Archive of Our Own ^beta

When Gyuvin was younger and much more naive than he was now, he used to think that he would never lose someone if he were to photograph them enough with a janky camera he was gifted at the end of elementary school. But the pictures he takes, the videos he cherishes, show just how much he’s really lost.

Gyuvin is the middle son in his family. His older brother, Hanbin, is nearly double his age with a wife and a well-paying job. While his younger brother, Yujin, is his parent’s favorite son. So that leaves him in the middle, awkwardly, with nothing otherworldly about him and easily being overlooked.

His parents had Hanbin at a comfortable time in their lives. They were newlyweds, had a steady income with a cozy family home fit for a baby on the way. They were ready, they wanted to have him.

Yujin is their miracle baby, as quoted by his parents. His mother–who was suddenly infertile after giving birth to Gyuvin–wanted another baby. As if the gods heard her pleas, she miraculously had Yujin a few years after Gyuvin. They wanted him too.

There’s a difference between wanting children and having children. The thing is, his parents wanted his brothers but they ended up kind of–sort of–having Gyuvin. He was the one who just happened to have been born, the baby that occurred after a reckless night with bottles of champagne and rose petals across hardwood floors.

Growing up, he tried to be close with his brothers and the desperate attempts are shown in grainy digital photographs.

Hanbin, being so much older than Gyuvin, moved out before he even started going to school and soon after that he had gotten engaged to his wife whose name he couldn’t recall no matter how hard he tried. The only photographed memories he has of his older brother are the ones when he’s back home for the holidays, when the times and spirits were lively–bringing his best friend Hao with him whom he remembers much more than a measly wife that Hanbin doesn’t bother to bring home.

Whereas for Yujin, with the way his parents constantly coddle him despite being three years younger than him, it was harder to bond with him on a surface level higher than someone he was just related to. Yujin was the one who always seemed to one up Gyuvin. Whether it was bringing home a better test grade or having won more soccer championships with his team than he ever could–which eventually led to Gyuvin’s disinterest in soccer. With that, blossomed an unbridled resentment towards his younger brother for making him stand beneath his shadow.

Gyuvin starts his sophomore year of highschool next week. He’s not the baby of the school but also not quite an upperclassman either. Much like his status within his family, it’s an awkward in between of being older yet younger at the same time.

His transition from middle school to freshman year was a trainwreck to say the least. He had left middle school with no friends to call his own, rather just peers that he’d mediated around because he was thirteen and desperate for people to have and to call his own while living in a house where he was overshadowed. He was distant when around peers, never truly there in the moment. Physically and emotionally disconnected and people don’t like that.

Freshman year was different–to say the least. It was a long year of isolation. A year of considering himself a wallflower and having teachers continuously surround him, telling him to “just be himself”.

Well, what if this was him being himself? A reserved, lonely, fourteen year old boy going through an awkward growth spurt that the small wooden desks were just slightly too tight for him. What if this was his true self, what’s so wrong with that?

Where isolation and loneliness sprouted, independence naturally grew. He took care of himself in hopes that his parents would notice and applaud his newfound independence. But they took that for granted and concluded that they didn’t have to worry about Gyuvin because he was doing just fine by himself. It was an excuse to neglect him. He’s his family’s most distant child. So he’ll keep to himself, find comfort in isolation, and tell himself that he’ll be okay with no one to support him.

Aloneness doesn’t feel so all-consuming with windows that protect me from the world but still let me watch it. He spent most of his summer holed up in the safety of his sanctuary, indulging in his fixation on movies, and books, and any form of media he can consume to rot his brain–carrying his camcorder to document things that have no direct meaning or importance.

Sitting on his window sill, he peers outside even with the sun beaming in his eyes and against his skin–prompting sweat to bead up on his forehead–to look at the new family of four moving into the white bricked house next door. The old couple that used to live there moved out, his mom says they live in the retirement home together now. This new family, which consists of a son and a daughter, seems equally balanced unlike his dysfunctional one.

There’s movers hauling in big pieces of divine furniture, the children doing most of the helping as the parents go inside and never return. It’s a shame that they have to move in on probably one of the hottest days of the year. Gyuvin can see sweat glistening on the forehead of the son, his stark-white blonde hair—which differs from his sister’s jet black locks–is matted to his forehead. HIs platinum blonde hair is captivating, he’s never seen someone with their hair dyed so strikingly white and rock it like it’s natural. He looks like he could use some water.

The moving van gets emptier and emptier as the sun begins to set and he’s just been sitting here, watching. The movers and the son are the only ones who return outside, the boy grabs one last thing from the van–something miniscule really–as the movers pile into the vehicle. He doesn’t move until they drive way.

When the boy eventually turns around, he glances at Gyuvin’s window and their gazes cross one another. His heart erratically beats as he scrambles to get up from his window sill, shutting the curtains close for the night.

The wooded area behind Gyuvin’s house is another safe place for him other than his bedroom. He sits on the patched dirt with his back up against the thick trunk of a tall and spindly tree that reaches heights he could never imagine reaching.

Basking in his last few, peaceful days of summer vacation–albeit filled with seclusion, utter silence, and loneliness–he holds his camcorder up to his face to scan throughout the trees and nature that surrounds his being, something for just his eyes to see.

Admiring the woods like this makes him realize that maybe he’s not as alone as he thought he was. There’s birds and squirrels all about, keeping him company even if they don’t mean to and the chirping of birds and rustling of leaves breaks the silence in his life.

A twig snaps in the distance, he instinctively jerks to the perpetrator of the sound. The grainy screen of the camcorder picks up parts of a head with blonde hair and teeth that are lined with brackets and teal bands.

“Sorry. Did I scare you?” He asks. Gyuvin lowers his camcorder and meets him face to face as he looks over him with his long and lean legs.

Gyuvin shakes his head and clears his throat, “No.”

The boy inches closer, leaves crunching underneath his beaten up shoes before he sits down with his legs criss-crossed. Gyuvin shuts his camera close and rests it in his lap, sitting up straighter as he becomes hyper aware of his posture.

“I’m Ricky, I just moved here a few days ago from Shanghai.” He says. I know. I watched you and your family move in–is what Gyuvin wants to say.

“Uh–I’m Gyuvin.” Is what he stupidly mutters instead. Silence towers over them like a stormy cloud, only things to be heard is the slight whistle of the wind flowing through the leaves of the trees and the pecking of bird beaks on wooden tree trunks.

“How old are you, Gyuvin?”

“Fifteen.” The number feels thick and heavy rolling off his tongue. As if this new age he turned not too long ago came and dropped a new baggage of responsibility on him. It feels all too old and all too young at the same time.

Ricky gives a slight nod. “Cool. Me too.” He clumsily stumbled over his words a bit and Gyuvin can’t tell if it's because of his real braces or his foreign accent. “Do you take videos on that?”

Ricky points down at the camcorder sitting in Gyuvin’s lap. His fingertips graze against the smoothness of it before picking his head up to look at Ricky and nod.

“Yeah, it’s just random stuff most of the time, though.” He shrugs, tips of his ears turning red at this sudden intervention. This is the most he’s spoken in over a week, he's sure of it. Slowly becoming much more aware of his slight lisp because of the retainers that fit his teeth all too snug.

“Cool. You into uh–” Ricky mumbles underneath his breath, eyebrows furrowed like he’s trying to find the right word. “Filmmaking? Yeah. That.”

Gyuvin pulls his lips into a tight line and it hurts because his lips seem to be extra chapped. “I guess you could say that. I like watching movies.”

Ricky nods and they end up avoiding eye contact for a while. Gyuvin fiddles with the strayed stitches in his jeans and his retainers feel tight on his teeth now and so does the collar of his shirt.

“Okay. Well, I’ll see you around.” Ricky says, brushing the palms of his hands against his pants and standing up. “We should be friends.”

Gyuvin cranes his neck up to look at him. The sun peeks in through the cracks of branches and leaves, blinding him for a moment before it illuminates behind Ricky’s silhouette and he looks like he’s glowing with a head of blonde hair like a halo.

“Okay.” He ends up saying, and Ricky’s off before he could utter his next sentence.

For someone who's so freshly new to the neighborhood, he sure is friendly.

Gyuvin stands at the bus stop wearing an old pair of jeans and the same sneakers from last year even though he had gotten a new pair for his birthday last month. The hood of his zip-up is pulled up over his head as the slight breeze nipped at the tips of his ears even though they aren’t nearly halfway through September and the heat wave of August had just ended.

FInding himself a seat in the middle of the bus, he sits comfortably in the middle and clutches his backpack close to his chest. He indulges himself in the work of untangling earbuds while peering out the window. His breath fogged up the glass and he absentmindedly raised his finger to draw a star on the condensation, only to come face to face with a head of blonde hair rushing past his window and onto the bus.

The bus shook with how rushed and heavy his steps were as he climbed the stairs, walking down the aisle while peering over the seats to see who would be a liable contender to sit next to. Usually, people would cower away–selfishly, not wanting to share a seat, let alone with a stranger. But Gyuvin knows Ricky. He said he wanted to be friends, and friends share seats on the bus.

“Can I sit here?” Ricky asks, voice deep like the last time they talked–monotonous in a way even though Ricky’s eyes are round and sparkly. A striking contrast to his voice.

Gyuvin nods, Ricky gives a taut smile and sits beside him. The scent of strawberries immediately overwhelms his nostrils, with a hint of vanilla intermingling as well. Ricky’s hair is a lot softer up close where they’re nearly touching shoulders anytime the bus goes over a bump in the road.

When the bus rounds up to the school, everybody clambers out of the bus and Ricky is still standing next to Gyuvin. They make brief eye contact until Gyuvin looks away, tightening the straps on his backpack in hindsight. The awkward tension in the air is thick but Ricky takes a step forward and breaks it.

“I’ll see you around, Gyuvin.” He manages to say. Ricky smiles big enough for his bracketed teeth to poke through. Seeing that, Gyuvin can feel the wire of his retainers pressing against the inside of his lips. “Thanks for letting me sit with you.”

It’s what friends do. Gyuvin imagines himself saying–opting to give him a curt nod and a soft ‘see you’ that was mumbled quietly under his breath instead, though RIcky turns around and joins the crowd of students ushering inside the school before he could do so. Ricky seems to leave before he gets his last word in.

By the end of the school day, Gyuvin saw Ricky a total of six times–because of the fact they share six out of six of their classes, not including lunch which they also miraculously have together. Ricky was chatting it up with Park Gunwook, a boy who’s a year younger than the both of them–freshly out of middle school. A freshman. They were sitting together at lunch with a couple of other students Gyuvin couldn’t name.

Park Gunwook is much too tall to be considered a fourteen year old but when you look at his baby face topped off with his mouth full of braces, he looks his age. He’s definitely the tallest in his graduating class yet not quite as tall as the random growth spurt Gyuvin sufficed during his second year of middle school. This randomly, but ultimately, attracted the likes of a girl in his class named Yeonji. Gyuvin wasn’t interested in her. He was more interested in her brother and his jacked arms who was a few years ahead of them.

That’s besides the point. What he’s trying to prove is how Ricky is finely adjusting to this new school environment better than Gyuvin ever could. While he’s sitting with a bunch of new people during lunch on the first day of school, Gyuvin got himself a drink and proceeded to the library in order to keep his peace and not face anybody that he happened to know.

Gyuvin likes to keep to himself and it stems from his loneliness at home. His home life affects the way he acts beyond it, developing a scarce social life in the meantime if the minimal interactions with Ricky aren’t counted. He’s gotten used to watching his peers from the sidelines, listening in on their lives as if it were his own to entertain his thoughts. He knows deep down he could never live such an extravagant day to day life.

Is it sad to live his life vicariously through other people? Even when attachment is the root of all misery?

When he gets off the bus it’s with Ricky trailing behind him. They’re silent for the entirety of the walk back to their respective homes. When he reaches his house which stands out due to its blue color, Ricky walks to the white bricked one right beside it.

The blonde unlocks his front door, his head turning to face Gyuvin–giving a small smile and a shy wave before walking inside his house. Snapping out of his daze, he enters his own as well.

A few days of school and unanticipated Ricky sightings in the woods go by–Hanbin is over for dinner and so is Hao. They’re sitting across from him and Yujin while their parents are sitting at the ends. The dinner conversation runs smoothly. It always does whenever Hao is around as he sure does know how to talk. Otherwise, dinner would be silent with the exception of cutlery against fine china plates.

Gyuvin is quiet for the most part, he catches Hanbin glancing over at him once–then twice–as he moves the food around on his plate with a fork.

Yujin notices this, kicking him in the leg underneath the table. Something bubbles in the pit of his stomach but Yujin’s gaze goes to their father at the head of the table, staring at Gyuvin with a stone cold glare. He sucks it up and takes a bite.

“Don’t kick me.” Gyuvin scolded, just loud enough for Yujin to hear.

His younger brother just scoffs, taking hefty spoonfuls of his dinner just to suck it up to their parents that he thinks the food is just–oh so–delightful. “I was doing you a favor.”

For a twelve year old, he’s mouthy.

Dinner wraps up with no other problems after that. Yujin takes it upon himself to wash the dishes in favor of their parents' validation, Hanbin walks Hao to the front door and Gyuvin catches them hugging for a second too long–but they’re best friends and he knows nothing of those natures. So, he pretends he saw nothing and ventures to his room.

There’s a knock at the door while he’s hunched over his desk, looking through videos and photos on his camcorder. He’s ready to raise his voice, ready to yell at Yujin to leave him alone and go away but the sound of his older brother’s voice rings out from behind the wooden door instead.

“Can I come in?” Hanbin asks, soft and gentle like he always is. He’s already creaking the door open so he swivels around in his chair and gives Hanbin a slight nod before he closes the door behind him.

“These posters are new.” He points out. There’s various posters of famous women pinned up beside his bed and above his desk. He couldn’t even name them, not to mention they all look the same. Curvy bodies, pearly smiles, topped off with huge chests. Factors that cater to the likes of pubescent teenage boys.

Hanbin sits on the ledge of my desk, eyes scanning the expanse of his room.

“Yeah, I went out for a walk and when I came back I caught dad putting them up.”

His brother throws his head back with a hearty laugh, shaking his head as he does so. “Dad did that to me too. He did it so I wouldn’t turn out to like boys, you know how he is.” The pieces start clicking as soon as the words leave Hanbin’s mouth. He could almost start laughing at his fathers master plan, it’s a smart one but it’s not that effective–at least in Gyuvin’s case. “Looks like he’s making sure you don’t either.”

Gyuvin gets up from his desk and tidies his room a bit, there’s questions swimming through his head. Eyes squinting in thought–wondering if he should voice them.

“DId it work for you?” He’s hesitant to ask. It’s an absurd question, he can already guess what his brother will say next.

“I have a wife, Gyuvin. It definitely worked.” Hanbin laughs again, seeming to be so happy all the damn time.

Gyuvin frowns and sits at the edge of his bed directly in front of Hanbin. The dam that holds his thoughts in is unlatched, invasiveness is prominent and his filter is off the hooks.

“Just because you have a wife doesn’t mean you’re not gay.”

Hanbin stands up straight, hands being shoved into the pockets of his pants as his energy suddenly turns all hostile at the sudden battle of challenging his sexuality. Tense at a word that was so foreign and detested within their household. “I’m pretty sure it does. Last time I checked I married a woman.”

“Did you want to?”

Hanbin halts–mouth falling open for any roaming fly to have a chance to explore the abyss of his mouth. He shuts it close once recollecting himself. “What are you trying to get at, Gyuvin?”

Gyuvin–he doesn’t know much about his older brother. There’s not many things that they can relate with because of their extensive age gap–honestly he can’t even imagine what his relationship with Yujin is like. He was born when Hanbin was already married off. But, he knows that Hanbin is easy to manipulate because he saw it happen to him by his own parents. He’s soft and pliable–a deep comparison to his voice–easy to bend and break. That’s why he lives a life he doesn’t want.

“Do you like Hao?” Gyuuvin asks. His brother tenses up at the mere mention of Hao’s name.

“Of course I do. He’s my best friend.” Hanbin sheepishly mutters. A coward.

The silence that follows is deafening. Gyuvin doesn’t say anything after that and neither does Hanbin, so he leaves–going back home to his wife.

“Gyuvin! This boy wants to talk to you!” His mother yells from downstairs.

He groans, sighs, and kicks his comforter off his body before shuffling his way down to the front door. He hasn’t gotten properly ready for the day so when he sees Ricky in his living room all done up like he usually is, he suddenly feels self-conscious of his eyes ridden with eye boogers and sleep and hair that must be sticking out in all kinds of directions.

“Hi.” Ricky smiles.

“Uh-Hi.” Gyuvin replies, awkwardly. He scratches the back of his head as Ricky rocks back and forth on his heels. “Why are you here?”

Ricky scrambles to answer his question, eyes going wider than they usually are. “Oh, yeah. Do you want to talk over there?” He asks, pointing towards the directions of the wood in their backyard.

Gyuvin tells Ricky to meet him there just so he can have some time to at least look a little presentable. He’s not fond of the fact Ricky had to see him at the worst of his worst.

Yujin pesters him about who Ricky was, ultimately ignoring him and pushing him away before storming out of his house and into the wooded areas.

The blonde boy is sitting against the same tree they usually sit at. His knees are pulled up to his chest and his eyes are looking at the trees all around him. Hopefully Gyuvin hadn’t kept him waiting for too long.

The leaves on the trees are turning all shades of yellow and red as autumn creeps up behind them. They crunch beautifully underneath his shoes which alerts Ricky. He finally sits down.

“Hi.” Gyuvin says. Ricky smiles–again–and gives a small wave. There’s still an awkward air between them. The blonde frequently sits beside him on the bus to and from school, he smiles and waves whenever they see each other at school during classes, and they’ve met in the woods before but they were occasionally and coincidentally.

“I wanted to ask if you wanted to hang out with me and my friends tonight.” Ricky pulls blades of grass out from the ground, there’s dirt under his nails now and Gyuvin notes the way he slightly grimaces at the sight of it.

Gyuvin opens and closes his mouth like a goldfish. The idea of hanging out with other people circling through his mind.

He shrugs. “I don’t know. I don’t really know your friends.”

Which is a blatant lie because he knows who Park Gunwook is by a miraculous chance, but that’s it. He knows that perceptions come along with the event of meeting new people. Strangers can judge him and form opinions about him all they want and he can do the same. But there’s a lingering feeling deep in his gut, afraid of those perceptions–afraid of the judgments to be made about him that may be negative yet nothing short of the ultimate truth.

He doesn’t want such opinions to alter Ricky’s perception of him. Even if he doesn’t want to admit it, and even if they don’t do much talking when they’re together–he enjoys Ricky’s company.

“Well, you can get to know them.” He’s not wrong unfortunately. But he doesn’t know the real fear that settles deep inside of him. “You can bring some of your own friends if it’ll make you feel more comfortable.”

He bites the inside of his cheek, digging his fingernail into the skin around his thumbnail. All while actively avoiding eye contact with Ricky before sighing and bringing his knees close to his chest, mirroring the blonde.

“I don’t have many friends, really.”

“Why not?”

He laughs a little, pity with a mix of embarrassment laced throughout as he shrugs–keeping his gaze on a wilting flower. “I just don’t really fit in with people at school.”

Ricky frowns and Gyuvin regrets his spontaneous confession. He doesn’t want pity, doesn’t benefit from it. There’s nothing inherently wrong or saddening about him being alone at school. Sure, he may get lonely and overwhelmingly quiet only having the thoughts in his mind to talk to, but it’s not bad–it just takes some getting used to.

“I’m your friend.” Ricky reminded. He did say he wanted to be friends, and friends do share seats on the bus and share strange conversations in isolated places but it’s nearly not enough for him. Was he being greedy?

“Sure, but you don’t really know me.” Gyuvin shrugs again as it’s the harsh truth. He’s merely just Ricky’s next door neighbor that he happens to sit next to on the bus and has awkward conversations with in the forest behind their houses every once in a while.

“Well you like movies, right?” Gyuvin nods. “Want to know my favorite words from a movie?”

Gyuvin would love to.

“Is it better to speak or to die?” A classic one, words that many know yet Gyuvin fails to understand in its entirety. “You know why?” A head shake follows.

“It’s my favorite because it depicts death even though your heart is still beating.” Ricky puts his hand over his heart as Gyuvin furrows his eyebrows in confusion, but he digresses and Ricky continues. “Isolation and living in utter silence–not speaking–is not a way to cope, it’s simply just death.”

Gyuvin wraps his arms around his legs, pulling them closer to his chest in hopes of caving in.

“If you want to fit in at school, if you want to feel like you belong–people have to know you’re alive. You have to speak.” Ricky says and he understands it now.

Speaking up, smiling, doing something shows that you’re alive. If you choose to not do anything, stay quiet and isolate yourself–you’re better off as dead.

“So you should probably consider not staying all holed up in that brain of yours all the time. One day people will forget you.”

Ricky stands up and wipes the dirt off of his pants. “If you want to come tonight, stand outside your house at seven. Taerae is picking me up.”

He leaves after that. Gyuvin doesn’t know who Taerae is but the autumn leaves crunch underneath each step Ricky takes, his figure disappearing into the distance as Gyuvin stays on the grassy ground.

If Ricky wanted to hang out with him so badly, he could’ve just said so. He didn’t have to go on such a philosophical spiel but it kind of–sort of–helped.

Has Gyuvin been sabotaging himself this whole time, keeping to himself?

Gyuvin unexpectedly sits down on the curb outside his house, hands shoved into the pockets of his zip-up with the hood pulled over his head to shield his ears from the crisp evening wind.

“You’re out here early.” A voice rings out from behind him. It’s Ricky. The wind flows through his blonde hair as he takes a seat next to him on the curb, their knees and shoulders grazing against each other.

“Yeah. I didn’t want to be late, I guess.” Gyuvin scuffs his shoes against the pavement to stretch his legs in front of him. Ricky just hums and silence engulfs the atmosphere surrounding them after that.

Soon enough, a tiny red car rolls up beside them and there’s bass boosting music coming from inside of it. Ricky gets up and ushers Gyuvin to do the same, brushing debris from off his pants. He opens the backseat door and Gyuvin’s body is completely, immediately submerged by the warmth of people crammed into such a tiny car.

“It’s ridiculous how the two smallest people get to sit in the front while everyone made entirely of legs is in the back.” Someone from the other side of the car chides, he’s squished into the door and is ultimately right. There’s four of them squished into the back, Ricky practically sitting on Gyuvin’s lap and Park Gunwook, the long-legged freshman.

“It’s seniority! I’m not sitting in the back with a bunch of freshmen.” A smiley brunette answers from the passenger seat. “Plus Taerae’s the only one with a license, respect your elders.”

Gyuvin feels stiff in the back corner of the car, his zip-up feels constricting and his whole body is just burning. Ricky sitting on his lap and completely taking up his space whenever he leans back doesn’t help with how cramped he feels. Everything about this situation, the amount of people, the booming music, and the tightness of it all is just overwhelming.

“Hey, guys, this is Gyuvin. He’s my neighbor, so introduce yourselves.” Ricky finally speaks up because the lord knows Gyuvin wouldn’t have.

“I’m Junhyeon.” A chestnut haired boy–the one squished into the car door–says. He has perfectly straight teeth and a shirt two sizes too large for him. “This braceface is Gunwook, the one in the passenger seat is Matthew and our driver for the night is my lovely, lovely boyfriend Taerae.’

Sounds of distress and disgust ring throughout the car along with a hearty belly laugh that comes from the lovely, lovely Taerae himself whose cheeks are adorned with dimples and a nose bridge that holds up a pair of thick framed glasses. Looking into the rearview mirror, he catches sight of the silver cross that glistens in the moonlight starting to rise in the darkening sky and dangles from his neck.

The connection between everybody in the car makes him want to back himself into the corner of the car more and more. Camaraderie radiates off of this group of teenagers in a way that he’s never experienced before, it’s almost staggering. He doesn’t know what he’s suddenly gotten himself into–something that he profusely wasn’t prepared for.

“So, Gyuvin, what do you like to do?” Matthew asks, breaking Gyuvin out of his trance. The brunette whips around in the passenger seat to directly face him, a smile wide on his face.

“Uh–movies, I like watching movies.” He stutters out, the only thing remotely fascinating about his otherwise black and white life.

Ricky suddenly perks up, a wide array of braces poking through when he smiles, “He likes movies, alright, he carries around this cute little video camera too.”

Sounds of acknowledgement fill the air. Matthew looks at Gyuvin like that was the coolest thing on Earth he’s ever heard. Gyuvin holds his breath for one second, then two, before relaxing his tense body. They aren’t making fun of him, they’re just trying to include him.

“Do you want to make movies when you get older?” Matthew questions, head tilting to the side almost like a puppy.

Gyuvin shrugs, biting the side of his cheek at the thought of the inevitable future ahead of him. He can see Taerae occasionally look at him through the rearview mirror and the other two look at him as well. The spotlight being on him suddenly makes him feel nervous.

“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t really know what I want to do.”

Mutual agreements span the entirety of the car, nods and hums of understanding.

Ricky puts an arm around him and this is the most physical contact they’ve ever made besides the grazing of shoulders and bumps of knees against each other. In this position, with Ricky sitting on his thigh and his back against Gyuvin’s shoulder–he can feel the knobs of Ricky’s spine and the plush feeling of his leg pressing against his own. It’s invasive in a way, but warmth overcomes his body.

This side of Ricky is new to him. The one that’s bold and upfront with his actions when he’s used to the Ricky he shares hushed conversations with in the stillness of the nature they admire together. Besides, both of these personalities are a part of Ricky’s personhood, one that he has yet to establish himself.

“There’s a lot of fascinating things inside of this brain of his that he doesn’t let himself show.” Ricky says, talking about Gyuvin like he’s this prized artifact he found abandoned in the woods. He talks about Gyuvin like he’s the most interesting thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

This attention, this newfound sense of affinity with people his age, is foreign yet yearned for.

“Did you have fun tonight, Gyuvin?”

Taerae is looking at him through the rearview mirror as he drives him and Ricky home. It’s just the three of them in the car, having already dropped everyone else at home for the night. A sweet kiss between Junhyeon and Taerae played out in front of him when they bid their farewells, he made himself smaller as he witnessed it.

“Yeah. It was fun–different.” He replies, lips pulled into a tight line afterwards. He can feel Ricky’s eyes on him from his peripheral vision. Now sitting on opposite sides of the backseat with no reason to share it with two other large yet growing teenage boys, Ricky feels so much farther away. “I usually just stay at home, I don’t go out much.”

He sees the frown forming through Taerae’s eyes. Gyuvin bites on his bottom lip before leaning his head against the cold car window, it fogs up slightly with each exhale he makes through his consciously chapped lips.

“Do you like staying at home?”

Gyuvin scoffs playfully at that, a smile dancing on his face, “I don’t think anyone would like to be by themselves all alone. But I don’t mind it.”

The rest of the car ride is silent until Taerae turns onto the block their house resides on, pulling up swiftly to the curb they sat on just a while ago.

“You’re only a teenager for 2,500 days.” Taerae begins, shifting the car into park. His eyes are distant when Gyuvin looks at him through the rearview mirror. “You can’t live life like a true teenager when you’re like–thirty years old.” A laugh dances upon his lips.

“Teenagers, you know, they see things differently. They have something kids have yet to experience and adults often don’t remember–something they forget.”

Taerae is a teenager himself. Two or so years older than Gyuvin is–his monologue of teenage life is a real world phenomenon that Gyuvin feels isn’t just for him to hear, but for Taerae as well.

“So live out your teenage years now, while you still can–when you won’t regret it in the long run.” Taerae smiles and his dimples poke through his fleshy cheeks, turning around in his seat and unlocking the backseat doors. “No one should be allowed to take youth away from young people.”

Gyuvin and Ricky walk up to his front door before facing each other. It’s been a long, and different night of trying to fit into a group he had no intentions of being a part of.

“I think your friends pity me.” Gyuvin remarks, sliding his hood off his head to get a good look at Ricky before he hits the hay for the night.

Ricky gives him a half, tight-lipped smile as he rocks back and forth on his heels, “I think they just want you to live your life with no regrets.”

“But why? They don’t even know me, and neither do you.”

Silence fills the air, and for a moment it’s just the two of them. Ricky is still smiling and his eyes are so kind when he looks at Gyuvin even when Gyuvin’s hands are balled into fists at his sides.

“I don’t need to know you to understand that no teenager deserves to be isolated from the world put in front of them. You aren’t a pitiful person,” Ricky states.

His demeanor is firm yet calm, welcoming in a way that diminishes all fears of being perceived in the wrong way. Being perceived as someone who’s weak and easy, someone who’s forgotten and distant.

“The world–it’s a cruel, cruel place. But it’s so, so beautiful if you just open your eyes, and look.”

He stands up from the vending machine, a soda in hand when Ricky suddenly appears in front of him. His mouth of braces practically in his face, looking way too happy on a Monday afternoon. He locks arms with Gyuvin and that’s how he ends up sitting with him and his friends at lunch time–squished between Ricky and Junhyeon.

“Sit with us now, okay? We’re friends.” Ricky says, momentarily pulling himself out of the established conversation to look at Gyuvin with a kind smile on his face. Gyuvin nods and holds his soda can tighter even though it’s cold against the palm of his hand.

Everyone welcomes him like it’s nothing out of the ordinary, him sitting here, intruding in on their conversations–except they don’t act like he’s intruding. They easily wrap him up into their odd gossip about students and teachers and he ends up engaging in this gossip because it’s just easy to talk to them for no apparent reason.

It feels like he was a part of them all along, that their established connection as comrades included him in the roster this whole time. He feels so utterly included and for a moment he can feel his lips twitching and he’s smiling, actually smiling after what feels like ages. He can feel laughs slipping past his lips and this feeling in his chest, it aches but in a sadistically good way because it makes him feel so warm and joyous inside.

Ricky taps his shoulder and he shifts his attention away from the conversation, fully immersing himself in Ricky and his blonde hair, “Your smile is cute, Gyuvin. You should do it more.” And he smiles even harder.

When they plan to hang out once again, it’s on the last warm day of the year and Ricky tells him to wear a pair of swimming trunks and bring his camera. Standing on the curb as they wait for Taerae to pick them up, Ricky throws a towel over his shoulder and they can see Junhyeon flailing around through the sunroof of Taerae’s car before they hear his loud, obnoxious singing.

They pile into the car as best as they can, Ricky sitting on Gyuvin’s lap again but this time they’re touching skin to skin with their legs pressing against each other. Taerae’s air conditioning must be broken.

Cliff-jumping is the last thing on his nonexistent list of ‘hang-out activities’. Setting their towels on the rocky ground, he and Ricky make their way into the cold water as the rest run up the trail of the cliff before seeing them at the top, screaming and waving.

One by one they started jumping off the ledge, especially after Gyuvin and Ricky yelled at them to hurry up. They screamed as they plummeted through the air, but it was laced with joy before making contact with the water–ultimately splashing him and Ricky.

Wading out of the water, the two of them sit on their towels even with the rocks hurting their bottoms. Gyuvin takes his camera out and takes various photos of them mid-jump and videos of them in action.

Suddenly, Gunwook obstructs his view through the camera, taking it from his hands and setting on his towel gently.

“It’s your turn now, Gyu.” The nickname runs off his tongue like it was second nature. Despite his protests, Gunwook drags Gyuvin behind him up the long trail to the top of the cliff. Everyone else was there too, Ricky being the only one still at the bottom and Gyuvin wants to be with him–but he doesn’t mind being with the other guys either.

“It’s fun, Gyuvin, I promise! It doesn’t hurt.” Matthew soothes, putting a hand on his shoulder and giving a small squeeze. He must’ve sensed Gyuvin’s nerves.

“It’s not scary either! It kind of takes your mind off things?” Taerae inquires. “Therapeutic in a way, the only thing you can focus on is the way the wind feels against you.”

He was scared and he was nervous when they urged him to just jump. That it wouldn’t hurt, that it was fun. He wanted to do it so badly, just to feel what it was all about–but he was scared, he lacked the confidence.

When he built up the courage, he saw Ricky–who migrated his way back into the water–at the bottom with his hands up. I’ll catch you, his outstretched arms said. Ricky would’ve never caught him, but he had hope. He felt fearless knowing that he would jump, and fall into Ricky’s arms.

He takes a breath, then another before finally leaping off the ledge. The wind that breaks through him literally takes his breath away as he makes a harsh impact with the water. They lied. It did hurt. But it didn’t even matter he was high off of adrenaline and he wanted to keep doing it more and more. So he did. He got out of the water and stepped on rocks and twigs to the top of the cliff, jumping off again and again. And he was smiling. He was smiling. He felt so happy and he never wanted it to end. The thrill that was coursing through his veins was riveting and he didn’t want it to stop.

Since when has being around people, doing reckless things, been this addicting?

When the sun starts to set and they all sit in a circle on the rocks with towels around their shoulders, he can still taste the saltiness of the water in his mouth from the numerous times he jumped off the cliff.

The taste of his sorrows, his tears, they taste much like the saltiness of the ocean.

Sitting on his windowsill, earbuds plugged into his ears, he watches his dad and Yujin kick around a soccer ball in the front lawn. He, too, had a love for soccer. Standing underneath the blazing hot sun, running across the turf as sweat beads on his forehead–there wasn’t another way he wanted to spend his days.

But his interest in soccer drew to an end as he got older, gradually losing interest as he locked away his cleats into the deep confines of his closet. If he searched hard enough, he might be able to find the soccer ball he used to run drills in the backyard with his dad.

Looking down at the two of them, he can’t help but see himself in Yujin. Maybe it’s because they’re blood siblings or maybe it’s because there’s this unbearable yearning to be the boy he was before everything suddenly changed. He was once the same age as Yujin, naive at the greatest with no subtle care for the world. Just a boy and his undying love for dribbling the soccer ball along with someone he swore to look up to.

With his camera in hand, grainy and unsaturated motion pictures of him and his younger brother flash on the screen. With crackly and low quality sound emitting from it. Laughter–is what it essentially is. Though pixelated, pearly whites and gap tooth teeth shine bright beyond the crude quality of the video.

It’s hard to ever believe that he and Yujin were never at each other’s necks. When did things start to change? When did they inevitably begin to drift apart?

When his awkward stages of growing up had occurred, a natural rift had come between the two of them–weakening their once strong relationship in the making. Yujin is a growing boy as well, changing his mind every other day on what the new hot topic is. Maybe this change–these differences that blossom between them–is ultimately the reason for their meandering connection.

A knock sounds from his wooden door and he instinctively shuts his camera close and pulls his earbuds out. The perpetrator at the door walks in without any confirmation, shutting the door behind them and dropping a soccer ball on the floor.

It’s Yujin.

“What do you want?” Coming out harsher, snippier than he’d intended it to be. Though having a dilemma about their once beautiful sibling relationship, it’s in his blood to reject him.

“Do you want to dribble the ball around? Dad got tired, he’s getting old.” Yujin asks, voice gentle and softer than the usual rigid and firm voice he uses when addressing Gyuvin. Does he take after Hanbin after all? Is it just Gyuvin who’s the odd one out in his bloodline? Rough and adamant in a way that contrasts with his family’s tender and mellow persona.

He sets his camera on his desk, scoffing in the meantime as he settles on his bed against the fluffed up pillows. “I haven’t played soccer in years,” He seethes. “Not after you overshadowed me because you were suddenly interested in it too.”

Yujin’s face morphs into one of sorrow. Eyebrows furrowed, eyes wide and glossy like there’s a layer of unshed tears. His little hands are balled into fists next to his sides and there’s grass stains on his knees, signs of adolescence at its core.

“I only found soccer interesting because I wanted to play just like you.” Yujin mutters–but he hears him. Yujin almost peers over the middle of his doorframe. When had he grown so much? “I wasn’t–trying to overshadow you. I just wanted to play soccer like my older brother.”

There’s a bitter taste in his mouth and every time he tries to swallow, spit seems to get lodged in his throat. Yujin looks at Gyuvin with eyes that feel so familiar, dark and glossy yet monotonous at the same time. Holding all the emotions in the world but none at all–as if they’re empty. Gyuvin realizes that maybe he has such a rooted resentment towards his brother because he is so much like him, and he resents himself.

Yujin picks up the soccer ball from the ground, his face looking defeated as he aims for the door. Seemingly, losing all of the courage he had initially built up to even step foot into Gyuvin’s room.

“Gyuvin, I never hated you.” He says. “I always loved you because you’re my brother.”

Yujin has his back towards him and he can see a hand raise up to wipe at his eyes. Gyuvin so badly wants him to turn around so he can say it back to him. Me too, Yujin. His heart yearns to say yet it gets lodged into his throat. Me too. I’m sorry.

Feeling all too constrained in his house, in his room–which was supposed to be a safe sanctuary for him–he ventures to his backyard.

Shoving his face into his pillow and letting himself sink into his mattress wasn’t nearly enough to forget about the thick tension in his bedroom that Yujin left. So instead, he shoves his face into the moist soil and sinks into the bed of grass he lays upon.

Oftentimes he wants to descend into the soil, become one with the trees and flow with the rivers or hang high and shine bright with the stars that begin to twinkle through the leaves of the trees that tower above him.

Beautiful colors of orange and pink splatter the sky and laying here on the bare ground it’s as if he can feel the roots and grass blades wrap around his arms and legs–keeping him submerged to the soil beneath him. The grass blades poke at his bare skin before seeping beneath the surface and enveloping his bones, squeezing tight as if reluctant to let him go.

Roots encircled his pulsing lungs and beating heart, making it all too hard for him to breathe–to live. Oh, how he loathes himself. Making no efforts to escape the restraining hold the earth has against him, pulling him down and down until he has no hopes to ever ascend. He thinks and that is all that he is. Must the grass wrapping around his tense body be his inevitable fate?

Tears easily well up in his eyes, the only occurring movement of his body as they pool over and drip down his plush cheeks. The roots keeping him trapped trail up his face, gently wiping his tears away. Poor child, do not cry, they say–the words ringing out through his cloudy mind.

Sounds of crunching leaves and snapping twigs register in his mind yet he has no motive to save himself from this approaching perpetrator whose steps are small and gentle, cautious in a way.

“Gyuvin?” A melodic voice sounds out, his vision is blurred but he could recognize that head of blonde hair anywhere. Ricky peers over him as his tears are still pathetically rolling down his face. “You’re crying.”

Something is lodged in his throat, opening his mouth and only a pitiful squeak comes out. His vocal cords vibrate in his throat as he chokes out a small, “Yeah.”

Ricky sits beside him, knees pulled to his chest as he watches Gyuvin–the way his arms are pulled tight to his sides and his eyes are red from all of the tears, cheeks stained with tear tracks. “Are you okay?” He asks gently.

A gust of wind flows through the trees and prompts him to flutter his eyes closed, lashes clumped and wet with tears as they fan across his cheeks. “Yeah,” He barely lets out. A cold but gentle hand is placed on his bicep, a grounding hold. “Just let me lay here for a while.”

That night, when he’s alone in the darkness of his room with his comforter over him. He dreams of a boy with blonde hair and they’re alone in the meadow. Cicadas chirp alongside them and there’s a subtle breeze that flows through Ricky’s locks and he’s beautiful.

Ricky–the kind of person you have a random conversation with at the park and never forget. Ricky–the one who seemed to just always be there. Someone who Gyuvin thinks about even when he is not thinking. Ricky is the sun and Gyuvin is content with being in his orbit.

Ricky looks at him with his round, brown eyes–a smile dancing upon his lips and his hand gently engulfs Gyuvin’s. His mouth opens and it moves slowly as words slip past his bracketed teeth. Gyuvin can feel himself straining to hear what Ricky has to say, inching closer and closer just to understand.

“Do you even see how infinite you are?” It comes out muffled to his ears, as if his head is submerged underwater. Gyuvin pulls back and they’re a breadths away from each other, noses nearly touching as he gazes into Ricky’s eyes.

His eyes flicker down to Ricky’s pink-ish lips and back up to his brown eyes. They crinkle up when they smile and Gyuvin’s chest tightens, he wants to be closer.

Gyuvin awakens just as Ricky draws nearer, eyes closed and lips just merely grazing each other. The feeling of the blondes plump lips linger on his own but he just can't quite remember the pressure, the taste, the overall feeling of Ricky’s lips on his.

Gyuvin sits up against his headboard and sighs. Dreams that can’t possibly be remembered, are realities that one yearns for.

Warmth engulfs him as he walks through Taerae’s front door, greetings ring out through his ears and Gunwook puts an arm around his shoulder before being led to the living room.

Squished between Gunwook and Ricky, Matthew goes on and on about his new college boyfriend–ogling about him for so long that Gunwook has to put a hand across his mouth just to shut him up for the time being.

It doesn’t last long as the doorbell rings and Matthew jumps up from his spot on the carpeted ground. The front door flies open and Matthew is all over the place squealing as his boyfriend walks through. He was tall, with a sharp jawline and jet black hair. His shoulders were wide and his arms were jacked and filled with packs of beer. He looks out of place being at a house with a bunch of puny high schoolers but Matthew doesn’t seem to care as he introduces him as ‘Jiwoong’.

“Thank you so much, baby. You’re the best.” Matthew says, completely engrossed in his boyfriend as he leans up on his tippy-toes to smack his lips against Jiwoongs–Gyuvin looks away.

Gyuvin avoids any can of alcohol that was brought his way even with everyone else around him casually drinking from their own. Even with consistent pressure, Ricky immediately shuts down whoever even tried to force a sip onto Gyuvin. Gratitude spews from the gaze in his eyes and his heart is beating erratically, especially when Ricky looks at him with rosy cheeks and a soft smile.

Even without the alcohol consumption, he has a fun time. It’s a foreign feeling, still getting used to the idea of being accepted by his peers but it’s welcomed. He smiles and he laughs and he feels companionship fill the air–he’s content with where he is and he’s happy that includes being with a certain blonde haired boy.

As they get further and further into the night, the once liveliness of the group of teenagers–plus Jiwoong–dies down.

Gunwook is sleeping with his head resting on Taerae’s shoulder who is sharing quiet and soft conversations with Junhyeon who is draped across his lap. Matthew and Jiwoong entangled themselves on the love seat in the corner of the room, clearly in their own world. Whereas for Ricky, he’s fighting sleep with his head in the crook of Gyuvin’s neck. The room feels hot and his skin flares up at the others touch, he feels almost paralyzed but he takes initiative and stands up, guiding Ricky to the first bedroom he’s able to navigate to.

As he lays Ricky down on the bed, he sits beside him on the ledge. Ricky’s cheeks are rosy and his words come out slurred whenever he mutters something under his breath, he reeks of alcohol but Gyuvin doesn’t mind because his fruity scent of strawberries still hits his nostrils.

Ricky grumbles, fingers intertwining with Gyuvin’s as he brings it to his cheek. Gyuvin impulsively grazes his thumb against his fleshy cheek. The touch is electrifying–as most are these days. When Ricky holds his hand or their shoulders merely graze against one another, sound waves of the universe whisper love into his ears.

That’s what it is–this staggering feeling that flows through his bloodstream. Love.

Moonlight shines in through the window above the bed, it casts an ethereal glow across Ricky’s face and he looks as beautiful as ever. Eyes blinking slowly as he inevitably fights back against the sleep washing over him.

“How are you so perfect?” Gyuvin finds himself impulsively whispering under his breath, he runs his thumb against Ricky’s cheekbone and the intimacy of it all–it being just the two of them, alone in a room where the moonlight casts a glow on them as two tender earthlings–it’s divine.

Ricky smiles and shifts around, looking at Gyuvin with his eyes hazy. “I’m not perfect, Gyuvin. I am just human.”

The blonde grabs hold of Gyuvin’s hand that was resting against the side of his face, his smile is .so gentle and welcoming–eyes delicate and sweet–a mix of everything that Gyuvin admires about the other.

“It’s happening to everyone.”

Gyuvin’s furrows his eyebrows in confusion, must this just be Ricky’s drunk rambles?

“What is?” He questions.

Ricky repositions himself onto his back, looking up at the popcorn ceiling in the bedroom. It’s silent outside of this room, if he listened closely enough maybe he could hear Taerae’s deep voice talking to Junhyeon but right now he’s hyperfocused on the angel beneath him, glowing from the moonlight.

“Life–Life, suffrage, happiness, sadness. It’s all happening to everyone.” Ricky says. It means little to nothing to Gyuvin. There is no way to define what life means or what it is.

Gyuvin scoffs and laughs a bit, “I doubt you’ve ever felt like you were suffering.”

Ricky–he exudes a different kind of essence with each step he takes. Almost like he’s otherworldly, unobtainable. It is no surprise that he has Gyuvin in a sort of inescapable grasp. Everything about his being is captivating, alluring in every way.

Even now, Ricky just smiles at him and he radiates joy in a way no one else does. “Everybody suffers, Gyuvin.” He expresses with such contentment. “The way I speak of my feelings, it’s a performance. I can speak of pain and suffering in this beautiful way, but it doesn’t make it ache less.”

The smile on his face morphs into one of dejection, an expression Gyuvin has never seen on Ricky before, “I’m suffering just as much as the next. We all are. It’s what makes us human.”

Ricky gives a small squeeze to Gyuvin’s hand and he sees Ricky in a different light–as someone who is just as capable of showcasing vulnerability. Such vulnerability–that rawness–it’s beautiful.

Gyuvin, who was once so incredibly bored of his own existence, for once feels it–understands it–the natural, human desire to live as he looks at the boy beneath him. Whom he loves, and if tomorrow was promised, he would love him then as well.

Memories of the dream in the meadow resurface to his brain. The sudden desire to share that vulnerability with Ricky as their lips intermingle with one another blossoms internally.

His hand creeps up to hold Ricky’s jaw, his thumb brushing against his rosy cheeks that are still so prominently pink even in the dark. Gyuvin leans down only to be stopped by a hand on his chest.

Ricky peers up at him, he looks breathless as his chest heaves up and down and his eyes are big and round–reflecting the stars within it.

“No. Not right now.” He whispers, he can feel Ricky’s breath against his lips and can smell the alcohol emitting from his mouth. His heart seizes at the thought of rejection, though what is love without the heartbreak?

“Wait until I’m sober. I want to do it when I’m sober.”

It’s January now, a new year, everything is changing and so is he. A lot has changed but he is still Gyuvin. He is more him than he ever will be. Winter comes and goes after that. With the occasional warm beam of the sun in the nipping cold winter air. A reminder that the sun will shine again.

Gunwook’s presence isn’t unwanted, but is foreign especially when it’s just the two of them. He doesn’t mind hanging out with the freshman alone, he actually likes it more than he had expected. They have a lot more in common than he could’ve ever assumed and he’s overall just a good, calm person to be around.

His room is littered with trinkets and figurines along with textbooks stacked upon each other and spilling out of bookshelves. He never knew Gunwook was such a school-driven student until an hour or so into their hangout that Gunwook reveals he strives on academic validation–that it’s in his blood to do good as it was casted upon him ever since he was young.

It’s an expectation from his parents to do well in school, they only perceive him as an A+ student, nothing else. Barely a son, rather a trophy, Gunwook describes it as.

Though Gyuvin has only known Gunwook for a few months, he knows this academic weapon of a person isn’t who Gunwook is deep down. Though he appears sophisticated and mature around parents and figures of authority, Gyuvin knows that Gunwook is childish–as expected from a fourteen year old still surpassing the rocky time period of adolescence. Gunwook is silly and he radiates youth whenever he smiles wide and his braces poke through.

He’s a child. Much too young to be thrusted upon such a high pedestal of success.

They’re sitting on the ground with their backs against Gunwook’s bed frame, their long legs stretch out in front of them. He takes note of Gunwook’s Super-Man socks and laughs to himself.

“Your parents might not know a lot about you and all, but they know that they love you.” Gyuvin says. He’s not good with words, but he knows that when someone he cherishes is in distress that he can at least try his hardest.

Gunwook smiles and it’s bittersweet in a way. “Thanks, Gyuvin. But I know that they only love the son they have in their head, not their actual one.” His shoulders slump and Gyuvin hugs him even when his tears soak his shirt.

The raising of voices sound out from behind Gunwook’s bedroom door. The younger sheepishly apologizes, seeming to be embarrassed of his home conditions. But Gyuvin easily tunes it out, keeping a firm grip on Gunwook.

When they pull away from the hug, Gunwook’s face is red and there’s remnants of snot on his face but it doesn’t matter because he’s just a kid.

“Sometimes I want to disappear, but I think I actually want to be found.” Gunwook hiccups. There’s desperation in his voice and in his glassy eyes. Oh, how his heart aches. “Do you feel that way?”

Gyuvin smiles assertively, his eyes soft and empathetic as he looks at Gunwook, “All the fucking time.”

The cold wind nips at the tip of his nose and tip of his ears as he sits down next to Ricky, upgrading from usually sitting across from him. Their shoulders and knees touch purposely because they want them to touch rather than from accidents or coincidence.

There’s goofy smiles on their faces and if only the wind would stop howling and the birds would stop chirping, he’s positive that Ricky would be able to hear the way his heart is nearly beating out of his chest. Looking at Ricky, he wonders how he could’ve ever lived without him when life purely comes from him.

At the idea of Ricky’s personhood, he prompts himself to think about the fact that other people perceive him as someone who is isolated–ultimately a loser–but Ricky, and Gunwook, and the rest of their friends see a completely different side of him. Stuck in this dilemma, he feels like there is no “real” him whereas everyone else seems to know who they are deep down.

Ricky, who is so content with showing his vulnerability and being kind even when it is not remotely needed. Looking into Ricky’s eyes, he comes to the conclusion that maybe the perceptions are all him, but don’t define him.

Who he is as a person, deep inside, isn’t meant to be defined. There’s no true answer because he can be everything and nothing all at once. His true self, it’s meant to be discovered bit by bit. Even then, he may never fully discover it and that’s okay.

“I feel comfort in being sad. Is that weird?” Gyuvin asks, breaking the tender silence between them that they’ve grown accustomed to.

Ricky smiles, as he always is and intertwines their fingers. “No, I feel comfort in being sad as well.” It’s hard to believe that Ricky has felt sad, but Gyuvin is aware of the fact that sadness is a normal, human emotion that everyone feels. “I feel comfort because sometimes feeling sad makes me realize that I actually do have emotions that I’m capable of feeling and showing.”

His love is greater than ever before, a leaf falls from the trees and lands on top of Ricky’s blonde hair which he picks out with gentle hands.

“I feel things so deeply yet I exist with such shallow–little to no purpose.” Ricky confesses.

Gyuvin could almost laugh at that. How could a being as beautiful as Ricky even come to believe that he has no purpose. Ricky, who exists and deserves to exist and take up all the space in the world–has a purpose. It’s to ultimately live life–to smile, to cry, to yell, and to love.

Gyuvin doesn’t think when he has his hand on Ricky’s cheek, pulling him forward and encapsulating his lips in a tender kiss. His first one, ever, and he hopes Ricky can’t tell just how much of an amateur he was. But it’s sweet and it’s everything Gyuvin could’ve ever imagined.

If Ricky’s purpose was to live, then his was to kiss the blonde with all the unconditional love in his heart. His lips are chapped in contrast to Ricky’s soft and smooth ones, lips that taste like strawberries.

When they pull away, their noses bump into each other and their breaths ghost across their lips. Eyes locked in an intense gaze though Gyuvin’s is just filled with love. Ricky pushes forward and their lips slide against each other once more with much more fervor.

There’s so much desire coursing through his veins as he holds Ricky’s face in both of his hands. He can feel his retainer bump against Ricky’s braces and their noses crash into each other constantly but he doesn’t have it in him to even care because kissing Ricky just like this is perfect to him.

A snap of a twig cuts them out of their trance, scrambling away from each other as they heave deep breaths and swing their heads to the sound.

Tingles spread throughout his body as he comes face to face with his younger brother, the feeling of Ricky’s lips still lingering on his own even then. Yujin is frozen in place as he quickly gets up from the mossy ground, stuttering over words as he mutters a farewell to Ricky before walking alongside Yujin back to his house.

There’s tension between the two of them, as there usually is, but this is different. It’s more intense than usual and shame pierces through him like daggers. He can barely breathe and words get stuck in his throat.

“Don’t–Don’t tell mom and dad.” Gyuvin mutters, desperation laced in his voice. Never once has he wanted to submit to his younger brother, never once had he wanted to plead to him. “Please, I beg of you.”

All he feels as he walks beside Yujin is regret. Regretting the way he treated his younger brother when it didn’t cost him a single thing to just be kind and understanding towards him. Begging him to not tell their parents wouldn’t have to consist of such humiliating pleas if he had just been a good older brother when their relationship wasn’t so rocky in the first place.

Yujin looks at Gyuvin, his eyes sad yet understanding. Because he knows what would happen to Gyuvin if he were to tell his parents about what he just witnessed, he knows the power he has over Gyuvin now for discovering his secret of homosexuality.

“I–I won’t.” He says, voice quiet.

Gyuvin’s heart tightens and he can feel tears pool into his eyes at the thought of his younger brother thinking with the kindness of his own heart. Yujin could’ve used this as revenge for the times Gyuvin has treated him like he wasn’t worthy of his time, he could’ve ruined his life.

But he didn’t. Gyuvin will never understand why.

On a miraculous weekend where all of them are free, Taerae drives them down to a beach–safe to say that it’s nearly empty as it is still early spring and every now and then a gust of wind will blow them away. Though, none of them plan to swim, rather it’s just a destination for them to be wild and carefree.

An awful game of sand volleyball occurs with a deflated volleyball found stashed in Taerae’s trunk but it doesn’t matter because they’re happy and they’re smiling and the sun is shining down on them. With his camera, he takes pictures of the group of such sunkissed boys–taking videos to promptly capture the moment when Matthew and Gunwook threw Junhyeon into the salty ocean which soaked him head to toe. In retaliation, Junhyeon started throwing sand like a madman and Gyuvin definitely ate some but again, it didn’t matter because he was happy.

When the liveliness slowly dies down into a mellow ambience, they’re just a group of teenage boys all huddled together as they share hushed conversations and small bursts of laughter together. With the beautiful sunset, shades of oranges and pinks and yellows paint the sky and the sun traces the silhouettes of his friends in a way that makes them shine.

The word ‘friends’ is something he could’ve never imagined himself even thinking about. The tears form in his waterline faster than he anticipated as he looks at the bright, luminescent faces of his friends. Happiness radiates off of this group of youthful boys in a way that is purely beguiling, they’re like a harmonic symphony–perfectly intertwined and combined with one another to make something beautiful.

They say you get flashed with all of the memories of your life seven minutes before you die, and there’s a lingering question of who you’ll think of the most when your life flashes before your eyes. He’s confident in saying that this very moment will flash before his eyes, sitting on the sandy beach while the sun sets behind people who he can call his friends, illuminating them with a bright hue so beautiful it hurts. Even when passing the bridge from life over to death, he’ll feel the same overwhelming feeling of belonging, the feeling of being alive.

Rewatching the tapes on his camcorder, videos of his friends occupy the majority of the space on it. Though, he catches glimpses of his camcorder lingering on a boy with stark white hair for far too long. Making it almost obvious who his heart yearns to look at for all of eternity.

“Gyuvin, why are you crying?” Ricky asks, voice soft and quiet yet still attracting the attention of everyone around. He hadn’t even realized his tears finally spilled over onto his cheeks.

He quickly wipes them away with the back of his hand as everyone looks at him with worry in their eyes. He smiles widely to not concern them any longer. “Sorry, I’m just happy.” And they all engulf him in a hug.

Eventually, they all get cramped inside of Taerae’s tiny car. Ricky’s sitting on Gyuvin’s lap and he has his hands planted firmly on his hips. They’re blasting music and singing just as loud to them as Taerae drives with no destination in mind, just a group of friends enjoying the life they never asked to have. His heart swells and his cheeks hurt from how badly he’s smiling, he hopes no one can see him. As he looks at the glowing sunset through the windshield, all he can think about is how infinite they are.

Gyuvin has always found it pleasant whenever Hao came over for dinner. The atmosphere in the house always seemed a tad bit more cheerful, a bit more bearable to endure during the inevitable family supper every evening.

Hao, having shown face in their family home more times than Hanbin’s wife, has become a constant in their household. Gyuvin never imagined dinner without Hao sitting across from him at the dining table. He never wanted to.

Eavesdropping is morally wrong, he knows it is. It’s a bit of nosiness and greediness listening in on other people’s conversations that don’t include you. But Hanbin’s bedroom is tentatively beside his own–though Hanbin is nearing thirty and only stays over when he has an altercation with his wife at his own home. Nowadays, it seems they’ve had more altercations than usual.

There was hostile air seeping through the cracks in the wall, the one that he and Hanbin share that ultimately divides their bedrooms. Though not being in the presence of the pair of best friends, he can still feel the tension.

“You don’t understand.” A muffled voice sounds out through the wall. It’s gentle in all the right ways. It’s Hanbin.

Gyuvin can’t help but push his ear further and further into the wall, just to get a better idea of the muffled words being shared with one another beyond this division.

“Yeah, Hanbin, you’re right–I don’t.” Hao says, bitterness dripping from his tongue in a way that contrasts with Hanbin’s soft voice.

Gyuvin could almost imagine the look of anguish on Hao’s face. He’s always been expressive, showing surprise when appropriate, happiness when his heart is full, and sadness when his heart is broken.

“How am I supposed to understand when I know what your heart wants but you won’t listen to it.”

Gyuvin knows, he’s known for a while though never expressing it. He knows that his older brother is in love with his best friend. He knows that the only thing keeping him back is the perpetual shame that he’s afraid of facing if he follows his heart and not his morality.

Gyuvin knows that his brother longs to do what he wishes, he wants to bend the rules and be perceived as a misfit in a world full of societal conformation. But maintaining his good first-born son image comes first.

“I’m tired of waiting, Hanbin.” Hao verbally slumps, his voice going so quiet that Gyuvin strains himself against the wall even more just to hear.

“God, it’s been years. I feel like I’m wasting my life away, waiting for you–” Gyuvin imagines Hao getting close to Hanbin, pointing an index finger into his brother's chest with furrowed brows and a frown on his lips. “But I don’t want to admit it because I love you and you could never be a waste of my time.”

Love is a funny thing. It makes you do things that you could’ve never imagined, feel things you never knew you were ever capable of feeling. As for Hao–he must’ve never thought he’d still be here at thirty years old waiting for the only one his heart truly, desperately desires. People, they don’t know about real loss, because it only occurs when one loves something more than they love themselves.

“But, I can’t anymore.” Hao concludes.

There’s footsteps on hardwood floors before it stops–a slight pause then some hushed whispers that Gyuvin wouldn’t be able to decipher no matter how hard he listens, no matter how long he holds his breath for.

He doesn’t know how long that goes on for before the sound of a door creaking open strikes his ear drums. He backs away from the wall and exits his own room, running into Hao in the hallway.

When he faces the man, his eyes are rimmed red and still glossy–fresh tears ready to pool over. Hao wipes his face quickly and puts on his best smile at the sight of Gyuvin.

“I’ll see you around, Gyuvin.” Hao says, voice small and quiet. He leaves before Gyuvin has the chance to utter a farewell back.

He watches as Hao’s figure disappears down the staircase before venturing into Hanbin’s room, knocking on the door as he allows himself in.

His older brother is sitting at the end of his bed, head in his hands–clearly in distress. He shuffles across the room, approaching Hanbin slowly before sitting next to him on the bed.

“Are you okay?” He asks. When Hanbin removes his hands from his face, he too, has red around his eyes. “Did you and Hao fight?”

Hanbin smiles, patting the back of Gyuvin’s head with all the fondness in his fingertips. So kind even when faced with sorrow.

“No–No, I’m okay. Hao and I, we’re okay, we’ll be fine.” Hanbin softly reassures. His hand ventures down to Gyuvin’s shoulder, giving a light squeeze there before pulling Gyuvin in closer. “We’ll be fine.” He repeats, as if trying to convince himself.

There’s silence between the two of them, Gyuvin’s head now rests on his older brother’s shoulder–affection that he hasn’t experienced from his older brother in what feels like forever. Though there will always be this unspoken, unconditional sibling bond that not just the two of them–but the three of them–have yet to recognize, to discover. The bond they have simply because they are brothers.

“Gyuvin, I’m running away.” Hanbin squeaks, barely audible if it weren’t for Gyuvin constantly listening. “I’m running away with Hao. I–I have to.”

It’s funny. Running away from home is so closely tied to adolescence. Hanbin–being in his thirties–running away almost seems childish, unaccepted. But it just proves that Hanbin is still a child at heart. The youth that was experienced before, it never left, it was forgotten but was always there.

Though now, he knows that when Hao said he’d see him around, it’s because he may never see him again at all.

“My marriage is failing, Gyuvin.” He expresses. If he feels a few tears drop onto his skin, he doesn’t mention it. “You were right. I don’t want this life, I don’t want to be with someone I don’t truly love.”

Hanbin sniffles, reaching up a hand to wipe away his pitiful tears. “I–I love Hao unconditionally, and there’s nothing I can do about it other than accept it.”

Gyuvin watches as Hanbin develops into this human who’s aware of the fact that he is capable of following his heart. He watches as Hanbin comes to terms with his fate, acts in a way that is so foreign to him yet will realize it feels so right.

“If I don’t I not only hurt Hao, but myself.” He states, rightfully so. “I don’t want to live my life with regrets.”

(“You know something, don’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You know what happened to Hanbin, why won’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know what happened to Hanbin.”

“I hate you, Gyuvin.”)

When Taerae and Matthew graduate, Taerae’s graduation cap is decorated with the words ‘these moments are not stories’ plastered on top of it and Matthew does an embarrassing dance after he grabs his diploma. The sun beams down on their group of friends as they watch their two seniors finally graduate from the bleachers, now on the road to adulthood filled with frat parties and extensive college lectures.

The now graduated seniors run over to their younger comrades with radiant smiles on their faces, tight hugs being distributed all throughout.

Taerae’s dimples shine through when he kisses Junhyeon’s lips, the younger has tears in his eyes that he’s scared to let fall but Taerae smiles fondly, holds his face so delicately and kisses his eyelashes. Gyuvin looks at Ricky who’s beautiful and sunkissed underneath the sun, and all he can think about is how happy they would be once they graduated. Would they kiss under the beaming star as well?

They pile into Taerae’s cramped car for one of the last few times as the countdown to the next school year creeps up behind them, their last summer spent together before they disperse onto different paths of life.

Taerae, who was just as important to him as Ricky is–who taught him that life is too deep for words, so he mustn't try to describe it, rather he should just live it, Matthew, whose smile shines brighter than the stars and who welcomed him with open arms when he was the equivalent to a baby deer on unsteady legs–are slipping through his fingers as fast as he finally grabbed hold of them and carved them a place into his heart.

The day Taerae packs up his tiny car to move across the country to begin his new story, it’s only been two weeks since graduation. Junhyeon cries to the point of exhaustion, barely able to breathe as he gasps and he sobs and he crumbles. They’re all crying, really–Matthew who’s set to venture off next week as well.

Taerae walks over to Gyuvin, hugs him and leaves a kiss on his temple. A display of affection that is nothing romantic, rather shows a connection between two beings who needed each other without ever realizing it.

Gyuvin smiles through teary eyes, wiping them away pathetically with the back of his hand. Taerae smiles too, as he always is, before slipping an envelope into his hands.

Gyuvin watches as Taerae’s car drives off into the sunset, its silhouette getting smaller and smaller as it drifts off into the distance. He used to believe sunsets were sad as they just faded away into the darkness of the night. But sunsets, they don’t fade, rather they make room for the stars. The light even when the world is dark. Taerae, the relationship–the connection they had with one another, would never fade. It will make room for an even deeper connection when they eventually meet again. His head is aching but his heart is content as he opens the envelope before him.

You are in the prime of your youth and you’ll only be young once. Life, it moves pretty fast, you’ll miss it if you don’t stop and look around once in a while. It reads.

You’ll miss it if you don’t stop and look around once in a while.

Yujin breaks his leg at a summer soccer tournament and he sees Ricky and Gunwook more than is needed, especially now that school is out. They’ve adapted to riding their bikes a lot more now that Taerae is no longer here to drive them around. It took Junhyeon a bit of coaxing to get him out of his house after the initial rut he went through with the absence of his boyfriend. But he eventually came around and he will eventually learn to live without him for the time being.

When he sits besides Ricky in the forest, their knees bump together and their fingers timidly intertwine with one another.

Ricky kisses his cheek. “What’s bothering you?”

With blushy cheeks he looks at Ricky and wonders how someone could know him so well inside and out. He wonders which star he unconsciously wished upon that ultimately led him to Ricky and his divine self. Maybe it wasn’t a star, maybe it was the multiple strings that somehow connected them, built purely from Gyuvin’s own veins. He made it, they are not soulmates bound together from a wish upon a star, rather Gyuvin had created their fate himself. He knitted it and weaved it with his own two hands.

“Hanbin ran away and nobody knows except for me.” He confesses, words slipping past his lips with such ease when faced with Ricky and his perfectly crafted features. “Yujin broke his leg recently and I don’t know why I’m like this, I just am.”

Ricky creases his eyebrows together and Gyuvin reaches up to smooth it out underneath his thumb. Ricky’s face relaxes and his hand goes up to hold Gyuvin’s jaw, his touch lingering across his skin.

“Like what?”

“Weird. Don’t you think I’m weird?”

Ricky smiles and he shows off his new purple bands. The apples of his cheeks raise and the gums that Gyuvin has run his tongue across make a special appearance.

“Yeah, but so what? Everybody’s weird.”

They part from each other with a firm kiss on chapped lips. When Gyuvin turns the doorknob to his house, he walks in and is met with Yujin hobbling on crutches up the steps. Usually, their father would help Yujin up the stairs but their parents aren’t home. Their mother made a comfortable coven upon their living room couch but Yujin’s never liked the couch, he says it’s too scratchy and tough in ways that his soft mattress is not.

When Gyuvin makes his way over to help his younger brother, he gets pushed away with all the strength Yujin could conjure up.

“Get off of me. I don’t need your help,” He spat.

“Yujin, just let me help–”

“I said get off of me!” Yujin bursts, he looks at Gyuvin with such hatred that he’s never seen before. Such hatred that’s directed towards him though Gyuvin taught Yujin how to ride his bike back when they were younger and the sky was brighter, though Yujin still hasn’t told their parents about the blonde boy he shared lips with in the backyard. Is he a monster, or is this just what it means to be a person. A brother.

Being brothers with Yujin is weird. It’s as if he’s his greatest enemy, but God said to love your enemy so instead Gyuvin would choose to try and love himself because Yujin is not his enemy, he’s a dependable friend where it counts. His younger brother constantly drives him up walls and makes him go crazy, he knows exactly how to push his buttons and hurt him–but he could never stand to see his brother hurt. He wishes that Yujin would look at him the same way he did when they were much younger than now, when everything was okay. When he looks at Yujin now, he ponders on the fact that he knew him once. But once is never enough when he mourns what could have been, what will not be, and what he can no longer salvage from their relationship.

The forest is very green around this time of the year where the sun shines bright, peeking in through the leaves and branches as it leaves a kaleidoscopic pattern on the ground beneath him.

When he gets further and further, nearing their tree, he sees Ricky with his knees pulled to his chest and face buried in his bony knees. His shoulders shake and the closer Gyuvin gets he can hear the soft hiccups coming from his lips.

“Are you okay?” He asks when he sits down beside Ricky, concern laced throughout his face.

Ricky startles at the sound of Gyuvin’s voice, when he picks his head up Gyuvin can see his eyes rimmed with red along with the tip of his nose. There’s tear tracks on his cheeks and his eyes hold so many emotions behind the glossy layer on top.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” Ricky squeaks, his voice smaller and quieter than ever. “Can you stay with me?”

Gyuvin puts an arm around Ricky, pulling him in to lean against him as he had no ulterior motive to leave in the first place. If he could, he would want to be in Ricky’s world for the rest of eternity.

Gyuvin, he’s not good at giving comfort–verbally at least. But the thought of leaving Ricky here, his toothy smile Ricky, who has tears in his beautiful–round brown eyes, pains his heart.

“Ricky, I hope you know that you deserve the world, and then some.” He says. He doesn’t pry, doesn’t want to ask why Ricky is crying as to him it doesn’t matter. Whatever it is, it evokes such soul sucking emotion out of him and that’s enough for Gyuvin to know. “It’s okay to cry and it’s okay not to be okay, because I’m here. Always.”

Ricky smiles and sniffles before wiping at his tears as he unknowingly leans into the comfort of Gyuvin’s lanky arms. “Thank you.”

“Sorry. I’m not good at comforting people.”

Ricky laughs and the sun shines a bit brighter.

He doesn’t see Ricky for a week after that. He doesn’t see him in the forest, doesn’t hear the sound of a rock hitting his window in the middle of the night, and hasn’t kissed him in what feels like years.

Gyuvin has the sudden urge to go right to the neighboring house and knock upon the door of the white bricked house but everytime he glances over it seems so empty with no cars in the driveway. He reaches out to Gunwook and to Junhyeon but they don’t give him much insight. Rather guilty looks and wandering eyes whenever he utters Ricky’s name.

One night, when he’s on the floor of Gunwook’s room he finally bursts. Bringing out the ugliness that was truly always there from within.

“What’s going on with Ricky? Does everybody know something that I don’t?” He says, voice raising with heat coiling in the pit of his stomach. “Everytime I mention Ricky, you and Junhyeon go silent, what the fuck happened to him?”

Gunwook looks at Gyuvin guiltily again. The Pokemon cards in his hands slip through his fingers and he bites his bottom lip, it bleeds.

“See, that’s the exact look! Why won’t anybody tell me anything?” Gyuvin yells. He knows Gunwook doesn't like yelling, knows that's what makes him most vulnerable. It’s a sick, sick thing–yet he uses it for his own advantage.

“Gyuvin–” Gunwooks voice is tiny and quiet, his eyes can't even stand to meet Gyuvin’s own that are spiked with fury, “His mom died.”

The room was silent, his loud booming voice no longer echoing within Gunwook’s sanctuary. His head starts to spin. When Ricky was crying in the forest, was it because of that?

“Why–Why wouldn't he tell me?” Gyuvin whispers, his heart is beating out of his chest. His heart is aching for Ricky. For the tiny little boy who was crying in the forest because he lost a piece of himself. “Why? Why didn't he say anything?”

Gunwook inches closer to Gyuvin, his hands reaching out to hold onto the older’s shoulders. “Gyuvin–Gyuvin, he’s going back to Shanghai—”

His eyes go wider than before. His head feels like it’s underwater and he can’t breathe. He can’t fucking breathe and there’s saltwater filling up in his lungs, he feels like he’s about to die.

“No–No, why didn’t he–where is he?” He hyperventilates, lifting himself off of Gunwook’s floor as the younger tries to calm him down and ground him. Trying to negotiate with him and get him to breathe before he loses not only his mind, but his soul.

Gunwook is strong, especially for his age, but Gyuvin is stronger when he’s not in his right mind. He shoves Gunwook’s hands off of him, sprinting out of the younger’s house and running. He keeps running even when his legs burn because the burn is worth it when his destination is the only boy his entire being desires.

When he sees the familiar white bricked-house, he pumps his legs harder even when there’s sweat dripping down his temples mixing in with the tears that unconsciously fell from his eyes while he ran.

He bangs both of his fists on the front door before wiping away at his tears and the sweat pathetically and frantically with the back of his hands. He can barely stand still, jitters spreading all throughout his body.

The door swings open and he’s met with Ricky’s sister whom he’s only seen in passing. Her black hair covers his face like a sorrow shadow, her eyes dull and tired.

“Can I help you?” She asks, voice quiet but Gyuvin barges in without a second thought. He pushes past her and navigates through the house in which he’s never been in before. The furniture he remembers seeing last year is scattered all throughout the house, there’s boxes in the living room and spilling out into the hallways.

Gyuvin pays no mind to Ricky’s younger sister yelling out at him as he opens any door he sees, hoping to find his Ricky from behind it. He twists open the doorknob to the room at the end of the hallway, bulldozing his way into the room where he sees Ricky laying on his bed under a heap of blankets. His back is facing the door, not aware of Gyuvin’s presence.

“Why–Why wouldn’t you tell me?” He starts off, catching his breath. He sees the way Ricky’s body tenses, though not making any effort to turn around and face Gyuvin.

He can’t help the fury that’s pooling in his stomach, stomping over to Ricky’s bed and pulling the piles of blankets off of Ricky’s body. “Look at me!” He shouts. He’s desperate, chest aching and mind racing as he watches Ricky curl up into himself. “When were you going to tell me you were leaving? Why didn’t you say anything?”

He hears quiet and fragile whimpers coming from Ricky’s frail body. There’s tears pooling in Gyuvin’s own eyes which he presses the heels of his palms into to prevent them from falling.

“I could’ve been there for you–” Gyuvin’s voice cracks in the middle of his sentence and Ricky heaves a deep breath. “I could’ve kept you company and helped you–I could’ve made sure you weren’t alone and suffering.”

The only sounds echoing off of Ricky’s baby blue walls were the blonde’s muffled sobs. No one said anything for a moment, and then two until the heat coiling in Gyuvin’s stomach unraveled.

“Answer me! How could you leave me in the dust, utterly clueless!” His voice reaches decibels he wasn’t aware they could reach and his tears are out of control as they flow down his cheeks. “Do–Do you really have to go back?”

Ricky hoists himself up from his bed seemingly with all of the strength he has left in him. There’s only a bed separating the two of them but it feels like they’re oceans away from each other.

“My mom just fucking died, Gyuvin. What more could you possibly want from me?” Ricky bawls, the first words he’s uttered today. His face is red, along with his eyes, cheeks stained with tears and he looks so different from the radiating boy that Gyuvin has always known. Ricky, who he has always depicted as a shining sun, shows Gyuvin that the sun also burns.

“I can’t–we can’t stay here.” Ricky’s voice gets quieter, more timid, as he caves into himself. “We can’t bury her in soil that’s not her homeland. It’s just not right.”

Gyuvin swallows a harsh bundle of spit, salty at the taste with his tears mixed in that seeped through the corners of his mouth. He wants to reach out and grab hold of Ricky like he was so easily able to in the past, but Ricky–he feels so far away, so detached from the connection they fortified over the past year. This side of Ricky, the one that’s timid, the one that’s suffering and suffocating in his own despair isn’t who Ricky truly is. Gyuvin knows. He knows that Ricky isn’t capable of such dejection and misery because he’s only ever seen the bright side, that’s the only thing he knows and accepts in terms of Ricky’s being.

“But you’ll come back, right?” Rick visibly deflates, his shoulders and arms staying limp as he drops his chin against his chest. “After her service? You’ll come back?”

A tear slips out of the corner of Ricky’s eyes and Gyuvin mirrors him. There’s a vine of thorns clutching onto his beating heart, his heart that pulses because of Ricky. The thorns pierce through the membrane surrounding his heart, causing him to bleed out–bleed out his love he has for Ricky.

“I’m sorry, Gyuvin. I can’t continue living here,” Ricky declares. His voice is seemingly too content with his decision to leave Gyuvin forever and it itches him in every wrong way. “This–this isn’t home for me and I’m sorry.”

This isn’t home for me. It rings out through Gyuvin’s eardrums like a mantra. He bounds around Ricky’s bed, his mind muddled and in a complete frenzy as he grabs hold of Ricky’s shoulders. There’s tears pelting from his eyes and he’s out of control.

“But what about me? What will I do?” Gyuvin shrieks, eyes wide and bloodshot red. ”Is home not anywhere with me? Why wouldn’t you stay for me?”

Ricky’s own eyes are wide with shock from Gyuvin’s erratic behavior and outburst. The tip of his nose is red and his eyes well up with tears again at the younger’s absurd words. Ricky grabs hold of Gyuvin’s wrists, promptly shoving him off and establishing distance between them.

“You’re–you’re so fucking selfish, Kim Gyuvin!” Ricky yells and it echoes off of his walls, probably heard from Gyuvin’s own house and into the backyard. “Not everything revolves around you! My mom just passed away and you expect me to cater to your selfish fucking needs?”

Ricky’s chest heaves and he looks at Gyuvin in bewilderment. Gyuvin has never seen the blonde in such a craze, he’s never seen Ricky so unrestrained when he’s usually in such a semblance of order.

“Everyday I would refuse to stay at home in this suffocating house that felt more like a sterilized hospital than a home.” Ricky sobs helplessly, his mouth turned into a permanent frown as he digs his hands into his eyes to stop his tears from toppling over his waterline. “I refused to be with my mother. Even though I knew she was sick and was going to die.”

The saliva that Gyuvin swallows gets lodged in his throat, nearly choking on it as he looks at Ricky and his face full of pure misery.

“I know first hand what it feels like to be selfish and look where it got me, Gyuvin.”

Ricky dejects, sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands. Muffled sobs come out, tears pooling in the palms of his hands and Gyuvin’s heart cracks once, then twice.

He opens his mouth to say something–anything–but it never comes out. He fears that if he had said what he wanted to say, the trajectory of his life would’ve turned out differently. Gyuvin could spend his whole life, dedicated to sacrificing pieces of his own flesh and his own functioning organs, everything from his soul, and still be considered selfish for even keeping his bones. Ricky was something that was finally constant in his life, something that felt just right, just for him–how could one blame him for wanting Ricky for the rest of eternity, for being selfish.

“Get out, Gyuvin, please.” And he complies solemnly.

When he opens his front door, he’s slightly disappointed at the sight of Gunwook rather than Ricky coming over to tell him that he’s staying and not going back to Shanghai. But Gunwook waltzes in with a guilty smile on his lips and a pack of Nerds Gummy Clusters.

“Did you talk to Ricky?” He asks as they settle on Gyuvin’s carpeted bedroom floor.

He sighs, rips open the packet of candy and pops a few into his mouth like they were percocets that would numb him.

“Yeah, I did.” Gyuvin mutters, pulling out fuzz from his floor and avoiding all means of making eye contact with Gunwook. “It got heated, I think I ruined everything.”

Gunwook frowns sheepishly, hand going to the back of his head. “Spur of the moment.”

Gyuvin scrunches his lips, heaving a deep sigh before laying down on his floor. Gunwook follows and lays beside him. “How did you react when Ricky told you?”

There’s a moment of silence as Gunwook gathers his thoughts. He shifts to lay on his side, head being held up by the palm of his hand, as he towers over Gyuvin. “I understood where he was coming from and accepted it over time, I think.”

Gyuvin furrows his eyebrows together, feeling like he’s the one with an irrational reaction. Was he in the wrong for his uncontrollable outburst he acted upon Ricky?

“But how could you accept the fact that he’s just going to leave and never come back?”

Gunwook sits up now, peering down at Gyuvin with confusion in his eyes as his eyebrows knit together. “His mother died, Gyuvin. He’s not obligated to do anything for you, let alone stay.”

He eyes his popcorn ceilings. There are old glow in the dark stars pasted to his ceiling that no longer shine bright in the night. Hanbin had helped him put them on the ceiling the day before he went back to college.

“I’ve never had someone like Ricky before. I can’t–I won’t let go of something I haven’t had before.” Gyuvin retorts, there’s tears welling in his eyes at the thought of Ricky’s fading silhouette.

Gunwook scoffs and he takes a moment to process his feelings. “Have some empathy, Gyuvin. He’s–Ricky’s not just some artifact for you to possess, he’s a human with real feelings, don’t you know that?”

The younger stands up from the ground, eyes laced with disbelief as he inches closer to Gyuvin’s bedroom door. He raises his hand up to the doorknob before pausing, turning around to face Gyuvin who’s now sitting up.

“Do you think you’re the only one who’s sad about him leaving?” Gunwook questions. “Ricky didn’t mean something to only you. You’re not the only one who liked him.”

Gunwook gulps, cheeks flushing red as he turns back around and grasps the doorknob.

“You had a crush on Ricky?” Gyuvin asks before Gunwook opens the wooden door.

“It was kind of hard not to.”

Gunwook walks out of his bedroom but Gyuvin scrambles up from the ground and bolts after him. He grabs onto his wrist and twists him around. Gunwook looks surprised but he doesn’t flinch away, there’s uncertainty laced throughout his youthful features.

“Wait Gunwook–”

“I resented you because Ricky liked you instead of me.” Gunwook says with a wavering voice. His eyes are glossy and his face is flushed pink from embarrassment. “But I realized that Ricky has a right to control his own emotions no matter how nice I was to him.”

Gunwook deflates, curling in on himself and Gyuvin’s heart crushes at the sight. Tear drops fall against the younger's socked feet as he refuses to lift his head up.

“But he’s not obligated to do anything for me, nor is he obligated to do anything for you.” There’s sniffles coming from Gunwook, so sad and heart wrenching that Gyuvin’s own eyes welled up with tears at the sight of heartbreak splaying out in front of him and he was at the brunt of it all. “I just wasn’t what he wanted, and that’s okay. You’re a good guy, Gyuvin, I understand why he would want you.”

Gyuvin gulps down an exasperated sob, keeping it lodged into his throat at the idea of Ricky choosing him but not Gunwook. He feels bad for making Gunwook experience such heartbreak at the peak of his adolescence. How could Ricky ever want him when Gunwook is so sweet and delicate in all the right ways while Gyuvin was hurtful when it benefited himself.

“Are we still friends?” He manages to gasp out.

Gunwook picks his head up and gives him a sad smile. He wipes at his tears with the back of his hand before nodding. “Of course.”

Two days before Ricky leaves for Shanghai, Gyuvin catches him in the forest. His eyes scan over the expanse of the space they shared together, where they first met, where they’ve shared vulnerability.

“Hey.” Gyuvin calls out softly as to not startle the blonde.

Ricky turns around and he looks different, there’s a different–more radiant air coming from him. A sense of content and acceptance when he looks at Gyuvin.

“How’ve you been?” Gyuvin asks, taking a careful step closer. Ricky doesn’t step away, rather he steps closer too.

“I’ve been better.” His voice is soft and quiet, delicate at the seams. So different from the voice that was once entwined with fury and dissent.

Gyuvin sighs. The wind blows around them, flowing through Ricky’s blonde locks and the thin cardigan that looks like it was from the woman’s clothing section in a store. The birds are tweeting, reminding them that they aren’t truly alone in a perceived world of silence.

“I’m sorry about how I acted the other day.” Gyuvin expresses. “You just seemed so content with the idea of leaving me. So it left me thinking that maybe I wasn’t as important to you as you were to me.”

Ricky reaches his hand out first and Gyuvin meets him in the middle, intertwining their fingers and pulling him in closer until their shoes bump into each other. Ricky’s strawberry vanilla scent mixes in with the wind whirling all around them.

“You’re important to me, Gyuvin. But so was my mother.” Ricky smiles sadly, his eyes already glossing over as he tightens his grip on Gyuvin’s hands. “It’s important to me that I free my mother from her illness even if I won’t be free from the grief of losing the warmth from her arms.”

Gyuvin chokes up, head hanging low as he holds Ricky’s hands with no intent to let go even though he knows he will have to and he knows he’ll have to learn to be okay with that instance even if his heart so badly doesn’t want to. It’ll hurt him, break him in the meantime, but he must.

“The world keeps spinning, with or without us.” Ricky’s voice cracks and there’s salty tears falling down his cheeks already. “But how could it spin without my mother? How dare the world keep moving?”

Ricky’s in hysterics by the end of it. Gyuvin steps forward, crowding his bubble and engulfs Ricky into a hug. He doesn’t kiss him one last time like the fairytale endings, just a hug–a hug where their hearts overlap with each other and weave through the fibers of their shirts to intertwine with one another for the last time.

“Promise me that you’ll come back.” Gyuvin whispers into the tuft of blonde hair that scratches his face. “Please promise me, even if you have to lie.”

Ricky stutters, his breathing getting shaky as he melts into Gyuvin’s hold.

“I promise.”

They only had a year to be together. It surely wasn’t long enough to do everything he’s ever dreamt of doing with Ricky. Just like the first day Gyuvin saw him, he has to watch him and his family pile their things into the moving van once more–even though he doesn’t go down to say his farewells, he prefers to watch from his bedroom window for old times sake, and even though they never said those three special words to each other, they could see it in their eyes, in the way they touched each other. They knew. When Ricky meets his gaze and a smile dances upon his lips, radiating even in a sullen time, he knows that he loves Ricky and Ricky loves him too.

When Gyuvin was younger and much more naive than he was now, he used to think that he would never lose someone if he were to photograph them enough with the camera he was gifted during elementary school. But the pictures he took, the videos he cherished, showed just how much he really lost. All of the videos he silently took of Ricky would turn into memories; the world feels a little emptier without him. He should’ve taken more photos and videos when he had the chance, should’ve kissed him one last time or smelt his blonde hair whenever he could.

When he goes back to the woods behind their houses, he gets this eerie, ineffable feeling of emptiness and pure silence when it was once lively and full of joy. The wind whistles uncannily as he steps over twigs and piles of fallen leaves to their tree. There waiting for him on a patch of dirt, is an envelope signed in Ricky’s squiggly handwriting.

He crouches down, dusts the dirt off of the envelope before leaning back against the trunk of the tree as he diligently rips open the piece of paper, pulling out a folded up letter.

Just because I may not call or text or even come back, doesn’t mean I won’t miss you. I think I always will. I want you to miss me too. The door to my heart isn’t locked, not for you it isn’t. It’s just closed, waiting for you to knock. I promise I’ll answer. Just knock.

He clutches the letter close to his chest as he caves in on himself. Faint tear drops soak the paper and soil beneath him but even throughout the sorrow he can’t help but smile. People will live and learn and say the wrong things at times but you will still be loved despite it all.

When the next school year rolls around, he sits on the bus ride home with his backpack occupying the seat beside him rather than a familiar, lovely Chinese boy. He gets off at the specific corner of their neighborhood and walks the few blocks down the street alone to the blue house next to the white bricked one that no one resides in any longer. When he opens the door to his house, he takes a deep breath–breathing in oxygen and letting out carbon dioxide for the plants–he wishes that maybe Ricky would’ve stayed, but that’s just the way things go.

Now, he must face the harsh realities. Everybody leaves. His parents will eventually pass away, Hanbin may never come back, Yujin will go off to college and forget about his fuck-up of an older brother, Ricky is already gone and they may lose contact. Gyuvin himself will pass away as well. Nobody will truly stay in his life forever, not even himself.

But what a pessimistic mindset to believe that everybody leaves. If someone loves something then they must learn to let it go. Even if Ricky was more than just something–even if Ricky was everything.

When he glances up at the sky, he catches sight of an airplane flying overhead. Somewhere in his heart he wishes for it to be Ricky finally returning back home into his arms, he knows the outcome is unlikely, unruly for him to even begin to imagine.

Eventually, Gyuvin will accept the fact that people leave and it’s okay. Nothing lasts forever. But he had it at one point. That’s what matters most–he had it at one point.