Work Text:
The first thing Daeyoung noticed was how quiet everything was.
Not just silent, but muted. Like the entire office had been muffled in contrast to the rest of the city. As he stepped into the lobby, the doors whispering shut behind him, the air felt weighted with diffused sunlight and a faint, almost expensive scent– citrus and rose petals, layered with something warm, like white musk.
Daeyoung paused just past the threshold, leather shoes clicking a little too crisply against the floors. The color palette stretched around him in creamy whites, eucalyptus greens, and the muted gold of hardware polished to a pearl sheen. Every corner looked styled, filtered, almost like a living Pinterest board. A dried flower installation spiralled above the reception desk.
On the wall behind the desk was a hand-painted sign:
elegance is a strategy
spelled out in beautiful cursive writing.
This office, in every possible way, was the polar opposite of where Daeyoung had come from.
He was no longer in the world of angular cubicles with the buzz of monitors. The background noise of the quiet drone of fluorescent lights was no longer there. Here, nothing buzzed—everything glowed, soft and warm.
Daeyoung adjusted the strap of his bag against his shoulder, acutely aware of his charcoal blazer and the perfectly ordinary striped shirt he’d worn beneath it. He could already feel the fabric clinging too tightly to his back. Everyone he saw wore something effortlessly stylish: loose knits draped over collared shirts, high-waisted slacks with precise seams, and clean sneakers that looked like they cost more than his monthly snack budget.
The receptionist looked up and smiled, swiping him in with a tap on her tablet. “Kim Daeyoung, correct? You’re expected upstairs. Fifth floor.”
The elevator opened without a sound.
The fifth floor was bright and open, airy as a greenhouse. Sheer curtains fluttered near the windows. Ferns spilled from hanging planters in the corners. Instead of cubicles, there were long communal tables in dove grey, lined with expensive computers and pale wood organisers labelled in cursive: ongoing campaigns, shoot schedules, brand contracts. A coffee station in the corner teemed gently, with six different kinds of milk alternatives in a mini-fridge.
This was a different world.
He barely had time to orient himself before a woman in a pale pink blazer pressed a folder into his hands without looking up from her headset. “Welcome. They’ll want you in the 10 o’clock meeting. Get familiar with the top-tier profiles.”
She vanished around a corner before he could thank her.
Daeyoung opened the folder.
Glossy pages, carefully designed talent profiles with full-colour headshots, social metrics, keywords, recent collaborations, and influence ratings. Some were lightly annotated—circles around followers, notes in pastel ink.
One profile, however, had clearly been combed over multiple times.
Maeda Riku .
His face was the first thing Daeyoung saw. Large, front and centre. Warm brown eyes, a gentle smile, and double piercings in both ears, with dark hair tucked behind his ears. He was styled to perfection, and his skin looked luminous, almost unreal.
Daeyoung blinked.
Someone underlined his name—three times. Priority was written in a looping scrawl above his photo and beside it: “30% of total mix of business. Do NOT reschedule him.”
There were even circles around a few campaign images and an arrow pointing to his engagement analytics with a single word beside it: Top Performer.
Daeyoung closed the folder, heart beating faster than it should have been. He wasn’t sure what surprised him more: how carefully the agency seemed to cater to this one influencer, or the fact that he actually recognised his face.
He’d seen Riku’s videos before. In passing, on Instagram reels, in YouTube recaps that autoplayed while Daeyoung made dinner. He remembered the voice—gently, precise, almost soothing. The kind of person who looked like they always had their life together, and who definitely knew how to use words like “undertone” and “glass finish” without fumbling.
He was still staring at the closed folder when someone approached.
“Hi!” came a chipper voice, startling him out of his thoughts.
An intern—probably barely older than a college student— stood grinning in front of him, a lanyard around his neck and a badge that read: Ryo. He wore a sage-green cardigan over a ruffled white shirt, and his enthusiasm radiated off him in waves.
“You must be Kim Daeyoung, right? Our new PR manager?” Ryo asked, bouncing slightly on his heels. “I can show you around! The influencer lounge just got new mood boards. We’ve got a tea bar and a self-lighting mirror in the filming suite!”
“That’s very kind,” he said, bowing slightly, “but I think I’ll get settled first, if that’s okay. There’s… a lot to absorb.”
“Oh, totally!” Ryo nodded, still beaming. “We’re all excited to have you. I’ll leave you to it. But let me know if you want the ‘grand tour’.”
With that, he walked away, resembling a hummingbird, his cardigan trailing behind him.
Daeyoung let out a slow exhale.
And then, before he could even sit down, before he could even pull out a pen, he heard a door open. Light laughter, then footsteps. A ripple passed through the room, subtle but unmistakable. Heads turned, and conversations quieted.
He looked and there the devil himself was.
Riku.
In person, he looked even more curated—more real, somehow, and yet more surreal. He wore an oversized lavender blazer cinched at the waist with a narrow silver belt, a ribbed tank top tucked into cream trousers that flared slightly at the ankle. White sneakers, no scuffs. His iced coffee looked like it had been made just for him: oat milk, perhaps, with a swirl of cinnamon and just enough condensation on the plastic to make it look photogenic.
“Morning, lovelies,” Riku sang as he walked in, sunglasses perched on his head like a crown. He offered a wave to no one in particular and everyone at once.
He didn’t glance at Daeyoung.
The meeting began five minutes later in a conference room framed by potted ficuses and a whiteboard covered in lipstick mood swatches. Daeyoung took a seat near the end of the table, straightening his tie even though no one else seemed to be wearing one.
The presentation started with campaign strategy: Harmony, the new product line. Aesthetic words flew around like pollen— “translucent coverage”, “dewy second skin”, “natural luminosity”, “barrier support”. Daeyoung took notes, even though half of it felt like another language.
When a moment of silence followed a brand rep’s comment about market positioning, he decided to speak up.
“I think we could lean into how the powder adds a second-skin texture,” he said, trying to keep his tone level. “It might resonate with minimalist users. Like… performance without weight.”
There was a pause.
Not long—but long enough.
Riku, seated two chairs down, turned his head slowly.
“It’s not a powder,” he said, voice light but unmistakably sharp. “It’s a cushion foundation compact. Very different application and payoff. Powder’s matte. Cushion’s radiant.”
Daeyoung looked up—and locked eyes with him.
Riku’s expression was mild. Even pleasant. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. But his gaze was unwavering, exact. Calculating.
To anyone else, it might’ve looked like he was being helpful. Friendly, even.
But Daeyoung had spent years in a boardroom with smiling CEOs who skewered ideas in silence. He could read a backhanded tone like it was printed on a banner.
“You’re new, huh?” Riku added, sipping his coffee again.
Polite on the surface.
Sharp underneath.
Daeyoung nodded once. “First day.”
Riku’s lips curved a fraction more. “Cute.”
He turned back to the table.
Daeyoung clenched his pen a little tighter and stared at the page in front of him, trying not to let his hand shake.
So much for easing in.
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
Daeyoung was doing… okay.
He was coping.
When his friends and peers had warned him that agency life would be chaotic, he brushed it off as necessary to upskill and add more pizzazz to his bland resume. At an agency, he knew he would be forced to self learn and figure it out as he went along, trial and error. He could do that. He was a self-starter; he knew how to hit the ground running.
And he was, but he underestimated how out of depth he was about beauty. Just last week, Sakuya, the other intern, had explained to him what a Dyson hair curler was and why he kept replying “very cutesy, very demure” to Riku’s suggestions.
“Hyung, it’s a trend. I think you need to upgrade your for-you-page if all you’re seeing is fishing videos.” Sakuya wrinkled his nose in disgust when he directed Daeyoung on TikTok.
So maybe he’s not all that equipped for the job.
He’s doing his best.
He’s been lunching with one of the other KOLs and talent managers- Yushi, who managed the fashion KOLs of the company. Occasionally, the interns, Ryo and Saku, would also tag along or invite him to matcha runs to the little cafe downstairs. Yushi’s biggest talent in fashion, just slightly less important than Riku was Sion, who styled outfits for an audience of 3 million on Instagram alone. Only 1 million less than Riku, semantics really.
With a face like that, Daeyoung understands why Sion has 3 million followers. ‘Face card never declines’, as Sakuya would say. Occasionally, he would see Sion and Riku at the influencer lounge, heads bowed together discussing content and demographics and Daeyoung didn’t miss their banter, their closeness.
Riku was… not difficult per se. But distant, polite, dialled in for work. He was always dialled in for work. It was kinda hard to ignore how on the ball he was, picking up the slack where Daeyoung faltered.
He knew he needed to be better.
“Riku will be doing a social selling livestream with Renjun for the Sky Skin’s repack in three days, it was agreed upon a month ago, so he knows the drill. I’ve sent you the brief.” Johnny, the General Manager, explained to him in their weekly catch-up.
“Noted, I’ve gone through the email threads and Yushi has given me the rundown too on the technical stuff.” He nodded, and Johnny sighed like he knew Daeyoung was having a hard time.
“Don’t worry too much and observe. The script has been prepped and Riku is always prepared on product education. Just really need your support on monitoring viewers and ad hoc stuff like lighting and making sure the platform has no issues when he goes live.”
“No worries, I think I got it.” He reassured his big boss.
“Thanks, Daeyoung, I’ll be on a flight to New York during the live, but do reach out to Yushi if there’s anything you’re unsure about.”
Renjun was a willowy man who smelled of Chanel No. 5 and was immaculately dressed in an outfit that complemented the compact packaging he designed. He air-kissed Riku on his cheeks and shoved him into the dressing room with a garment bag, with no words.
Daeyoung had gone through the script twice with Renjun over videocall, but this was the first time meeting the elusive tastemaker who was designing Sky Skin’s repackaging, a set of cushion compacts with watercolour illustrations that took inspiration from the colours of sunsets and sunrises. They even had little pouches that hooked onto bags to increase branding awareness and make their product merch-worthy.
It was clever and good marketing.
“Nice to finally meet you in person, Daeyoung,” Renjun had a calm smile, but his eyes flicked up and down him, curious, assessing, “I understand why he likes you.”
“Who likes me?”
“Renjun did you design me a size too big?” Riku hollered from the dressing room.
“He’s such a prima donna, I hope he’s not putting you through the ringer,” Renjun patted his shoulder before turning to address Riku, “You insult me darling, I made it oversized so your fans would create those cute little edits about how tiny you look.”
For someone who did lives for a living Riku was unnerved. His left foot bounced as he needled Daeyoung on every last detail.
“Did the tech team fix the issue with the voucher codes?”
“Yeah, last night.” Daeyoung nodded.
“Can you make sure the product syncs on TikTok?” Riku whined, and Daeyoung rolled his eyes.
“I’ve checked and tested it, and it works fine.”
“Did you try adding it to your bag and checking if the discount reflects in checkout?”
“I’ve tested checkout.”
“And you’re sure it works?
“Yes, Riku.” It is a terse response, borderline biting.
“It’s just so unstable sometimes.” Riku pouted, and for a moment, Daeyoung had half a mind to get on his knees and apologise at such a sight.
“Don’t worry, the platform account manager is also on standby.”
“You know, last time the yellow bag button just disappeared for a whole day? Affected conversions like crazy.” Riku murmured, and Daeyoung snapped his head towards him in a huff.
“Don’t talk doom and gloom, Riku.”
“I’m not, I’m just recounting to you the issues we faced with this kind of livestreams before and why they’re kinda stressful.” He retorted, eyes narrowing and walking away from Daeyoung.
Under the glare of the studio lights and Jeno’s camera, Riku transformed into his online persona- peppy and fun and a sight for sore eyes. Renjun and Riku’s chemistry was natural as they parlayed between talking about the product and Renjun’s new design of the repack. Renjun had been right, the oversized fit made Riku have sweater paws when he showed the products and allowed just a peek of his collarbones, which he could now see were highlighted in something shimmery. Because, of course, they were.
“Oh user renjunsinnercorner25 you’re having issues with adding the product to your cart? My team will reach out to you and assist.” Riku replied smoothly whilst finding Daeyoung’s eyes past the camera. Well there goes his first issue, he scanned through the live tech team’s chat, which was going off with them trying to fix the issue.
“1000wishes is also facing the same issue?” Riku searched for his eyes again, he was smiling tightly on camera and Daeyoung knew enough that he was annoyed that his conversions were being stopped because of a technical issue.
“Okay guys, my tech team is on it. Why don’t I answer some questions? bagcharmsforlyfe asked what would you recommend for acne-prone skin. Say no more, I got you girl, this particular cushion the soft matte one is what I’d recommend, full coverage and not drying -“
Riku went on and on as it was necessary for him to basically keep the live going but Daeyoung could see him occasionally glancing at the monitor and then at him pointedly.
“Yeah sure let me flash you guys the swatches again. As you can see, if we’re similar shades I wear N30. If you’re curious, Renjun wears C23, let us show you-”
Riku continued on undeterred, reiterating product benefits and reminding the viewers that this was a limited-time offer with additional vouchers, sometimes nudging Renjun to speak on his thoughts on the product and the process of designing like a pro, whilst the tech team and Daeyoung took another seven minutes to resolve the issue.
“I told you to test checkout and product syncing,” Riku said flatly, the moment the live ended.
“I did, the platform had issues regardless. You should focus on pacing your call to actions whilst you’re rambling on about the product.” Daeyoung snapped back, feeling just a tad bit angry that Riku would complain when he had solved the issue.
“Hey, I was stalling for time whilst the tech team fixed the issue I asked you to check!” Riku shouted back, poking Daeyoung’s very solid chest.
Whilst they went at it, Renjun observed them silently from the sidelines and inched into the seat next to Jeno.
“How long do you think till they snap and sleep with each other?” Renjun asked blithely.
“Give 'em like a month, there’s clearly sparks and unresolved tension there,” Jeno jested as he packed up his equipment.
“One month is too optimistic. Riku’s too stubborn and Daeyoung looks like he’s a bit uptight. Maybe… maybe two months.”
“Loser pays for dinner,” Jeno grinned, and Renjun rolled his eyes, knowing that the cameraman was decidedly not a romantic.
“You’re on.”
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
For all his flaws, Daeyoung had to begrudgingly admit that Riku was naturally charming. And as he spent his late nights watching Riku’s past work- YouTube tutorials and reels and little day-in-my-life vlogs. He found himself silently endeared to the man on screen; he was funny and knew his audience well- what kind of products they would like and what brands they want to see him collab with. Riku was both entertaining with his little quips and jokes and editing in memes, and he was also knowledgeable; talking about skincare ingredients and formulations and why certain products were more cosmetically elegant compared to others. He talked about which shades would work best for his viewers and gave alternatives for people with different budgets.
His videos ranged from in-depth analysis on the best tinted sunscreens to videos with Sion where he tested the latest viral makeup trends like sunburnt blush and cherry cola lips.
As Daeyoung binge-watched his videos, he began to understand why Riku was so respected and loved in the industry. It was like watching a master perform, with bonus aegyo on the side.
Riku doesn't say it, but he knows Daeyoung is trying . He’s seen him around the office, head bent, watching streams and makeup tutorials. His makeup tutorials.
One time Riku almost cringed when he realised that Daeyoung was watching one of his older videos, back when he had a ring light and a dream. It was amateurish, and he didn't transition well between makeup products, and he wasn't as eloquent back then as he is now. And yet Daeyoung watched his work. He’s watching his past work and other creators’ work and monitoring competitors and their offerings, their savings, and their discount mechanisms. He’s taking notes. He’s the last to leave the office. He’s asking Ryo what “skibidi” means.
Okay, that one made Riku burst out laughing in the pantry when he heard it, and he continued laughing when Daeyoung glared at him.
God, why is this man such a Boomer?
“You gotta ease up on him, Riku. If you don't, dude is gonna quit.” Sion lectured him as they had their second matcha run of the day.
“I don't know what you mean,” Riku said as he took another sip of his strawberry matcha frappe.
“Yushi’s not even paying attention to me because he’s too busy reassuring Daeyoung that he did not screw up your content briefs.”
“Is it my fault he can’t differentiate between liquid and cream bronzer?” Riku rolled his eyes.
“Sheesh, you only have your panties in a twist because he’s not falling to his feet every time you bat your eyelashes at him. So you throw a tantrum to get his attention.”
“I do not!” Riku gasped, admonished.
“So you don't wanna jump him like a tree?”
“Don’t be crude, I do not jump every tall, handsome guy I meet.”
“Who said he was tall and handsome?” Sion shot back, and Riku faltered, ears flushed pink.
“ I mean… that’s not- I have eyes, okay!” he replied exasperatedly as Sion laughed at his expense.
Sion’s words rang in his ears as Riku stared at Daeyoung. He’s sat across from him in the monthly review meeting on performance analytics, and he is absolutely laser-focused, only glancing at the slides and typing something noteworthy. Admittedly, Daeyoung’s drive and intensity is hot.
He’s so distracted, he doesn't even realise Johnny is addressing him in the meeting.
“You could've done better on the Sky shoot. I understand that you had technical difficulties, but this is a high-profile client. There should’ve been more storytelling with the product benefits and the art-”
Riku is prepared to nod and say he’ll work harder when Daeyoung interjects.
“Riku did additional posts on his Instagram and TikTok on the brand’s storytelling. Highlighting how the collection was also a throwback to their founder’s vision of skinification in makeup. We both felt like it was too long-winded to try and fit it into the live.”
“Oh? He did? Guess I missed those. Still think it's important to highlight during your high traffic moments,” Johnny shrugged.
“He was a consummate professional and added 5000 new-to-file consumers for a brand that has a pretty high price point. And 60% of click-through rate to join the live were from his Instagram stories. I think he did a phenomenal job on the Sky live.”
“Those are good numbers, keep it up, you two. Maybe this is the dream team the company needed.” Johnny grinned slyly before turning to finance and asking them for a rundown on the P&L for the quarter for the beauty segment.
“Thanks for bringing up the new-to-file to Johnny.” Riku shuffled next to him when they left the meeting.
“You did good on that campaign, your conversions were solid despite the hiccups. And my lack of… well, everything.” Daeyoung shot him an embarrassed, tremulous smile. It makes Riku’s cold heart sputter.
“Y-You’re not lacking. You just need some time. But you're learning fast.”
“Am I? Guess that's a relief coming from you… Do you wanna grab lunch together today?” Riku hesitated before shaking his head.
“I-I’m sorry, I promised Sion I’d do his makeup for a reel.”
“No worries. Next time, then.”
“Sure, next time.” Riku nodded despite the tightening in his chest.
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
Daeyoung has realised by now that Riku’s tardiness to meetings was a power move- keep them on their toes, keep them waiting, keep them wanting.
He’s not surprised when Riku came in fifteen minutes late to Angelique Cosmetics’ boardroom. He’s radiant, not a hair out of place, makeup immaculate as always, lips glossy, blush not overdone. Dressed like a model off-duty- jeans and a pink hoody that made him look soft and ‘boyfriend’ as Ryo would say. Sometimes Daeyoung wonders if his closet is just full of these boyfriend outfits that make him all cuddly and perfected. There’s a limited edition fuchsia Labubu hanging off his bag that Daeyoung knows was gifted by one of his generous followers; he’s seen the deliveries that pile up in the reception area all addressed to him.
Unexpectedly, he’s carrying gift bags and Daeyoung rushed to help him with them.
“Hey guys! It’s been a while, huh? I brought a small token. This is the collab I did with a supplement brand; they have really good stuff. There’s this yuzu fizz gut kombucha and they have it in apple and passion fruit flavour too. And this effective energy-boosting gummy. It tastes like birthday cake!” Riku passed the gifts personally to everyone.
Someone brings him a cup of coffee and he takes it gratefully, shooting them a sweet smile that makes the room exhale in relief.
Daeyoung wonders if he’s ever tired of being the PR guy of the year.
“Okay, what do you guys have for me?”
Daeyoung is too busy taking notes and absorbing the influx of information, but every time he glances, Riku is absentmindedly listening, nodding here and there, but occasionally getting distracted by his nails or a stray piece of paper. When the presentation ended, Riku spoke before Daeyoung could even open his mouth.
“Wow guys, thanks for the hard work! I’ve always had synergy with the brand but… you know your main competitor offered me a 20% commission rate? 10% is really low in comparison.”
Daeyoung swears he could hear a pin drop.
“Well you have to consider the sets we’re giving you, they’re high in savings Riku. We’re giving your viewers exclusivity.”
“Are you though?” Riku shrugged, eyes narrowing to these execs that were trying to pull the wool over his eyes, “Based on my notes, you’ve given Wonbin up to 54% savings last year with your hero SKUs, though I understand you didn’t allow him to call out his savings considering brand guidelines and all. But of course, consumers and I can do the math. No shade to him, but someone who has a bigger audience like me should get the best offering for my viewers, no?”
“Well, Riku, we always love working with you, but due to budget constraints and time limitations-“ One of them stuttered, flustered and red.
“Ahhhh I totally understand if you guys need time to reconvene and reconsider your proposal to me. Let’s revisit this after you discuss internally. I have an appointment with a stylist, Daeyoung has another meeting he needs to get to, right, Daeyoung?” Riku turned to him with a knowing smirk.
Daeyoung has not said a word in probably the whole meeting but he just nods on command. He does not have a meeting for the rest of the day, but even if Riku says it with such convictio,n perhaps he should double-check his Outlook calendar.
Riku gives the room a beautific smile.
It’s the smile of a killer.
And it is then that Daeyoung realises that this is why Riku is ranked No. 1 in this industry. Maeda Riku is a shark disguised as a marshmallow.
“Say it, you’ve been looking at me like you wanna say something this whole time,” Riku said once they were alone on the elevator.
“That was really impressive.”
“You shouldn’t bend to the brands just because they own the product. They’re only selling well because they rely on people like me who give them the traffic and the earned media. Competition is tough. I’ve worked hard to have the rate card I have.”
“You know you’re smarter than you look,” Daeyoung muttered under his breath, and he noticed the moment Riku’s posture straightened and a flash of hurt crossed his face.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Daeyoung had heard many versions of Riku’s tone - the professional friendly one, the upbeat, peppy one he used in videos and the occasional sardonic lilt his voice took when he was winding him up. He has never heard his voice shrink.
“I-I didn’t mean it like -“ he faltered, panicking when Riku stepped out of the elevator and fast-footed to the entrance, he turned his face away.
“You and everyone else, I guess. I’m not going to the office today, don’t wait up.”
“Riku, I’m sorry-“ he tried, not missing the tight expression of his face, the bunched up shoulders like he was trying to hide, and the downturned corners of his mouth like he couldn’t control his expression. Riku is always in control.
“Bye Daeyoung.”
Riku doesn’t look back, just hurries into the cab waiting for him.
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
Debauched as it was, the Starboy Magazine birthday bash, celebrating 25 years of the publication, was probably the fanciest PR event of the quarter. They held it in a five-star hotel, poolside with dancers on podiums and the hottest DJs for their respective sets. The theme was something dumb like ‘Galactic Moonlight’ and of course, people wore metallic and glitter and space-themed clothes that left little to the imagination. And Daeyoung was not paid enough to buy an outfit just for the event.
Riku, however, had a Renjun and his design team on speed dial, so he’s unsurprisingly dressed to the nines in a silver, almost sheer halter lam é top that clung to his slight waist. His high-waisted pants flared just slightly at the ankle, which made him look even taller, even more ethereal. Every time a strobe light caught his skin, it gleamed, and he had feather edged lashes that made his eyes bigger than ever. He had on some kind of gloss that made his lips look sinful, like he just ate a bowl of cherries. His hair was slicked back, earrings dangled like galaxies, he was a walking headline.
And surrounded—as always—by cameras, influencers, and industry elites.
Daeyoung was halfway through forcing a conversation with a beauty columnist when his gaze snapped back to Riku.
His smile dropped.
The Editor-in-Chief of Starboy Magazine, a man in his late forties with a reputation for not playing fair and being handsy, had cornered Riku by the champagne tower. He was learning too close, touching Riku’s arm too familiarly, laughing at something Riku clearly hadn’t said to be funny. And Riku, ever so diplomatic, just laughed lightly and stepped out of reach. Again and again. Like a dance he had learned by heart.
Daeyoung felt his jaw tighten.
He should walk away and let it go.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he cut across the floor like a storm on stilts, stepping between them with practiced calm and a barely masked glare.
“Excuse me,” he said, voice flat. “Is there a problem here?”
The Editor blinked, unimpressed, “Don’t think we’ve met.”
“I work with Riku,” Daeyoung replied tightly. “And I’d like to borrow him for a moment.”
Riku’s eyes widened. “Daeyoung—”
The Editor smirked, turning back to Riku. “You didn’t tell me you had security tonight sweetheart.”
And then his hand slid down Riku’s lower back.
That did it. Daeyoung saw red.
Daeyoung’s hand came between them, not violent, but firm.
“Don’t touch him.”
Riku grabbed Daeyoung’s arm, his smile strained, his voice low and sharp. “Daeyoung. Now. ”
He barely had time to say goodbye before Riku dragged him across the dance floor and into a curtained alcove behind a projection screen.
The second they were alone, Riku spun on him.
“Are you crazy? That’s the Editor in Chief? Are you trying to get me blacklisted by every media company ever?!”
Daeyoung stood his ground. “He was disrespectful and you know it!”
“He’s a known vulture, let him be.”
“He was touching you, Riku. It was predatory and you know it.”
“So what? We’re in public so that’s all that will happen!”
Daeyoung stared at him in disbelief. “So what? Do you hear yourself? I thought you had more self-respect than that.”
The silence that followed was louder than the bass thudding from the DJ booth.
“Maybe I don't, but what are you thinking,” Riku said slowly, dangerously quiet, “ Going at the man who’s literally hosting this event .”
He shook his head, mouth twisting into a line.
“You’re not fit for this role if you don’t understand how this industry works .”
The words landed like ice water in his veins.
Daeyoung didn’t speak. Couldn’t.
He just turned and walked out, heart hammering and throat clenched so tight it hurt to swallow.
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
Three days later, it was quiet in the office. Most of the team was working remotely. Daeyoung had come in early to escape his apartment and a thousand unresolved thoughts.
He found Riku hunched over the in-house filming setup, muttering under his breath as he struggled to fix a jammed ring light and a tilting tripod. His hoodie sleeves were pushed up, makeup half-applied, wires scattered around him.
“Need help?” Daeyoung asked quietly.
Riku looked up. Blinking. Paused.
“…Yeah,” he said finally, stepping aside.
Daeyoung knelt, adjusted the base, then tightened the second bracket. It clicked back into place.
“Thanks,” Riku said softly.
A pause.
“I’m sorry,” he added, voice lower. “About what I said. That night. That was… mean. And unfair.”
Daeyoung stood slowly. He didn’t look at him right away.
“I get why you said it,” he replied after a beat. “But it still hurt.”
Riku’s shoulders dropped. “I know.”
Daeyoung crossed his arms, staring at the floor for a moment.
“I am inexperienced,” he admitted. “I worked in tech. Cleaned data, adjusted margins, very little emotional math. I got fired after the company restructured and took cost-cutting measures and I thought maybe PR would be better. I’m… still figuring it out.”
He glanced at Riku. “I didn’t mean to act like you were just some airhead in makeup. I underestimated you. And I’m sorry.”
Riku blinked slowly.
“I kind of am an airhead,” he murmured, then smiled gently. “But I also do five jobs at once and haven’t taken a day off in two months.”
“I noticed.”
They looked at each other.
Daeyoung rubbed the back of his neck. “So. Friends?”
“Friends,” Riku echoed.
They shook hands. Then didn’t let go.
Riku squeezed gently.
“Also,” he added, “for the record? I do have self-respect. But I also know when to play smart. That’s how I survive.”
Daeyoung nodded, sober. “Then let me learn from you.”
“You better,” Riku grinned. “I’m not dragging your amateur ass around this industry alone.”
Daeyoung laughed—and this time, it felt like the start of something real.
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
When Daeyoung stepped into the office, he wasn’t expecting the sight that stopped him cold, just outside the pantry.
He’d come in late—delayed by a brand call that went long—and was still juggling his coffee, his tablet, and a mental checklist of tasks when he turned the corner. The pantry door was open and the light was on, casting a soft halo around the figure standing inside, staring at a wide variety of snacks. Slim waist, loose cardigan draped over delicate shoulders, and glossy black hair cascading down a sun-kissed neck.
He paused mid-step.
It wasn’t just the silhouette. It was the way she moved, almost cinematic, like someone shot in soft focus. She reached for an instant pack of hot cocoa, turned slightly to the side, revealing a glimpse of clear skin, plump lips, and a smooth cheekbone.
And then she fully turned around.
Daeyoung nearly dropped his coffee.
“...Riku?”
The woman—no, Riku —tilted his head and smiled like it was the most ordinary thing in the world. The dark wig framed his face in waves, parted loosely and tucked behind one ear. His makeup was subtle but effective: long lashes, a shimmer on the inner corners of his eyes, a dusting of blush spread across his cheeks. Gloss clung to his bottom lip, like honey.
“Morning, Daeyoung,” he said sweetly, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he stepped out of the pantry.
Daeyoung opened his mouth, closed it again.
His brain short-circuited, but he followed Riku nonetheless, towards the influencer lounge.
Riku in a blazer was already dangerously attractive. But this ? Riku in soft, glowing, radiant femininity ? It was unfair. It almost felt illegal.
“I…What’s going on?” Daeyoung finally managed, blinking like he’d just walked into a fever dream.
Riku giggled. Actually giggled. “A poll! Didn’t you see I posted it last week? It was “Do you want to see me crossdress for a concept video or live?” and guess what? Ninety-two percent said yes. I’m not above pandering to my audience.” He took a casual sip from his water bottle that was waiting for him in the influencer lounge. While he was drinking, he twirled a strand of hair over his shoulder like it was just a regular day in the office.
“I thought I’d do a soft glam look. Focus on accentuating features people already think are ‘feminine’, you know? My bone structure, lashes, collarbone…” he trailed off, then pointed at his cheek with one finger. “This is deceptively hard to get right, by the way.”
Daeyoung could only nod mutely, still trying to reconcile the visual in front of him with the idea that this was the same Riky who had once tossed a rolled-up sheet mask at him during a logistics meeting.
Before he could form a real sentence, the influencer lounge door swung open behind him.
“Perfect timing,” said Renjun, breezing in with a garment rack full of chiffon and satin. He wore round glasses and held a half-melted iced matcha in one hand, which he passed to Riku without asking.
“Sip and glam, let’s go.”
“I’m already in full glam,” Riku said, gesturing to himself.
“Not until we test this one,” Renjun countered, pulling a dress from the rack. It was pale lilac with a sweetheart neckline, with embroidered flowers blooming over the bodice. He held it up to Riku’s shoulders like a stylist auditioning for Paris Fashion Week.
“I think this one’ll make him look twice,” Renjun said, not looking up.
“Who?” Riku asked, blinking.
Renjun didn’t answer.
Riku narrowed his eyes at him in suspicion but accepted the dress anyway.
Amidst all this, Daeyoung just stared in awe. This was not going to be an easy shoot at all.
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
The shoot was set up in one of the lounge studio spaces, bathed in filtered light and draped with fabric backdrops in pastel colours. Riku, now dressed in the lilac dress, stood poised beneath a high ring light, his wig pinned perfectly, heels making him a little taller and more delicate than usual.
Daeyoung stood near the camera setup, watching, arms crossed over his chest, tablet forgotten by his side. He told himself he was just monitoring the production like always. Ensuring continuity. Making sure the lighting didn’t wash out Riku’s skin tone, that brand placement was visible, and that the final cut would work for multiple platforms.
But he couldn’t tear his eyes away.
The dress hugged Riku’s waist and flared just enough at the hips to suggest movement. His collarbones peeked above the neckline. When he laughed at something the makeup artist said, the sound was so light and carefree it made something twist in Daeyoung’s chest.
“You okay?” one of the assistants whispered to him, glancing up. “You look like you’re in a hostage situation.”
He didn’t answer.
In front of the camera, Riku struck another pose. Then tried to speak.
“Hi, everyone! Today I’m–today I’m–” he paused, blinking, then laughed. “Wait, sorry.”
He restarted.
“This look is about embracing—uh—wait. What was the line again?”
Renjun, lounging in the corner with his drink, smirked. Without looking up, he typed something into his phone and sent it.
Renjun to Jeno
: [image attached: Riku in full makeup, lilac dress, sunlight halo]
Renjun to Jeno
: [image attached: Daeyoung watching offset, arms crossed and biting his bottom lip]
Renjun to Jeno : You lose 🙂
Jeno to Renjun : NOT FAIR. THIS IS CHEATING.
Meanwhile, Riku was trying again.
“This dress was—was designed to highlight natural–ah, sorry again.”
Daeyoung shifted slightly.
Riku’s eyes flickered towards him, then away, then back again. His posture stiffened. His fingers curled slightly around the hem of the dress.
He was used to Daeyoung’s presence during shoots. He was used to being watched, but this felt different.
Daeyoung’s gaze wasn’t managerial. It was intense . Heat radiated from where he stood, eyes overtly scanning up and down without blinking. He wasn’t trying to hide it.
It made Riku nervous in a way he didn’t expect.
They had to stop for retakes three times.
“Maybe you need a break,” Renjun offered casually, sipping his drink. “Or maybe your audience is making you nervous?”
Riku threw a small glare over his shoulder. Daeyoung didn’t respond, but his ears were turning a very suspicious shade of red.
Then by the time the shoot was over, Riku was exhausted and annoyed with himself.
The makeup wipes stung a little when he cleaned off his face. Glitter clung to the edges of his lashes. His wig was already back in his bag and the dress had been zipped back onto its hanger. Now, he stood barefoot in the dressing room, hair flattened from the wig cap, wearing nothing but sweatpants and a hoodie three sizes too big.
He shuffled into the hallway, tugging the sleeves over his hands.
Daeyoung was still at his usual spot near the exit, reviewing something on his tablet. He looked up automatically and froze.
Riku, barefaced. Lashes natural, skin flushed from all the product removal, hair sticking up in soft tufts, hoodie sleeves pulled over his fingers like mittens.
He looked like a marshmallow. A very, very, very pretty marshmallow.
Daeyoung’s stomach made somersaults.
His mouth opened. Then closed.
He was fully, irreversibly, panicking.
Not over the dress, not the wig, not even the transformation.
But this sleep-addled version of Riku. This unguarded quiet that made his chest ache for no reason at all.
“Oh,” Riku said, blinking up at him. “You’re still here?”
Daeyoung nodded mutely.
Riku smiled, affectionate, trusting.
Daeyoung’s brain promptly short-circuited.
“You look exhausted, do you maybe want a ride home?” Daeyoung found himself offering, shocked at his sudden confidence.
Riku blinked again, then smiled slowly. “You offering to chauffeur me now?”
Daeyoung gave a soft snort. “I’m offering to keep you from collapsing on the subway in a pair of house slippers.”
Riku laughed, breathier this time, like something unknotted in his chest. “Tempting.”
Daeyoung glanced down, then back at him. “You don’t have to say yes. Just figured it was a long day.”
Riku tilted his head, gaze warm now. “No, I… I’d like that.”
A small silence passed between them. The kind that didn’t need filling.
Daeyoung held the door open, just slightly, and waited.
Riku slipped past him, the oversized hoodie brushing against Daeyoung’s arm as he did. “Let me grab my bag.”
“Take your time,” Daeyoung murmured, already walking slower than usual.
He didn’t need to rush. Not for this.
Not tonight.
The ride home was quiet at first.
Riku sat in the passenger seat, legs curled up slightly under him, hoodie sleeves tugged halfway over his fingers. His wig and makeup kit were tucked neatly in a tote bag on the floor, cradled like something fragile. Daeyoung focused on the road, hands steady on the wheel, but his heart hadn’t calmed since the moment he saw Riku barefaced, eyes limpid with exhaustion.
“I’m usually not this clumsy,” Riku said suddenly, voice light but tired. “During shoots, I mean.”
Daeyoung glanced at him, catching a flicker of a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“I didn’t think you were clumsy,” he said quietly.
“I was tripping over every other line.”
“You were… being watched very intensely,” Daeyoung admitted.
Riku let out a soft laugh. “Yeah, I noticed.”
A pause. Then:
“You want to come in for a bit? I can show you the setup I use when I shoot at home.”
Daeyoung blinked. “Are you sure? You must be wiped.”
“I am,” Riku said honestly. “But I want to.”
So Daeyoung parked in front of a modest apartment building tucked between cafes and quiet side streets, and followed Riku up to the third floor. The hallway smelled like laundry and fresh basil. Inside, Riku’s place was immaculate. Soft lighting, clean shelves lined with skincare and designer candles, a framed poster of a campaign he’d starred in half-tucked behind a monstera plant.
The vanity setup was the centrepiece. A glowing mirror surrounded by organised drawers, acrylic displays of lip tints and eyeliners arranged by hue. A tripod stood next to the window, cables tucked discreetly under the rug. It was both homey and curated. A little stage was built inside a sanctuary.
“I edit over there,” Riku said, pointing to a laptop perched on a tiny table. “Most of the time I don’t even watch the takes fully—I just listen. I can hear when I sound fake.”
Daeyoung leaned against the doorway, arms crossed lightly. “You never sound fake.”
Riku gave a tired shrug. “I try not to. But you have to be… something all the time. Peppy, charming, light. The moment you show up looking tired, or skip a week, people just… stop caring.”
He sat down on the edge of the couch, tugging his knees up slightly and wrapping his arms around them. The sleeves of his hoodie pooled around his knuckles.
Daeyoung hesitated, then moved to sit in the nearby armchair. “Do you ever think about quitting?”
“I used to,” Riku admitted, contemplative. “A lot.”
His voice was quieter now. No laughter, no filters.
“There’s a lot of things wrong with this industry. This… this obsession to be… perfect,” he said the word with a bit of disgust . “There was this time I did a juice cleanse for six days. No solids. Just ‘glow smoothies’ and supplements because a campaign wanted a ‘clean look.’ I fainted in the middle of filming. Woke up to Renjun panicking and trying to shove a protein bar into my mouth.”
Daeyoung stared at him, horrified. “Why would you—?”
“I thought it was normal,” Riku interrupted gently. “Not good, but normal. I didn’t want to get replaced. Everyone looks so effortless online, like they’re not trying. I was trying so hard and still felt behind.”
He exhaled, curling into himself a little more.
“I’ve been taking marketing classes,” he said after a pause. “Online. Night courses. Just in case. You know how fast people fall out of favour. One year you’re the ‘face’, but then the next year, the algorithm forgets you exist.”
Daeyoung didn’t speak for a long moment.
Then he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and looked straight at Riku.
“You’re not just some face,” he said quietly. “You’re smart. You’re disciplined. You put in the hours. You do the research. You work harder than anyone I’ve seen in this industry, even if it hasn’t been long since I’ve been part of it. Even if you stopped posting tomorrow, you’d go far. Because of who you are. Not just what you look like.”
Riku blinked. For a second, his expression cracked, something raw and unsure flickering in his eyes.
“You say that like it’s easy to believe,” he said softly.
“It’s not,” Daeyoung replied. “But that doesn’t make it less true.”
The silence between them stretched out.
Riku shifted slightly on the couch. “You always say things so seriously.”
Daeyoung gave him a small, crooked smile. “You always hide behind jokes.”
That made Riku laugh under his breath. He looked at Daeyoung for a long time.
And then, without warning, he stood and crossed the small space between them. Slowly. Deliberately. The room felt very still.
He stopped in front of Daeyoung, hoodie hem brushing his knees. His face was bare. No filters. No lashes. Just soft skin, flushed from fatigue, and lips still tinted pink from where he’d rubbed off gloss with a tissue.
Daeyoung looked up at him, throat tight.
“Is this okay?” Riku asked, the stillness delicate.
Daeyoung didn’t answer with words.
He stood and cupped Riku’s face in both hands. Their foreheads nearly touched. And then he kissed him, slow and aching, as if all the tension of the last few weeks had been leading here—past judgment, past assumptions, past the barrier of screens and contracts and flawless campaign images.
Riku melted into the kiss, fingers curling into Daeyoung’s sleeves, hoodie bunching up around them. His body pressed close, warm and solid and real.
When they finally pulled apart, Riku’s eyes were glassy. He didn’t let go.
The kiss lingered in the air between them, tender and unhurried. Riku's eyes were glassy when they finally parted; he didn’t pull away. He stayed close, their foreheads brushing, his breath gentle against Daeyoung’s cheek.
Daeyoung didn’t move.
He couldn’t. Because the second the reality of what just happened settled into his body, a wave of cold logic washed over the warmth.
Oh no.
He stepped back slightly—not far, just enough to see Riku’s face clearly, to register the softness there, the barely-there smile and the flush along his cheekbones. But Daeyoung’s chest was tightening. He stepped back into the chair he was sitting and Riku followed promptly, setting himself on Daeyoung’s lap without a word.
“I—” He hesitated, clearing his throat. “This might be… um. This could actually be an HR violation.”
Riku blinked.
Then tipped his head back laughing.
“Oh my god,” he breathed, grinning. “Are you really thinking about HR right now ?”
Daeyoung ran a hand over his face. “I mean… yes? I work at the agency. You’re one of our highest-profile talents. I’m technically on the brand strategy side, which means I oversee talent-facing campaigns, and you’re —you’re Riku. This is exactly the kind of thing they warn you about during compliance training.”
Riku raised both brows and adopted a mock-serious tone. “Oh no. You’ve kissed the talent. Salacious. The kids will call us a problematic couple on those spill the tea podcasts.”
Daeyoung groaned quietly. “Don’t joke.”
“I’m not joking. I’m teasing. ” Riku leaned forward again, closing the distance between them. His voice dropped to something warmer, more earnest beneath the humour. “You think I’d let them do anything to you?”
“I think I’m in a grey area that could get… messy,” Daeyoung murmured, eyes flickering down to Riku’s lips again before he forced them back up. “And I don’t want this to be a mistake.”
Riku tilted his head, eyes narrowing—not with suspicion, but with careful, affectionate mischief. “Do I look like I regret it?”
“No,” Daeyoung admitted.
Riku tapped a finger against his chest. “Then stop spiralling. I know the power dynamic stuff gets weird in this industry. But I invited you here. I kissed you back and trust me—if anyone’s in charge of this dynamic, it’s me.”
Daeyoung let out a shaky laugh. “That’s exactly what makes it worse.”
“Oh my god,” Riku laughed, pushing lightly at his shoulder. “You’re actually having a meltdown . You really are a type A.”
“Maybe because I am ,” Daeyoung muttered, lips twitching despite himself.
Riku softened, smile fading into something gentler. “Hey, I get it. You’re careful. You have to be. But this doesn’t have to be some scandal. We’re two people who like each other. You didn’t trick me. You didn’t take advantage of me.”
He leaned in again, voice low and soothing. “You kissed me like I was real.”
Daeyoung looked at him for a long moment, the tension in his shoulders gradually unwinding.
“I’ve liked you for a while,” he said finally, voice quiet.
Riku blinked, then smiled—smaller this time, slower.
“I know.”
“You know?”
“You watch my shoots like you’re afraid I’ll disappear if you blink,” Riku said, grinning. “I wasn’t sure if you liked me or were just scared of me. But then I wore that lilac dress and you looked at me like I was going to ruin your entire life.”
Daeyoung flushed. “You kind of did.”
Riku laughed again—light, free, messy in the way that made Daeyoung’s chest tighten.
“I’m still serious about what I said, though,” Riku added. “If the agency ever gave you trouble for this— for us —I’d leave. I don’t care how high my conversion rate is. You think I want to work with people who would fire the one person who sees me?”
Daeyoung’s hand reached out, almost instinctively, resting lightly at Riku’s waist. The hoodie was cottony under his fingers, warm with body heat and the faint scent of the cleansing balm.
“You don’t have to say that.”
“But I want to,” Riku said softly. “And I mean it.”
A long beat passed.
Daeyoung pulled him in again, slower this time, and pressed a kiss to his forehead, just barely above his brow.
Riku closed his eyes and melted into the touch.
Somewhere in the corner of his mind, Daeyoung still worried about policy and fallout and fine print.
But here, in Riku’s living room, with soft lighting and a hoodie that swallowed half of Riku’s frame, all of that felt very far away.
And Riku—barefaced, beautiful, and utterly real—was the only thing that mattered.
“Are you still thinking about HR?”
“Maybe.”
“Tsk. It means I need to work harder to make you forget.” Riku threw his arms over Daeyoung’s shoulder and leaned in closer with a devilish smile.
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
The late afternoon sun streamed through Riku’s apartment windows, pooling over the hardwood floor and casting everything in warm, golden hues. His camera was propped up on its usual tripod, angled just-so to catch the light hitting his cheekbones. Off-screen, a bounce board reflected light toward him, and the faint hum of his mic warming up signalled that everything was in place.
Except, of course, for Daeyoung—hovering awkwardly in the background, out of frame, arms crossed and already regretting agreeing to help with this video.
“Relax,” Riku said without looking, dabbing the final layer of concealer onto the corner of his eye. “It’s not like I’m going to flash your government name on screen.”
“I’m not worried about that,” Daeyoung replied, clearly lying. He was standing just off to the side, partially blocked by the edge of a standing plant. “I’m worried about this being… an HR issue again.”
Riku turned around, a gloss wand dangling from his fingers. He raised one perfectly groomed brow. “Babe. I already told you. HR knows.”
“And they’re fine?”
“They’d better be fine,” Riku said, twisting open a tube of shade #01 – Sweet Escape. “I threatened to leave if they made a fuss. It’s not like they had much choice.”
Daeyoung stared at him aghast.
“What?” Riku blinked innocently. “It was a polite threat. A sassy threat. I had my manager cc’d.”
“You’re terrifying.”
“I think the word you're looking for is effective.”
Riku leaned toward the mirror, applying the gloss with practised precision. His lips gleamed a bright rose-pink, catching the light just right.
“Alright,” he muttered, tapping the camera screen. The red light blinked on.
His voice instantly switched into performance mode: upbeat, flirty, effortless.
“Hi, besties! It’s your favourite chaos demon here, and today we’re testing out the new Kiss Kiss Lasting Lock Glosses—twenty-four shades of ‘transfer-proof’ magic, allegedly. Y’all know I like to test claims, so today’s method is… scientific.”
He grinned into the camera. Behind him, Daeyoung already looked alarmed.
“I’ll be testing each shade with a real-life kiss, to see if the claims actually holds up to, you know, real-life situations. Lucky for me—” he swivelled his head toward Daeyoung with a mischievous sparkle in his eye—“I have a very kissable assistant.”
Daeyoung made a strangled noise.
Riku cooed sweetly, “Come here. Let’s test Sweet Escape.”
Daeyoung shuffled forward, clearly still reluctant. He bent down, just enough for Riku to lean up and kiss him lightly on the lips.
The camera angle only caught the bottom half of his face—his nose, one cheek, and a clear view of his mouth. Viewers would see the faintest tremble in his smile. His ears were already tinged pink.
“No transfer,” Riku declared, checking his lips in the mirror. “Success.”
He reached for shade #02 – Peach Dive and turned back to Daeyoung.
“There are twenty-four shades,” Daeyoung muttered, glancing at the open row of tubes.
Riku shrugged, completely unfazed. “Guess I’ll just have to kiss you twenty-four times. I’m nothing if not thorough.”
By the fourth shade, Daeyoung’s posture had gone from tense to resigned. By the seventh, he was hiding his face behind one hand between takes. Riku, meanwhile, was thriving. By the eleventh gloss—Cherry Bomb—Riku leaned up for the kiss with a teasing tilt of his head and murmured against his lips, “Your ears are glowing.”
“They’re not.”
“Your cheeks are too. I should market you as a heat-reactive blush.”
By the fifteenth gloss, Daeyoung tried to duck out of frame entirely, but the top of his nose and the corner of his smile still peeked into view every time he leaned down. Riku, delighted by this, made sure to kiss him just slightly off centre, dragging the moment out.
“Viewers love authenticity,” he whispered.
“You’re insufferable,” Daeyoung whispered back.
“And you’re adorable.”
Near the end of the shoot, lips glistening and heart full, Riku turned back to the camera, fanning himself dramatically.
“Okay. Final verdict: they do not budge. Like, not even a little. Colour payoff is insane. The hydration level is ten out of ten. I literally can’t stop kissing my boyfriend now. Please send help.”
He tossed a cotton pad over his shoulder for comedic flair, then leaned forward with a sheepish grin.
“Also—tiny unrelated update—I’m thinking of taking my boyfriend somewhere cute for our three-month anniversary. So if you guys have restaurant or getaway recs, drop them in the comments. Lowkey, romantic, not too crowded, preferably somewhere with dim lighting so he doesn’t panic. You guys are the best. MUAH!”
He blew a kiss directly into the lens, and the screen faded to black.
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
The next day, when the video was posted, it was immediately flooded with comments.
@skincaffeine: I watched this for the lip gloss, but now I need to know what BL romcom I accidentally stumbled into?
@liptintexpert: THE BF. HIS FACE. HIS LIPS. THAT HEIGHT DIFFERENCE???
@peachsundae : guys. he is so in love. riku is absolutely glowing in love.
@rikufan0124: Can we talk about how he kissed him TWENTY-FOUR TIMES? THAT’S COMMITMENT. WHO IS HIS BOYFRIEND?
@bs8fka412hfns I love that he’s soft-launching this man without giving us any details of what he looks like. Yes, slay Riku! Give us nothing!
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
Renjun sat at his design table, sipping a perfectly balanced iced macchiato and staring at his phone screen with a look of smug serenity.
He replayed the clip one more time—Daeyoung’s flustered half-smile barely in frame, Riku planting a kiss on his lips like he was tasting a dessert.
Then, he hit share, sending it directly to Jeno with a short message.
Renjun to Jeno: Guess who won the bet? You owe me dinner, a fancy dinner. Like with silk napkins and a waterfront view.
Jeno to Renjun: I still think you cheated. But fine, dinner. I’ll even let you pick the wine.
Outside, the sun dipped lower over the city, casting everything in a warm honey light. Somewhere, Riku was wiping lip gloss off of Daeyoung’s lips with a cotton pad, laughing. Somewhere, Jeno was already browsing through restaurants with a waterfront view with gritted teeth and a reluctant smile.
And Renjun?
He just leaned back in his chair, sipping his drink, and basked in the glow of being right.