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“Give me the fan.”
Gyuvin thinks he’s misheard Ricky. “What?”
“The fan,” Ricky says again, confident as ever. “Give it to me.”
Looking up from his phone, Gyuvin frowns, wondering if he’d missed some earlier part of the conversation while he was gaming.
Unsure, he asks, “Sorry, the what?”
Ricky is getting impatient now; lips pressed into a thin line and two seconds away from rolling his eyes straight into another dimension. Silently, he holds his hand out towards Gyuvin.
“Hairdryer,” he says in English. “Give it.”
Gyuvin hates that his first reaction is to burst into laughter.
“Ah, what the…”
Gyuvin is still laughing as he passes the hairdryer to an unimpressed Ricky, confused as to where such a specific word like ‘sonpung-gi’ suddenly came from. He bets it was Matthew who taught it to Ricky, like the blind leading the blind.
“You should’ve just said that,” Gyuvin tsks. “Stupid Ricky.”
He barely misses Ricky swinging the hairdryer at his head, dodging the attack just in time as another loud cackle escapes him. He scuttles over to his bed, curling up in the furthest corner to keep himself safe from the grumpy and very sleepy Ricky.
To be fair, it is late. They’ve had a pretty busy day too, and Gyuvin knows Ricky is especially tired today because he even said no to sharing the midnight snacks they secretly ordered in, opting for a long (and uninterrupted, for once) shower instead.
Gyuvin had polished off his yukhoe, ate whatever Yujin couldn’t finish of his skewers too, cleaned up, showered with Jiwoong’s fancy soaps and played three rounds of Mortal Kombat before Ricky finally stumbled out of the bathroom—hair wet, face bare, dizzy and halfway delirious from the steam.
Maybe that’s why he used such a strange word to ask for the hairdryer.
“Aren’t you the one who keeps telling me to practise my Korean more?” Ricky complains suddenly, his grumbled words swallowed by the low hum of hot air, but Gyuvin still hears him.
Okay, so that’s why then.
Gyuvin snorts, but Ricky’s right. He has been pestering and Ricky has been trying a lot harder, especially with their comeback around the corner and a packed schedule of events and interviews waiting for them, but that doesn’t mean Gyuvin can’t still tease him about it.
He sprawls out onto his stomach, plops his cheek into his palm and blinks his pretty, doll eyes up at Ricky.
“Yeah, well,” Gyuvin says with a lopsided smile. “Obviously, I meant practise your Korean and actually get the words right, sweetheart.”
The hairdryer nearly slips out of Ricky’s hand.
Gyuvin doesn’t stop there.
“And aren’t you the one who said it doesn’t matter if your Korean sucks ass because at the end of the day, you’re still cute anyway?”
Ricky is reminded of the time Gyuvin revealed that fact on one of their variety shows, having forgotten he’d ever even said something so embarrassing, and his face turns bright red.
“I did not—” Ricky just shakes his head, tearing his gaze away from the unbearable Gyuvin. “That is not how I said it, but whatever.”
Ah. Gyuvin’s smile widens into a grin. He really is that cute, though.
He watches Ricky for a little longer, the boy still distracted by Gyuvin’s teasing as he dries his hair in a daze. Ricky’s unmatched when it comes to flirting with their fans—with the exception of Gunwook, perhaps—but one word from Gyuvin and it’s like he stops functioning completely.
What an idiot, Gyuvin thinks to himself as he crosses the room and takes the hairdryer from Ricky’s hand.
“Gyuvin? What are you…”
“Sit,” Gyuvin tells him, gently nudging Ricky to the floor and caging him in with his legs. “You’re taking forever. Let me do it.”
Ricky fusses for a bit—when does he not?—but still, he doesn’t actually make an effort to stop Gyuvin. Eventually, Ricky slumps into the embrace, like a cat finally giving in to its owner’s affection. He rests his head against Gyuvin’s thigh as Gyuvin runs his fingers through his hair, the warm air and soft touches slowly but surely lulling Ricky to sleep.
“Your hair is getting long, Kim Ricky,” Gyuvin comments idly, the blonde strands falling over Ricky’s closed eyes now that it’s unstyled.
“So is yours, Shim Gyuvin,” Ricky tells him, and it’s true. Gyuvin feels his hair tickling the back of his neck every time he so much as turns his head and wonders if they’re trying to make him grow out a mullet or something. He’s not sure if he’d look good in one.
They’ve already set the styling for the concept this time, so it’ll have to be later, but Gyuvin asks, “Do you think you’ll cut it?”
“Maybe,” Ricky answers, even though they both know they don’t really get a say in it.
“Do you think you’ll go back to black hair too?”
Gyuvin feels Ricky’s smile against his leg.
“You’re still going on about that?” he asks, as if Gyuvin hasn’t brought it up every single day since Ricky bleached his hair and ruined Gyuvin’s life.
Gyuvin makes a noise that can only be described as a whine, tugging on Ricky’s hair like a puppy. “The blonde is just too striking, you know? Everyone is always looking at you.”
Ricky scoffs. “Jealous?”
“Yeah,” Gyuvin says without thinking. “I wanna be the only one who looks at you.”
When Ricky goes quiet, Gyuvin realises his mistake.
He coughs, clicks off the hairdryer. “Sorry. Did you mean jealous, like, jealous of everyone looking at you instead of looking at me?”
“Mm-hm.”
“But I misunderstood and basically just told you that I get jealous because other people who aren’t me get to look at you too?”
“…Mm-hm.”
“Right.”
Gyuvin sets the hairdryer aside, stands up, and moves to slam his head into the wall.
“Gyuvin!”
Thankfully, Ricky stops him before their room turns into a crime scene and a construction site. Hanbin would not be very happy with that.
Ricky sighs, then he pulls Gyuvin back to the bed, sitting him down before he tries something insane like that again. “And I thought I was the dramatic one,” Ricky murmurs, to which the now dejected Gyuvin sniffles back, “You still are, stupid Ricky.”
“Just stupid?” Ricky hums. “No more sweetheart?”
Gyuvin’s jaw falls open, and then another whine leaves his lips as he buries his burning face into Ricky’s shoulder, punching him in the side too. “Stop it,” he says, muffled against Ricky’s shirt. “You’re so annoying.”
Ricky scoffs again, but it gets a smile out of him anyway. “Now you know how it feels,” he says, patting Gyuvin’s head in consolation. “And if it makes you feel any better, I liked hearing that.”
“Hm?”
“That you want to be the only one who looks at me,” Ricky admits, his tone light, but he’s serious. “I liked hearing you say that. It just made me a little embarrassed. That’s all.”
Immediately, Gyuvin perks up. “Really?”
Ricky nods, then— “Too close. Go away.”
“No way,” Gyuvin says, shoving his face even closer, eyes wide and shining as he stares up at Ricky. “You said you liked it. I’m gonna look at you like this everyday now. Don’t complain.”
“Suddenly, I feel like taking it back…”
“Kim Ricky!”
Ricky just laughs, a soft, breathy sound that has Gyuvin grinning like an idiot again and this time, instead of pushing him away, Ricky takes Gyuvin’s smiling face in his hands.
“Fine.”
He holds Gyuvin’s earnest gaze, feeling himself falling into those sweet brown eyes that have watched over him from day one, following him wherever he goes like a promise, and Ricky tells him:
“Keep your eyes on me forever then, Shim Gyuvin.”