Work Text:
The brush glided across the canvas in smooth, deliberate strokes, each movement carrying a piece of Ricky’s heart. Deep blue swirled into lighter shades, blending seamlessly into a rolling, endless sky. He dipped his brush into the paint again, layering soft yellows and whites, each touch of color bringing the stars to life—vivid, luminous orbs against the vast expanse of night.
He then focused on the cypress tree, its dark form stretching up toward the sky. He used thick, dark green strokes to give it depth, its branches reaching toward the stars, pulling the sky downward with its towering presence. The contrast between the dark tree and the glowing sky made each element stand out, pulling the entire scene together.
The town beneath was quiet and peaceful, with soft lights glowing in the windows of tiny houses. He added just enough detail to make the town feel distant and serene, as if untouched by the turmoil above.
Painting always felt like this—a little bit of him bleeding onto the canvas, emotions spilling into color and movement. It wasn’t just a painting to him. It was memory, emotion, something he could never quite put into words but could capture in colors and motion.
His recreation of The Starry Night was precise yet brimming with feeling, each stroke reflecting something beyond just technique. This was a reminder that even in moments of doubt, there is always light—something to guide him forward, like the stars themselves.
He leans back, tilting his head as he examines his work. The painting is nearly finished, but he hesitates, fingers twitching slightly. There’s always something else to add—another detail, another touch.
A pair of arms loop around his shoulders from behind, a chin resting against his head.
“You’re gonna get lost in there if you keep staring,” Gyuvin teases, voice soft with fondness.
Ricky exhales a quiet laugh, still holding his brush. “I just want it to be perfect.”
Gunwook settles beside them, arms crossed as he observes the painting. “It already is.”
Gyuvin hums in agreement. “But it makes sense. You made it, after all.”
Ricky rolls his eyes, shaking off the warmth creeping up his neck. “You two are terrible at constructive criticism.”
Gunwook nudges him playfully. “We’re just stating facts.”
Ricky lets out a small, contented sigh. “I’ll be showing this to the kids tomorrow. The theme is stars.”
Gyuvin perks up. “Oh? You’re really introducing a bunch of kindergarteners to Van Gogh?”
“Why not?” Ricky shrugs. “Stars are something anyone can admire, no matter how young they are.”
Gunwook watches him quietly before smiling. “Kindergarten, huh? That’s where we met, too.”
Ricky’s gaze softens. “Yeah.”
Gyuvin ruffles Ricky’s hair, grinning. “Bet those kids are gonna be completely mesmerized by you.”
Ricky swats at his hand. “They’re kids, Gyuvin, not a fan club.”
“Give it a week,” Gyuvin jokes. “You’ll have a whole line of them following you around, hanging onto your every word.”
Gunwook chuckles. “Sounds familiar. But not even a week—give it a day.”
Ricky raises an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Gunwook smirks, nudging Gyuvin. “You do remember how obsessed we were with you back then, right?”
Gyuvin groans dramatically. “ Were ? Speak for yourself, Gunwook.”
Ricky sighs, shaking his head as he turns back to his painting. “You two are impossible.”
But despite his exasperation, a small smile lingers on his lips as he suddenly realizes the little detail his painting was missing.
The sun hangs high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the quiet streets Ricky walks through. His bag is slung over one shoulder, heavy with supplies—paint brushes carefully wrapped, tubes of paint secured in small pouches, and thick sheets of paper tucked neatly inside. With every step, he can hear them shift, a quiet reminder of the task ahead.
It wasn’t just a project to him.
Of course, that’s what it was on paper—a required workshop, something to submit for his class. But Ricky had never approached art that way. He couldn’t. Painting wasn’t just an assignment to complete; it was something that lived inside him, something that spilled out in strokes of color and texture.
So when the syllabus called for a simple demonstration, he stayed up late, carefully recreating the painting—not just in technique, but in emotion. He wanted the kids to see it more than just an artwork. He wanted them to feel it.
Now, standing outside the kindergarten, he lets out a quiet breath.
The playground is full of life, children running, their laughter high and unrestrained. Some play tag, feet stomping against the pavement. Others sway on the swings, tiny hands gripping the chains as they kick toward the sky.
It’s a different kindergarten, a different place entirely. Yet something about it tugs at a feeling buried deep in his chest.
His gaze drifts upward, to the vast blue sky stretching endlessly above.
It reminds him of when he was their age, when the world felt just as big, just as bright. When he spent afternoons like these racing across a playground, his hands clasped tightly with Gyuvin’s and Gunwook’s, the three of them running together, laughter spilling into the air.
The thought lingers, warm but fleeting. He exhales softly and shifts the bag higher on his shoulder. Whatever nostalgia lingers in the air, he pushes it aside for now. There’s something else waiting for him inside.
With that, he finally steps through the doors.
The moment Ricky walks in, a wave of silence spreads through the room. It’s not total silence—there’s still the occasional rustling of paper, the faint murmur of whispers—but most of the kids have gone still, their attention fixed on him.
Some stare outright, their gazes wide and unfiltered. A few lean toward each other, whispering in hushed voices.
“Who’s that?”
“A new teacher?”
“He’s too pretty to be a teacher.”
“Maybe he’s a prince.”
Ricky nearly laughs at that last one but holds it in. Instead, he crouches down slightly, making himself level with them, and offers a small, reassuring smile.
"Hello, everyone,” he says, his voice calm and warm. “I’m Ricky, and I’ll be your teacher for today. We’ll be doing some art together.”
Some of the kids repeat his name under their breath, testing how it sounds. Others look at him with a mixture of intrigue and shyness.
“You can call me Ricky-hyung, okay?” he adds.
That gets a reaction. A few of them perk up, the tension in the room easing.
“Ricky-hyung,” they echo, some giggling at how fun it sounds.
Then, one bold child tilts their head and squints at him. “Are you a prince?”
Ricky blinks. “A prince?”
The kid nods seriously. “Because you look like one.”
There’s a beat of silence before another child gasps, eyes widening. “Like in a fairytale!”
The room erupts into laughter, some agreeing, others just amused. Ricky chuckles, shaking his head. “No, I’m not a prince. But I am here to paint with you all today.”
At that, the excitement shifts. Whispers of curiosity spread through the kids, little bodies shifting forward in anticipation.
Ricky claps his hands lightly, drawing the children's attention once more. “Today,” he begins, his voice smooth and steady, “we’re going to be painting stars.”
A few of the kids immediately straighten up in their seats, eyes lighting with curiosity, while others exchange puzzled glances.
“Stars?” one child echoes, tilting their head.
“Like in the sky?” another asks, squinting as if trying to picture it.
Ricky nods. “Exactly. But before we start, let me ask you something.” He leans in slightly, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “Do you know this song?”
Then, he hums the first few notes of Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.
The reaction is instant. Recognition flickers across their faces, and within seconds, the classroom erupts with eager voices.
“Yes!”
“I know that song!”
“My mom sings it to me at night!”
Without missing a beat, Ricky continues, this time singing the lyrics, his voice deep, smooth, and velvety—perfect for a lullaby. It washes over the room like a soft embrace, steady and warm, making the children instinctively quiet down to listen. Some sway gently in their seats, others hum along in hushed tones, as if afraid to overpower the soothing melody.
By the time he reaches the final line—"Like a diamond in the sky"—a few of them giggle, stealing awestruck glances at him.
One particularly enthusiastic kid points at him with both hands. "Your voice is like honey! No—like hot chocolate!"
Ricky chuckles, shaking his head as warmth creeps up his neck. “That’s quite the compliment,” he muses, amused by their creativity, before ruffling the kid’s hair with a fond smile. “You all have such wonderful voices too.”
One child raises their hand, beaming. “Do stars really twinkle like that?”
Ricky nods thoughtfully. “They do. And if you look at the night sky long enough, you’ll see how they shine and swirl, just like a painting.”
Ricky gestures toward the covered easel beside him. “Now, let me show you something special.”
A hushed anticipation spreads through the room. The kids lean forward, their little hands gripping the edges of their chairs.
With a smooth motion, Ricky lifts the cloth.
Gasps fill the air.
The classroom falls silent for a moment as wide-eyed children take in the sight before them. The deep blues and swirling strokes, the golden bursts of stars glowing against the vast night sky—it’s unlike anything they’ve ever seen. The painting seems to move even though it’s still, the colors alive in a way that sparks something unspoken inside them.
“It’s so pretty…” a child whispers in awe.
Another claps their hands together. “It looks like magic!”
Then, one of the bolder kids blurts out, “Just like you, Ricky-hyung!”
Ricky blinks, momentarily caught off guard, before a soft laugh escapes him. A hint of warmth creeps onto his face, but he quickly shakes his head.
“Thank you,” he says, amused but fond. “But I think your paintings will be just as beautiful.”
The children brighten at the thought, excitement buzzing in the air as they eagerly glance at their own blank canvases, ready to begin.
And just like that, the real magic starts.
Ricky rolls up his sleeves, a small smile tugging at his lips as he glances around the room. The children are fidgeting excitedly, their brushes poised over blank canvases, eyes wide with anticipation. He moves to the front, demonstrating with slow, fluid strokes, his voice steady and patient.
"Alright, let’s start with the sky,” he instructs, dipping his brush into a deep blue. He sweeps it across the canvas in gentle, curved motions, layering different shades to create depth. “You can mix blue with a little white to make it softer. If you want a darker night sky, add just a touch of black—but only a tiny bit! Otherwise, it'll swallow up all the stars."
A few of the children nod seriously, their brows furrowed as they attempt to mimic his movements. Some take their time, carefully layering their blues to create a soft gradient. Others opt for more chaotic strokes, smearing paint across the paper with pure, unrestrained energy. One boy dips his entire brush in blue and slaps it onto the page, grinning at the satisfying splatter effect.
Ricky chuckles, watching the variety of techniques unfold around the room.
Next, he moves on to the stars. “Now, let’s make the night sky come alive,” he says, dipping his brush into yellow paint. He demonstrates by dabbing soft, circular bursts of color onto his canvas, blending the edges just enough to make them glow.
Some kids follow suit, creating small glowing orbs that mimic the ones in Starry Night . Others, however, go in a completely different direction.
“Hyung, look!” a little girl calls out, proudly presenting her painting. Ricky kneels beside her and sees that instead of rounded stars, she’s drawn the classic five-pointed ones—carefully sketched out with wobbly lines before filling them in with bright yellow. Around her, several other children are doing the same, their little hands gripping their brushes with intense focus as they try to make the perfect star shape.
Ricky chuckles fondly. “That’s amazing! You’re making them shine just like the stars in fairy tales.”
The girl beams, nodding eagerly. “I like these stars better!”
"That's what makes art special," Ricky says, gently tapping her canvas with his finger. "Everyone sees the world a little differently, and that’s what makes it beautiful.”
A little boy next to her pipes up, pointing at his canvas. “Mine has a shooting star!” He’s dragged his brush in a long, streaky motion across the sky, the yellow mixing slightly with the blue.
Ricky gasps dramatically. “That’s incredible! A shooting star means you can make a wish. Have you made yours yet?”
The boy’s eyes go wide, and he immediately scrunches his face in deep concentration, pressing his hands together in a silent wish before nodding to himself.
Across the room, another child eagerly tugs at Ricky’s sleeve, holding up their painting with both hands. In the center of a wildly painted sky, a massive yellow blob dominates the canvas. "Hyung, look! It’s the biggest star ever!"
Ricky tilts his head, pretending to examine it like an art critic. “That’s amazing! It’s like a supernova.”
The child beams, even if they have no idea what a supernova is. “Supernova?”
Ricky taps their nose lightly, leaving a faint yellow smudge. “It means the star is so big and powerful that it shines the brightest before it bursts into something new.”
The child gasps, staring at their painting in newfound awe. “So it’s a special star?”
“The most special,” Ricky assures, ruffling their hair.
As time passes, Ricky moves from one child to another, kneeling beside them and offering encouragement.
“That’s a great shade of blue!”
“I love how bright your stars look.”
“Oh? You made a purple sky? That’s so cool!”
Each painting is different—some with neatly painted stars, others with wild, vibrant colors that stretch beyond the paper. But each one holds something unique, something personal.
Ricky watches as a child accidentally smears their painting with the back of their hand, their face falling. Before they can pout, he crouches beside them and whispers, “You know, sometimes the best paintings happen by accident.” He dips his own finger in paint and adds a swirl to the smudge, turning it into something new. The child brightens, following his lead.
In that moment, the room is filled with the sound of small voices chatting, laughing, and calling for Ricky-hyung’s attention, their hands covered in paint but their hearts full of excitement.
By the time the workshop comes to an end, the classroom is an absolute mess—but in the best way possible. The tables are covered in stray paint marks, a few brushes have somehow ended up on the floor, and Ricky himself is sporting more paint than he remembers getting on his hands. A streak of blue is smudged across his forearm, and there’s even a dot of yellow on his cheek where a child had accidentally poked him in excitement.
The kids, too, are covered in paint, their little faces glowing with pride as they admire their creations. Some have painted golden orbs scattered across their papers, others have made swirling galaxies, and a few have entire constellations that only exist in their imaginations. Some are neat, some are chaotic—but each one is special.
Ricky takes a step back, surveying the room with quiet fondness. The laughter, the bright colors, the small hands gripping brushes with so much determination—it all fills him with a warmth that settles deep in his chest. He watches as some children excitedly point at their paintings, as others carefully set theirs aside as if handling something precious.
Then, just as he’s about to start cleaning up, a small tug at his sleeve makes him pause.
“Hyung, are you coming back?” a child asks, looking up at him with wide eyes.
Ricky blinks, momentarily caught off guard by the question. But then he smiles, crouching down to their level. “Of course,” he says. “I’ll be back next week for another session.”
A cheer erupts from the children. A few start guessing what they’ll paint next.
“Maybe the ocean!” one suggests.
“Or dinosaurs!” another exclaims, waving their paint-covered hands excitedly.
“Or princesses!” a different child shouts.
“If that’s so,” a voice pipes up thoughtfully, “we could just draw Ricky-hyung.”
Silence falls for a beat before giggles ripple through the group. Ricky blinks, momentarily stunned, then lets out a soft laugh, warmth creeping up his face. “That’s a very flattering idea,” he muses, ruffling the kid’s hair. “But I think you should paint whatever makes you happiest.”
The child nods sagely, then whispers to their friend, “I think drawing Ricky-hyung would make me happy.”
Ricky can only shake his head, amused yet undeniably endeared. “Well, whatever we paint next, make sure to take care of your paintings, okay?”
The kids nod eagerly, some clutching their artwork as if it were the most valuable thing in the world.
As Ricky bids them goodbye, he lingers for just a moment, taking in the scene one last time. The bright, paint-splattered classroom. The voices still buzzing with excitement. The warmth in his chest that feels like something precious, something irreplaceable.
This moment, like his painting, is something he’ll carry with him.
A new memory in strokes of blue and gold.
The sun was beginning to set, casting warm orange and pink hues through the apartment windows as Ricky stepped inside, still smelling faintly of paint and the lingering scent of the kindergarten’s snack time. Gyuvin and Gunwook, sprawled across the couch, immediately perked up at the sound of the door.
“You’re back!” Gyuvin greeted, shifting to sit upright. “How was the art workshop?”
Ricky let out a soft chuckle, toeing off his shoes. “Tiring, but really fun,” he said, walking over to collapse between them. He sighed, tilting his head back against the couch. “The kids are so full of energy. One of them painted their own constellation and named it after me.”
Gunwook snorted. “Makes sense. You’re already a star.”
Gyuvin nodded his head eagerly. “That is absolutely true.”
Ricky shook his head, amused, but there was a quiet fondness in his eyes. He absentmindedly wiped a faint smear of blue paint off his forearm before speaking again.
“You know…” he started, his voice softer now, more thoughtful. “I think I’d love to adopt in the future.”
Silence.
Gyuvin and Gunwook froze on either side of him, their playful expressions wiped clean. Ricky, oblivious, continued.
“Kids are just… I don’t know. There’s something special about them. Watching them paint today, hearing them laugh—I think I’d really like to raise one someday. Maybe more than one.”
More silence.
Ricky finally turned to see why neither of them had responded, only to find them both staring at him with wide eyes, as if he had just said the most life-changing thing in the world.
Then—
“Our Yujin is going to be a big brother,” Gyuvin murmured, almost as if in a trance.
Gunwook, nodding sagely, whispered, “It’s decided.”
Ricky blinked. “What?”
Before he could get an answer, they both lunged at him, tackling him into a hug.
“Ricky,” Gyuvin said, arms wrapped around him, “you can’t just drop something like that and expect us to be normal about it.”
Gunwook, hugging him from the other side, hummed in agreement. “Yeah. You already own our hearts, and now you’re saying you want to be a dad? This is dangerous information.”
Ricky groaned, trying (and failing) to push them off. “I was just making a passing comment—”
“No, no,” Gyuvin interrupted, shaking his head. “This is a pivotal moment in our lives.”
Gunwook hummed in agreement. “We need to start preparing.”
“Preparing?” Ricky echoed, raising a brow.
“For parenthood,” Gunwook said seriously.
Ricky sighed. “I already regret this conversation.”
Gyuvin chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to Ricky’s cheek before finally letting go. “You say that, but we all know you love indulging us.”
Ricky huffed, crossing his arms. “That’s beside the point.”
Gunwook suddenly perked up. “Wait—if we’re talking about parenthood… does that mean we’re finally discussing the logistics of—”
“No.” Ricky shut it down immediately.
Unfortunately, that didn’t stop Gyuvin from gasping dramatically and grabbing his phone.
“Rick, hear us out. We have evidence.”
And just like that, the greatest debate of the century was about to begin.
Gyuvin, still staring at Ricky like he had just solved the mysteries of the universe, suddenly blurted, “Imagine if mpreg was real.”
Ricky exhaled sharply, already exhausted. “It’s not.”
“But what if—” Gyuvin placed a hand on Ricky’s stomach, his voice dropping into a dramatic whisper. “Ricky… what if you’re already pregnant?”
Ricky immediately shoved his hand away. “You’re both insane.”
Gunwook, who had been suspiciously quiet up until now, smirked. “But scientifically speaking…”
Oh, no.
Gunwook sat up straight, adjusting his posture like a man preparing for battle. His fingers laced together, eyes gleaming with the intensity of someone who has, many times, eviscerated his opponents in a high school debate championship. Ricky had seen this look before. It meant one thing:
Gunwook was about to destroy him with facts and logic.
“Alright,” he began, his tone measured and confident. “Let’s talk science.”
Ricky groaned, already regretting every life decision that had led to this moment. “Gunwook—”
Gunwook lifted a hand, silencing him like a professor about to deliver the most profound lecture of his life. “First of all, all human embryos start as female.” He paused for dramatic effect, before delivering the killing blow. “That means—”
Gyuvin, ever the dramatic accomplice, gasped and slammed a hand on the couch. “—that you were destined for mpreg.”
Ricky stared, deadpan. “That is not how that works.”
Gunwook nodded sagely, completely unbothered by Ricky’s lack of faith. “Nature wanted it to happen. Somewhere along the evolutionary line, something changed, but that doesn’t mean it’s impossible.”
Gyuvin clasped his hands together, eyes shimmering like he was witnessing a revelation. “Exactly! And with current medical advancements, uterus transplants have been done. Which means, in theory, a man could carry a baby.”
Ricky buried his face in his hands, already exhausted. “Why are we having this conversation?”
Gyuvin suddenly gasped like he had just solved the world’s greatest mystery. His grip on Gunwook’s arm tightened. “Wait. What about seahorses?!”
Ricky groaned into his palms. “Not this again.”
Gunwook, ever the enabler, sat up straighter. “Male seahorses literally get pregnant. The female deposits the eggs, the male fertilizes and incubates them, and then—”
“—BOOM. Baby seahorses,” Gyuvin finished dramatically, his hands gesturing as if he had just demonstrated the miracle of life itself.
Gunwook nodded solemnly. “They carry and nurture their offspring, much like a certain someone we know.”
Gyuvin turned to Ricky with a strangely tender expression, placing a gentle hand on his stomach. “If you think about it… you could be a seahorse.”
Ricky blinked. “What—”
“A really pretty seahorse,” Gyuvin added sweetly, patting Ricky’s stomach with almost reverent care.
That was it. Ricky grabbed the nearest pillow and smacked him with it.
Gunwook, flipping an imaginary notepad: “Alright, let’s lay it out. First, you have great instincts.”
Gyuvin, nodding sagely, “Second, you’re naturally soft and warm.”
Gunwook, tapping his chin says, “And third, you have the most nurturing energy out of all of us.”
Ricky, already regretting everything, says “What does that have to do with seahorses?!”
Gyuvin tilted his head, voice practically dripping with conviction. “Don’t fight it, Ricky. You were meant to bear our children.”
Gunwook clapped Ricky on the shoulder, his expression completely serious. “We’re in this together.”
Gyuvin exhaled like he had just made a groundbreaking discovery. “This changes everything.”
Gunwook, nodding gravely, “Yujin is going to be a big brother.”
Ricky groaned and threw another pillow at them. “Stop saying that!”
Gyuvin caught it effortlessly, then gently pressed it against Ricky’s stomach. “Shhh. The baby is sleeping.”
Then, suddenly—
Gyuvin gasped, clutching Gunwook’s arm. “Wait. Can you imagine?”
Gunwook blinked. “Imagine what?”
“A tiny Ricky,” Gyuvin breathed. “A little baby Ricky with chubby cheeks, pouty lips, and those same big pretty eyes.”
Gunwook’s eyes widened. “Oh my god. A mini Ricky.”
They both fell into stunned silence, overcome with the sheer perfection of the thought.
Gunwook, ignoring Ricky’s attempts to shove him, suggests, “We should pick a name.”
Gyuvin nodded in agreement. “Something soft. Something pretty. Something… Ricky.”
Gunwook snapped his fingers. “Strawberry.”
Ricky stared. “That’s a fruit.”
“Your favorite,” Gyuvin argued, as if that made it any better.
Gunwook continued, undeterred. “Ruby, because it's your favorite red, and they'd shine just like you.”
Gyuvin leaned in. “Or Rose, because they’d be just as beautiful.”
Gunwook tapped his chin. “Sky. Because, Ricky, you love looking at the sky.”
Gyuvin suddenly gasped. “WAIT. YUJIN JR.”
Ricky lifted his head just to glare at him. “Absolutely not.”
Gunwook nodded solemnly. “Yeah, it doesn’t feel right.”
Ricky sighed in relief.
Gyuvin, after a beat, said, “Yujin the Second.”
Ricky groaned into his hands. “I cannot believe this is happening.”
Gyuvin, whispering dramatically, “I hope we have twins.”
Gunwook gasped. “Triplets.”
Ricky threw another pillow at them. “SHUT UP.” Flopping back onto the couch, he sighed, utterly drained. “I’m not pregnant.”
Gyuvin patted his stomach once more. “Not yet.”
Gunwook, now deep in his research, muttered, “Hold on, I’m looking up the success rate of uterus transplants.”
Ricky bolted upright. “GUNWOOK, STOP.”
Gyuvin beamed, dreamily staring at the ceiling. “The future is bright.”
Ricky groaned into his hands. “Why are you both like this?”
They both leaned in, pressing kisses to his cheeks in unison.
“We love you too, future baby daddy.”
Conclusion: Ricky lost the debate.
(But really, he had already lost the moment he walked through that door.)
Ricky stood up with a sigh, ruffling his hair. “I’m taking a shower. And when I come back, we’re pretending this conversation never happened.”
He disappeared into the bathroom.
Gyuvin and Gunwook sat in silence for approximately two seconds before lunging for their phones.
Group Chat: Lovelicky Squad 💗
Gyuvin : GUYS URGENT!!!
Gunwook : CODE RED. CODE RED.
Gyuvin : RICKY SAID HE WANTS TO ADOPT SOMEDAY
Gunwook : REPEAT. RICKY. WANTS. KIDS.
Taerae : oh no
Hao : oh no
Hanbin : oh no
Jiwoong : oh no
Matthew : oh no
Yujin : …oh?
Gyuvin : OH YES
Gunwook : THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF OUR LIVES!!!
Taerae : i just know you two are losing your minds rn
Hao : how long until you start picking baby names
Gunwook : TOO LATE. WE ALREADY DID.
Gyuvin : GET READY TO MEET STRAWBERRY, RUBY, ROSE, AND SKY
Matthew : why do you sound like you’re naming a kpop group
Gunwook : THIS IS OUR FAMILY WE’RE TALKING ABOUT
Gyuvin : ALSO, YUJIN CONGRATS!!! YOU’RE A BIG BROTHER
Yujin : WAIT WHAT?! WHO DECIDED THIS??
Jiwoong : should i start shopping for baby clothes
Hanbin : honestly, it’d be so cute. ricky would be the best parent
Gunwook : THANK YOU HANBIN. REAL RECOGNIZES REAL.
Gyuvin : BRO IMAGINE A TINY RICKY. HE WOULD BE SO CUTE. WITH HIS CHUBBY CHEEKS AND BIG EYES.
Gunwook : AND HIS POUTY LIPS.
Gyuvin : AND HIS CUTE SMILE WITH HIS LITTLE LAUGH.
Gunwook : WHAT IF THEY RUN TO US WITH TINY ARMS.
Gyuvin : AND CALL US DAD.
Taerae : you two are fully spiraling.
Hao : someone needs to check on them.
Matthew : yujin is about to become a big brother fr.
Yujin : I DID NOT AGREE TO THIS???
Yujin : WHO GAVE ME A SIBLING WITHOUT ASKING ME FIRST???
Gunwook : I’M ACTUALLY TEARING UP
Gyuvin : WE NEED TO PREPARE
Taerae : prepare for what??? HE JUST SAID HE WANTS TO ADOPT. IN THE FUTURE.
Hao : yeah you’re acting like he’s coming home with a baby tomorrow.
Gunwook : HE MIGHT
Gyuvin : THE FUTURE MOVES FAST
Jiwoong : i fear for ricky’s sanity.
Hanbin : i fear for his future children’s sanity.
Matthew : you two are the reason ricky has headaches.
Gunwook : but admit it. he’d be the cutest dad ever.
Gyuvin : THE BEST DAD EVER.
Jiwoong : yeah, we know. just don’t let him hear you say that.
Matthew : he might actually kill you.
Ricky : i’m literally here.
Silence.
Gyuvin : oh.
Gunwook : oh.
Gyuvin : hi ricky :D
Gunwook : done with your shower? come eat. dinner’s ready :D
Ricky : i literally let you two argue earlier about this. we already talked about the names. why are you acting like this is something new?
Gunwook : we’re just excited :(((
Gyuvin : can’t we be excited for our future strawberry ruby rose sky :((
Ricky : stop calling them that.
Gunwook : but we spent so much time deciding :(
Gyuvin : remember when we almost named one after yujin :(
Yujin : HELLO?????
Gunwook : yujin jr. just didn’t feel right :(
Yujin : IT SHOULDN’T HAVE EVEN BEEN AN OPTION!!!
Dinner was unusually quiet. For the first time all evening, Gyuvin and Gunwook weren’t running their mouths about baby names, mpreg, or their questionable Google searches. Ricky, honestly, wasn’t sure if that was better or worse.
He eyed them suspiciously as he poked at his food. “You two are being weird.”
Gyuvin, ever so unconvincing, forced a laugh. “Us? Weird? Nooo.”
Gunwook nodded aggressively. “Completely normal. Totally fine.”
Ricky narrowed his eyes but decided not to question it. Instead, he found himself thinking back to their earlier conversation—the ridiculous debate, the way they had genuinely lit up at the thought of having kids, the way they wouldn’t stop talking about it even hours later.
And maybe… just maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad to let them see him with kids.
Before he could stop himself, he said, “You guys can come visit the kindergarten if you want.”
Silence.
Then—
Gyuvin’s fork clattered to the table. Gunwook nearly choked on his food.
Ricky raised a brow. “Are you okay?”
Gyuvin looked like he had been struck by divine intervention. Gunwook was gripping the table like it was the only thing anchoring him to reality.
“You mean, like… see you with kids?” Gyuvin asked, his voice dangerously unsteady.
Ricky frowned. “Yeah? The kids love visitors.”
Gunwook exhaled sharply.
Gyuvin grabbed Gunwook’s wrist under the table, squeezing tight. They had to go.
No. They were already there.
Ricky sighed, already regretting it. “You don’t have to come if you’re going to be weird about it.”
Gunwook snapped out of it, shaking his head furiously. “No! No, we’ll be normal. So normal.”
“Totally normal,” Gyuvin agreed. “You won’t even notice we’re there.”
Ricky didn’t believe them for a second. But at this point, it was too late to take it back.
“…Fine.”
Gunwook clenched his fists. Gyuvin looked like he might pass out.
Ricky groaned. “Seriously, why are you like this?”
Gunwook leaned in. “Ricky.”
Gyuvin followed, voice thick with emotion. “We’re about to witness history .”
Ricky shoved a spoonful of rice into Gyuvin’s mouth to shut him up.
A week had passed since the infamous mpreg/baby debate, and to Ricky’s relief, Gyuvin and Gunwook had been… relatively civil.
For now.
The two of them were here, standing beside Ricky in the kindergarten classroom, looking way too eager for his liking.
“Ricky-hyung, who are they?” one of the kids asked, eyes wide with curiosity.
“These hyungs are here to help out today,” Ricky explained.
Gunwook crouched down, grinning. “I’m Gunwook! Nice to meet you all.”
Gyuvin followed suit, waving. “And I’m Gyuvin! We’re excited to be here.”
The kids exchanged glances before one of them confidently asked, “Are you Ricky-hyung’s boyfriends?”
Ricky sighed. He should’ve seen that one coming.
Gunwook, completely unbothered, smiled. “Yup! We are.”
Gyuvin ruffled Ricky’s hair, smirking. “You didn’t tell them about us?”
Before Ricky could respond, one of the kids gasped. “Like in fairytales? Like a prince and princess?”
Gunwook looked deeply moved but shook his head with a smile. “Not exactly. But we love Ricky just the same.”
Gyuvin nodded. “Fairytales come in all kinds of stories, don’t they?”
The kids seemed to think about that for a moment before one of them nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! My favorite fairytale has two princes!”
Gunwook grinned. “See? Exactly.”
Ricky sighed, but there was no hiding the slight fondness in his expression. “Okay, moving on. Today’s theme is flowers.”
The classroom buzzed with excitement as Ricky set down a small basket of fresh flowers on the table. Today’s theme was simple but beautiful—flowers.
The children crowded around as he carefully laid them out: lilies, tulips, daisies, sunflowers, and, of course, roses. Each bloom was vibrant, petals soft under curious little fingers. Earlier, they had visited the kindergarten’s small garden, the kids pointing at their favorites with delighted gasps, their enthusiasm infectious.
“Alright, everyone,” Ricky said, voice light with amusement, “before we start painting, tell me—what’s your favorite flower?”
A chorus of voices answered eagerly.
“Mine’s a lily!”
“Mine’s a tulip!”
“Mine’s a daisy!”
Gyuvin and Gunwook listened, just as invested in the conversation as the kids, nodding along as if each answer was the most interesting thing they’d ever heard.
Then, a child looked up at Ricky, eyes bright with curiosity. “Ricky-hyung, what’s your favorite flower?”
Ricky paused, surprised by the question even though the answer had always been obvious. A small, knowing smile played on his lips.
“Roses,” he said simply. “There’s something so lovely about them, don’t you think?”
But even as he spoke, something tugged at the back of his mind—a memory, warm and golden, like the afternoon sun filtering through the leaves.
A different time. A different place.
The garden was bathed in golden afternoon light, the scent of fresh earth and blooming flowers filling the air. A soft breeze rustled through the leaves, stirring the petals of the roses that stood tall in the neatly arranged flower beds. Ricky stood among them, a boy small enough that some of the flowers nearly reached his height. His hands, still tiny and soft, barely managed to hold the bouquet he had picked, fingers wrapped carefully around the delicate stems.
Roses. Deep red, petals velvety under his fingertips. He traced them with a kind of quiet reverence, his lips parting slightly in awe. There was something about them that had always drawn him in—the way they unfurled like whispered secrets, the way they bloomed so boldly without hesitation. No matter how many times he saw them, they never failed to captivate him.
“Roses are so lovely,” he murmured to himself, lost in thought.
It was then that two familiar voices pulled him back to the present.
“Again with the roses?”
Ricky turned just in time to see Gyuvin stepping into the garden, arms crossed, his usual teasing grin in place. But even as he teased, his ears were tinged red, the color creeping down to his neck.
Gunwook followed closely behind, glancing between Ricky and the flowers with mild amusement. “You’re really obsessed, huh?” he said, but his voice held no mockery. If anything, there was something close to admiration in the way he looked at Ricky—like he was seeing something special, something sacred.
They had come over to play, but instead, they found Ricky standing in the middle of the garden, holding the bouquet like it was the most precious thing in the world.
Ricky met their gazes, unwavering. His expression was firm, resolute, as if he had already made up his mind about something important. “Since it’s Valentine’s today,” he declared, stepping closer, “I’m going to give you both my favorite flower.”
Without hesitation, he held out two red roses, one in each hand.
A flower meant to express love—so passionate, so true.
Gyuvin and Gunwook’s hearts beat so loudly it echoed in their ears.
They weren’t expecting this.
“H-Hey—what’s with that?” Gyuvin stammered, blinking rapidly as he stared at the rose being offered to him. His fingers twitched at his sides before he finally reached out, taking it gingerly, like it might burn him. His grip was stiff, awkward, as if he wasn’t sure what to do with it.
Gunwook was quieter, his expression unreadable. But when he took his own rose, his fingers were careful, almost reverent. He turned it slightly in his hands, studying the petals with an intensity that made Ricky tilt his head in curiosity.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then, as if remembering something, Gyuvin and Gunwook exchanged a glance.
"Oh—right," Gyuvin murmured, shifting his weight from foot to foot before slowly bringing something out from behind his back—a small bouquet, not of flowers, but of bright, plump strawberries, their red color glowing under the light, carefully bundled together with twine. Ricky blinked, only realizing what it was when Gyuvin held it out to him, fingers gripping the bundle just a little too tightly, as if nervous. He wasn’t looking directly at Ricky, his gaze flickering to the side, but his ears burned red. “Here,” he mumbled, softer this time, “it’s for you.”
Ricky’s eyes widened. “Strawberries?”
Next to him, Gunwook huffed a quiet laugh before reaching into his pocket, producing a small box. He flipped it open to reveal chocolate-covered strawberries, neatly arranged in a row. “You love them, right?” he said simply, offering the box with an easygoing smile.
Ricky gasped. “You got me strawberries?”
Gyuvin scoffed, still refusing to look directly at him. “Duh.”
Gunwook rubbed the back of his neck. “Of course. We know you better than anyone.”
The warmth that bloomed in Ricky’s chest was immediate. He clutched the strawberries to his chest, grinning so brightly it made both of them falter for a second. “Thank you,” he said, voice full of sincerity.
Gyuvin cleared his throat, clearly flustered, while Gunwook chuckled—his usual confidence faltering just a little as he rubbed the back of his neck, a small, shy smile tugging at his lips.
Then, at the same time, something seemed to click between them—an unspoken idea.
Gyuvin suddenly straightened, an almost mischievous glint sparking in his eyes. “Ricky, stay there for a while,” he said, already stepping forward to grab more flowers from the garden.
Ricky blinked. “Huh?”
Gunwook didn’t explain. Instead, he crouched down, his fingers moving with quick precision as he plucked some roses and began weaving them together. Gyuvin joined him a second later, his usual clumsy energy melting into something focused, determined.
Their hands worked deftly, stems bending into delicate loops, intertwining in a way that was both careful and effortless. Petals brushed against their skin as they twisted the flowers together, crafting something entirely new—something meant just for Ricky.
It took only a few minutes, but when they were finished, the result was undeniable.
A crown.
A crown made of roses.
Gunwook stood first, holding it carefully. Then, with gentle hands, he stepped toward Ricky and placed it on his head, adjusting it so it sat perfectly in place.
“The prettiest gift,” he murmured, voice quieter now, “for the prettiest person in the world.”
Ricky’s breath caught.
His hands immediately shot up to touch the crown, feeling the softness of the petals resting against his hair. His heart raced, cheeks heating so fast he thought he might burn up entirely.
Gyuvin and Gunwook watched him closely, quiet smiles tugging at their lips, their expressions unreadable yet undeniably fond.
And just like that—
His love for roses was sealed forever.
Back in the present, Ricky blinked, the memory fading like the petals of a flower carried away by the wind. But its warmth lingered, settling deep in his chest as he absentmindedly brushed his fingers over the petals of a rose. The soft texture grounded him, tethering him back to the moment. He exhaled, glancing up at Gyuvin and Gunwook, their eyes still on him, as if waiting for him to continue.
Ricky blinked, the memory fading like the petals of a flower carried away by the wind. But its warmth lingered, settling deep in his chest as he absentmindedly brushed his fingers over the petals of a rose. The soft texture grounded him, tethering him back to the present moment.
He exhaled, shaking off the remnants of nostalgia as he looked up. Beside him, Gyuvin and Gunwook were still watching, their expressions unreadable—like they had seen something in his face just now that made them pause.
Ricky cleared his throat, brushing past the moment. “Alright,” he said, voice light but firm. “Let’s get started, shall we?”
The children cheered, excitement bubbling in the air as they scrambled to their seats, tiny hands reaching for paint brushes and palettes. The room instantly filled with eager voices.
Ricky moved through the classroom with natural ease, crouching beside one child to help them adjust their grip on the brush. “Like this,” he said, his hands gentle as he guided their strokes across the paper. “See? Smooth, not too hard.”
Beside him, Gunwook had found himself working with a little boy who was determined to paint a sunflower, but he couldn’t seem to get the colors right. Gunwook crouched down beside him, watching the child dip his brush into a mix of colors, only to end up with a muddy brown instead of the bright, sunny yellow the boy was aiming for.
“Wait, wait,” Gunwook said with a soft chuckle, quickly reaching out to catch the child’s brush before it dipped into a pool of blue paint. “Sunflowers are yellow, buddy. Remember?”
The little boy pouted, looking up at him with a mix of defiance and disappointment. “But blue is cool,” he insisted, a tiny frown creasing his brow.
Gunwook’s expression softened, and he crouched lower, coming eye-level with the boy. “I get it, blue is awesome, right? But sunflowers are famous for being all bright and yellow.” Gunwook tilted his head thoughtfully. “You know, a sunflower’s yellow can almost look like the sun.”
The boy’s eyes brightened a little at the thought. “The sun?”
Gunwook smiled and nodded. “Yep, the sun! So, why don’t we make this sunflower really shine with a nice, bright yellow?” He grabbed a fresh pot of yellow paint and placed it gently in front of the boy. “Give it a try. You can still add some blue in the background, though, if you want it to look extra magical.”
The child hesitated for a moment, still unsure, but Gunwook’s calm, encouraging tone seemed to make the idea more appealing. “You’re right,” the boy muttered, dipping the brush into the yellow with more confidence. “I want it to be like the sun.”
Gunwook grinned, placing a hand lightly on the boy’s shoulder. “That’s the spirit! It’s going to be an awesome sunflower.”
As the boy continued to paint, Gunwook hovered nearby, offering quiet guidance whenever it was needed. When the sunflower was finally painted, the little one looked up proudly, beaming at the bright yellow flower that now stood against a backdrop of light blue.
“See?” Gunwook said, eyes sparkling. “You made it look like a sunny day.” He patted the boy’s back with a smile. “You’re an artist.”
The boy’s face lit up at the compliment, his shoulders lifting with newfound confidence. “Thanks, Gunwook-hyung!”
“No problem!” Gunwook chuckled, ruffling his hair lightly. “Now, don’t forget the leaves. They’re green, by the way,” he teased, giving the boy a wink.
The child giggled and went back to work, more excited than ever. Gunwook stood up, stepping back and watching him for a moment before moving on to the next child who needed some help.
Meanwhile, Gyuvin had been pulled into a very enthusiastic exchange with a little girl about her painting. She stood proudly in front of him, holding up a picture of colorful flowers.
"Wow, cool painting you have there," Gyuvin said, genuinely impressed. "Are jasmines your favorite?"
The little girl nodded eagerly. "Yes, because that is my name."
Gyuvin grinned, crouching down to her level. "Well, Jasmine, since this painting is so cool, I’m going to teach you something fun." He gestured to the painting with a dramatic flair, his finger pointing aggressively, as if preparing for something big.
"WHO MADE THIS?!" he exclaimed, throwing his arm out with exaggerated motions.
Jasmine blinked for a moment, her eyes wide with surprise. Gyuvin laughed and encouraged her, "Here, do it with me!" He motioned for her to join in.
With a soft giggle, the little girl eagerly raised her finger and shouted, “WHO MADE THIS?!” mimicking Gyuvin’s dramatic pointing.
They both burst into laughter, and Gyuvin couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. "Exactly!" he said, still chuckling. "Great job, Jasmine!" He gave her a high five, making her giggle even more.
Ricky couldn’t help but smile, shaking his head with amusement. There was no denying the warmth in his expression as he watched Gyuvin being fully engaged with the little girl, his excitement contagious.
He was really good at this. They both were.
Ricky’s heart softened as he watched them—this was the kind of energy, the kind of love, that filled a space and made it feel like home. And in that moment, Ricky knew without a doubt that their future was going to be filled with moments just like this, full of laughter, love, and endless joy.
At some point, Ricky became fully engrossed in helping a small group of kids with their paintings. Gyuvin and Gunwook, having wrapped up their own tasks with the children, naturally drifted away, taking a moment to relax and watch Ricky from across the room.
Gunwook leaned against the wall, arms folded, while Gyuvin stretched out his legs, both of them observing Ricky’s interactions with the kids.
That’s when it hit them.
The way he spoke to the children—patient, kind, never once talking down to them. The way he leaned in when they spoke, like every word they said was important. The way he smiled at them, warm and genuine, his laughter soft when they eagerly showed him their work.
Gunwook watched as Ricky gently wiped a smudge of paint from a child’s cheek, murmuring, “You’ve got a little something here,” before tapping their nose playfully.
Gyuvin noticed the way Ricky crouched beside a shy little boy, encouraging him to keep painting with a quiet, reassuring presence.
And in that moment, one thought struck them both at the same time.
Wow… Ricky would really be the perfect parent.
Gunwook exhaled, shaking his head. “Damn.”
Gyuvin let out a weak laugh. “Yeah.”
They didn’t need to say anything more. They both knew. They had already imagined a future where Ricky was holding their child in his arms, where his soft laughter filled their home. And now, seeing him like this, it didn’t feel like just a distant dream.
It felt real.
Ricky, completely oblivious to their lovestruck crisis, continued his lesson, surrounded by bright colors, laughter, and tiny hands reaching for his attention.
Gyuvin and Gunwook sighed in unison.
They were so, so screwed.
By the time the painting session wrapped up, the classroom was filled with colorful flower artworks—some more abstract than others, but all made with the same bright enthusiasm. Ricky made sure to compliment each child’s work, carefully setting their paintings aside to dry. The children beamed at his praise, eyes shining with pride as they admired their own masterpieces.
It was a good day. A fulfilling one. And now, it was time for the reward.
“Alright,” Ricky announced, dusting his hands off. “Who’s ready for snacks?”
The classroom erupted into cheers, little hands shooting into the air. Some kids started bouncing in place, others tugged at Ricky’s sleeves eagerly.
Gunwook chuckled at the sight. “You’d think we just announced Christmas.”
“Food is serious business,” Gyuvin said sagely.
Ricky smiled. “Then let’s go. We have a special treat today.”
The kids didn’t need to be told twice. They eagerly followed as Ricky led them outside to the playground, where, parked just near the gates, was a bright blue ice cream truck.
Gasps of excitement filled the air.
“ICE CREAM!”
“NO WAY!”
“THIS IS THE BEST DAY EVER!”
Ricky barely had time to react before he was swarmed —tiny hands grabbing onto his own, excited voices overlapping as the kids practically dragged him toward the truck. Gyuvin and Gunwook followed closely behind, unable to hold back their fond smiles at the sight.
“This was a good call,” Gunwook murmured.
“I think he just secured his position as their favorite person in the world,” Gyuvin said, watching as Ricky patiently knelt down to let the kids take turns choosing their flavors.
Gunwook grinned. “As if we had any doubt.”
The ice cream truck worker—a friendly old man with a warm smile—laughed as he handed Ricky the first cone. “You’ve got quite the fan club, young man.”
Ricky huffed a laugh, accepting the cone and passing it to the first kid. “They’re enthusiastic, that’s for sure.”
One by one, the children picked their flavors, squealing in delight as they received their cones. It was messy—there were already smudges of chocolate on chins and sprinkles falling to the ground—but the joy on their faces was worth it.
Finally, it was their turn.
And, of course, there was no hesitation.
Strawberry for Ricky.
Mango for Gyuvin.
Chocolate for Gunwook.
It had been this way for as long as they could remember. Every summer trip, every childhood outing, every late-night convenience store run. This was theirs.
Gyuvin licked his mango ice cream thoughtfully as he leaned against the side of the truck, watching Ricky with a soft, almost dazed expression. Ricky was kneeling in front of one of the younger kids, carefully wiping melted vanilla off their fingers with a tissue. His touch was gentle, his voice warm as he reassured them they weren’t in trouble.
Gunwook, halfway through his chocolate cone, nudged Gyuvin with a grin. “You ever think about how lucky we are?”
Gyuvin’s gaze lingered on Ricky, a soft smile on his lips. “Every day.”
Gunwook’s voice dropped, a playful glint in his eye. “We’re going to marry him one day, you know.”
Gyuvin gave a small, knowing laugh. “Yeah, we are.”
They shared a quiet moment, both feeling the undeniable truth of what they had just said, watching Ricky, lost in thoughts of the future.
Their ice cream flavors had always been the same.
And so had their love for Ricky.
The evening settled quietly around them as the trio made their way home after a busy day. They all walked side by side, the comforting rhythm of their steps in sync, a shared warmth between them as they entered their cozy apartment. The door clicked shut behind them, and Ricky immediately kicked off his shoes with a sigh, ready to unwind.
Gyuvin dropped his bag by the couch, glancing over at Gunwook who was already heading to the kitchen. "What do you think we should have for dinner tonight?" Gyuvin asked, rubbing his hands together.
Gunwook paused, looking over his shoulder with a playful grin. "We’re cooking," he said, as though that were the most obvious answer.
Ricky raised an eyebrow, leaning casually against the doorframe to the kitchen. "Again? You guys are making this a habit."
Gyuvin chuckled, moving past him to grab some ingredients. "We are, but tonight’s different. We’re going to improve on what we've been making for you."
"That’s right," Gunwook added with a smile as he started pulling out the pans. "We want to make it perfect for you tonight."
Ricky smiled, walking into the kitchen to join them. "You don’t have to go overboard, you know."
"We don’t mind," Gyuvin said, his tone sincere. "We’ve been cooking for you for a while, but we want to make sure we’re giving you the best."
As they worked together to prepare one of Ricky’s favorite meals—jajangmyeon and tangsuyuk—with fried chicken on the side because, as they all knew, there was no such thing as too much food—their movements were efficient, like they’d done it countless times before, yet there was an extra care in every chop and stir. It was clear that, as much as they were enjoying themselves, the way they worked together felt like practice—each gesture, each glance, a quiet promise to one day do this for more than just themselves.
Finally, dinner was ready, and they all sat down at the table together. Ricky took a bite of the jajangmyeon, his eyes brightening immediately at the familiar, comforting taste. "You guys really did step it up," he said with a smile, his tone teasing but full of warmth.
"Glad you like it," Gunwook said with a satisfied grin.
Ricky looked at them both, his smile softening. "You two really do spoil me, huh?"
Gyuvin chuckled, poking at his plate. "Of course. We want to make sure you’re happy."
Ricky leaned back in his chair, his eyes glancing between the two of them. “Well, mission accomplished. But, uh... are you trying to bribe me into letting you win your ridiculous debates?” he teased, his voice playful.
Gunwook and Gyuvin exchanged a look before answering in sync, “Maybe.”
Ricky laughed, shaking his head. “I thought we were past this.”
But even as he said it, there was something in his expression—a tenderness that said they didn’t need to try hard to win him over. With each meal, each thoughtful gesture, they were already showing him more than enough love.
Ricky took another bite, smiling to himself. "You two are definitely getting better at this."
And with that, they knew. It wasn’t just about the food. It was about the little things they were doing, day by day, to show Ricky how much they cared. Little things that, in the future, would mean more than they could possibly imagine.
After dinner, the night wrapped itself around the apartment like a soft blanket. The stars shone brightly outside the window, casting a gentle glow over the room. Ricky stood there for a moment, his gaze fixed on the sky, lost in the vastness above.
Gyuvin and Gunwook stood beside him, their eyes shifting between the sky and Ricky. They’d spent years under these very stars, but tonight, it felt different. The air around them was thick with something unspoken, the quiet anticipation of what was yet to come.
Gunwook broke the silence first, his voice soft and sincere. “You really love the stars, don’t you?”
Ricky smiled faintly, his eyes reflecting the stars above. “They remind me of something. No matter how dark it gets, there’s always something guiding the way.”
Gyuvin, standing just a little closer now, his arm almost brushing Ricky’s, hummed softly in agreement. “Like you,” he said, his voice warm, full of admiration.
Gunwook, his tone equally tender, added, “You shine brighter than anything up there.”
Ricky turned slightly toward them, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. “And you two... Without you, I wouldn’t be who I am. I’m the luckiest person because I have both of you.”
The three of them stood together for a long moment, the quiet of the night surrounding them. There was no need for further words. Their love, their bond, was stronger than any star in the sky. The future stretched out before them, but for now, in this moment, everything was perfect.
Ricky reached out, taking Gyuvin’s hand, then Gunwook’s, pulling them close. As they stood together, side by side, the vast sky above seemed to echo the closeness they shared. The stars, scattered like diamonds across the dark canvas, no longer felt distant.
They had always known, in their hearts, that they were meant to walk this journey together. But now, under the blanket of stars, they saw it more clearly than ever before. It wasn’t a future of uncertainty or doubt—it was a future bathed in light. The stars above weren’t just shining in the night; they were shining for them, a reminder that they were walking toward something beautiful.
In each other, they had found their guiding light, their star. The path ahead wasn’t just a stretch of vague possibilities—it was a clear, radiant vision of what could be, and with the love they shared, it was only growing brighter.
Together, they stood beneath the stars, no longer wondering where they were headed, but knowing that as long as they were together, the future would always be as bright as the sky above them.
♡