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“Repeat that?” Gunwook barks — Ricky really applauds himself for word choice here, there had been no better way to put it, really, other than barks, like a big dog all up in his face and getting fur into his mouth — “Ricky, say that again.”
“Eye-key-ah,” Ricky says, bristling, changing it to the American way the guys at school used to say.
“No, no, you said it differently first, do it again.” Gunwook looks way too happy right now.
One hand goes into the pocket of his hoodie as a defence mechanism. “Ee-kya,” Ricky repeats, the way he said it as a kid, because that’s how his mom says it.
“It’s ee-keh-yah,” Gunwook corrects. He’s probably right, but Ricky’s not going to tell him that. “Aren’t you supposed to be the English speaker here?”
“The second time was the way my friends said it. And it’s Yíjiā in Chinese,” Ricky tries to justify, uselessly, and then before he has the time to realise the contradiction — one should always, always, be careful of contradictions around Gunwook, because he never got over being a debate kid in high school and likes to lord it all over their heads, but damn it, he’s actually good at winning arguments — “And it’s Swedish anyway, what does English have to do with it.”
Gunwook grins at him, all teeth. Ricky feels remarkably prey-like, crowded into the end of their living room sofa.
Before Gunwook can start using big Korean words at him, Gyuvin finally comes out of the bathroom. He’s taken to splashing his face every now and then as the days get hotter. He insists letting his face air-dry cools him off, or something like that. He’s been a little messier than normal this time, water droplets not only running down his face and off the ends of his bangs, but also down his neck, leaving a big semi-translucent spot on the neck of his white t-shirt. Ricky does not stare.
“Kimgyu,” Gunwook immediately asks. “How do you say I-K-E-A?”
“Ee-keh-yah,” Gyuvin answers without thinking.
Gunwook looks back at Ricky, I-told-you-so written so clearly onto his face Ricky can practically see the letters woven through his eyebrows. Just to get the last word in, Ricky stubbornly spits, “It’s ee-kya.”
“Do you think Yujin would like this?” Gyuvin asks, holding up a ridiculously rotund bunny plushie.
They’re technically here to get a table. Instead Ricky is being made to watch Gyuvin and Gunwook mime using a poor ball-shaped rabbit nightlight as a volleyball in public.
"It doesn't even have arms," Ricky drawls. "And it's got a stupid name, too," he adds, pointing at the tag, which says PEKHULT in big bold letters. "None of us can read that."
Gunwook tugs the rabbit out of Gyuvin's hands and makes a big show out of uncrumpling the tag like it's an important scroll. "Bet I could if I tried."
“Google Translate it,” Gyuvin pipes up. Earlier Gunwook had opened Papago only to find that the Swedish option had been nonexistent, and so Gyuvin had convinced him to download a whole separate new app before Ricky could step in to say they could’ve just used Safari. Anyways.
So Gunwook types it in.
Then he breaks into a snicker. It’s one of those snickers where he goes hee! hoo! and his whole body shakes but he pretends he’s doing his best to keep it in.
Oftentimes Ricky thinks of Gunwook as a dog who doesn’t quite know it’s quintupled in size since its owner first picked it up. He thinks this again, when Gunwook — who has very long arms, by the way — almost knocks him out cold with a Shinchan-cased iPhone. He’d been moving like he'd been about to shove his phone screen into Gyuvin's face, but had changed trajectory last minute to show Ricky first. While forgetting that they’re not standing that far away from each other.
“Inception!” Gyuvin quips, when Ricky bends over backwards to dodge.
“What-” Ricky splutters, eyes trying to focus at Gunwook’s screen, which is still way too close to his face.
“Read the translation,” Gunwook says, “actually, wait,” and then he takes the phone back, taps something, chortles even louder, and then pushes it back into Ricky’s eyes.
He laughs. Admittedly, he laughs.
“Finger hole?” Ricky asks incredulously, “What are you, ten?”
“Out of ten!” Gyuvin says, making a stupid kissy face at Gunwook. “Show me, Gunwookie.”
Gunwook taps the screen again and switches it back to Korean.
“Ah, but in Korean it’s not as funny anymore,” Gyuvin pouts.
“It was never funny,” Ricky says, trying to act cool.
“You laughed,” Gunwook says, not even looking at him.
“I didn’t.”
“Yes you did.”
“So should we get this for Yujin?”
They get the stupid rabbit nightlight.