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Some days are bad. And then there are days like this—where Yushi finds out that Donghyuck, his best friend’s infuriatingly attractive older brother, the one he's had a pathetic, soul-consuming, tragic-level crush on since he was thirteen—has a boyfriend.
A real, actual boyfriend. Not a rumor. Not a misunderstanding. A fact.
Yushi sits in the corner booth of their favorite diner in town, staring blankly at his untouched plate of fries. Across from him, Riku is demolishing a milkshake like he hasn’t just witnessed Yushi’s soul leave his body.
"Are you okay?" Riku asks, shoving another handful of fries into his mouth.
Yushi grips the edge of the table. "I think I’m gonna throw up."
Riku frowns. "Because of the milkshake? I told you not to chug it. You always do this."
Yushi lifts his head just enough to glare at him. "No. Because of your brother."
For a second, Riku just looks at him, completely unbothered. "What did he do this time?"
Yushi swallows hard, like he’s about to say something life-changing—which, in a way, he is. "He. Has. A. Boyfriend."
There’s a pause. Then Riku bursts out laughing—loud, obnoxious, and thoroughly unsympathetic.
Yushi stares at him, betrayed. "This is a hate crime."
"I just—" Riku wheezes, wiping tears from his eyes. "You look like a Victorian child who just got told Christmas was canceled."
"Christmas is canceled," Yushi exclaims, dramatic and deadly serious. "All happiness is canceled. My life is canceled.”
"Okay, okay," Riku says, finally calming down. He reaches over to steal a fry off Yushi’s plate, unfazed by the way Yushi glares at him like a man who has lost everything. "Who told you?"
"Donghyuck hyung," Yushi groans, slumping against the booth. "I was waiting for you at your place earlier and he just walked in and said, ‘Hey, Yushi, can you help me with something? My boyfriend left his hoodie here, and I don’t know where I put it.’ His boyfriend, Riku. He just said it like it was normal. Like it wasn’t the most catastrophic thing that has ever happened to me."
Riku watches him, the teasing edge in his eyes softening just slightly. "Damn. You really liked him, huh?"
"I love him," Yushi says.
Riku snorts. "You do not love him."
"I do. And now I have to die."
"You’re not dying," Riku says flatly. "We’re gonna go back to my house, you’re gonna put on my ugliest hoodie, and we’re gonna watch a terrible movie until you forget my brother exists."
It’s an objectively terrible plan. But still, when Riku tugs him out of the diner and down the street, Yushi follows—because if he’s going to be miserable, he might as well be miserable with snacks.
By the time they reach Riku’s house, Yushi is slouching like a man carrying the weight of the world.
Riku, meanwhile, is annoyingly normal, unlocking the front door like this is just another Wednesday and not the day Yushi’s heart was ruthlessly crushed by the love of his life.
“You’re being dramatic,” Riku says as he kicks off his shoes.
“I’m grieving,” Yushi corrects, flopping face-first onto the couch. “Show some respect.”
Riku snorts, disappearing into his room for a second before returning with what can only be described as an offense to the textile industry. He tosses it at Yushi’s head.
Yushi peels the hoodie off his face and holds it up with two fingers, like it might be contagious. It’s oversized, probably from when Riku was in his I’ll-wear-nothing-but-hoodies-three-sizes-too-big phase, and it’s an unfortunate shade of neon green with BORN TO MAKE HISTORY printed in Comic Sans across the front.
“…What the hell is this?” Yushi asks, horrified.
“The Hoodie of Shame,” Riku says solemnly. “Every time one of us makes a terrible life decision, we wear it. You had a crush on my brother for five years and ignored all the red flags. You’ve earned this.”
Yushi glares at him but still shoves the hoodie over his head. It smells like detergent and something distinctly Riku—fresh, warm, a little like citrus. It’s not the worst thing to exist in the world.
Riku then flops down next to him and grabs the remote. “Okay. Movie options: something terrible so we can make fun of it, or something sad so you can cry about something other than my brother?”
Yushi groans. “Both.”
Riku smirks. “Perfect. The Notebook it is.”
Yushi lets out a dramatic wail as Riku hits play.
For a while, everything was normal. Yushi lets himself sink into the mindless comfort of bad cinema and junk food, and Riku, as always, is just there—annoying but steady, teasing but kind. It’s easy. Familiar.
And then Yushi makes a mistake.
It’s late. The credits are rolling, and Yushi is drowsy, his head resting against the couch. Riku is next to him, close enough that their shoulders are touching. He’s watching Yushi, something unreadable in his gaze.
"You okay?" Riku asks, quieter than before.
Yushi isn’t sure what possesses him. Maybe it’s exhaustion. Maybe it’s the sugar crash. Maybe it’s the fact that for the first time in hours, he isn’t thinking about Donghyuck. He’s thinking about Riku, who has spent the whole night distracting him, keeping him from falling apart.
And then Yushi kisses him.
It’s quick—just a press of lips, soft, warm, barely a second long. But the moment Yushi pulls back, he realizes his mistake.
Riku is staring at him, wide-eyed. The TV hums in the background. The world holds its breath.
“What—” Riku starts, but Yushi is already scrambling off the couch, heart pounding.
“I— That—” Yushi stammers, pointing at his own face like he’s trying to file a complaint against himself. “T-that wasn’t supposed to happen…”
“No kidding.”
“I gotta go.”
“Yushi—”
But Yushi is already out the door, Hoodie of Shame still on, running into the night like a man fleeing a crime scene.
Yushi has experienced many things in his short but unfortunate life—public embarrassment, test failures, the betrayal of biting into a chocolate chip cookie only to discover it was actually raisin.
But nothing, nothing, compares to the sheer, unrelenting horror of realizing he kissed his best friend.
Riku.
His best friend.
Who, if Yushi is being completely honest with himself, has been the most important person in his life for years.
And now? Now, he’s ruined everything.
Which is why he does the only logical thing.
He avoids Riku like his life depends on it.
“Dude,” Riku deadpans, standing outside the bathroom stall Yushi has been hiding in for the past five minutes. “Are you serious?”
“I’m busy,” Yushi calls weakly.
“Doing what? Reevaluating your entire existence?”
“Yes, actually.”
Riku groans. “Oh my god. Yushi, come out .”
“Can’t,” Yushi says. “I live here now.”
“Are you kidding me? You kissed me and you’re the one acting like a victim?”
“Yes,” Yushi says immediately. “That’s exactly what’s happening.”
A beat of silence. Then, Riku sighs, and Yushi hears him take a step back. “Fine. If you’re not gonna talk to me, I’ll just leave.”
Then there’s a pause, and for a second, Yushi thinks he’s safe.
Until—
“Oh, hey, Donghyuck hyung,” Riku says loudly.
Yushi almost falls off the toilet seat. “YOU WOULDN’T.”
Riku hums. “Hyung, wanna hear something funny? Yushi’s hiding in a bathroom stall because—”
Yushi throws the door open. “SHUT UP!”
Riku grins triumphantly. Donghyuck is nowhere to be seen.
“You liar—”
“Had to be done,” Riku says, shrugging. “Now come on, let’s talk.”
Yushi huffs, crossing his arms. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
Riku gives him a flat look. “You kissed me, ran out of my house, and then spent the next three days pretending as if you don't know me at all. So yeah, I think we need to talk.”
Yushi shifts uncomfortably. “It was a mistake.”
Something flickers across Riku’s face—too quick for Yushi to decipher. “Right,” he says. “A mistake.”
“Yeah.” Yushi forces a laugh. “You know me. I’m an idiot .”
Riku’s lips press together. “Right.”
Yushi expects him to tease him, to make fun of him, to laugh it off and let things go back to normal.
But he doesn’t.
Instead, he just looks at Yushi for a long, unreadable moment before turning on his heel and walking away.
And for some reason, that makes Yushi feel worse.
Yushi has never been great at self-reflection.
He’s good at avoiding things. At making jokes when things get too real. At convincing himself that his problems aren’t actually problems if he just refuses to acknowledge them long enough.
But he can’t ignore this.
Not when Riku is actually avoiding him.
At first, Yushi pretends it’s fine. He tells himself it doesn’t matter, that Riku will get over it, that things will go back to normal soon.
But days pass, and Riku doesn’t text him first. Doesn’t wait for him after school. Doesn’t call him an idiot in the affectionate way that makes Yushi feel like he belongs somewhere.
And that’s when it starts to sink in.
He misses him.
Not in the casual way he thought—like missing a routine or his favorite song. No, this feels different. He misses Riku in a way that makes his chest feel hollow, in a way that makes him look for him in a crowd, in a way that makes every joke feel less funny because Riku isn’t there to roll his eyes and laugh anyway.
And that’s when the panic sets in.
Because suddenly, he starts thinking. Really thinking.
About all the times he told himself he liked Donghyuck.
About how he convinced himself that the butterflies in his stomach were for Riku’s brother and not Riku himself.
And the more he thinks about it, the more it doesn’t make sense.
Because if he really liked Donghyuck, shouldn’t he still be heartbroken? Shouldn’t he still be lying on Riku’s couch in the Hoodie of Shame, mourning his one true love?
But he isn’t.
Because somewhere along the way, the heartbreak over Donghyuck stopped mattering.
Somewhere along the way, the ache in his chest became less about Riku’s brother and more about Riku himself.
It hits him one evening when he’s at the grocery store with his mom.
He sees a jar of Riku’s favorite peanut butter and immediately reaches for it before stopping himself, fingers hovering over the lid.
And then it clicks.
All this time—every little thing, every stupid thought—has always been about Riku.
Not Donghyuck. Never Donghyuck.
Donghyuck was just an excuse.
Because Donghyuck was like Riku in a lot of ways—sharp-tongued and confident, playful but kind. Donghyuck was just similar enough that it let Yushi lie to himself, let him take all the feelings he didn’t want to acknowledge and pin them on the wrong person.
Because liking Donghyuck was safe.
Liking Riku?
That was terrifying.
And now, standing in the middle of the peanut butter aisle, Yushi realizes the truth.
He has always, always liked Riku.
And he is absolutely screwed.
The problem with realizations is that they don’t fix anything.
Yushi knows this because, after his peanut butter aisle epiphany, absolutely nothing changes.
Except, of course, everything does.
Because now, every time he sees Riku—every time he catches him laughing at something someone else said, every time he watches him toss a basketball effortlessly into a hoop, every time he catches a glimpse of him across the school hallway—it hurts.
Not just because Riku is still avoiding him, but because Yushi gets it now.
He gets why he always ended up next to Riku at every party.
Why he always looked for him first in a crowded room.
Why he spent years being stupidly, irrationally jealous of Riku’s exes but convinced himself it was just because no one was good enough for him.
Why he latched onto Donghyuck so hard—because Donghyuck was a distraction , a way to keep himself from realizing the truth that was staring him in the face.
The truth that he’s been in love with Riku for a long time.
And now that he knows, he has no idea what to do about it.
It’s the little things that get to him.
Like how his phone feels wrong without Riku’s name lighting up the screen every few hours.
Like how his after-school routine feels off without Riku waiting for him by the bike racks, calling him an idiot for taking so long.
Like how the seat next to him at the diner— their seat—stays empty.
And what makes it worse is that Riku isn’t even being mean. He isn’t glaring at Yushi in the hallways or pushing him into lockers or making dramatic proclamations about their ruined friendship.
He’s just distant.
He’s fine. Happy, even. He talks to other people, laughs at their jokes, and lives his life like Yushi isn’t missing from it.
And Yushi hates it.
One night, he lies on his bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out when it happened.
When did Riku go from “my best friend who I would die for (but in a normal, platonic way, obviously)” to “the person I want more than anything but can’t have because, well, he's my best friend”?
And the worst part?
Riku probably doesn’t even care anymore.
Yushi told him the kiss was a mistake. That it didn’t mean anything.
And Riku believed him.
Because why wouldn’t he?
It’s not like Yushi ever gave him a reason not to.
A few days later, Yushi walks into the diner and sees Riku sitting in their booth—but he isn’t alone.
There’s a guy across from him. Someone Yushi vaguely recognizes from school, tall and good-looking and definitely flirting.
And Riku is smiling.
Something sharp twists in Yushi’s chest.
He has no right to feel like this. He knows that.
But that doesn’t stop him from gripping the edge of the counter a little too hard, stomach churning.
Because maybe, just maybe—he’s a little too late.
Yushi has never been accused of having self-preservation skills.
This is an important fact to remember.
Because if he did have any self-preservation skills, he wouldn’t be doing this.
He wouldn’t be deciding, with absolutely zero planning, that he’s going to win Riku back.
(Back? Was Riku ever his? No. But let’s not get caught up in the details.)
What matters is that he’s doing something.
Unfortunately, the problem with acting on impulse is that it requires a follow-up plan.
And Yushi?
He doesn’t have one.
It starts when he “accidentally” shows up at Riku’s basketball practice.
“Oh wow,” Yushi announces, standing just outside the court. “What a crazy coincidence! I had no idea you’d be here.”
Riku, sweaty and unimpressed, stops dribbling. “It’s my team’s practice.”
“Yes, but who really checks schedules?” Yushi says, leaning against the bleachers in what he hopes is a cool and mysterious way.
It is not.
Instead, his foot slips, and he nearly face-plants into a bag of someone’s sweaty gym clothes.
Riku stares at him, expression unreadable. Then, with zero fanfare, he turns back to practice.
Yushi, still recovering from the near-death experience, watches as Riku makes a perfect three-pointer without so much as a glance in his direction.
When direct confrontation doesn’t work, Yushi turns to the next best thing: dramatic gestures that require minimal interaction.
Which is why, during a lull between classes, he marches up to Riku’s locker and slaps a sticky note onto it.
It says, in all caps:
HI. I THINK WE SHOULD BE FRIENDS AGAIN BECAUSE I MISS YOU BUT ALSO I MIGHT LIKE YOU BUT I’M STILL FIGURING THAT OUT SO LET’S JUST START WITH FRIENDSHIP OK COOL TEXT ME.
Then he runs.
Like a coward.
Like a pathetic coward.
And Riku does not text him.
After two failed attempts, Yushi reaches a dangerous state of desperation.
So he does something no sane person would do.
He steals a microphone.
It happens at the school’s pep rally. The gym is packed, the cheerleaders are mid-routine, and Riku is sitting in the crowd, looking effortlessly cool despite wearing their hideous school colors.
Yushi doesn’t think—he acts.
He sneaks behind the AV table, grabs the microphone the announcer left unattended (rookie mistake), and clears his throat.
The gym goes silent.
Riku’s head snaps toward him immediately, eyes wide with a very clear oh god what now expression.
Yushi swallows. Then, into the mic, he says:
“Hi, Riku-chan. It’s me. Your favorite person.”
A collective gasp ripples through the crowd.
Yushi soldiers on.
“So, funny thing. I think we should be friends again. Actually, no, that’s a lie. I think I might like you, which is even funnier because, for the longest time, I thought I liked your brother, but actually, it was just a deeply embarrassing case of emotional misdirection—”
Someone tries to take the mic from him. Yushi dodges.
“What I’m trying to say is,” he continues, a little breathless, “I miss you, and I’m sorry I was an idiot, and if you don’t want to talk to me, that’s fine, but I just—” He exhales. “I just needed you to know.”
Silence.
Then—someone finally yanks the mic from his hands.
A cheerleader looks at him like she’s debating whether or not to put him off the stage.
Yushi doesn’t care.
Because Riku is staring at him, really staring, lips parted in shock.
And— oh no.
He’s smiling.
Not his usual teasing smirk, not his unimpressed you’re an idiot look.
A real smile. Warm, soft, his cute dimples showing. The kind of smile that makes Yushi’s stomach flip.
And that’s when he knows—he might actually still have a chance.
But of course, he has to survive the aftermath first.
Riku stalks toward him after the rally.
“You idiot,” he hisses, grabbing Yushi by the wrist and dragging him outside, away from the crowd.
“Bold of you to assume I have any shame left,” Yushi says, grinning, despite the fact that his heart is pounding.
Riku stops walking.
Turns to him.
And before Yushi can say anything else—before he can make another dumb joke or try to backtrack—Riku grabs his hoodie, yanks him forward, and kisses him.
Right there.
In front of the entire school.
Yushi’s brain short-circuits.
It takes him a second to realize what’s happening—to register the fact that Riku is kissing him back.
And then, just as quickly as it started, Riku pulls away, eyes locked onto Yushi’s like he’s daring him to say something.
“Was that clear enough for you?” Riku asks, voice low.
Yushi, still short-circuiting, blinks at him.
Then, with the eloquence of a scholar, he says:
“Huh.”
Riku groans. “Oh my god.”
Yushi grabs him before he can move away. “Wait, wait—do it again.”
Riku rolls his eyes but doesn’t resist when Yushi tugs him forward and kisses him again.
And this time, neither of them runs away.
Two days later, Yushi finds himself back on Riku’s couch, again wearing the Hoodie of Shame.
The only difference?
Riku is sitting next to him, arm slung around Yushi’s shoulders, looking at him like he’s something stupidly important.
Then Donghyuck walks in, sees them, and immediately groans. “Oh, finally.”
Yushi frowns. “Wait, what do you mean finally?”
Riku smirks. “Oh, yeah. Everyone already knew you liked me.”
Yushi sits up. “What?!”
Donghyuck throws a piece of popcorn at him. “Dude. You followed him around for years. We were all just waiting for your brain to catch up.”
Yushi turns to Riku. “Did you know?”
Riku shrugs. “I had a hunch...”
Yushi stares at them, then buries his face in his hands. “I hate all of you.”
Riku leans down, lips brushing his ear. “Yeah, yeah. You love me.”
Yushi groans.
Unfortunately, he really does.