willpower to peel them open.

Riki’s thigh is pressed to Sunghoon’s, but this isn’t new. What’s new is the thumb hooked around the back of his ear. What’s new is the tremor running all over his body, from his neck to his toes. What’s new is the soft look on Riki’s face, so unlike his quirked brows and huffed snorts. 

There should be words exchanged between them now but anything that forms in Sunghoon’s mouth loses shape and floats away until it’s too late. As if it pains him greatly, Riki’s hands slide off his face, down to his shoulders, all the way to his elbows before they fall away. 

Sunghoon’s hands follow suit, just as Jay bursts in. He grins ear-to-ear, clasping a roll of paper in his hands. “You’re a genius, dude. We got a map! I’m not really sure how to read it but it shouldn’t be too hard-”

Everything feels too loud and Sunghoon blinks. “What?” 

A pause. Jay finally takes notice of his wild eyes and messy hair and squints. “Woah. You look kind of bad. Jungwon’s got some Tylenol, let me get it from him.”

“I don’t need it,” Sunghoon interrupts. “I’m fine. I’m just… a little dizzy.”

It’s as if he’s playing two lies and one truth as he glances over at Riki. He’s retreated to his side of the seat, and as Sunghoon watches, lifts his knuckles to press to his lips briefly.

His stomach swoops and quickly, he averts his eyes, settling back as Jungwon returns. Per Jay’s request, he passes the bottle of pills to Sunghoon, who accepts it but doesn’t take any.

There are six hours left to Seattle. Jungwon turns up the volume and Sunghoon rolls down the window, spilling his arms out and resting his chin atop them, lashes fluttering as the breeze kisses his cheek.

It takes an hour for him to stop reaching up to brush his lips with a thumb, and an hour longer for his heart to quiet. 

psh.02
weird kid just kissed me

simjk
HUH
bruh you can’t jus leave me on read for days 
and drop that on me
dont leave me on read again
DUDE

“You two are quiet today,” Jay comments.

Up until this point, they’d been driving in relative silence. At the comment, Sunghoon instinctively glances over at Riki, meeting his eyes. His stomach does something funny and he breaks the contact. 

“Could say the same for you two,” Riki grumbles. He’d been fiddling with the leftover paracords, twisting strands together for short intervals before glancing out the window. “No arguments today?”

Jay and Jungwon peek at each other and then away. Sunghoon is struck with the overwhelming desire to scream but stifles it; it’d probably cause a fright. Besides, he’s supposed to be the composed one out of the four. The calm one. The one who doesn’t ever break a sweat. 

Currently, Sunghoon couldn’t feel farther from those traits. His knee bounces incessantly, sleep is the furthest thing from his mind, and even his phone can’t distract him. But what’s truly humiliating is when Riki makes any move towards him—whether to reach for a chips packet or to get more comfortable—his whole body reacts, flinching away.

Riki shoots him a raised brow more than once.

More importantly, aside from losing control over his bodily functions, Sunghoon is confused.

If it had been a stranger who’d kissed him—hell, even if it had been Riki who’d kissed him five days ago—Sunghoon could have chalked it up to fleeting interest. This is different. For the past week, they’ve been practically chained to one another. Sunghoon had learned his likes and dislikes. He’d allowed the boy to treat him as a pillow. He’d met Riki’s eyes during the night and they’d exchanged secrets, breathing them out into the space between them.

Riki had tenderly cupped his face, had asked him if he’d minded, and Sunghoon had-

Oh. Oh.

Sunghoon’s incredibly stupid.

The pad of his thumb brushes over his bottom lip and he tingles all over. His growing curiosity, his pounding heart, the “random” surges of warmth, his eyes, unable to tear away from the back of Riki’s neck…

Without even a semblance of realization, he’d gone and been swept away in Riki’s orbit. Sunghoon could kick himself.

He’s deep in his self-loathing when Jay pulls up to a gas pump. “You guys should take a break,” he says. “This’ll be our last stop of the day, so-”

“I’ll stay,” Jungwon interrupts, loudly, purposefully. His cheeks fill with color when the three of them look at him curiously. “Just thought I’d say that.”

Sunghoon has other things to worry about than Jungwon’s abnormal behavior. A pit stop means he can finally have some space and-

Those thoughts come to a pause as Riki climbs out after him. “Why’re you following me?” Sunghoon blurts. His face grows hot when Riki lifts a brow.

“Because… I need to take a piss? Also, Jungwon was pretty obvious with his get lost signals.”

“Right,” Sunghoon says. His cognitives aren’t working properly so he turns on his heel, resisting the urge to run and instead settling with a speedy jog into the convenience store. 

The air-conditioned store briefly clears his mind, enough for him to recall he needs coffee. Riki was right about him being a caffeine junkie after all, Sunghoon thinks as he reaches for the empty cup and—he stops.

There he is again. Riki has already gone to the bathroom and yet, he’s haunting Sunghoon even in his head. He drags a hand down his face and mutters to himself. “This is terrible.” 

He pauses by the travel section to collect a pack of wet wipes. Upon second thought, he also reaches for a mini shampoo and conditioner, since he’ll be in Seattle for a while. Maybe he should’ve brought a basket with him. 

Before long, the chips aisle comes into view, lined with bright packages. He reaches out to collect one when Riki groans behind him. “Not veggie straws again —we just finished those.”

Embarrassingly, his heart seizes. Sunghoon manages to collect himself enough to face the other. “You live off of poptarts and…” He glances at what Riki’s carrying. “...Nutella.”

Riki snorts and Sunghoon’s stomach squirms. He turns away, clutching his veggie straws. His precious veggie straws. They had never let him down, to this day. 

He can hear Riki walking closer and does his best not to stiffen when the other stops right behind him and reaches forward and what-

“You’re blocking the Funyuns.”

Oh.

Muttering apologies, he shuffles off to the right, veggie straws clutched to his chest. Riki’s gaze drops to him and, not for the first time, Sunghoon is uncomfortably aware he has at least two inches on him.

“You don’t have to worry,” Riki says, retracting his hand. A Flamin’ Hot Funyuns dangles from his fingers. “I won’t kiss you again.”

Snacks acquired, Riki disappears around the corner. Sunghoon’s face scrunches up.

“What,” he says aloud. A feverish warmth prickles his skin. Shaking his head, he scowls at where the veggie straws are stacked innocently, right next to the Funyuns. “You let me down,” he whispers. 

Riki awaits him at the entrance. “Here,” he says, passing Sunghoon a cheap postcard which depicts the state flower. As if he hadn’t just casually stomped all over his straggled emotions. Sunghoon pockets it, silently inclining his head in thanks. It’s better if he doesn’t speak, because he doesn’t think he can trust himself.

Riki, on the other hand, has no such qualms. “We didn’t get gas in Oregon, but did you know you can’t pump your own gas there? Jay told me that. He knows a lot of random stuff, and-”

Sunghoon nods, only half-listening as they approach the car. His eyes settle on the side mirror, where he can spot the back of Jay’s head and Jungwon across him, his eyes soft as Jay’s hand reaches up to cup his cheek-

Wait.

It hits him, what he’s about to witness, and the sheer disinterest in seeing it is what kicks him into motion. In one movement, he reaches out to snag Riki’s sleeve, earning him a confused sound before he pulls the two of them behind the opposite gas pump, thankfully empty.

“What-”

“Jay and Jungwon,” Sunghoon hisses. “They—stop!” Before Riki can peek around, he seizes the boy’s arm, forcing him back to a crouch. Riki groans and drops his head between his knees.

“Can’t we tell them to do this another time?”

“If they don’t get back together now, they won’t ever. I’m sick of Jay and his moping.”

“I thought it’s been a year.”

“And four months.”

Sunghoon tries to glimpse if the two are finished but he can’t tell anything from their position. When he looks back, Riki is frowning thoughtfully. “...Do you really think they’re going to get back together?”

His question isn’t framed with the exasperated tone he usually takes on when taking about Jay and Jungwon. It’s genuine, somehow uncertain.

“I can’t imagine them without each other,” Sunghoon confesses. He may huff and puff and throw a fit, but at the end of the day, they’re truly, as corny as it is, meant for each other. Temporarily forgetting his conflicting emotions, he scans the younger. “Why?”

Riki shakes his head. “Nothing.”

Crouched behind the gas pump, they’re close enough for their arms to brush, from their shoulders to their thumbs. Sunghoon could take his hand. He could run his fingers over his fingertips, his thumb, his palms.

It spills from him. “Are you really going to leave tomorrow?”

The answer has been told to him before and yet, it still makes his heart lurch when Riki nods. “Yeah. Why?”

“It’s nothing,” Sunghoon says. He peeks around the corner and is relieved to see Jay sweeping back his hair, trying to look composed. He’s failing tremendously. “I think they’re done.”

Riki’s searching eyes bore into his skull but Sunghoon ignores it. When they hop into the car, Jay and Jungwon aren’t looking at each other, much less speaking, but their linked hands would be impossible to ignore.

“Congrats, dad and papa,” Riki says dryly. Jay coughs and Jungwon blushes. “Jeez, I think I liked you two better before.”

it’s Riki’s turn on the aux and he turns on “Let’s Not Love Each other.” Sunghoon closes his eyes. 

There are four hours left on the road to Seattle. Three hours left before goodbyes. Three hours left with Riki. If there’s a time to be selfish, it’s now. Besides, it’s about time Riki received retribution for all the times he’d subjected Sunghoon to his heavy body.

He thinks he hears Riki inhale softly when he rests his head on his shoulder. He thinks he feels it when Riki’s arm rises to wrap around his shoulders, tugging him closer. He thinks Riki’s little finger nudges his before curling around it.

even if it’s hard right now, let’s endure a little more
let’s see each other for a long time
let’s see each other for a long time

for years to come
let’s stay this way, as it is

The clock blinks 4:00 A.M when they arrive in Seattle, Washington. Jungwon doesn’t manage to send them off, fast asleep in the blanket Jay had tucked around him earlier. He drops them off at Sunghoon’s hotel and asks whether he should stay until he checks in. Sunghoon says no. 

When Sunghoon turns, hand on the straps of his duffel bag, Riki fiddles with the bands of his backpack. He looks uncharacteristically nervous, form softened and broken down by the night. His ruffled bangs cast long shadows over his face. 

“Hey,” he begins. He stops. His throat bobs. “It’s kinda late. D’you mind if I crash for the night?”

Sunghoon shakes his head. 

Their room is on the third floor. They stumble down the halls, woozy with exhaustion. When Sunghoon crawls into the bed, still in his travel clothes, Riki follows him.

Sunghoon dreams of shipwrecks and chapped kisses. He dreams of sugar rushes and postcards to nowhere. 

For a moment, the warm weight of Riki’s body against his fools Sunghoon into thinking they’re still in the car. When there is no rumble of the engine, no sounds of Jay playing Harry’s House for the nth time, he opens his eyes. The white ceiling of the hotel room greets him. 

He’s—well, they’re splayed out across the white, linen sheets. Riki’s face is tucked into his shoulder, his arm loosely curled around Sunghoon’s torso. He needs to hold things when he sleeps, after all.

They hadn’t washed up or changed last night, which explains the uncomfortable stiffness in his legs. It’ll take ages to iron out all the creases the night of sleeping in his jeans had earned him. Some part of him wants to pick up his phone, to check the time and ensure Jay and Jungwon had arrived safely, but the other, larger part of him coaxes him to stay put, wrapped in sheets and Riki’s arms. 

Riki. He’d ended up getting a precious, few more hours with him after all. Sunghoon turns his head, just enough so he can peek down at the boy. Although his bangs hide his eyes, the outline of his pout is visible. 

A four-day trip turned into a week. A stranger turned into more-than-stranger. Sunghoon had left on this trip expecting nothing and had arrived with far more than he’d dreamed of.

Up until yesterday, he’d still kept Riki beyond the boundary of familiarity. Now, it’s impossible to deny it; Riki’s soft snores are familiar. His touch familiar. He is familiar. 

Riki Nishimura. Nineteen. Wanderer. Lives off of sugar and McDonald’s fries. Terrible at driving manually. Inexplicably good at arcade games. Clings to the closest object when he sleeps. Grew up on the beach. Has two sisters. 

When he was sixteen, his mom died.  His life has been spent as a series of goodbyes. Today, he’ll be saying goodbye once more. 

A shift. A snort. Riki unsticks his face from Sunghoon’s shoulder and rolls away. His streaked hair is rumpled, untidy, and he squints, trying to read the time. He’s so gorgeous it makes Sunghoon’s chest ache. 

“I can order room service for us, if you want,” Sunghoon says. “You should eat before you go.”

Riki makes a noise of assent. He flops back down to the mattress, probably to catch some more sleep while he can. Sunghoon can’t bear to lie there any longer, so he swings his legs off.

Jay’s sent him a long thank-you note, detailing how grateful he is to have Sunghoon as a friend and ending it with an invitation to his family’s holiday dinner tonight. Following his text is a cash app notification. Sunghoon’s lip twitches and he sends back the money. Jake’s texts are frantic and insistent and he ignores those. Lastly, there’s a text from Jungwon, which piques his interest. 

This time, I’ll love him the way I should’ve, it reads. Simple and straightforward, like Jungwon. He likes the message before ringing up room service. 

Breakfast is a quiet affair. The plates of pancakes topped with crystallized syrup, ripe berries, and whipped cream are magnificent but the both of them chew slowly, as if trying to delay the inevitable. “I’ll drive you to the subway,” Sunghoon says—Riki plans to take the train to Yakima, which he’d purchased the ticket for online the day before. “Since I’ve rented a car, anyway.”

“You’re going to drive?”

Cheeky. “You’ll get there in one piece,” Sunghoon promises.

They walk the short distance to pick up Sunghoon’s rental car. This must be what every day feels like to Riki, he muses. Goodbye’s looming over their heads, no matter how much they try to ignore it. 

Riki makes a show of strapping on his seatbelt, prompting Sunghoon to roll his eyes. He’s quick to claim the aux, plugging the cord into his phone. “Finally. Jay’s music taste is okay but if I had to listen to Harry Styles one more time…”

“Or Justin Bieber,” Sunghoon says, thinking back to all the times Jungwon had put on the artist. “He’s one of my favorites but I can only listen to ‘Baby’ so many times. I can probably perform it myself now.”

He grasps the gearstick, putting the car in reverse. Riki gasps, clutching onto his seatbelt, and only quits when Sunghoon grumbles at him to stop. As he pulls out of the parking lot and onto the highway, “One Way Ticket” thrums through the speakers. 

remember that night, i had to leave you
you said it’s alright
and i believed you

you know i’m no good
no good at goodbyes, no good without you
better by your side 

“What were you doing, wandering the highway when we ran into you?”

“I was telling the truth,” Riki answers. He’s rolled down the window, sticking his head out as he hums along to the song. “The bus I was supposed to go on broke down. I got scammed.”

“And when you said you had no money…?” Although they’d paid for him a number of times, it was clear he did have something with him, if the numerous trinkets in Sunghoon’s duffel are any indication. 

“No money to pay for travels,” Riki clarifies. “I told Jay as much, but he insisted on buying me meals anyway.”

“He’s generous,” Sunghoon says, thinking back to the cash app notification. “He brings back soaking kittens to the apartment all the time, when it’s a no-pets allowed zone and he’s allergic.” One more question lurks at the forefront of his mind. “What was your plan, if we hadn’t stopped for you?”

“Probably backtrack and haggle for a refund to get another bus ticket. Good thing you spotted me.”

“How’d you know it was me?”

“Context clues.” Riki shoots him a sideways smile. “I wasn’t lying, when I said you were why I decided to hop in.”

Sunghoon’s fingers tighten around the wheel. “...And why was that?”

A shrug. “Because you were pretty?” 

If it hadn’t been for his intense concentration, Sunghoon would have swerved off the road. “Haha,” he says, although he has a sinking feeling Riki isn’t joking.

“When’d you decide I wasn’t so bad?” Riki asks, diverting from the topic, and gratefully, he seizes the opportunity. 

“I never… well.” He had been put off Riki for quite a bit. “Maybe when you set the fire.”

“Aw, man. The bracelet didn’t win you over?”

“Not quite.” Riki sighs and Sunghoon allows himself to smile.

“What about you? Got any plans for Seattle?”

“Sleep. Eat. Probably get dragged to Jay’s family functions. His relatives are sweet, but…” Last time, all the middle-aged women had tried to set him up with three different girls. He’d eventually had to hide in Jay’s childhood bedroom to escape from them. “Nothing exciting like your plans.”

“S’not as glamorous as you make it sound,” Riki says. “Most of the time I just think about what to eat next.”

“Must be a really hard choice. Do you usually go for poptarts or Funyuns?” 

“Alright, Mr. Hilarious. I got it.”

Even with their conversation filling up the gaps and Sunghoon purposely rerouting the GPS to take a longer route, they reach the subway. Sunghoon’s plan to pretend to search for parking is swept away by the empty lot.

“It’s the holidays,” he mutters. “Do people not take the train anymore?”

He parks and takes his time to straighten the car. Riki pretends to lose his chapstick and dives into the backseats to dig around for it. They’re buying time, and they both know it.

Riki is the first to clear his throat. “Well, this is it. The end of our great journey.”

It had been exactly that—not a trip or elongated drive, but a journey, both for Sunghoon’s body and mind. Somehow, Sunghoon doesn’t find himself regretting the uncomfortable sleep positions or all the greasy junk he’d downed. 

“I brought my backpack, right?” Riki asks, as if he hadn’t “forgotten” to get it at least thrice when they were preparing to leave. “Oh, yeah. It’s right there. Neat.”

His words are light. Sunghoon feels like anything but. Riki fiddles with the door handle. 

“Well,” he says. “Thanks for dealing with me in the backseat. And for lending me your shoulder. You really are comfortable. Ten out of ten.”

He shoots Sunghoon a thumbs up. Sunghoon has the terrifying realization that he might cry and he bites down on his lip to keep it at bay. 

“Tell Jungwon bye for me, since I didn’t get to. And tell Jay I said thanks for all the fries.”

“Sure.”

“You don’t gotta walk me to the station, I can do that on my own,” Riki continues, reaching for the door. His hand trembles on the handle and that —that moment of vulnerability, it spurs him into motion.

“Riki.” The name cascades out of his mouth like a waterfall. Riki turns, as if he’s been waiting.

His hands reach, searching. They find the collar of Riki’s sweatshirt, clinging to him. 

“Riki,” he repeats. “I-”

He doesn’t manage to say anything else. He doesn’t try to say anything else, not as his hands slide upwards, grasping onto Riki’s hood, and draws him in. 

Every part of them seems to be trembling—their hearts, their hands, their lashes, their lips. Unlike Riki’s, Sunghoon’s kiss is faltering, slow. But it is certain, and that’s all that is necessary for Riki to get ahold of himself.

Hands cup over Sunghoon’s, hot, burning hot. Riki moves forward, as much as he can with the console blocking his way. Their hearts press flush, the pounding drowning out the harmony of “One Way Ticket.” 

anywhere you go, is where i want to go
you are my address, i don’t care how i get it
i need a one way ticket home 

Sunghoon releases his hold on Riki’s hood. Riki’s hands remain clasped over his, his pupils, blown wide, shifting to meet his. 

“What-” He’s breathless. “What was that for?”

It’s an impossible question with far too many possible answers. Sunghoon finds one, anyway.

“Whatever yours was for.” 

Riki stares at him. When he tips himself closer, Sunghoon meets him halfway. Their noses bump and their teeth clack gently together and it’s perfect. He pushes back Riki’s hood, fingers finding solace in the wavy, streaked strands. 

my heart is anywhere you go
when i’m next to you, i’m home 

“H-hold on,” Sunghoon manages to breathe out between kisses. It takes great effort, as Riki remains intent on chasing him even as he speaks. “Let me-”

With shaking hands, he furiously unbuckles his seatbelt and Riki slides his seat back, holding out his hands. Sunghoon clumsily crawls over the console, bumping his head against the roof as he scoots into his lap the best he can. 

Color fills his cheeks when Riki snorts but the indignation is quick to die away as one hand readily folds over his waist and the other cups the back of his head, hauling him in. 

wish i could be there with you
i’m feeling lost without you 

Riki draws him closer and closer, until he can murmur against his lips. “You’re really cute,” he says, before swallowing the noise of confusion Sunghoon emits. 

It’s a tight fit; neither of them are small by any means, but Sunghoon finds this just means they’re plastered closer to one another. Riki rubs an overheated lobe in between his thumb and pointer and Sunghoon shivers. He feels like a livewire in all the places their skin touch—raw and overly sensitive. 

i don’t care how i get
i need a one way ticket
home

Neither of them can bear to look the other in the eye and Sunghoon lays his head against Riki’s shoulder to avoid meeting his gaze. His breath comes out shallow and under his fingertips, Riki’s heart thumps loudly. 

“The train,” Sunghoon remembers. “You should-”

His voice dies off as Riki presses his face into his shoulder, bangs tickling against Sunghoon’s neck. “Just… one minute.” 

One minute turns into two, two into three, until they’ve been sitting close together for all of ten minutes. Sunghoon is the first to untangle himself, pushing open the door and clambering out. Riki follows him, clutching onto his wrist.

“I’ll go with you,” Sunghoon says, and although Riki only nods, his eyes shine with gratitude. 

The jog to the station is short. The minutes in which the train will depart is shorter and they stand, simply looking at one another. Riki’s eyes roam over Sunghoon’s face, as if he’s trying to commit every detail to memory.

“Sunghoon Park,” he finally says. “I’ll remember you.”

This is where he and Riki diverge; while Riki has said goodbye all his life, Sunghoon has never been good at them. He only nods, wondering how he’ll drive back alone.

Riki’s fingers slip away from his wrist and he hoists up his backpack. Massive, stupid thing. Probably filled to the brim with arcade tokens and M&M’s and half-knotted cords. Without another word, he steps away. 

Only when he’s a dozen feet away does Sunghoon finally find his voice. “Riki Nishimura!” 

The boy’s feet pause. He looks over his shoulder. Sunghoon cups a hand over his mouth.

“I’ll always remember you!” he shouts, and although there’s a distance between them, he thinks he sees Riki’s eyes crinkle. Sunghoon’s hand falls to his side. 

It takes an effort for him to turn his body and move his feet. One, two, he counts. One, two.  

Riki’s train is gone by now, he thinks. One, two. If he turned around now, there would be no grinning boy standing there, and the thought terrifies him. One, two-

The phone rings. 

Sunghoon stumbles but continues walking. His hand slips into his pocket to retrieve his phone. Most likely, it’s Jay calling him, to insist he join them for dinner tonight. Or maybe, his mom, to give him a scolding-

Unknown Caller flashes on his screen. Sunghoon frowns, finger hovering to decline the call. For some incomprehensible reason, he slides his thumb the other way, pressing the phone to his ear. 

“I took your number from Jay. Hope you don’t mind.”

Sunghoon’s feet stop. He can feel his heartbeat in his throat.

“Remember when I said I had a plan for what to do after I reached Yakima?” Riki sounds sheepish and Sunghoon can just imagine his half-smile, his averted eyes. “I might’ve forgotten to mention that was a lie.”

His voice is louder than it should be, echoing in Sunghoon’s ears. A suspicion creeping in, Sunghoon turns. His chest expands and his hands fall to his sides, a smile that nearly hurts creeping onto his cheeks. 

He doesn’t have to imagine because Riki hasn’t moved from where Sunghoon had shouted over to him, one hand at his ear, the other held up. He waves. 

Sunghoon ends the call and cups his hands over his mouth once more. “Get over here.”

Riki doesn’t need to be told twice. 

Their chests crush together in the embrace Riki wraps him in and automatically, his arms come up to reflect the movement. Riki hugs him fiercely, as if he’s trying to melt down the very barrier of skin and bone between them, as if he’s trying to fuse them into one.

“We’re not buying anymore veggie straws on the way back,” Riki mutters into his ear and when Sunghoon laughs, it sounds like an ending. When Riki joins in, snickering into his neck, it sounds like a beginning. 

psh.02
weird kid is now my boyfriend

simjk
man i give up.

Jay’s jaw practically unhinges when Sunghoon steps past the threshold, Riki in tow. It drops even further when he spots their tangled fingers. They let go immediately. “Did I… miss something?”

“Yes,” Riki says.

“No,” Sunghoon answers.

They exchange a look. Riki shrugs, entirely unapologetic. “Oops.”

“Oh, Sunghoon’s here. Finally.” Jungwon appears from the doorway, brushing away bright decorations. He looks entirely unsurprised to see Riki standing next to him. “And Riki too.”

“You knew?” Jay asks. Jungwon shrugs. 

“I thought so. Turns out I was right.”

This new information has Jay’s eyes widening and he presses a hand to his temple. “You… Sunghoon… Riki? How-”

“You were pretty distracted,” Riki nods. “Don’t feel bad. Sunghoon didn’t even-”

Sunghoon coughs, cutting him off. “What happened to your internship?”

“It got pushed back,” Jungwon says. So much for their fight. “And Jay wanted to introduce me to his family.”

Two pairs of eyes dart to Jay. It’s his turn to cough. “They never heard about the breakup.”

“Damn.” Riki nudges Sunghoon. “You should never be the accountability police.” 

“The what-”

“Refreshments have been served!” Jay announces, shooting Sunghoon a warning look. He seizes Jungwon’s wrist, yanking him closer to plant a kiss onto his knuckles. “You didn’t meet my aunt or my uncle yet and they’ve been just waiting- ”

Riki winces before his gaze drops to Sunghoon. He holds out his hand. “Ready to disappoint a bunch of middle-aged ladies?”

Sunghoon takes it, their knuckles locking tight. “As I’ll ever be.”

Later, when they’re huddled in the backseat of Sunghoon’s rental car, the question floats to the front of his mind.

“When did you decide to stay?”

Riki’s fingers run over the braided cords on Sunghoon’s hand. They slip down, pressing a thumb against the tender skin of his wrist.

“When I saw you leaving.”