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Chapter Text

Korea

[Now] 

“Do you think we answered that question well enough?” Gyuvin asks, settling next to Ricky on the carpet. Today they’re in Gyuvin’s room. Ever since they each got their own bedroom, this has been their routine: arrive back at their dorm, spend time with their friends, do their skin care routine (Gyuvin’s is way longer than Ricky’s, who still only uses water), then pick either one of their rooms to wind down in. 

Ricky scrolls through his phone, laughing as he sees more and more Zeroses freaking out over the fansign being translated and posted. “Check it out. I think we did.” 

“What? Already? Let me see.” Gyuvin leans over, resting his chin on Ricky’s shoulder, and they laugh together. 

This feels right.

(If today was the end of the world, what do Shimkongz want to say to each other?) 

China - Han Dynasty 

[227 BCE]

(In their very first life together, Ricky is Emperor Shen Quanrui, and Gyuvin is Jin Kuibin, a boy who has a way with animals and words, and who later becomes Quanrui’s favorite male concubine. 

Ricky becomes Emperor at fifteen after both his parents pass away, falling into the role gracefully after being trained all his life as their only son. He is stuck in an arranged marriage with a high-ranking lady at sixteen, and he lives his life rather monotonously and dangerously for years until he meets Gyuvin on one of his walks through the capital.

It is, as some would say, love at first sight: 

Ricky is on his way to buy some medicine for his son when he spots Gyuvin nearby, a tall boy with round, kind eyes who is tending to an injured kitten, speaking to it with a gentle tone and laughter. Ricky buys the medicine in a hurry so he can walk over and ask for Gyuvin’s name and family background, and also if he can hold the kitten himself. 

Gyuvin takes one look at the emperor’s gentle smile, at how he drips of kindness and gold jewelry head to toe, and can only nod and answer him honestly.

If it were any other emperor, Gyuvin thinks, they would’ve taken the sick kitten and disregarded it, but Emperor Quanrui cradles it in his arms like a baby. 

With a handful of lineage and even acquaintances within the lower ranks of the court, Gyuvin is fortunate, and Ricky doesn’t waste his time: he makes Gyuvin one of his concubines within a week. It doesn’t take long for Ricky to completely dismiss the others.  

“Because of you,” Ricky says on Gyuvin’s third official day, “I will no longer be needing to spend time with anyone else.”) 

⸻ ∞ ⸻

“My beloved Kuibin, you are dangerous, you know?” Ricky asks, brushing Gyuvin’s bangs out of his eyes, his hair dark and shiny and falling to his waist in waves. 

Gyuvin rises, the blanket covering his chest falling to the mattress as he sits up to look at Ricky properly. “Emperor Quanrui, I could never be dangerous to you. I serve you with all the loyalty of a wolf.” 

“Perhaps an obedient puppy,” Ricky coos, lifting Gyuvin’s chin with a perfectly manicured finger. He glances down at Gyuvin with a red-lipped smirk and kind eyes, some of his long, black hair slipping out of the messy updo held together by a jade pin Gyuvin had bought for him — much cheaper than most of the things he owns, but just as beautiful and infinitely more special. 

“I only obey you,” Gyuvin is quick to reply, reaching up to take the pin out from Ricky’s hair, watching as Ricky unravels slowly, his pristine image becoming messier by the second. Gyuvin plays with the strands that frame Ricky’s face, wrapping them loosely around his fingers and wishing he could stay here, tangled, forever. 

“I am your emperor,” Ricky says, laughing when Gyuvin lightly tugs. “I should hope you obey me.” 

“You are so much more than that,” Gyuvin argues, and the conviction in his voice makes it hard to argue any other way. 

Ricky thinks of the scratches he’s left on Gyuvin’s back, of the flowers Gyuvin picks and arranges for him, of the paintings Ricky has done for Gyuvin, of the poetry Gyuvin has written about Ricky in return, of the gifts Gyuvin wishes to give, whether a hairpin or a dessert, because he wants Ricky to know he cares. There are so many gestures between them, so many things left unspoken yet clear, and this is yet another memory Ricky will add to his prized collection. 

“Feed me?” Ricky asks, blinking at Gyuvin with what he knows is a deadly smile. If there is one thing he got good at in all his years of being an emperor, it is how to charm, seduce, and persuade. The looks he inherited from his mother serve as a great tool. But then again, with Gyuvin, he never really has to try too hard to get him to listen. 

Gyuvin nods and takes only a second to get to his feet, bringing over the bowl of grapes he had washed earlier — green, not purple, as Ricky prefers the sweetness of green ones, and Gyuvin could not help but agree with such taste.

He sits back down on the edge of the bed and hums as he peels the skin off of each one, popping them between Ricky’s waiting lips and eating the skin himself. 

Ricky leans over, and they end up sharing most of the grapes within kisses, Gyuvin thinking they taste much better when Ricky’s mouth has had ownership first. 

“You are dangerous,” Ricky says again after the bowl is empty, “because I treasure you above all else.” 

How Gyuvin loves to hear these words. He is about to reply when Ricky takes his hand and licks the juice from between his fingers. Then all thoughts leave his mind until there is only one left: to worship his emperor. He leans in, tasting grape and salt on Ricky’s tongue. 

It is no secret to anyone that Kuibin is one of Emperor Quanrui’s favorite people, much less his favorite concubine. This would be more of a disaster if not for two facts: 

One, Quanrui is one of the best emperors China has ever seen, able to solve almost any matter with reason and grace, and his capable military is rather keen on winning their battles. 

Two, the empress already had three of Quanrui’s children, two of them powerful sons and capable heirs, the oldest son already nearing fifteen years of age. Their last child is a beautiful daughter with an affinity for both martial and fine arts, inheriting her love of painting from Ricky. All three adore their father, and by extension, spend a lot of time with Gyuvin, who Ricky loves to have around when he can. 

“Kuibin, can you teach me how to write poetry?” asks Yichen, Ricky’s first son, his eyes wide. “I really like all the metaphors about the sun and moon you use.” 

“Kuibin, how do you do your makeup so well? I cannot figure out how much rouge is too much,” says Jiali, Ricky’s daughter, her pout eerily similar to that of her father’s. 

“Kuibin, what do you do to make my father like you so much? I must learn your ways,” jests Qinyan, Ricky’s second son. He has always been more of a jokester. 

For all the questions they bombard Gyuvin with, they bombard Ricky with even more. Asking about society, the state of the world, how to deal with economic or war-related affairs, and more. Ricky is an amazing father. 

Gyuvin tells him as much one day, and Ricky only blushes and waves the compliment off. 

A part of Gyuvin aches. If only he could be the Empress instead, living happily with Ricky openly as his wife and the mother of his children. Being a concubine is no easy task for anyone, even as the emperor’s favorite one, and it doesn’t help that they are both men, something which is still looked down upon despite many emperors having multiple male concubines. 

“What are you thinking about?” Ricky asks Gyuvin one night, when they're sharing a bath together, the water just warm enough with rose petals floating in it that Gyuvin had plucked himself. Dutifully and carefully, Gyuvin lathers the ends of Ricky’s beautiful hair, even longer and darker than Gyuvin’s own. 

“How much I wish to be your wife,” Gyuvin answers, never one to even try and hide the truth from Ricky. It's a random thought but one he has particularly often, especially when he spends time with Ricky's children and wishes to call them his own. 

The water ripples as Ricky turns to face Gyuvin, a smile that is equal parts delighted and despondent on his lips. “This is a wish we share, then.” 

Their hour-long bath turns into three as soon as Gyuvin leans in and pulls Ricky towards him, guiding the emperor’s head towards his own with a careful hand on his neck. 

“Who did this to you?” Ricky roars, hurrying over to check on the bruise swelling up Gyuvin’s cheek and part of his eye. 

Gyuvin ducks his head in shame, trying not to let out more tears as he feels Ricky’s gentle fingers tracing over his injury. “I am afraid it was the Empress, bìxià. Please do not worry about me, it is only a mere bruise.” He lets out a cough, and then another, and sways on his feet. 

Ricky notices this, silent as he listens to Gyuvin’s ragged breathing, and the fury in his veins only burns more. “Did she also hurt your chest?” 

Gyuvin gives a tentative nod, “She had men kick and punch my face and ribs. She said… she said she would do worse to me if I kept sticking so closely to you and the children.” 

Danger flashes in Ricky’s eyes. “I am so, so sorry, Kuibin. My beloved, dearest Kuibin. This is all my fault.” 

“Never.” Gyuvin falls to his knees and brings his hands together. “This is not your burden at all, bìxià. I am only sorry for troubling you so much all these years. After three years, she was bound to show her disdain for me so outrightly.” 

“It is not within her right to,” Ricky spits. He straightens, and Gyuvin is afraid for the Empress for the first time in his life. The Ricky before him is not the soft-hearted, gentle, soft in every aspect Ricky that he’s in love with.

This Ricky is Emperor Ricky, the one who knows how to kill someone a billion different ways, the one who will ruthlessly torture enemies to gain information or approve the command for others to do it, the one who was trained to be a fighter and a ruler basically since he was born. This Ricky is also one who Gyuvin is in love with, but it’s one he rarely sees. 

Maybe he shouldn’t like this side of Ricky so much. (He wants to pounce onto those broad, gold-embroidered shoulders and kiss his lover silly.) 

And the injuries might have been worth it, Gyuvin thinks later, as he lies on the emperor’s bed and is coddled by him for the entire night, being spoon fed medicine that tastes like absolute hell and then porridge with brown sugar sprinkled on top.

All his favorite desserts and fruits are laid on the table in trays, and Ricky wants to have his doctor look at Gyuvin, but Gyuvin declines, saying he will go to a less prestigious doctor later. 

“We don’t want the Empress to get even angrier,” Gyuvin had argued. 

Ricky only relented after Gyuvin promised to tell him what the doctor’s assessment was as soon as possible. 

“I love you,” Ricky whispers into Gyuvin’s hair as he kisses the top of his head before they sleep. 

Gyuvin leaves a soft kiss on Ricky’s cheek in return. 

“I am deeply sorry, you know?” Ricky asks one early morning. His meeting for later this morning has been canceled, and now they are enjoying their time together, dipping their toes in the koi pond just right outside of Ricky’s bedroom. 

“What for?” Gyuvin asks, almost horrified at the notion that Ricky could’ve ever done anything to hurt him.

“For making you my concubine.” Ricky holds up his finger, knowing that Gyuvin wants to interrupt. “Just listen, my dear. You have power in the court, and you are more than capable at many things: writing, archery, fighting, dancing, to name a few. You could have made your way up the ranks if it weren’t for me. I forced you into this position. I am selfish, and I am sorry.” 

Gyuvin thinks he might feel his heart break. “That day, when we first met — do you remember it?” 

“Of course I do. You had named the injured kitten in your arms ‘Cotton’ and told me so with a smile.” 

“You thought it was a beautiful name. Your hands were nothing but careful when I let you hold her. Most emperors would have cast her aside, called her useless or beneath saving. But not you.” Gyuvin laughs as he looks back, fondness creeping into both his face and voice. “After you asked me for my background in the court, you asked to hold my hand. Only after I said yes did you touch me. You did not take any part of me as your own.” 

“But I—” 

“—hush, and let me finish.” Gyuvin nudges Ricky with his elbow. “Then, on the walk back to your carriage, a little boy managed to slip past your guards, and he grabbed at your sleeve. You smiled at him, bent down, and reached into your hanfu, pulling out a wrapped meat bun and a small pouch of gold and silver.” 

“It was the least I could do—”

“—no, I’m still not done. Before, I was a nobody tending for stray animals because I thought it was the least I could do. Now, I am someone who dares to be more. Somebody who dares to dream.” 

“Kuibin…” 

“ Bìxià, you did not force me into the position. I wanted to say yes as soon as I saw your heart.” Gyuvin leans against Ricky fully, looking into his eyes so he knows the other is listening. “A-Rui, you are truly a graceful, ruthless, and calculating emperor who knows everything and does it all. However, I also know that you are human, that you have a soft spot for animals and children, and that you are hurt easily. I love all of these things about you.” 

Ricky lets out a trembling breath, resting his hand on the small of Gyuvin’s back. “Jin Kuibin, you might be the only soul in this world who knows me.”

“And you, for me. So no more apologizing, okay?” 

“Okay,” Ricky agrees easily, because how can he not? 

They share a smile as sticky sweet as the brown sugar buns in Ricky’s pocket. 

Gyuvin did not ever think poison would ever taste so sweet. 

“Don’t go, Ruirui, don’t go,” he chokes, pulling on Ricky’s sleeve with all of his strength, his vision fuzzy at the edges. 

“But I have to — I need to get the doctor!” Ricky screams, his face flushed with tears, with anger, with fear. 

“There isn’t enough time,” Gyuvin croaks out, letting his hand fall to the floor. 

Ricky hesitates, then finally relents, giving into Gyuvin as he usually does. He kicks aside the cup Gyuvin had just drinken from and falls to the floor next to him. 

“I should have known she would do this to you,” Ricky says, holding onto Gyuvin’s hands and letting out a sob at Gyuvin’s weakening grip. 

“You cannot know everything, my dear emperor, even though you try.” 

Ricky shakes his head. “But she knows you always drink citrus with your tea. I should have known, should have kept a careful eye.”

“No more regrets, my love.” Gyuvin tries his best to squeeze Ricky’s hands, but he is losing feeling in his limbs second by second. “Just stay with me until I go.” 

“My dear Kuibin, of course I will.” Ricky manages a smile as he lies down next to him, telling Gyuvin all the things he loves about him. 

“Getting to serve you all these years was worth it,” Gyuvin whispers after a few minutes, when he can practically taste his heart beating ever slower. 

“Getting to know you was my pleasure, all mine.” Ricky leans in, and all Gyuvin can think about is how much he wishes to kiss the beauty mark beneath Ricky’s eye one last time. “Kuibin, please tell me honestly, are you in pain? Even a little?”  

“No,” Gyuvin answers easily, letting a sly smile take over the sorrow on his face. “Not when bìxià is by my side.” 

“You flatterer,” comes Ricky’s soft reply, his face glowing with tears. 

“A-Rui?”

“Yes, Kuibin?” 

“I am going to miss you dearly.” 

Ricky pulls out the dagger he keeps at his waist. The silver of its blade gleams in the candlelight, shining ever more when Ricky holds it up to his own neck. “And I, you.” He kisses the corner of Gyuvin’s mouth and says ever so gently, “We will meet again, I know it. I am only sorry this was not the life for us.” 

“I do not regret a thing,” Gyuvin answers, feeling Ricky’s kiss on his lips like a hot brand. “Every second with you was a second I loved.” 

“Good, I’m glad,” Ricky whispers. The dagger in his hand trembles. “I won’t regret anything, either — Yichen, he is eighteen years old now, and he is ready. All of my children are. They have their own loved ones. Do you agree?”

Gyuvin nods.

“Then I can leave with you, can’t I?” 

Gyuvin nods again. He’s selfish and in love. 

“Look away, my dear.” 

And Gyuvin is not yet gone when he decides to close his eyes, hearing the gruesome sound of metal cutting through flesh, of blood dripping onto wooden planks, of Ricky’s warm body falling to the floor and landing next to him, their breaths nearly equal in rasp and shortness. 

Kuibin is not sure what the last thing he feels is, but it might be Quanrui’s hand clasped inside his. 

Korea - Choson Dynasty

[1592]

(In their second life, Gyuvin is Kim Gyuvin, a mid-ranking commissioned officer who gains command over an impressive number of his own men, and Ricky is Shim Kwanlu, an ordinary teenager who lives with his small family in a quaint town. 

They are both eighteen when they meet in this life.

They both die at eighteen in this life.) 

⸻ ∞ ⸻

“Put out the fires! Help anyone who you see is injured!” Gyuvin hollers over the noise, making sure his hand movements stay sharp as he directs his men in various directions. 

The smoke is thick, but thankfully not thick enough to the point where they and their horses cannot see, although breathing in some of the more dangerous areas of this poor town is definitely harder. 

“Go back and get more help! General Kim Jiwoong is nearby!” Gyuvin yells at three of his men, gesturing. They nod before galloping off. 

He spots some of his other men hurrying towards him, civilians in tow and barely hanging onto their waists as they get closer. Gyuvin is quick to swing himself off of his horse and help the civilians get onto their feet, some of them worse for wear than others. 

In particular, there is a boy who seems to be about Gyuvin’s age. Most of his skin blanketed in bad burn marks, angry and red and oozing, and his arm covered in blood from a gash on his bicep. Soot turns his whole complexion gray as his eyes remain closed, cough after cough ripping out of his throat. 

Gyuvin hurries over, placing a careful pat on the boy’s shoulder. “Do you need water?” he asks, holding out his flask. He hurries to take off his helmet with his other hand, wanting to make sure he looks as friendly as possible. 

The boy shakes his head as he keeps coughing. Finally, it slows down. He blinks blearily at Gyuvin before shaking his head again. “Give it to my sister,” he rasps out, pointing at a girl who one of his men is tending to. 

Gyuvin, knowing how stubborn people can be, hands the flask over. He isn’t one to argue with someone on the brink of death. 

“Are you sure you don’t want some?” He turns his attention back towards the boy, who drops into a squat before plopping down onto the dirt. Gyuvin decides to sit next to him. 

“I am not — ack — I don’t think I have much time left,” the boy whispers, and then he finally opens his eyes, bloodshot and crusty. “I got burnt really, really badly, and crushed by my roof and walls falling apart. I’m in a lot of pain.” 

“I’m truly sorry to hear that.” And Gyuvin is about to say more until he properly looks at him, wondering why he suddenly seems so familiar. 

For a second, he thinks he tastes grapes and hears the jingle of golden bracelets clinking against each other, but then he blinks and it’s gone. When he refocuses, he swears the boy is glancing at him with equal confusion.

Gyuvin blinks again. “Is there anything I can do to help you?”  

The boy takes a crackly breath. “Can you please make my death quick?” He glances over Gyuvin’s shoulder for a split moment. “And make it so my sister doesn’t see?” 

This would not be the first time Gyuvin has been asked something like this. Not even within the past day. Two of his men had been shot badly with arrows, and they both begged for an easy death by Gyuvin’s gentle blade. It is a duty Gyuvin knew he would have to carry out as soon as he grew in rank. It is not one that gets any easier. 

“I promise she’ll think it was from the fire,” Gyuvin says, placing a comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder.

The boy smiles, and Gyuvin distantly thinks he is rather beautiful. “Thank you,” he says, so quiet it can barely be considered a whisper. He closes his eyes. 

Gyuvin blocks the boy from view with his own body as he stands, aiming his blade just a few centimeters off center and driving it through the boy’s chest in one fluid motion, knowing just where to stab so it injures both heart and lungs in an instant. 

May you have a peaceful life after this one, Gyuvin thinks, squeezing his eyes shut as the boy’s body falls to the ground with a thud. He wonders why it gives him deja vu before opening his eyes, giving himself a shake, and preparing himself for more blood and tears.

(Gyuvin lasts four more months before he eventually dies on the battlefield, an arrow impaling his worn armor and going straight through his heart.) 

United States

[1890s]

(In their third life, Ricky is a spoiled tortoiseshell calico cat called Little Berry. Gyuvin is a nameless young buck with stubs for antlers and a want to survive.) 

⸻ ∞ ⸻

Gyuvin spots a colorful blob in the window. He stays still, not wanting to venture out into the open backyard quite yet, watching. The colorful blob is moving. He’s confused until it turns around, and suddenly a face is looking at him, one that’s small with whiskers and large blue eyes. Gyuvin has happened upon these strange animals before. They make all kinds of noises and like to jump around and run a lot. 

He wonders if the blob can see him, but he doubts it. For some inexplicable reason, he wants to catch the blob’s attention. It doesn’t help that he hasn’t eaten in days; he’s getting a little desperate and figures he can take this risk. So he takes a step forward, his nose poking out from the bush, then another. 

There aren’t many people outside right now, and the ones who are gathered nearby aren't holding those terrifying shiny black things.

This particular backyard has plates of seeds and some fruit on its porch, both birds and squirrels are enjoying themselves as they dig in — surely he can enjoy himself, too. He might not be as small or furry, but he deserves this, doesn’t he? 

So Gyuvin walks carefully towards the plates, the birds and squirrels slightly wary of him, but they stick around, choosing to jump around a little instead of running away entirely. 

He glances up at the window, and this time the colorful blob is looking right back. 

When Gyuvin blinks, he smells citrus, then he blinks again, and he smells fire and blood. He shakes his head, and he’s back to the yard, the scent of flowers and grass and food filling the air once more. He must be having these weird sensations due to hunger. 

The colorful blob stares at him, its small mouth opening and closing. Gyuvin can’t hear it, but he assumes it’s making one of those noises other blobs make. No matter to him. He bends his head down and takes a bite of the fruit, wondering why this colorful blob is so intriguing. 

Meanwhile, Ricky’s owners spot the young buck in their backyard, marveling over how pretty he is. From his comfy spot on the windowsill, Ricky agrees, but he also thinks, a bit pettily, I’m just as pretty! He makes sure his owners don’t forget him by meowing and doing figure eights around their legs. It earns him a few extra treats. Ha. Humans are so easy to suck up to. 

The next day, Ricky’s owners leave out a block of salt in hopes of the buck coming around again. They sit down next to Ricky as he lies down on the couch, telling him about how he has a new friend now.

They talk about their experience with deer, how people like to hunt them down for their meat. Ricky is glad to be so small and thereby, not tasty. 

His owners might be smarter than he gives them credit for, because a few hours later, the buck comes around again, his snout in the air. He walks towards the plate with salt in it carefully, which is a rather funny sight considering he has four long legs, and he’s so large he really isn’t sneaky at all, but Ricky commends him for trying. 

As he watches the buck bend down and lick away at the salt, Ricky can’t help but wonder why he seems so familiar — perhaps the young buck’s large brown eyes remind him of the cat next door. 

Ricky, who is usually an indoor cat, gets let outside every once in a while. His owners say that it’s good for him. He doesn’t entirely agree, but whatever. 

During one of his afternoon trots around the yard, the buck comes back. His big brown stare shimmers with more curiosity than Ricky’s seen in his life, and again, he tries to be cautious as he walks towards Ricky, but fails due to his nature. 

Ricky lets the buck get close to him, close enough for Ricky to lightly swat at his long, stick legs. To Ricky’s delight, the buck doesn’t really even flinch, instead letting out a noise that sounds close to the laughter of humans.

When the buck stumbles and accidentally steps right onto Ricky’s paw, Ricky lets out a surprised mreow! but calms himself down, not wanting to swipe at his potential new friend. 

The buck seems to dip his head at him in some form of apology. Ricky finds this hilarious and purrs in approval. Gyuvin does not know what a purr is or means, but he likes how his colorful blob friend closes his eyes and smiles while making the sound. 

Over the course of the next few months, they keep meeting each other or staring at each other through the window. Something about the other draws them closer. Gyuvin hears the blob’s owners call him ‘Little Berry,’ and he thinks it might be the stupidest name he’s ever heard. Ricky’s owners name the buck ‘Stub,’ and Ricky thinks it’s oddly fitting but dumb. 

Gyuvin doesn’t go a day hungry anymore, not when Ricky’s spoiled life extends to his own, and now he has a little friend to run around with. Ricky finds that his owners are rather kind hearted, and his once monotonous days aren’t so boring when he has such a large friend to play with.

(The average lifespan of a white-tailed deer is four and a half years. Gyuvin manages to live for three. Ricky lives another eight years after the last time he and Gyuvin get to meet.

After a harsh winter and many more months of no buck in their yard, his owners have to explain that Stub probably got caught by hunters. To keep Ricky from feeling too lonely, they adopt another cat and call him Ollie. Ollie is a young orange cat, fluffier than anything, and a lot of fun. 

So, while Ricky finds that the Stub-shaped hole in his small world gets slightly easier to bear, he dreams about large doe eyes for the rest of his fluffy life.) 

The Lives When/Where They Don’t Meet

[In-Betweens]

(There are many, many lives when and where Gyuvin and Ricky do not meet. 

This is just the state of things, after all. Life and time are not constant or circular, but rather a mix of both yet neither, and when people become reborn, they are reborn entirely randomly across time and space. 

Meeting each other is difficult enough, much less getting to have enough time in close proximity to really remember. The chance of that happening is even more rare than getting struck by lightning twice.) 

⸻ ∞ ⸻

In one of these, Gyuvin is a man in a hurry to catch a carriage when he spots an open one in the corner. He goes into a sprint before sliding into the seat, telling the driver to please take him to the square as fast as possible. 

The driver, without looking back, tells him it won’t be a problem, making sure to hurry his horses a little while gently caressing their neck with his free hand as ressurance. 

Gyuvin thinks the driver has a rather nice voice and beautiful horses, but he decides not to comment, not wanting to distract him. 

If Gyuvin had pointed it out, perhaps they would have had a conversation. He would’ve learned that the driver is a man his age with an affinity for strawberries and people with good manners: people like Gyuvin, who managed a ‘please’ despite his obvious rush. 

They would’ve bonded over their shared love for food and their younger siblings. Gyuvin would’ve learned that the driver’s name is Ricky. 

But Ricky never turns around, focusing on the road and the reins in his fingers. 

And Gyuvin never does anything to draw his attention besides a polite goodbye, too caught up in his head. He pays in a hurry, jumps off in a hurry, and that is that. 

They never meet eyes. 

In another one, Ricky is born in Shanghai and Gyuvin is born in Korea. Their families are not rich, barely even lower middle class. They both work hard to provide and be more than they are. They live sleepless nights that leave their backs sore and stomachs empty. 

They never get to leave their home countries.

They both don’t live past sixteen. 

In another, Gyuvin is a large chocolate labrador named Cocoa who was born blind, resigned to spending the rest of his days at a shelter: it seems nobody wants to adopt a large dog who can’t see — “too clumsy,” says one family, “too dangerous,” says another. He’s used to people seeing that he’s blind and strolling on by.

When Ricky, a toddler with his mom, visits the shelter, he’s immediately drawn to Cocoa, saying the dog’s eyes are “big, gray, and sad,” and he wants to do anything he can to cheer him up. 

Gyuvin’s ears perk up at the sound of this cute little boy. 

Ricky adopts him that very same day, and he holds Gyuvin’s head in his lap as he talks excitedly about all the different things they can do together. Gyuvin decides on the spot that he’ll do whatever he can to make this child happy.

He lives the rest of his days in Ricky’s home, which is large but not so large he can’t remember its layout. Ricky spends as much time as possible with him. They learn that Gyuvin likes to eat mangoes as treats, and that he’s rather easy to train despite his hyper and clingy personality. 

True to his word, Ricky does everything in his power to cheer Gyuvin up. He always plays with Gyuvin, or walks him, or feeds him, or takes a billion pictures of him instead of doing anything else, like his chores or his homework.

When Ricky grows a little older and earns money of his own, he buys Gyuvin any toys or treats he wants. He wants to take care of Gyuvin as much as Gyuvin has taken care of him: a companion who has always stuck by his side, through every toddler or teenager tantrum Ricky has thrown over the years. 

When Gyuvin gets sick, much too sick, he has to be put down, and Ricky flies in from university so he can be there. The last thing Gyuvin hears and feels is Ricky’s voice in his ear, comforting him, and Ricky’s hands gently pressing against his paw. 

It’s not a bad way to go. 

In one of their saddest, they are on opposite sides of a war. 

The closest they get to meeting is when they are both fourteen, underweight, terrified, hungry, and shaped to be ruthless, as their generals lead their fight onto the same field. They both lose most of their friends on that day. 

As the war rages on, they barely remember their own names. But at night, sometimes they dream of a gentle hand in their own, of laughter and a warm bath, of a mole beneath an eye or a toothy grin, and they feel like there is something else they’re forgetting. 

Yearning and starvation fuel them. 

They never get to meet before dying at seventeen. 

In another, Ricky owns a farm and makes quite a lot of his money by selling portions of his crop at the local grocery store, including milk, eggs, corn, and strawberries. He also feeds the farm cats and leaves out salt for the deer who frequent his land. His neighbors, who have farms and gardens of their own, help him, and they leave each other fresh produce with notes signed from them: Hao, Taerae, Matthew, and Jiwoong. 

Gyuvin is one of the grocery store cashiers and he does local gigs in a band composed of him and his friends, Hanbin, Gunwook, and Yujin. He gets discounts for the grocery store and finds that he buys the strawberries and mangoes the most. He just likes how they taste. 

Ricky doesn’t go into town much, often too busy with his chores around the farm, but once he stops by a cafe. There’s a band performing in the corner, and they sound rather good. He swears one of the singers looks vaguely familiar, and he squints, trying to see past the crowd.

But then his name for his order gets called, and he picks it up, in a hurry to go back and tend to his mom and the chickens. 

They only see each other in the very barest of glances, followed by brief visions they pass off as daydreams. 

Gyuvin leaves town after he graduates. 

Ricky stays. 

In yet another, Gyuvin is an archaeologist who is set for Shanghai. At this time, experts from both China and South Korea are collaborating to dig out historic sites within the Luwan District.

Gyuvin cannot believe he’s really going to go. After a long, long ferry ride from Korea to Shanghai, he boards his train to go into the city, barely able to contain his excitement despite his exhaustion and slight seasickness. 

His months of studying Chinese are about to pay off, but for now most of the people who work in the train and are around him know how to speak English, so he’s relieved he doesn’t have to be really tested with his Mandarin just yet. 

When it’s his stop, he’s quick to get up and grab his luggage. As he hops off, he bumps into someone, and he throws a quick apology over his shoulder before scrambling towards the right exit. 

Ricky, shaking his head at how rushed people are these days, straightens the lapels of his suit and walks towards the train doors. 

New York City

[1990s]

(In this life, Gyuvin is Kevin Kim, a young man who is deeply closested for the exception of his close friends. He has been fighting his internalized homophobia for nearly all his twenty one years of life, and wants to try and do more to be a part of the queer community. 

Ricky is Ricky Shen, a young man disowned by his immigrant family for being openly gay since his eighteenth birthday. He struggles to find himself, but manages to stumble upon a group of friends who are more than ready to help.

The AIDS epidemic is hitting New York particularly hard. Minorities are being disproportionately affected. People are dying. People they know. 

On January 22nd, 1991, the AIDS Coalition to Unleash Power (ACT UP) human rights group that’s working to end the AIDS pandemic is about to launch a big move. They end up holding the largest protest at the time for AIDS-related discrimination. Marches take over the streets. 

Amongst all the bodies, Gyuvin and Ricky are only two out of many.) 

⸻ ∞ ⸻

Ricky’s voice is almost lost as he keeps on screaming and chanting. With Taerae and Hao by his side, he feels even more empowered, hoping that he doesn’t lose his voice so he can keep on chanting at tomorrow’s march. Slightly ahead of them, Matthew is raising his signs high above his head, his voice barely audible over everything else. 

Hope is dangerous, but Ricky will still believe in it. He can deal with disappointment. 

Gyuvin’s arms are sore from the good amount of hours he’s been holding up his sign, but he knows that there is no rest for the wicked, and so there will be no rest for him, either. He laughs when Jiwoong, Hanbin, Gunwook, and Yujin all nudge him, giving his biceps a few teasing pokes, their smiles wide as they yell chant after chant after chant. 

Despite all the death and sickness he has seen in his community recently, he feels like everything is finally alive, like the city itself is molding into their shouts and footsteps. Beat after beat. They will always keep fighting. 

When they round a corner and the large group splits off into multiple to cover more ground, Gyuvin accidentally steps on someone’s shoe. 

“Ah!” 

“Oh no.” Gyuvin looks up in a panic, his arms dropping for the first time that day as he scrambles to try and support the other person. “So sorry, I wasn’t looking at where I was going!” When he blinks, he meets the eye of someone who might just be the most beautiful person Gyuvin has ever, ever seen. 

“It’s okay,” Ricky says with a lopsided smile. “We’re in the middle of doing something important, rushing makes a lot of sense. I, um, like your sign.”

Gyuvin straightens, raising it again. “Thank you,” he says with what he hopes is his most charming million-dollar-billion-watt smile. “I made it myself! With the help of my friends, of course.” 

“Oh? Where are they?” 

They end up talking more, their friends introducing themselves to each other, and their little friend groups end up forming one big circle of nine people. Gyuvin is more than intrigued by Ricky’s bleached hair, his bold makeup, and how he seems to carry himself like an emperor.

Ricky wants to get to know Gyuvin, the reasons behind the passion of how loudly he chants, of the true contagiousness of his liveliness and smile. 

When Gyuvin looks at Ricky, he wonders why he can taste salt and citrus and cold water at his feet. Perhaps the air is just filled with something and he’s getting too riled up over Ricky, who is probably also the most interesting person he’s ever met, not just the prettiest. 

Ricky is thinking something similar. Why is he getting deja vu from the sight of Gyuvin, and having him walk by his side? Why can he smell grape and grass when he’s right in the heart of a New York City protest? Maybe there really is something weird going on in his mind. 

Inexplicably, they are magnetized to each other. After they meet up for the next day’s march, then a coffee, then another coffee, then a dinner, then a movie date-that’s-not-a-date, then for dinner as an official date, then many more, something starts to form. Something large  then they get an apartment and move in together. Day by day, they get to know one another. 

Gyuvin learns that Ricky likes strawberries and people with good manners. 

Ricky learns that Gyuvin likes mangoes and people who are generous. 

It has been almost a year, and the memories do not quite come back to them in ways they understand. They arrive in bits and pieces, convoluted and vague, sometimes in vague visions when the light hits their faces in a certain way, sometimes in odd dreams they never really remember after waking up. 

Ricky tells Gyuvin about them and Gyuvin confides in something similar; they both laugh at how wild their imaginations are and wonder if maybe they should be watching less television before they sleep. 

“But my TV time,” Ricky pouts. 

Gyuvin can only laugh and relent, as he usually does with his beloved partner. “Okay, okay. But let’s keep the hours to a minimum.” 

Gyuvin proposes to Ricky first, which is extremely annoying and endearing because when it happens, Ricky already has his own ring box just tucked away into his pocket. So, instead of saying yes, he simply reaches into his jacket and shows Gyuvin the ring he’d picked out. Gyuvin finds this just as annoying and endearing, but his smugness at winning overtakes it. 

More than anything, Gyuvin is excited for their future wedding, even though it’s still illegal for them to officially be together. But nothing will stop them from having a private ceremony of their own with all their friends. 

The ceremony happens. It takes place in Hanbin’s living room and backyard, his house large enough to accommodate all of them, his fences high enough for his neighbors to mind their own business. Ricky designed the invitations himself, and Gyuvin had a wonderful time sampling cakes. Their friends come, their families don’t, and it’s okay. Everything is okay when they look at each other, the sunlight streaming through the window, and Jiwoong, who isn’t a really ordained minister but does an excellent job at pretending, pronounces them husbands. 

When Gyuvin leans in, their kiss might taste something like green grapes and sunshine. 

A year and three months after they get ‘married,’ Ricky starts feeling sick. His throat is sore, he gets constant headaches, his joints start aching when they never used to, and he loses so much weight in mere months he’s almost unrecognizable. Gyuvin rushes him to the hospital when he collapses while he’s out with Hao and Yujin. 

He knows what this might be. They’ve all seen it before. Those three damned letters, the very infection that caused them to march out into the streets. 

“What if I test positive?” Ricky asks in the quiet of the hospital room, trying to keep it together. Gyuvin can tell that he wants to cry. 

“Then I’m going to help you fight as much as you can.” Gyuvin sits down next to him, and because they’re alone, they reach for each other’s hands and hold tight. He tries not to think about how cold Ricky’s fingers feel as he presses a kiss to each knuckle. He wonders why fighting alongside Ricky’s side might feel kind of familiar. 

Ricky tests positive. The doctor tells him he doesn’t have long. After that, they live each day like it’s their last, and Gyuvin keeps dreaming about salt and poison and falling, wondering just how much he’s going to fall apart without his husband. 

During Ricky’s last week, he’s entirely bedridden and so, so skinny, but his eyes and smile glow just like usual, especially when their friends come around to visit. He’s so beautiful. 

“I love you,” Gyuvin says with a half-sob. 

“I know, Gyuvin.” Ricky reaches for his hand. At home, they can wear their matching rings. “I love you.” 

Gyuvin looks at Ricky and wonders why he keeps getting sickening, almost dizzying, moments of deja vu. Wonders why he keeps on smelling blood. Wonders why he keeps seeing Ricky’s hair, short and dyed a brown-red, as long and black, or sometimes even blond. 

“Do you sometimes feel like we’ve met before?” Ricky asks Gyuvin one day, when he’s particularly lucid and not on too many drugs, his fever breaking just the slightest. 

And Gyuvin thinks he knows exactly what Ricky means. “All the time. I’m just glad I found my way to you right now.” 

“Me too,” Ricky smiles, tired but still so, so kind and beautiful. 

Gyuvin presses a kiss against Ricky’s hand and tries not to cry. 

Ricky lasts four more months after he tests positive. 

When it happens, Gyuvin feels like he loses so much more than just himself, like a void has opened within his chest and sucks everything in. 

He dreams of smoke and tea, of a deer and a cat, of soot and fruit at the back of his mouth. He keeps on fighting. Ricky never gave up, and he won’t, either. 

South Korea

[2010s - Now]

(In this life, Ricky is Shen Quanrui, a boy born in Shanghai with big dreams and a thirst to prove himself. He likes strawberries, cats, having multiple milk tea drinks with one meal, his English nickname ‘Ricky,’ and dances until his heart gives out and his knees bleed. 

Gyuvin is Kim Gyuvin, a boy born in Seoul with big dreams and a thirst to prove himself. He likes mangos, dogs, adding cheese to his leftover rice and having a hearty bowl of egg noodles, his siblings and his dog, and he dances until sweat drips into his eyes and his bones ache. 

Through a chain of events, of hard work and pleading and chance, they both end up at Yuehua. Ricky gets there first.) 

⸻ ∞ ⸻

Ricky keeps hearing whispers of the new trainees who recently signed contracts and will soon be joining them. One of them is named Kim Gyuvin, and he’s apparently very handsome, very nice, and has the biggest eyes the other trainees have ever seen. Ricky doesn’t know what to do with this information. 

What he does know is how easily rumors can spread, so he decides to just wait and see for himself. Yuehua is a big company, but not so big they won’t run into each other eventually. 

He keeps dancing and singing and exercising. 

“I heard the new guy is around your age,” Yujin says one night after dance practice and vocal lessons, both of their chests heaving as they sit on the kitchen floor. The AC makes the linoleum cold, and it’s a welcome (and a dirty, sneaker-marked) relief. 

“Really?” Ricky breathes out, feeling his muscles ache with the action. There’s already so many trainees his age. It’s weird that he’s young, but not even the youngest. Yujin is proof of that. 

“Mhmm. I wonder what he’s like.” 

“...Me too.” A part of Ricky is also left wondering if this means he’ll need to work even harder, and if he’ll maybe make a new friend. Having more competitors who are around his age is a good thing and a bad thing all in one. 

As it turns out, Ricky is right. He and the new kid do end up meeting by chance. 

It’s a Friday evening and Ricky is minding his own business, sitting on the couch near the kitchen. He has his headphones in, one of his favorite dramas on, and he’s gulping down his water because he doesn’t actually remember the last time he had anything other than boba or energy drinks. Maybe the day before yesterday? 

He takes his headphones off for a brief second to dab at his forehead, then feels the presence of someone else nearby. It’s someone he’s never seen beyond a pixelated printed out picture on a piece of paper. Gyuvin might be a lot more handsome in person. 

When Gyuvin first arrives at Yuehua, he’s partially scared of nearly everyone. He knows he wants to make friends so his time as a trainee is easier and tries his best to be as sociable as possible.

When he spots someone on the couch who he vaguely remembers should be Ricky, based on what Yunseo and Yujin had told him — faded red hair, a tattoo on his neck, multiple piercings along his ears, and a love for his iPad — he summons all his extrovert energy and walks over. 

“Hey, are those Beats headphones?” Gyuvin asks after what might be a good minute of standing there and squinting. Please please please let his extroversion take over. 

Ricky blinks, looking up at him. “What?” 

Gyuvin points at Ricky’s ears. “Beats headphones,” he says again, trying to smile and not look like he wants to melt into the floor. 

Ricky’s mouth forms an ‘o.’ He points, then says, “Beats?” in English, a single, soft word. 

And Gyuvin, who’s been studying his English, smiles and says, “Yes, Beats headphones.” 

Ricky smiles back. 

And that’s how it starts. 

And that’s how it begins. 

(When Gyuvin asks Ricky about his headphones, he isn’t expecting such a gentle voice to come out of such an angular face, for Ricky’s thick eyebrows to change into such a confused, almost child-like expression. When Gyuvin asks Ricky what he’s watching on his iPad, he really isn’t expecting a K-Drama oozing with romance and cheese.) 

It doesn’t take very long for Gyuvin to realize that Ricky isn’t just a one dimensional guy who’s tall and cool and talented and rich and vaguely standoffish. Ricky is awkward (hence the standoffish vibes) and insecure and too hard on himself. Like the rest of them, he’s also ridden with anxiety and incurable insomnia. Especially the anxiety part, if the purple bags under his double-winged eyes or the pinch marks on his palm have anything to say about it. 

Suddenly Ricky goes from being an intimidating figure to a potential close friend. The fear of meeting someone new quickly melts away, and Gyuvin finds a pull at his core that draws him towards Ricky, his feet and hands itching to follow, to poke and prod and tease.

His brain tells him to get a laugh out of Ricky’s lips or an annoyed scoff from Ricky’s mouth. It’s a call he can’t ignore. He doesn’t think he wants to. 

Two weeks into Yuehua, Gyuvin watches as Ricky teases two of the younger trainees, Ollie and Yujin. They’re all giggly and it’s contagious. 

Something about sitting here feels right. 

Gyuvin observes the way Ricky lights up, his laughter squeaky and bright, his cheeks turning pink, and thinks maybe he could stay like this forever. For a second he swears he sees Ricky with long, black hair and a jade pin holding it together, the very spitting image of an emperor, but then he blinks and it’s gone. 

Maybe Ricky really just has that effect on people… 

After a month of being at Yuehua, Gyuvin has a dream about Shen Ricky:

They’re in the practice room and it’s morning. Probably early morning, considering the sun isn’t very bright yet. Ricky is dressed in all black, his smile soft and hair messy and face bare. It’s unfair just how beautiful someone can be without makeup. 

“Gyuvin?” Ricky asks, his face bright, the bags under his eyes gone. This, and the fact that the practice room is morphing into a sort of liminal space that he can’t see the ceiling of, is a hint to Gyuvin that lets him know he’s dreaming. 

Gyuvin takes a step forward. His heart is pounding. There’s music playing from somewhere and it’s loud, but he can’t figure out what the lyrics are. 

“Ricky? What are you doing?”

“Gyuvin.” Ricky’s smile flips. “I’m really tired, Gyuvin.” 

“Tired? You’re tired?” 

Ricky points at the corner. “Save yourself, first.” 

Gyuvin follows his finger to see that a giant fire has started alongside the room, blue and red and angry. He’s about to run over and try to do something about it when Dream-Ricky drops to the floor. 

“Ricky?” 

“Save yourself, Gyuvin,” Ricky says, clutching his arm, which looks bloody and bent. Gyuvin looks down and sees blood on his own hands. 

When Gyuvin wakes up, his mattress suddenly feels too small and too itchy. He makes a mental note to wash his sheets later. If he’s extra touchy with Ricky once he’s also awake, that’s between them, and them only. 

“I had the weirdest dream last night,” Gyuvin says during their water break. He doesn’t know why he says it, maybe because they’re in the actual practice room now, but it comes tumbling out of his mouth before he can stop it. 

Ricky raises an eyebrow at him. “What was it?” 

“Um…” Gyuvin takes another sip of his water, trying to come up with something on the spot. “I dreamt that we perfected the choreo in one try.” 

Ricky lets out a huff. “If only,” he says, but his smile is wistful. Not bitter or even slightly self-deprecating. Thank goodness. 

“Yeah, haha. If only.”

For the rest of practice, Gyuvin notices how he and Ricky seem a little more confident. He hopes that he’ll never have to see real-life-Ricky fall to the ground like he did in his dream. (Or was it a nightmare?)

A part of him hopes that he and Ricky will get to rise together, alongside the rest of the Yuehua trainees as well: Hao, Yujin, Yunseo, Seungeon, Ollie, Brian, and more. All of them. 

Being same-aged trainees, Ricky and Gyuvin get put together as roommates for their next new rooming arrangement, their dorms changing as more and more trainees join. The two of them fist bump after learning this and sneak away to a nearby convenience store for celebratory bingsu. Of course they run back immediately after buying it, but even with their caps and masks on, they can tell they’re both smiling while they laugh all the way down the pavement. 

“Do you have any bad habits as a roommate I need to know about?” Gyuvin asks once they’re back and getting ready for dance practice. 

Ricky tilts his head in that signature cat-like way of his. “I like my room really warm because I get cold easily. And… I have bad insomnia,” he admits, eyes turning soft and vulnerable. 

“Okay, okay, that’s fine. And you know, same here, I have so much trouble sleeping these days. Maybe our building is haunted!” Gyuvin jokes, making a claw motion at Ricky, who laughs, any traces of fear in his face gone. 

“Haunted? Haunted with what?” 

“The monsters beneath your bed. They’ll tickle your toes when you’re asleep, and make you trip up in the practice room when they’re awake. Any mistakes of ours, that’s actually all them.” 

“Is it?” Ricky eggs on, still laughing. 

Making Ricky smile despite everything is a talent that Gyuvin recently figured out he has. He wants to keep doing it. 

After a few weeks of rooming together, they get into this sort of routine before sleeping. 

Gyuvin will shower first because Ricky takes much longer, especially with his dyed hair. While Gyuvin does his skin care and Ricky doesn’t, they stare at each other in the mirror and laugh — Ricky with a toothpaste ring around his lips and Gyuvin with a shiny golden face mask that makes him look like a bedazzled ghost. 

Ricky likes to procrastinate going to bed by watching his beloved dramas. Gyuvin finds it oddly endearing that Ricky enjoys watching slice of life and romance dramas the most, his over-the-top reactions to everything driving it home.

When he spots Ricky tearing up over a character’s sad backstory or a horrible misunderstanding trope, he realizes that the boy across from him is soft-hearted despite everything they go through. 

Watching Gyuvin scroll through his phone for hours on end and giggling to himself sends something warm right into Ricky’s chest. It’s gold, how Gyuvin finds everything absolutely hilarious. He also loves watching tiny animal videos and Ricky catches him tearing up multiple times over animals that are just ‘way too cute for this world,’ according to him. 

Gyuvin also likes these strangely niche cat and dog ASMR videos, ones where they’ll eat expensive food and get treated like absolute kings. It’s interesting and when Gyuvin shows Ricky any video he comes across, funny or food-ASMR related, Ricky will laugh hard because he finds Gyuvin’s laughter more amusing than the actual content itself. 

The bathroom nearest to Ricky and Gyuvin’s room is small, but they don’t complain. Oftentimes they end up occupying it together, always in a rush to go to the same place at similar times, whether that be dance practice or their beds. 

Tonight, they’re continuing their tradition of sharing the little bathroom before going to sleep. Ricky brushes his teeth as he watches Gyuvin do his skin care routine. Gyuvin recently bought a new face mask, and this one is colored silver, shining underneath the bright fluorescent bathroom light. He’s been on a shiny face mask splurge lately. 

“Ay, how do I look?” Gyuvin points to himself in the mirror with the half laugh you make as a face mask dries on your cheeks, unable to move your mouth too much. 

Blink. 

The mask on Gyuvin’s face becomes a silver helmet, covered in soot. The minty smell of Ricky’s toothpaste and the floral smell of Gyuvin’s skin care products mix into the sweet smell of rotting flesh and death. Ricky’s arm feels like it’s on fire. He drops the flask in his hand — wait, no, it’s just his toothbrush, onto the floor. 

Plop. 

Ricky blinks again at the sound, glancing at Gyuvin’s slight look of concern, then stares at the floor, where his toothbrush luckily managed to land on its back instead of the bristle side. 

“Did I spook you that much?” Gyuvin asks, his tone still teasing but dipping into worry. 

Ricky nudges Gyuvin’s shoulder with his elbow, meeting his eye in the mirror. The facemask is just a mask; maybe he’s hallucinating out of exhaustion. “I was just blinded by how bright you are,” he half-smiles, bending down to pick up his toothbrush and then stepping forward to give it a good wash. 

“I’m the brightest,” Gyuvin singsongs, shoving his face into Ricky’s personal space and doing a silly dance. 

“You are,” Ricky says, and this time his smile is genuine. He’s fine. Gyuvin’s fine. They’re okay, and that’s what matters. 

Scrolling through xiaohongshu on his iPad as an attempt to forget the weird vision-hallucination he had earlier, Ricky is about to click on a particularly interesting looking artwork when he hears Gyuvin cackle and smack his bed sheets. 

“Hey, look at this!” Gyuvin says, practically jumping off his bed in excitement. 

Ricky pauses, craning his neck to watch as Gyuvin proudly shows off his phone. It’s a TikTok of a small white cat meowing profusely until a pair of chopsticks drops a sizable slice of salmon in front of it. 

“That’s you, that’s so you,” Gyuvin laughs, then he points out how cute the cat is as it tears into the salmon like there’s no tomorrow. 

Scoffing, Ricky shakes his head, but he ends up laughing eventually. Gyuvin’s joy is simply contagious like that.

“This is you,” Ricky says a few minutes later, showing Gyuvin a TikTok of a baby deer struggling to get to its feet. 

“I know how to walk,” Gyuvin huffs, appalled. 

“Well, yes, but this is how you act in the morning.” 

Gyuvin squints at Ricky’s iPad screen again, observing the baby deer with judging eyes. The deer blinks rather sleepily. “Okay, so you might be right.” 

Almost half a year since meeting Gyuvin, Ricky has his first real dream that features only the two of them doing something other than gaming, eating, or shopping together.

Ricky sees himself in both the first and third person, in the strange ways that dreams work, and when he looks around he knows he’s lying on a hospital bed. 

It doesn’t look quite as modern as the kind of  hospital he’s familiar with. He lifts his arm and sees an IV drip attached to it. When he lowers his arm the room’s area comes into focus. That’s when he realizes he isn’t alone. 

“Hello?” 

Dream-Gyuvin looks kind of different to the one he knows. But his smile is still the same, as is the kindness in his gaze. “Ricky? You’re awake?” He hops up from his seat and hurries over, fussing over Ricky like he usually does in real life. His eyes are red-rimmed and weighed down by heavy bags. 

Being doted on by anyone is nice, but Gyuvin’s touches are especially gentle when they want to be. Ricky smiles. “I’m here. Why am I here?” 

“Oh, Ricky…” Gyuvin starts sobbing, his tears falling onto the bedsheets. 

Ricky wonders why it feels so real. 

He notices the matching rings on their hands, similar to a wedding band but more subtle, almost like they could be mistaken for something else. Is that on purpose?

Ricky watches Gyuvin cry and feels his heart break. 

Then the dream switches, and he’s on stage, singing his lungs out beneath a glaring spotlight, the beeps of a heart monitor and the soft sobs of his best friend melting into the background. 

But when Ricky wakes up, he still remembers. The feeling of Gyuvin’s hand in his hair. The matching rings. What the hell does that mean? 

Maybe he’s overworking himself and that’s why he keeps getting strange nightmares. (He’s totally overworking himself.) 

Two years of training together and their company drops what might be the biggest opportunity of their lives. Boys Planet. A survival show with 98 contestants from companies all over. This announcement sends everyone into a frenzy, and suddenly the pressure that already fuels their every movement grows exponentially. 

They don’t know who will be picked for this. They don’t know if they want it or not. 

“If we join, we’re going to be split up,” Yunseo points out during one of their breaks, and everyone around him nods dejectedly. 

“That’s how survival shows always work. A global group and a domestic group,” Hao points out, his tone just a bit too cutting for it to be anything other than bitter. There’s so much more sadness in his eyes these days. Everyone gets it. 

“No matter what, we have to try our best,” Seungeon says, trying to give everyone an encouraging smile. 

Yujin chews on his water bottle straw. “Even if I got chosen, I don’t know if I would want to go on there,” he says softly. “It’s an amazing opportunity, but isn’t it scary?” 

“It is,” Ricky affirms. “It’s a lot of eyes on you. One wrong move could cost you everything.” 

“Would the company let you opt out if you get picked?” Gyuvin asks, despite all of them knowing the probable answer. 

“I don’t know,” Brian says, clearing his throat. “But Seungeon’s right, we all just have to try our best if we get picked.” 

“We can’t take things personally,” Ollie says, his eyes wide. “It will hurt us too much.” 

Hao nods. “That’s also probably what the show wants, knowing their track record.” 

Everyone falls silent at that. This industry is all about competition, they know, but it’s one thing to compete with one another so blatantly, and quite another to know that the foreign trainees will have things prejudiced against them. How are they supposed to be cutthroat with each other when they know each of their favorite colors? Their birthdays? The foods they hate? 

Gyuvin meets Ricky’s eye, and he tries to go for a reassuring smile, but Ricky’s face falls. 

The roster for Boys Planet is announced. 

Ricky calls his mom. 

Gyuvin calls his. 

They hold each other’s hands for a few seconds in the bathroom that night before they sleep. A big storm is coming. 

At the very least, they’ll be facing it together. 

Boys Planet really puts the word survival into survival show. 

Everyone is beyond exhausted, their foundation and color corrector growing increasingly paler and thicker to cover up the bruises beneath their eyes. Gyuvin worries for himself, but also for everyone else, especially his friends from other countries. 

Being at Yuehua, a Chinese company, made it so sinophobia had seemed a little far away. Almost nonexistent. But Gyuvin knew when it happened, knew the reason why people looked at Ricky or Hao or Ollie or Brian funny if they spoke Mandarin to each other in public or needed to ask for clarification on Korean. 

And yet, sinophobia has never felt so real and in his face until now. He laughs at Hao’s different hair clips and frowns because he knows the real reason for why they exist. 

He catches people spreading rumors about Ricky and Brian that just aren’t true, sees the way Ricky becomes emotionless, expressionless, when cameras are on him. Sees the way that Ollie follows, both of their brightness and sass and any semblance of personality dampening due to the legitimate fear of being taken out of context. 

There are cameras everywhere, though, and Gyuvin can’t imagine how hard it is for the global trainees to act like not themselves, like they’re not human. 

How is it fair that they have to act more than anyone else all the time, on top of needing to perform? 

Out of the corner of his eye, Gyuvin can spot Ricky picking at his palms or fidgeting with his sleeves. For the millionth time Gyuvin wishes, so badly, that they could be on the same team. Everyone is being reduced to nothing for the sake of the show, and it’s horrific to see. 

Gyuvin feels his own energy leaking out into the practice room floor every day. 

Everyone blinks, and suddenly there’s less and less boys around them. 

Saying goodbye to Brian and Yunseo and Ollie makes the chasm in Gyuvin’s chest feel like a gaping wound, bound to never heal. Each Yuehua trainee that leaves is a loss they all feel, and when it happens, they meet up in one of their rooms, holding onto each other and trying not to cry. 

They don’t have the time for it. They don’t have the time or space for anything other than work, much less grieve together and try to find comfort. 

Despite everything, they each make friends and find new people to look up to, to want to aspire to be like. Both Hanbins, Jay Chang, Hui, Jiwoong, and many more, are just like them, and it’s harrowing to see their raw talent and passion. It’s even more harrowing to watch them struggle. 

Gyuvin barely recognizes the intense feeling in his gut as he watches the fight in Ricky’s eyes begin to fade with each passing microaggression or snide remark.

It takes a surrealistic dream of them on stage together, or another weird dream of Gyuvin as a stumbling deer and Ricky as a posh cat, to realize he wants to scoop Ricky into his arms and protect him forever — from all the prying eyes and viewers, from all the people who don’t truly know him and only see one layer. 

Slowly yet quickly, Gyuvin understands that more than anything, he wants to debut alongside Ricky and what’s left of their group. He wants to debut with maybe, just maybe, even a few of his new friends. 

His dream has grown beyond just himself. He wants far more than a single victory. He wants it all.

Later that night, Gyuvin folds his body into a fetal position beneath his too-thin sheets on his too-small bed, and he claps his hands together in prayer. He’s been praying more, these days. 

Please, he mouths, please please please. 

Ricky drops multiple places and feels his heart drop with it. 

Is he going to go home? Will he be eliminated next week or the week after? 

Will Shanghai be waiting for him? Or perhaps the disappointed stares and words of his parents? Empty promises? A future that he doesn’t want for himself? Or will he not be even allowed that shred of peace? Will he be booted back to Yuehua as soon as he leaves, forced into the constant whirlwind of practice-practice-practice again? 

What if he just booked a ticket? 

With what phone? he reminds himself. He hates this. Hates lying here, in a bed too small and itchy, not knowing what the next day will bring. 

Later, Ricky has a dream. 

He sees a tortoiseshell calico cat frolicking around a backyard, and he somehow knows with the dream-logic that he is the cat but also seeing the cat in third person. The backyard is full of even, emerald grass, the sun shining down on the cat’s multicolored fur.

A few seconds later, the bush just lining the outer edge of the yard rustles, and out pops a deer with little nubs on its head instead of full grown antlers. The deer has large brown eyes that remind him of someone. Both animals are some of the cutest Ricky thinks he’s ever seen. 

When he wakes up, he feels less anxious. It’s similar to the feeling he gets after spending time with his friends, but most especially, Gyuvin. 

He thinks about the deer and the cat for the rest of the day. 

What does it mean? What does it all mean? 

Later, while they head to the recording studio and Ricky is up next after Gyuvin, he glances at him as they pass in the hallway, unable to stop imagining him as an animal. Stub antlers, he thinks. Big brown eyes. 

Maybe this is just something that happens because they share a room, so logically, Gyuvin is still on his mind by the time he’s asleep and in dreamland. Maybe that’s all there is to it. 

Gyuvin hops over towards Ricky’s room just about twenty minutes before midnight. Today has been long, but not one of their most grueling days, and he wants to seek out one of his best friends.

Because of the stupid show, it’s been far too much time since they last got the chance to talk to each other. Knowing Ricky and his habits, Gyuvin is confident that his best friend isn’t asleep. He knows he won’t be too much a bother right now. 

But Ricky isn’t here.

"Where is he?" he asks, still glancing around. 

Ricky’s roommates tell Gyuvin to maybe check the hallway or the kitchen, saying that Ricky wanted to get water. Gyuvin thanks them with a nod. He checks, even makes sure that Ricky’s isn’t in the stairwell, but there’s no sign of a blond head anywhere. He even goes to check the practice room. Nothing. He even tries the bathrooms. Nope. 

He wonders if maybe Ricky’s snuck outside to grab a snack or drink, then remembers what Hao and Jiwoong had mentioned a few days earlier: the laundry room. It’s one of the only places that doesn’t have any cameras. 

After a few minutes of wandering, he arrives at the laundry room, the door closed. He knocks. “Ricky? Are you in here?” 

Chapter Text

A faint, “Hello?” 

Gyuvin opens the door halfway, just enough for his head and half his body to poke through. “Hey. I’ve been looking for you.” 

“Oh, Gyuvin. It’s you.” Ricky blinks, making himself smaller as he presses himself further against the wall. “You’re not supposed to be here.” 

“It’s almost midnight,” Gyuvin says, instead of something like, “Well, you aren’t, either,” or, “What rules said so?” or, “I’ll find you, no matter what.” He opens the door fully, stepping in, but still leaves some space so if Ricky tells him to go, he can. 

“Already? Huh.” 

“I wanted to talk to you, but your roommates said you went to go get water, so I checked, but you weren’t in the kitchen or at the water fountains.” Gyuvin doesn’t mention how he searched the stairs or bathrooms either, not wanting to make Ricky feel guilty. He just offers him a smile and a shrug. “That’s when I figured you might be here.” 

Silence. A blink. Then, “Yeah, um, I got distracted. Sorry for making you look. Why are you here?” 

“It’s no problem, really. Besides, it’s late,” Gyuvin repeats. “I just figured you wouldn’t be asleep.” 

“Well, you have me figured out. Besides, it’s not even that late. It’s not even midnight.” As soon as the words leave Ricky’s mouth he realizes just how bad it is that they formed in the first place. 

“Ricky…” 

“Ugh, I know, I know. Bad sleep schedule, terrible habits.” Ricky huffs, and it’s dry, but it’s still a sort-of-laugh nonetheless. He scooches over on the floor and gestures towards the empty area beside him. “Are you gonna keep standing there or…?” 

“No, no, I’ll sit.” Gyuvin isn’t one to ignore opportunities when he sees one, especially when it’s being offered by Ricky. He closes the door gently before plopping down. “Anyways, I’m here because I just wanted to talk to you. It’s been a while since we’ve really had a conversation.”

“The longest since we’ve met,” Ricky says, his voice so low it nearly blends in with the hum of the washing machine. 

“Too long,” Gyuvin dares to say, trying to not let too much of his loneliness show. 

And Ricky nods, knowing his best friend is lonely, anyway. But Gyuvin can see through him just as much. Even in the darkness of the laundry room with a faint glow from the light in the hall seeping in through the bottom of the door, and the little bits of light from the washing and drying machines, Gyuvin spots the melancholy and frustration in Ricky’s eyes, in the set of his jaw. 

“...I’m nervous, Kuibin,” Ricky says, Gyuvin’s Chinese name falling from his lips with a slight, sad smile. It’s what he says instead of an, I missed you, too. 

Gyuvin decides to return the favor with a nickname. “I know, Kim Rick. I know.” I miss you so much. 

Ricky manages a small smile before it fades, his fingers buried in his hair. “Everyone is watching us. You know how it’s everyone. And so many people who are gone, it leaves me wondering how I’m still here.” 

“Me too. I wonder just how many people are voting. I wonder if my parents are watching.” 

“Right? Like, what are they seeing? And my parents…” Ricky sighs. “If I make one mistake, it’ll be edited and looped to hell, and I’m going to be forced to go back to Yuehua, or maybe go back home by my dad. I don’t know how long I can keep going like this. I feel like I’m not used to actually smiling anymore.” 

Gyuvin’s heart cracks a little more at that. Cracks harder when he realizes he doesn’t really know when the last genuine smile he’s had is, either. Red-hot anger coursing through his veins as he thinks about the position they’re all in. Just how much blood do they have to sacrifice before they get to be on that stage?

“This is all so unfair, isn’t it?” Gyuvin asks, and it might be the most rhetorical question in the world. His fists clench and unclench. “All these rules, unspoken or not, all these assumptions being made. I’m tired, you’re tired, we’re all tired.” 

“Yeah. It is.” Ricky lets himself take another long, deep breath, the tension in his shoulders settling. “Listen, I know we can’t control it, really, and that it’s not helpful to worry about these things, but…” 

“But?” 

“But what if I don’t make it? What if we don’t make it?” Ricky lets his worries hang in the silence for a few seconds before shaking his head, his elbow knocking against Gyuvin’s as he squirms. “I know it’s stupid.” 

“It’s not stupid,” Gyuvin says immediately. He knocks his slipper against Ricky’s wiggling his toes so Ricky can see them. He hears Ricky let out a soft huff and smiles, glad he can still do something to make his best friend feel better. “You know, I ask myself the same thing a lot. What’s going to happen? What if I mess up today? Who’s going to leave tonight?”

“We don’t have the answers.” 

“We don’t.” 

“If I don’t make it, you have to promise not to forget me,” Ricky says, resting his head on the edge of Gyuvin’s shoulder. 

“Ah, Kim Rick,” Gyuvin chides, thinking of all the dreams he’s had with a boy who has a careful smile and bleached hair, of all the times he’s looked away when Ricky’s caught him staring. “As if I could ever.” 

“We just have to keep fighting, right?” Ricky asks, smiling now, and Gyuvin reaches up to pat the back of his head, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck — Ricky’s hair has been growing longer lately, and he’s only looking prettier. How could the world see someone like this and not vote for him? Gyuvin can only wonder. 

“Right.” Gyuvin lets his hand fall onto Ricky’s lap, also smiling when Ricky reaches for it. “And we’re used to that, yeah? We can do this.” 

“Okay, okay. There’s nothing we can do now except try.” 

Gyuvin squeezes Ricky’s fingers, wishing they could stay like this forever. “Let’s try, then.” 

Ricky sighs. “Let’s sit here for a little longer, first.” 

And Gyuvin laughs and agrees, because how can he not?

They both don’t say they miss just sitting and being next to each other. But when they knock their ankles together, they both think they know. 

When everyone gets announced and makes their way up the cursed Boys Planet steps, time becomes an old stop motion: frame by fuzzy frame playing before their eyes. It’s real. It’s not real. It’s real. 

Ricky squeezes Gyuvin tight when the latter gets called for seventh. He squeezes tight because he isn’t sure if this will be the last time in years they get to see each other. Gyuvin gives him a look that’s shiny and determined. He can only hope that he gets called soon.

But sixth goes to Taerae, who deserves it with his deadly visuals and even deadlier vocals. 

Then fifth goes to Gunwook, who deserves it with his amazing dance skills and easy-flowing rap. 

Hope is dangerous, Ricky knows, and he shouldn’t have dared to hope in the first place. Who is he, to hope? To think he could beat this game? He’s not good enough. 

But then—

Fourth place, Ricky! 

Oh fuck. Oh shit. Oh fuck. 

He might just be good enough. 

His hands go flying to his head because he thinks it might explode, and when the crowd of boys amongst him squeeze him and hug him, and he sees people’s Ricky banners go flying up and he looks at the announcer, who’s looking right back, he hopes to everything holy that he never wakes up from this dream. 

All Gyuvin can hear is the roar of his own blood in his ears and the cheering of the crowd. All he can see is the way Ricky shines: his toothy grin, his smiling eyes. This all might’ve been worth it, if his dream is becoming actualized. They’re on the same team again. 

When Ricky and Gyuvin collide, it feels like coming together, like when water meets the tide, like fate and familiarity and victory and salt and the faint sweetness of something new and terrifying. 

“We did it!” Gyuvin says into Ricky’s ear, their bodies rocking together, their hug just for them but also for all the people out there. Watching. Waiting. Their parents are out there, too. Their siblings. Their very own members. 

“We did,” Ricky says back, strained from holding back his tears and all the screaming he wishes he could do. 

The itchy feeling in Gyuvin’s chest turns into flames. He thinks about everything: every time he’s prayed these past few weeks and beyond, the God who he’s read about, the one who loves everyone and has heard him. He thinks about the boy in his arms, bleach blond and full of so much passion it could explode. He thinks about how much his family has sacrificed for him. He thinks about all the nights he’s spent, tired and hungry and still wanting more. 

Gyuvin holds Ricky tight and knows he will never let go, his chest feeling like a million suns. He’ll keep holding even if it burns him. 

At least, Gyuvin thinks, burn scars last. 

At least, Gyuvin thinks, the life I want is starting to appear.

And so it begins again. 

They fight and practice and sing and cry and hold onto each other tight. They sit together and eat together and love each other. The word ‘temporary’ hangs over them but never stops them. 

Hate comments exist. Support exists even harder. They break a record and then another and then another. They win awards. They lose. They win. 

Sinophobia, once again, rears its ugly head — Hao and Ricky at the very least have each other — alongside general xenophobia — they hate the way Matthew bows his head at every remark made against him — and homophobia — Hanbin and Jiwoong face the brunt of it, the latter never ashamed of his acting past, the former never wanting to back down from his origins — and so, the price of being known becomes apparent the more they see themselves boom. Popularity is a double-edged sword. Are they allowed to be equal parts grateful and terrified? 

No matter what, through it all, they have each other. 

For every bit of Korean that Gyuvin teaches Ricky, he tries to ask for a Chinese or English lesson in return. It works. 

May rolls around and when Gyuvin is trying to figure out what to get Ricky, the boy who can afford literally anything he would ever want and more, he finds himself at a mall, utterly lost. There are so many stores and so many options. Gyuvin knows what Ricky likes, but what does Ricky want? 

He goes to the arcade to try and get some inspiration when he stumbles into a claw machine. It has small plastic containers with various things in them, some of them plastic rings, some of them little animal figurines. He leans in and watches the way the light shines on the silver plastic. 

For a second, he’s somewhere else: the people laughing around him fade into the buzz of a steady aircon, the gaming noises turning into a heart monitor’s beeps. He sees his hand with a silver band on his ring finger reaching out for Ricky, who’s lying on a small bed with cheekbones so gaunt it’s scary, whose hand has a matching ring. 

Someone bumps into him and he’s back in the present. A kid nearby is telling his mom what he wants for her birthday, and another kid nearby is screaming at the car racing game she’s try-harding on. There’s no sterile lighting or a sickly-looking Ricky lying on a hospital bed. Confused, Gyuvin wonders if maybe this is the fault of all the hospital show TikToks he keeps getting on his feed, but he’s also slightly grateful for the idea his brain is giving him. 

A ring is perfect. 

It’s cheap and is probably worth a few won at the very most, but it’s perfect because of what it represents. 

After a few tries on the stupid machine, Gyuvin finally ends up winning a pink heart-shaped ring, and when he holds it up to the light, he grins. 

I love you. 

Ricky sticks out his hand and bites back a large smile at how happy Gyuvin is as he shows off the ring to the live viewers. “It’s fashion,” he says. He sees the soft look in Gyuvin’s eyes and knows it’s more than that.  

“I worked really hard to get that ring,” Gyuvin says with a laugh when Ricky places it on his bedside table. “It took me six tries on a very stubborn claw machine.” 

“Good thing you’re more stubborn, then.” Ricky lies down, iPad in his lap, and smiles at Gyuvin, the lamplight making him look so impossibly golden and soft, the iPad highlighting the slope of his nose and eyelashes in a faded blue. 

Gyuvin shrugs, playing up his modesty. “I just wanted to get you a good gift.” 

“Well, you did. It might not be worth a lot of money, but I appreciate the gesture. Besides, you told me that you want to be there for all of my birthdays, so that’s another part of your gift.” 

“That’s because I will be there. And I’ll get you an even better gift for next year,” Gyuvin promises, relishing in the way Ricky’s lips curl, showing teeth.

Ricky hums in approval. “I’ll be sure to get you a good gift for all your birthdays, too.” 

They grin at each other, still smiling when they turn off the lights and fall asleep. 

Ricky knows exactly what to give Gyuvin after his own birthday. A ring means so many things, and when he looks at the stupidly-cute pink heart, he can’t help but get a flash of something else in his mind — a silver band, perhaps. Something like that. 

He buys the Gucci double-G because it’s perfect for Kim Gyuvin. The expense doesn’t really mean anything, he knows he can afford it easily and he knows Gyuvin could, too. But it’s about the gesture. It’s about the symbol behind it. There’s a hidden Q somewhere in the double-G, and in addition to that, something about the act of buying a ring for Gyuvin just feels right.

Ricky knows he’s made the right decision when he sees the absolute joy flood Gyuvin’s face. 

He knows when Gyuvin starts wearing it out and even mentioning it on live. He knows when Gyuvin even calls it a wedding ring, and it’s a joke but there’s still some semblance of truth behind it. The ring represents a promise, after all. 

There’s a special kind of warmth that takes over Ricky’s ribs at this reaction. It’s everything he could’ve hoped for and more. 

Time passes with one grueling schedule after another grueling schedule, and more things start to fall into place. Their success with ‘In Bloom’ and the rest of their debut album makes everyone have their worries about whether or not they’d be able to keep the momentum going. It depends on their hard work, of course, but there is so much out of their control: the company’s ability (or lack thereof) to properly promote them, their fans’ abilities to receive everything they’re trying to put out, and just overall luck regarding outreach. 

‘Crush’ doesn’t win anything. It’s a close call for some of the wins. While disappointed, they see how hard their fans vote, reminded of Boys Planet all over again. There are thousands of people rooting for them regardless of a loss or not. 

Time is now so, so fast it’s almost slow. Everything is happening and none of it feels real but the bright lights in their faces from stages or cameras remind them that they’re still on planet Earth. 

It’s one thing to record themselves singing in a tiny booth and have dance practice in an enclosed room with literally no natural sunlight, but it’s another thing entirely to watch the product of everything come together. This is what they’ve been waiting for. This is what they’ve been fighting for. 

It’s a warm evening and Gyuvin and Ricky are going on their semi-bi-weekly walk to the nearby convenience store for some snacks. 

“If you told me three years ago that this is where I’d be,” Ricky says with a smile visible even beneath his mask, “I wouldn’t believe you at all.” 

Gyuvin thinks about the first day he joined Yuehua. He thinks about Beats headphones. He thinks about being separated. “Me neither,” he says, walking closer so his arm touches Ricky’s. “But we did it.” 

Ricky hums. 

Once they arrive at the store, they both buy a lot of ice cream to share. They have seven other members to feed, after all. 

The new year comes with even more worries and cautious glances at the clock and calendar. 

The new year comes with a Rookie Grand Slam. 

The gargantuan feeling of victory and relief crashes into them alongside the headlines. First boy group to achieve Rookie Grand Slam in four years. Seventh group ever to do so. It’s real. 

“I knew we could do it!” Jiwoong cheers, perhaps the most excited out of all of them. 

“This is thanks to our hard work,” Hanbin smiles, clapping everyone on the back. 

And down the line they go, everyone putting in their two cents, everyone holding back tears. Together, they’ve made history. This kind of achievement is permanent. They’ve now made an everlasting mark. 

Later, Gyuvin sits on Ricky’s bed, and they rewatch all of their award wins on YouTube together, eyes practically glued to Ricky’s iPad. Each time a clip ends with their name getting announced, they look up at each other and smile. 

We did it. 

We really did it. 

For Ricky’s twentieth birthday, Gyuvin gifts him a matching magsafe charger. 

“I know it’s not worth much,” Gyuvin says. 

“But it’s about the gesture,” Ricky repeats from last year. “Thank you for paying attention to me, as always.” 

“Just don’t forget to use it, silly Ricky.” 

(And Ricky doesn’t forget. But he pretends to, just so Gyuvin can remind him.) 

“Remember when you asked me what you’d do if you didn’t make it?” Gyuvin says one day, when they’ve just finished rewatching the ‘ Sweat’ music video with everyone, satisfied with their upcoming comeback. Today’s a rare day when they aren’t so busy, and they find themselves washing and preparing fruit to eat in the dorm kitchen. 

Ricky laughs from where he’s standing at the counter, picking the leaf bits apart from the box of strawberries in his other hand. “I remember.” 

Gyuvin smiles at his palms before continuing to peel his mangoes. “Do you want to know what I was thinking?”

“Didn't you already tell me?” 

“I mean, I did. But I wanted to say more.” 

Ricky’s smile turns lopsided. Soft. “Like what?” 

“Like… I wanted us to be together no matter what. And that if you didn’t get in, it’d actually be crazy.” Gyuvin’s arms swing around as he gestures; Ricky’s glad he isn’t holding the fruit peeler anymore, just some bits of mango skin. “Like, I would’ve demanded they should recount the votes and everything.” 

Ricky’s hands hover in the air. He puts down the strawberries, walks over to the sink, and waits for Gyuvin to put down what’s in his hands and look up. 

“What?” Gyuvin asks, wondering if maybe he’s said too much. 

“Gyuvin, you should know that I always believed in you, too.” Ricky smiles once their eyes meet. 

I love you, Gyuvin thinks, not for the millionth time, but a number much beyond that. “And look at where we are, now,” he grins, gesturing again. 

And Ricky looks. He looks at the kitchen, filled with all nine of their belongings, like their mugs and their snacks and stains they have yet to clean up. He looks at Gyuvin, still grinning, and feels every iota in his body settle as soon as Gyuvin looks back. 

He wouldn’t rather be anywhere else. 

Later that day, Ricky has a dream that he’s an emperor. He can tell from the traditional Han dynasty hanfu he’s wearing and all of his jewelry, especially his headpiece, that he’s someone important. In this dream, he is lying on his bed, and Gyuvin is right next to him, wearing clothes and makeup that are similar to that of a concubine. Ricky doesn’t stop to think too much about the implications. 

“Ahh,” Ricky goes, one of his hands on the side of Gyuvin’s hip, one of them resting on his own lap. 

Gyuvin smiles at him. It’s a face of familiarity still, even with his rouge and clothes. “Here you go, my dearest.” He offers his hand, a peeled grape between his fingers, and doesn’t stop until his nails meet Ricky’s teeth. 

When Ricky eats the grape, he presses a kiss to Gyuvin’s knuckles. Gyuvin only laughs and pulls away to reach for the bowl of grapes by the bed, continuing to carefully peel a few more. 

Ricky feels an immeasurable warmth in his chest. It all feels so real. 

When he wakes up, he holds onto the scraps of what he remembers of the dream. He’s almost disappointed he’s awake until he looks across the room to stare at Gyuvin, still asleep. The warmth in his chest stays. 

Ricky tries not to let his thoughts stray too much during the rest of the day, but it doesn’t seem to work. Dance practice goes okay, but when he messes up a step in the choreo twice, he knows that he’s not doing a great job at hiding it. 

“You seem a little distracted, are you okay?” Matthew asks, sitting down on the floor next to Ricky during their water break. He’s speaking in English but still a bit quietly, and Ricky internally smiles, glad they can lean on each other in this way.

“Thanks for asking, I’m just a bit tired.” Ricky takes a swig of his water and gulps, feeling his throat burn as he watches the other members from across the room. He can sense Gyuvin’s eye on him, so he meets it and gives Gyuvin a small smile before refocusing on Matthew. 

“Aw, why not?” 

“Didn’t get a lot of sleep. You know how it is.” 

“Well, yeah, of course,” Matthew nods, heaving out a heavy sigh. “Nervous about K-Con?” 

Ricky nods back, pretending that’s the only reason why. “Like you wouldn’t believe.” 

“I get it. Each one matters to us, since this might be our second-to-last.” Matthew lets out another sigh, and Ricky joins him, the contract always a looming guillotine. “If you ever need to talk to someone, I’m here, man.” 

“Thanks, Matthew.” Ricky gives him a smile and he hopes it looks as genuine as he feels despite all his exhaustion. “I know, and I will.” 

“Good.” Matthew beams at him, patting him heartily on the back, and they talk about random things for the rest of the break, an effective way to get their mind off of everything. 

It works, because Ricky only messes up a normal amount for the rest of the day. But afterwards, his mind continues to stray back to his weird dream. 

What could it possibly mean? 

As with a lot of things Ricky has no clue about, he decides to use the lovely internet. 

For a second, he stares at the search bar, not a clue of what to type. 

He thinks about Gyuvin lying in the bed across from him. He thinks about an emperor and his concubine. He thinks about a deer and a cat. He thinks about matching rings. 

⤷ What does it mean if my dreams feel really real? 

⤷ Can dreams tell the future? 

⤷ The science behind dreams 

⤷ Why do I dream about the same person? 

⟳ Being in love with your best friend

⟳ Is it normal to dream about your crush? 

⤷ Soulmates in dreams?

⤷ Feeling deja vu in dreams?

⤷ Past lives in dreams? 

⤷ Reincarnation and dreams? 

As expected, all the searching leads Ricky down many spirals and corners of the internet. One of the things that sticks out to him the most would be the idea of dreams being your previous lives. Is that really possible? Would it explain everything? 

He goes down threads of children born who remember things they shouldn’t, of people who get the weirdest senses of deja vu doing even the most mundane of things, of people who swear they hear people calling their name but finding nobody there, of people who have dreams that feel so real they have to be. It all makes a little too much sense, hits a little too close to home. 

Maybe Ricky’s going absolutely bonkers. 

It was Yujin and Hanbin who had originally suggested that the members would try to have dinner together even with their crazy schedules. Sometimes this means a quick meal before practice, sometimes this means staying up for the late-schedule members to come back to dorms, and sometimes it doesn’t work out at all. But they try, and that’s what matters the most. 

On weekends, they tend to have a bit more consistency. They’ll even try cooking, if the members who can be trusted with a pan still have enough energy left. 

As they sit around the table, the conversation having lulled a bit as they all chew, Ricky decides to try and bring this up. 

“I know we’ve talked a little bit about this before,” he starts, watching as everyone looks up from their food at him, “but I wanted to talk about it more. What do we all think of soulmates and fate, past lives, and all that stuff?” 

And Ricky is almost expecting the answers, but still pleasantly surprised. Everyone seems to agree that they were all chosen for a reason, bringing up the fact that some of them have met before or close to meeting in the past. Their paths could’ve taken them any which way, but all nine of them ended up here by the grace of so many reasons, some beyond themselves. 

When it comes to past lives, some of their opinions differ. Not all of them really believe in such a thing. Gyuvin says that it would be interesting, but he doesn’t really have that mindset. Taerae seems to have a similar thought process. Hanbin says that anything is possible. The other members fall in similar categories. 

“Regardless,” Jiwoong says with a toothy smile, “we were all meant to meet and end up here. I know it.” 

Everyone nods and hums in agreement. 

Ricky isn’t entirely sure where he’d fall, since he wasn’t raised with specific Buddhist, Christian, or otherwise religious values, but he thinks probably the same as Hanbin; anything really could be possible. 

If Ricky could place fourth on Boys Planet, then maybe he really could’ve been a cat in a past life. 

He looks at Gyuvin and thinks back to one of their most memorable fansigns. 

(“What is Gyuvin to you?” 

Soulmate?) 

After all, Gyuvin and Ricky managed to stick together all these years. Maybe it really means something. He knows what they have goes beyond a baseline friendship. They’re best friends, the kind that you know you’ll try to keep in your life forever, but also something deeper. Soulmate might not be the right word, but it’ll have to do, hence the question mark. 

There are a lot of things that don’t make sense. But when Gyuvin reaches over the table to put a side dish into Ricky’s bowl that he knows he likes, Ricky can’t help but think that Gyuvin is one of the only things in the world he’s sure about. 

Call Gyuvin a creep, but he loves to watch Ricky at night. Here, in the familiar confines of their room, there aren’t any cameras, nobody except them and God to bear witness to the utter devotion and fondness in Gyuvin’s eyes as he looks across their bedroom. 

When Ricky’s watching something on his iPad, his expressions are unguarded, and Gyuvin gets to see every little microreaction Ricky has — the way his brow will furrow when something bad happens, or how his eyes upturn when something good is happening, or the way he smiles when a cheesy scene comes on, or how his whole face will turn sour when the happy scene turns angsty. It’s a special sight and Gyuvin is more than happy to take it in. 

Which is why, when Ricky turns over on his bed, finding that Gyuvin is already looking at him. It’s a familiar sight for the both of them. Maybe familiar in multiple ways. 

“Can’t sleep?” Gyuvin asks, his face illuminated by the glow of his phone, changing colors every few seconds. Ricky has to huff a little, no doubt he was just scrolling through TikTok. 

“It’s not even midnight yet.” Ricky’s own face is lit up by his iPad, his drama on pause as he lets his mind wander. 

“True, true.” Gyuvin shuffles so he’s more on his side and properly facing Ricky. “So, what’s up?” 

“...I want to talk to you about something.” Ricky gnaws on the inside of his cheek for a few seconds. “It’s nothing bad, but it might make me sound crazy.” 

“I promise not to judge you.” Gyuvin’s eyes are wide, his mouth set in a genuine line, and his face as open and honest as always. 

“You have to really promise,” Ricky urges still. 

“I extra-mega-super promise.” 

Ricky huffs. “Thank you.” 

“Of course.” 

Okay, okay, he takes a deep breath, here goes nothing. “Do you… do you ever have dreams that feel really real?” 

“All the time.” 

Ricky nods. “Same here.” 

Gyuvin gets a sinking feeling, but not in a bad way. More in a, Is this going where I think it’s going? kind of way. He blinks, leaning towards Ricky so much that he’s basically half off his bed. “What do you dream about?” 

You, Ricky thinks. “A lot of things. I mean, don’t think I’ve lost my mind for this, okay? But sometimes, I dream about you and me. And it feels super real, but we’re…” 

“...Different?” 

“Yeah.” Ricky feels his brow wrinkle. “Wait. How did you know that?” 

“I have dreams like that, too.” Gyuvin’s head tilts, “I mean, once I had a dream that you were an emperor. And once I had a dream that I was a deer, and I think you were a cat.” 

Ricky’s whole world stops spinning for a second before continuing. “You have?” 

Gyuvin nods. 

Ricky suddenly feels all too aware of his heartbeat, thundering painfully in his chest and in his ears. “I’ve had dreams like that. I had one a few days ago, where I was an emperor, and you were…” 

“I think I was your concubine,” Gyuvin says with a little laugh. 

“Yeah,” Ricky says, breathless. 

“So we share dreams now?” 

“I guess we share dreams now.” 

“Well.” Gyuvin lets out a laugh straight from his chest. “It wouldn’t be the first time. We wanted to debut together, and we did. We wanted to pass Boys Planet, and we did. We wanted to get the Rookie Grand Slam, and we did. Those are our other shared dreams.” 

“I guess you could say that,” Ricky smiles, feeling less worried and confused. “Do you know what this might mean, though?” 

“What?” 

“I… I’m not exactly sure, but what if it means we’ve met before?” 

“Like in previous lives?” Gyuvin asks, reminded of the question Ricky had brought up during dinner a few nights ago. 

Ricky only gives a slow nod. 

“Hmm…” 

As someone raised Christian in this life — if there really is a ‘this’ one and a ‘previous’ one — Gyuvin doesn’t really believe in reincarnation. But crazier things have happened. He believes in Ricky, and in a God who loves with unconditional love, capable of feats beyond his imagination. So maybe he can sort of accept the possibility of having multiple lives. 

If past lives really do exist, it makes sense why what he feels for Ricky seems to transcend everything: having it transcend what he thinks he knows and has faith in is only right. If anyone were to totally change his worldview, it would be Ricky, who’s changed his life the second they first met. 

“I think it might just be possible,” Gyuvin finally answers after a few minutes of thinking. “I don’t really believe in it, but who knows?” 

And Ricky nods again, his eyes flittering across the room. 

“Should we test it?” Gyuvin asks, feeling something dangerous simmering in his chest. 

Ricky’s eyes finally settle on Gyuvin’s nose. “...How?” 

“I don’t know. Maybe if we sleep physically closer to each other, we’ll have the same dream at the same time?” 

Ricky seems to consider this, his brow furrowing. Gyuvin is about to take back his suggestion, call it stupid and silly, when Ricky sits up from his bed with determination written across his face. “Okay. Let’s try.” 

Gyuvin sits up in a hurry. “Wait.” 

Ricky pauses. 

“I want to sleep in your bed,” he says, grinning, knowing he looks equal parts mischievous and excited. 

Ricky rolls his eyes, but it reeks too much of fondness. “I keep forgetting how much you like my bed. Come on, then.” He scooches over, shifting to make space, and Gyuvin does an internal happy dance. 

After splitting the blanket evenly (Gyuvin lets Ricky have just a bit more) and finally lying still, and some staring and whispering, they close their eyes and start to drift off. 

They dream of muddy streets and shouts of resistance. They dream of green grapes and sweet poison. They dream of salt on their tongues and flames on their skin. They dream of a sunny backyard and gentle hands. They dream of walking by each other on a train platform, shoulders brushing. They dream of blood in their throat and fever-induced headaches. They dream of matching silver rings and heartbreak. 

They dream of meeting each other for the first time, over and over and over again. 

Most importantly, they dream. 

“Call me a genius!” Gyuvin says as soon as he wakes up, nearly banging his head on the bed frame in his excitement. Maybe he should be less excited and more confused at having his entire worldview tilted on its axis and rolled down a flight of stairs, but he isn’t. It makes sense, somehow. It just does. 

Ricky wakes up with a yawn. He can only shake his head, huff, and smile. “I don’t know what we just dreamed, but…” 

And they talk about it. They talk about all the different scenes they saw. Gyuvin feels love spewing out of his every pore and he knows Ricky knows, based on how Ricky lightly brings his hands around Gyuvin’s in an attempt to placate him a little. It works only slightly. Gyuvin is still bouncing in place on the mattress. 

“I mean, don’t you not believe in this stuff?” Ricky asks, his eyes searching for something on Gyuvin’s face. 

Gyuvin only shrugs. “I believe in my faith because I have nothing to lose from it. It’s gotten me through the hard days and given me more motivation.” He gives Ricky’s arm a light squeeze. “I have nothing to lose from believing in us, in this, either.” 

And Ricky feels like tearing up. “Oh,” he says, rather intelligently. His eyes seem to have found what they were searching for, settling to meet Gyuvin’s stare head-on. 

Gyuvin looks at Ricky and can only think of two things he wants to say the most. “I love you, Kim Rick. Shim Rick. Lovelicky. Shen Quanrui.” He sits up, eyes on fire, and reaches for one of Ricky’s hands. “And it’s not because we’ve shared lives. It’s because you’re you, and you didn’t know the Korean way to say ‘Beats headphones,’ and you like having multiple milk teas with every meal, and you hog the blankets even when it’s warm.” 

Ricky laughs so hard he can barely breathe. He sits up, eyes on fire, and squeezes Gyuvin’s hand. “Thank you for everything.” I love you, too. “For the plastic ring, for the magsafe charger, for all the food you’ve bought me over the years, for always being there for me when you can be.” 

“I’d do it all again,” Gyuvin answers easily, and he flops onto Ricky with all his limbs splayed out, repeating I love you I love you I love you until Ricky laughs and kicks and says it back. 

Being upgraded to separate rooms doesn’t separate Gyuvin and Ricky. If their temporary ban from being too close on-camera due to a few stupid hate comments couldn’t separate them, nothing can. Not in any way that truly matters. 

Ricky doesn’t know this, but Gyuvin visits his room in the middle of the night to turn off his light, knowing that Ricky’s always one to fall asleep with them still on. 

Gyuvin doesn’t know this, but Ricky purposefully leaves his belongings in Gyuvin’s room so he can come up with excuses to get them, knowing that Gyuvin won’t question it and let him in with a grin. 

Still, they keep up their routine of spending time together before they sleep and sharing TikToks or anything they think is funny or reminds them of each other. They still watch dramas together on Ricky’s iPad in either one of their beds and debrief for way too long into the night. When Gyuvin does his skin care routine, Ricky will pop by the (now bigger) bathroom and visit, toothbrush in hand. 

Nothing has changed, but everything also has. 

One night, when Ricky and Gyuvin are both settled onto Ricky’s bed, his pillow still stained slightly red from his hair dye, (Gyuvin’s own pillow also stained a bit red), Gyuvin can’t help but wonder. 

“Do you think we’ll keep going after this?” he asks, when everything is particularly quiet and time seems particularly still. The question is heavy and vague, but he knows he doesn’t need to explain. 

“...I don’t know,” Ricky says, because he’s only twenty years old in this life, and he really doesn’t. 

“Yeah,” Gyuvin breathes. Because he’s only twenty years old, and he doesn’t, either. 

“I want us to,” Ricky admits minutes later, his voice trembling. “I mean, we will. We always have.” 

“But if we don’t,” Gyuvin says, his entire chest feeling like a million suns exploding and imploding all at once, “that is even more reason for me to love you with every second we have.” 

Ricky feels like he can’t breathe, a lump forming in his throat much too fast. “Gyuvin…” 

“There’s not one second where I haven’t loved you, Ricky. I promise.” 

“I know, Kim Gyuvin.” Ricky shuffles a bit so he can meet Gyuvin’s eyes properly, his hand reaching up to rest on the side of Gyuvin’s head. “I promise that we will meet again in our next life. We just will. If not the next, then the one after that, and so on. We’re stuck together, aren’t we?” 

“I love you as much as I’m stuck with you,” Gyuvin replies with his full chest, knowing he’s said those words before, knowing he will keep saying it until the end of time. 

When Ricky leans in, their kiss might taste something like green grapes and sunshine. 

Ricky looks at Twitter and Naver, where Zeroses are freaking out over their answers with an offline conversation they had with a Japanese Zerose. He can’t help but laugh a little, getting a sense of deja vu. 

“What are you looking at? Gyuvin asks from his spot on his bed, scooching over with his nose dipped and ready to prod at Ricky’s business. “What’s so funny?” 

Ricky simply tilts his screen so Gyuvin can see for himself, his head tilting, too. “Am I really your most important friend?” 

Gyuvin hums, straightening up as he grins at Ricky. “Well, do I really mean everything to you?” 

“Of course,” Ricky replies in English, poking one of Gyuvin’s cheeks. 

“My answer is the same.” Gyuvin leans into Ricky’s touch before leaning in and flopping onto him, Ricky’s phone getting lost somewhere on the sheets, his breath punched out of him. “I love you I love you I love you,” he singsongs, laughing when Ricky swats at his chest. 

And because Ricky is only twenty years old and Gyuvin is, too, he sticks his tongue out at his forever friend-nemesis-rival-soulmate?-everything and ruffles Gyuvin’s head until every hair sticks straight up. 

“Say you love me,” Gyuvin pouts. 

Ricky cranes his neck and leaves a kiss on Gyuvin’s forehead. 

“You know what I think is funny?” Gyuvin asks one evening, when the both of them are chilling in his room, a bowl of washed strawberries sitting on his bedside table and Ricky laying down at the end of his bed. He’s on the bed horizontally today, his legs hanging off the edge and kicking a little every now and then. Cute. 

“What?” Ricky hums, taking his eyes off his phone to look at Gyuvin. 

“You owning a farm in one of your previous lives. I mean, imagine that. Because I can’t,” Gyuvin snorts. His snorting is short-lived when Ricky sits up and rolls right onto his stomach, jabbing his sides with his elbows and fingers. 

“What’s funny, huh?” 

Gyuvin can barely talk as he’s being tortured. “I mean, the thought of you, knee-deep in dirt or whatever — ow!” But he keeps laughing even as his ribs hurt from both his wheezing and Ricky’s sharp fingers. 

“Oh? Is that funny? Is it?” Ricky goads between laughs of his own as Gyuvin struggles. 

“Okay! Okay! It’s not funny, it’s not!” 

Three knocks are all the warning they get before the door swings wide open to reveal a disgruntled Yujin. He glares at them with his arms crossed. “Can you two wrestle or flirt or whatever a little quieter?” 

They look at each other and laugh again, but quickly stop to nod. 

“Sorry Jinnie,” Gyuvin says, sticking out his tongue. 

“Get some sleep,” Ricky says, smacking Gyuvin’s bicep. 

Gyuvin is about to smack Ricky back when he spots the withering look Yujin is giving them (it’s still slightly fond, Gyuvin swears) and puts his hand down. “We’ll calm down. Goodnight, my son.” 

Yujin sticks his tongue out back before closing the door, his footsteps audibly shuffling down the hall. 

Gyuvin meets Ricky’s eye and they both let out a quiet little chuckle. 

Yeah. 

Nothing has changed. 

(There’s not one second where I didn't like you.)

(We will meet again in our next life.)