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November 30, 2020
I wanted to start writing a diary now that we’ve officially debuted.
Everything was so loud—so much louder than I expected.
Schedules, lights, expectations.
But when we are alone, it’s quiet. Just the seven of us. Just us.
After our first performance, I was shaking. Not because I was scared, exactly, but because it felt too big to be real. I thought no one noticed.
But he came over and gave me a snack and said,
“You didn’t mess up.”
I hadn’t even asked.
I don’t think he knows how much that meant to me.
And in the back of my mind, maybe I’m starting this diary because of him.
But I won’t admit that. Not yet.
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December 3, 2020
The fans started calling us opposites. Riki is loud, sharp-edged, blunt. I’m softer, careful. But we fit. I don’t even think about it. I just find myself reaching for him.
I wake him up for practice, help fix his hair, share snacks without asking. And he… he remembers things. My favorite snacks. The vitamins I take. He always checks if I’m cold.
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December 12, 2020
He fell asleep on my shoulder in the van today.
I didn’t move the entire ride. Even when my neck started to hurt. Even when my hand went numb.
I think we’re… comfortable. With each other.
There are six other members. But he always finds his way to me when he’s tired. When he’s quiet.
He doesn’t say much, but somehow I always know what he means. And I think—
I think he understands me, too.
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May 9, 2021
I haven’t written in this for a while.
Preparing for our comeback was time consuming.
We’re tired all the time. Our bodies ache. Sometimes it feels like we’re constantly chasing something but not sure what.
But we still find time to be us.
Or… we used to.
I’ve started noticing that Riki’s quieter lately. Around me.
Not cold. Just… careful.
He used to throw his arm over my shoulders without thinking. Now he hovers. Like he’s waiting to be told it’s okay.
I don’t know what changed.
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June 3, 2021
He doesn’t tease me the same way anymore.
Riki still jokes. Still makes faces when I mess up choreo. Still rolls his eyes when I use too much skincare.
But the spark is different. Like he’s second-guessing every move.
We filmed something together today, just the two of us. The energy was off. I smiled too much to cover it, and he smiled too little to hide it.
We didn’t say anything after. Just went back to our rooms.
I miss how things were. When he didn’t look at me like he was scared of doing something wrong.
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June 15, 2021
Some of the fans loved our dynamic. The sunshine hyung and the energetic maknae. I loved it too, how he always filled the gaps that were missing in my life. How sometimes his teasing brightens my day.
But the fans started twisting his words.
They didn’t understand Riki’s teasing. How his blunt words were always laced with care. How he’d always ask me if I was okay—three times, because he knew I’d lie the first two.
They called him a bully.
I watched him see it. I watched his shoulders stiffen, his laugh fade. He started holding back. Especially around me.
I never believed them. Not once. But I didn’t know how to say that without making things worse.
So I stayed quiet.
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September 2, 2021
I think we’ve reached the point where we don’t talk unless we have to.
Not in a rude way. We’re polite. Friendly.
Riki Ni-ki still nods when I pass him in the hallway. Still hands me things I forget on the couch. Still laughs when I mumble to myself during dance warm-ups.
But that quiet comfort—that thing only we shared—it’s gone.
And the worst part is I don’t think he’s going to bring it up.
And I’m too afraid to ask why.
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December 4, 2021
It hurts more now.
Before, I thought it was just a phase. That we’d find our way back eventually.
But now, it’s like we’ve both accepted this strange, tense silence as our new normal.
He passed me the mic during a fan sign and our hands touched for a second.
My heart ached like it hadn’t in months.
It used to be simple.
Now even the smallest moment feels like too much and not enough at the same time.
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January 23, 2022
Ni-ki sat on the far end of the table during our group live today.
I know, I know. It’s just a seat.
But it used to be automatic—he’d plop down next to me, shoulder to shoulder, legs crossed in sync, like we were one person in two bodies.
Now it’s all this space between us.
I could feel him looking at me.
But he didn’t say anything. Didn’t make a joke. Didn’t nudge me like he used to. I didn’t turn toward him either.
Just sat there, pretending the distance didn’t burn.
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March 17, 2022
We were in the dressing room alone for a few minutes before a stage.
Ni-ki was fixing his earrings. I was checking my collar.
He asked, “You good?”
I nodded.
He didn’t say anything else. But he stayed in the room with me. Didn’t leave until someone called us out.
It wasn’t much.
But it made something in my chest twist.
Because even though it’s awkward and strained and careful…
He still lingers.
And maybe that’s his way of saying,
“I miss us, too.”
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June 30, 2022
Ni-ki looked tired today.
Not just physically—emotionally, too. You can tell when you know someone well enough. Even if you haven’t spoken in a while.
I wanted to ask if he was okay.
But I didn’t.
Because we don’t talk like that anymore.
Instead, I left a vitamin drink on his desk.
Didn’t say it was from me.
He took it.
He finished it.
And somehow, that was enough.
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October 5, 2022
He’s growing taller. His voice is deeper now. He speaks differently—more careful, more composed. Fans say he’s maturing. I guess they’re right.
Sometimes I wonder if that’s also a reason to why he left me behind. If he thought he had to shed everything soft and childish to become the version of himself people wanted.
But I never asked him to be anything else. I liked the messy, loud, annoying Ni-ki.
He was real.
He was mine.
And now he’s gone.
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November 11, 2022
I wonder if anyone else notices how careful we are around each other now.
We still laugh in interviews. Still interact on stage. Still do the job.
But when the lights go off, it’s like we forget how to talk.
It’s like we’re afraid of being seen again.
I think we started protecting each other by pretending we don’t care.
It makes me want to scream.
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March 4, 2023
I saw a clip of us from 2020.
Back when we were all soft edges and inside jokes. When we’d fall asleep next to each other without thinking twice.
I looked so happy.
He looked at me like I was the only person in the room.
I paused the video and stared at the screen until my eyes burned.
I don’t know when we lost that.
I don’t know if we ever get it back.
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September 19, 2023
I almost texted him today.
Just something stupid like, “Do you still microwave strawberries?” or “Remember when you’d somehow always end up in my bed by morning?”
I typed it out.
Then deleted it.
Because what if he doesn’t remember it the same way?
What if it doesn’t mean anything to him now?
I hate how afraid I’ve become of him.
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February 8, 2024
I had a dream that we were on tour and missed our flight.
We were stranded in a city neither of us had visited before.
We were laughing.
He took my hand and said, “At least we’ve got each other, right?”
I woke up crying.
It had been far from the truth.
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May 12, 2024
It’s been so long.
Too long.
Sometimes I convince myself it was all in my head—that maybe I imagined how close we were.
But then I see a moment. A look. A shared laugh we don’t even realize we’re having.
And I remember: it was real.
Even if it’s over now, it was real.
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July 19, 2024
We stood next to each other during an encore stage.
I saw Ni-ki’s hand twitch toward mine. Then he pulled it back.
He doesn’t look at me the same way anymore.
But every now and then, I catch him watching me. His gaze full of something I can’t name. Regret? Nostalgia? Maybe it’s just wishful thinking.
Maybe it’s just me still loving him when he’s already stopped.
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August 24, 2024
We had dinner off schedule today. Just the two of us.
It wasn’t planned. We ran into each other at the elevator, both starving, both trying to pretend we hadn’t seen each other in weeks.
We ended up walking down the block to a quiet spot and splitting tteok-bokki like it was nothing.
He asked me how I’d been. I told him the truth. He didn’t say much, just listened.
Then he said he missed laughing with me.
I nearly cried into the tteok-bokki.
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September 7, 2024
He called me “Sunoo-yah” again today.
That gentle way, the way he used to.
We were in the practice room and everyone else had gone. He stayed late. I thought I was alone, but he walked in with drinks, handed me one, and sat beside me.
We talked. Like really talked. He asked about my family. I asked about his dance routines. He laughed—like really laughed—for the first time in forever.
He told me he hated how people saw him back then. That he thought if he stayed close to me, he’d ruin me.
“I thought I was protecting you by leaving,” he said. “But I just… hurt you more.”
I wanted to scream yes. But I didn’t.
I just said, “You never had to protect me from yourself, Riki.”
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September 9, 2024
Riki touched my hand today. It was accidental. But he didn’t pull away.
We were waiting backstage. It was just the two of us in a tiny hallway with flickering lights and vending machines. We stood close because the space demanded it, and I said something stupid. Something I can’t even remember because then I saw his face.
He was smiling then laughed, bumped my shoulder, and our hands brushed.
He left them there.
I couldn’t breathe for a second. Neither of us said a word.
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February 17, 2025
I think he loves me.
I think I love him too.
It’s different this time. We’re older. We’re quieter. We don’t have to talk all the time or cling to each other like we used to. But I feel him.
Every time Riki walks into a room. Every time he glances at me and smiles. Every time he listens without interrupting, brings me my favorite snacks, texts me when I’m quiet too long.
I don’t need proof.
I just know.
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April 24, 2025
He kissed me.
It was after practice. We were the last two in the room again. It’s always us, like the universe keeps arranging these moments.
He looked nervous. I think I did too.
He just said, “Can I kiss you?”
And I nodded.
That was it.
No fireworks, no background music, no crowds. Just warmth. Familiarity, grounding, a coming home I didn’t know I still needed.
Afterward, we sat there in silence. I laid my head on his shoulder. He held my hand.
Everything made sense again.
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June 4, 2025
We’re not hiding it anymore.
Not from ourselves. Not from the others.
We’re not loud about it either. Just soft glances, shared earbuds, going home from the studio together. Quiet dinners. Laughter between us that no one else hears.
We lost each other once. But somehow… we made it back.
All I know is—when I look at him now, he looks back.
And neither of us looks away.
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Sunoo stares at his diary with a little sigh, brushing his fingers down the margin of the last page he’d just filled. The ink was still slightly wet where he’d pressed too hard. He always did that when he was nervous. Or excited. Or both.
He smiled to himself.
“Tomorrow’s a big day,” he whispered under his breath — not to anyone, just to the air, maybe to the version of himself captured in his scribbled words. Then he closed the book carefully, slid it back under his pillow, and leaned back against the headboard, stretching like a cat.
His lip caught on the dry skin at the corner of his mouth, and he made a face.
Where was his lip balm?
He checked the desk. Nothing. Checked the side pocket of his bag. Still nothing. He swore he’d put it in there after dance practice yesterday. Or maybe after vocal warmups. Or maybe that was last week.
Who could keep track?
Sunoo groaned under his breath and stood, walking barefoot into the hallway, dragging his hoodie sleeves down over his hands like mittens.
The dorm was buzzing with the usual night-before-comeback energy. Their new album, Desire:Unleash was coming out tomorrow. Excitement, nerves, half-eaten takeout containers filled the dorm.
They had their own rooms, but there wasn’t really a boundary anymore. Not when Sunoo had spent more nights in Riki’s bed than his own lately. Not when his charger was already plugged into Riki’s wall, and he always kept a spare toothbrush for him.
He didn’t knock — just pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Riki was half-asleep, curled into his blanket with one arm thrown over his face. His damp hair flopped messily over his forehead.
“Babe?” he called softly, already smiling.
He looked up when Sunoo entered, his expression instantly fond. The kind of fond that lived in the quiet between days, that didn’t need to be spoken out loud anymore.
“Lost your lip balm again?” Riki asked without even waiting for Sunoo to say it.
“Do you have the mint one? I lost mine.”
“Try the second drawer,” he mumbled without opening his eyes.
Sunoo walked over to the nightstand and crouched down, tugging the drawer open. He smiled at the chaos inside — a tangle of headphone cords, Sunoo’s favorite snacks, reciepts, and fan gifts.
He shuffled through until his fingers brushed a small white envelope. Plain.
His name was written on the back.
The handwriting was familiar in a way that pulled something deep in his chest.
“Hey… what’s this?”
Ni-ki’s eyes blinked open slowly. He looked at the letter. Then at Sunoo.
A pause.
“It’s… a letter.”
Sunoo’s brow furrowed slightly, but there was no real tension. Just curiosity. He held it up between two fingers.
“For me?”
Ni-ki sat up slowly, the sleep falling away as something else rose in his throat. Something quieter.
“Yeah.”
Sunoo turned it over in his hands. “What’s it about?”
Ni-ki leaned back against the headboard and let out a small breath, somewhere between a sigh and a laugh.
“Just a time where I needed you.”
The room went still. Not heavy — just full.
Sunoo looked at the envelope again. Then up at Ni-ki.
“Well, you have me now. Don’t you, Riki?” Sunoo teased.
He stepped over and climbed into the bed, curling up against Riki like it was second nature. Because it was.
He wrapped his arm around Sunoo’s waist, burying his face into the latter’s neck.
Sunoo rested the envelope on Riki’s chest, right over his heart.
Riki smiled. Eyes closed now. Body warm and loose next to Sunoo’s.
After a moment, Sunoo whispered, “So… can I read the letter?”
Riki didn’t answer right away. His fingers rubbed slow circles into the small of Sunoo’s waist.
“If you want to.”
“Will it make me cry?”
“Maybe.”
Sunoo laughed quietly and tucked the letter under the pillow beside them. “Then I’ll wait. I can’t be puffy-eyed on comeback day.”
Riki hummed in agreement, tightening his hold.
There would be time.
For the letter.
For everything.
But tonight, there was only this:
A warm bed. A shared silence. The sound of the dorm alive around them.
And the quiet knowledge that they’d already made it back to each other.
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