Archive of Our Own

There are moments in life when everything feels like a little too much. When the weight of the everyday piles up—small things, big things, all things—and you just need a breath. A pause. A reason to run away, not out of fear, but out of love. To take the people you feel safest with and go somewhere—anywhere—that lets you breathe a little easier.

Sometimes, it’s not even about the destination. Sometimes, it’s about going back. Back to a place already soft in your memories. A place that once meant something beautiful, and still does. This time, maybe to make new memories. Memories that are just as special .

In the corner of their living room stood a simple wooden shelf. On the wall above it hung three frames, neat and proud. Inside each one is a handwritten letter, full of doodles and messy spelling, from their triplets. Words of love. Of thanks. Of “You’re the best in the world.” Each letter had its own handmade bouquet, preserved with care.

They called it the Memory Room , though it wasn’t really a room. Just a corner, a space. A tiny archive of moments that meant the world.

There were birthday cards with glitter still stuck to the corners. Finger-painted bookmarks. A clay blob that may or may not have been meant to be a flower. Every gift the triplets made that survived the chaos of their toddler years had a place—some here, some in their bedrooms—but all cherished.

They were small things, sure. But small things build the biggest love.

Achievements, after all, deserved to be celebrated—because they were proof of someone's hard work, someone’s heart poured into something. And for the three fathers—Ricky, Gyuvin, and Gunwook—this little collection was a reminder of everything they’ve built, day by day.

So when the group chat lit up again, it felt like the universe giving them a little nudge.

[Group Chat: Lovelicky Squad 💗]

Yujin: helloo
Taerae: hiiii
Matthew: why is this gc alive again
Gunwook: it was literally active like two days ago
Gyuvin: yeah and then we ghosted it. classic
Ricky: aren’t we changing the name of this gc? it’s been like… 20 years

There was a beat of silence, then—

Yujin: no
Jiwoong: no
Taerae: no <3
Hanbin: no
Hao: absolutely not
Matthew: we love it too much
Gyuvin: it’s a special name 😌
Gunwook: we thought about it for like a week
Ricky: i was just asking… because why is it still me ㅠ_ㅠ
Matthew: you’re not escaping this

Gyuvin: because we love you
Gunwook: it’s simple as L.O.V.E
Jiwoong: you three are disgustingly cute as always
Yujin: jiwoong-hyung did you take your meds today
Jiwoong: i’m not that old :( and yes, but not because i’m old

Gyuvin: okay okay. back to topic
Matthew: why are we all here again
Yujin: do we want a trip?
Taerae: again??
Hanbin: we already did everything… island hopping, sea appreciation, camping, amusement park, city tour, that abandoned village
Yujin: the amusement park was peak joy
Hao: the haunted school was not
Ricky: what haunted school 😟
Gunwook: …don’t you remember?
Matthew: GUYS. focus.

Gyuvin: so. trip, yes or no?
Ricky: somewhere peaceful
Gunwook: somewhere relaxing
Yujin: somewhere with lots of food
Taerae: do we even care where it is if we’re all together
Hanbin: exactly

Jiwoong: i vote Busan
Hao: oh, Busan~ so lovely
Gyuvin: OUR WEDDING WAS THERE 😭😭😭
Gunwook: DON’T REMIND ME I’M GOING TO CRY
Ricky: it’s so nostalgic…
Matthew: because Busan is…
Yujin: busan is good

Taerae: busan is good!!!
Ricky: busan is good ><
Gyuvin: BUSAN IS GOOD!!!
Gunwook: BUSAN IS GOOD!!!!
Hao: Busan is good!
Hanbin: busan is good!!
Jiwoong: busan is good :)

And just like that, there were no objections.

The plan was simple: Busan again. Not for the sea this time, but for the woods. For the greens. For a weekend that will be spent in the forest, where the air was quiet, and the love, loud in its own soft way.

Because Busan is good.

The scent of lemongrass and chili filled the house, warm and tangy, curling through the hallway like an invitation. It was nearly dinner time, and the house was alive in the way homes get when love is being cooked—pots bubbling gently on the stove, laughter echoing from the living room, the soft clinking of plates being set by small, careful hands.

“Okay,” Gyuvin said, kneeling beside Hana, a gentle hand guiding hers, “fork on the left, spoon on the right. Just like we practiced.”

“I remember,” she said proudly, placing them delicately with precision.

“Only the light ones, please,” Gunwook called from the kitchen as Haneul reached for a bowl a little too big for him. “We don’t need another soup incident.”

“That was one time,” Haneul said with a grin.

“That was three times,” Ricky teased, carrying over a plate of cut mangoes and strawberries. The vibrant fruit glistened under the light, diced neatly, colors vibrant on ceramic.

As everyone moved around the table in their familiar routine, Hana looked up. “Daddy, are you going somewhere?”

Ricky glanced at her, pausing mid-step. “Yes, sweetheart,” he said softly. “Just for a little while. But you’ll have a vacation too—with Grandma and Grandpa.”

“Is it with other uncles?” Haneul piped up as he set a stack of napkins beside each plate. “Like Uncle Yujin, Uncle Hao, Uncle Bin, Uncle Jiwoong, Uncle Matthew, and Uncle Taerae? Hmm… who else? Did I forget anyone?”

“No, I think that’s all,” Harui said, balancing a small bowl with both hands. He wobbled dramatically for effect before safely placing it down.

“You have a lot of friends, Appa,” Hana said, looking around like she was counting them in her head.

“Well, so do you,” Gyuvin said as he ruffled her hair lightly.

“Having a lot of friends is nice,” Gunwook added, handing a smaller serving spoon to Haneul. “But what’s even better are friends who stay with you. Who stick around.”

“We’ve been friends since university,” Ricky said as he brought over the soup—Tom Yum Goong, steaming and vibrant, filled with shrimp and mushrooms and a sharp citrus scent that made the kids wrinkle their noses and grin.

“Do I have to have friends from kindergarten all the way until I’m big like you?” Haneul asked as he slid into his seat.

“Not exactly,” Ricky said, kneeling beside him to help tuck in his chair. “We were just lucky.”

Gyuvin leaned over, taking Ricky’s hand for a moment as their shoulders brushed. “Very lucky. And even luckier to have you three.”

That’s when it happened—again.

The moment the triplets saw their parents draw closer, they instinctively raised their hands to their faces. But not to hide. Not really.

They covered their eyes shyly, fingers spread ever so slightly apart, the kind of peek you do when you’re too curious to look away but feel a flutter in your chest just the same.

And then, just like always, their parents kissed—brief, familiar, and tender. The kind of kiss that said I love you, here and now.

“Yiiiee,” Hana giggled behind her fingers, voice high and sweet.

“I’m not looking,” Harui whispered, though one eye peeked through the smallest crack.

“Ihhhhh,” Haneul murmured, hiding his smile behind both hands, nose scrunched from the effort of not grinning too wide.

Their fathers only laughed, leaning in a little closer to one another, unbothered and delighted by their children’s shy delight.

“You three act like it’s your first time seeing us like this,” Gunwook teased as he slid into his seat beside them.

“It is ,” Hana insisted, peeking once more. “Every time feels like the first.”

Dinner continued in bursts of giggles and the clinking of spoons against bowls. Ricky ladled soup carefully into the kids’ bowls while Gyuvin passed around the fruit, warning them not to eat it all before finishing their food.

Harui, lips puckered from a bite of shrimp, suddenly looked up. “Appa?”

Gyuvin looked over. “Hmm?”

“If Uncle Hao and Uncle Bin go on the trip with you, wouldn’t Hiro be all alone?”

That made them all pause. Ricky, still holding a ladle mid-air, blinked as he exchanged a look with Gunwook.

“Can we bring Hiro with us?” Hana asked quickly, her voice rising with excitement. “Please? Please please please? He can stay with us at Grandma’s!”

“Hiro should come!” Haneul added, as if they needed convincing.

“I think that’s a lovely idea,” Ricky said after a pause, gently wiping soup from Hana’s chin. “We just need to ask Grandma and Grandpa… and of course, Uncle Hao and Uncle Bin.”

“Yayyy!” they all shouted, so loud Gunwook flinched and Gyuvin laughed.

“Careful! We still need our ears for the road trip playlist,” Gunwook said.

Gyuvin already had his phone out, grinning. “Group chat is going to explode again.”

“They never left the chat in the first place,” Ricky said with a smile.

[Group Chat: Lovelicky Squad 💗]

Ricky: hao-hyung, hanbin-hyung
Ricky: the triplets were asking…
Ricky: can hiro stay with my parents while we’re on the trip? 🥺 they really want him to join them

Hanbin: they already miss him and we haven’t even left yet 😭
Hao: ㅋㅋㅋ that’s so cute
Hanbin: four kids tho…
Hao: do your parents have superpowers
Ricky: they raised me didn’t they 😌
Gunwook: and did it perfectly
Gyuvin: exactly. look at him. masterpiece. 10/10 parenting

Taerae: are we part of this conversation or just audience
Matthew: yes to both
Gyuvin: yes.
Gunwook: yes.
Yujin: obviously
Jiwoong: i’m just here to witness love in action 

Hanbin: haha but seriously it’s okay with us
Hao: yeah. if your parents are okay with it, go for it
Hanbin: hiro would love the time with them too
Ricky: 🥺 thank you hyungsss

Yujin: i am preparing my heart for the chaos of that reunion
Matthew: are we finalizing the trip now?
Gyuvin: busan, into the woods, camper vans, barbecue, meat. yes
Jiwoong: i’ll make the checklist. someone better pack bug spray
Gunwook: i got it
Taerae: and i’ll bring my bluetooth speaker
Hanbin: and snacks
Hao: and chargers
Yujin: and emotional support
Matthew: and stories!
Gyuvin: we have Ricky we don’t need anything else
Gunwook: speak for yourself i need Ricky and at least three powerbanks
Ricky: you two are unbelievable
Gyuvin: you love us
Gunwook: he married us

Hanbin: i’m wheezing
Hao: help they’re at it again
Yujin: every time!!!
Taerae: i’m taking screenshots for future blackmail

Ricky: okay but
Ricky: can we finalize the food and supply list tomorrow? morning meeting?

Gunwook: yes boss
Gyuvin: aye sir!!
Matthew: you two are not real
Jiwoong: they’re lovesick and we’re just trying to keep up
Yujin: it’s always a treat to witness

Ricky: thank you everyone
Gunwook: always
Gyuvin: forever
Yujin: this is why i’m here!!!!

 

The day of the trip arrived on a soft, sleepy Saturday morning—the kind where the world hadn’t fully woken yet. The sky was still dark, tinted only with the faintest hue of blue, and the streets outside were hushed, save for the quiet rustling of bags and the occasional click of car doors being opened.

They had all agreed to meet at Hao and Hanbin’s place—because that’s just how it always was. It had become tradition by now. No matter how many years passed or how many trips they’d planned, something about gathering at their home grounded everything. It was comforting and familiar.

Inside, Hanbin was in full leader mode, clipboard in one hand, a cup of coffee in the other.

“Okay. Vans. Sorted. Food, packed. Everyone brought their IDs, right?” he asked, eyes scanning the room.

Jiwoong nodded. Matthew held up his wallet. Yujin blinked sleepily. Ricky gave a thumbs-up as he checked the cooler one last time. Taerae just yawned.

“Bug spray?” Hanbin asked.

“Four cans,” Gunwook mumbled.

“First aid kit?”

“In Gyuvin’s bag,” Gunwook and Ricky chorused.

“Because I’m the responsible one,” Gyuvin added, only to immediately trip over the blanket he was carrying.

Hao emerged from the kitchen with a Tupperware of cut fruit, slipping it into the cooler beside Ricky. “We can enjoy it for later,” he said casually. 

The van assignments had already been discussed the night before, but now that it was actually happening, reality hit.

Ricky, Yujin, Hao, and Hanbin would ride together in the white camper van.

Gunwook, Gyuvin, Matthew, Taerae, and Jiwoong would take the silver one.

And of course, the moment they heard the final confirmations…

“What do you mean we’re not riding with Ricky?” Gyuvin whined dramatically like it was a Shakespearean tragedy.

“Who decided this betrayal,” Gunwook muttered, standing beside him with his arms crossed.

“You literally helped plan the split,” Ricky reminded them gently, already stuffing a neck pillow into his van.

“Yeah, but I didn’t mean it,” Gyuvin grumbled.

“It’s just for the drive,” Hanbin said calmly, not even blinking. “You’ll survive a few hours without touching his hand.”

“I won’t,” Gyuvin said, dead serious.

“I could shrivel up,” Gunwook added, deadpan.

Jiwoong walked past, patting Gunwook’s shoulder. “Stay strong, soldier.”

Matthew snorted. “You all are acting like he’s being sent to war and not literally riding thirty feet ahead.”

Yujin, already buckled into the back seat of Ricky’s van, stuck his head out. “I’ll send you updates. Every fifteen minutes.”

“Include photos,” Gyuvin said.

“And audio,” Gunwook said.

Hao looked up from the map he was checking. “If you two had it your way, you’d crawl into Ricky’s clothes and live there forever.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Gyuvin said.

“They already fight over who gets to carry his bag,” Jiwoong added.

“I don’t fight. I win,” Gunwook replied, without hesitation.

Despite the whining, the bags were loaded efficiently. The vans were fully stocked—pillows, chargers, fruit, water, extra blankets, and more snacks than any nine people should reasonably need.

Hanbin did a final headcount. “Everyone ready?”

There was a chorus of tired yeses and one very faint "Can we still switch vans?" from the silver van.

“Too late. Let’s go before traffic wakes up,” Hanbin said, waving them forward.

The engine of the first camper van rumbled to life, its headlights slicing through the early dawn. Ricky glanced in the rearview mirror, catching the silver van pulling out behind them. In the faint light, he could still see Gyuvin dramatically pressed against the window, mouthing I love you like someone seeing their husband off to the military.

Ricky smiled, heart warm even before the sun.

They were on the road.

In Hao’s van, the world was still hushed.

Ricky and Yujin had both dozed off somewhere along the highway—Ricky with his head tilted toward the window, hair tousled against his neck pillow, while Yujin had slumped sideways until his shoulder leaned gently against Ricky’s. Their breathing was quiet, synced with the soft rumble of the road beneath them.

Hanbin, in the driver’s seat, glanced at the rearview mirror and smiled softly. “Look at them.”

Hao followed his gaze. “They’re so peaceful.”

“They’re so adorable,” Hanbin added, warmth evident in his tone.

“If only the other van had this energy,” Hao sighed, already pulling out his phone to snap a photo—just one—to keep for later.

And in the other van, of course, it was the complete opposite.

Taerae, at the wheel, was focused and calm, humming quietly as the road stretched forward. Hands relaxed, he let the nonsense unfold behind him without interruption—though every now and then, a smile would tug at his lips when something especially absurd echoed through the van.

Because behind him, Matthew’s Pokémon playlist was going strong, now on its third loop of iconic battle themes.

“Why is this entire playlist just Pokémon openings?” Gunwook groaned, sitting beside Gyuvin with his arms crossed and a deep frown. “I said anime openings, not just one anime!”

“First of all,” Matthew replied from the back, “this is good music. And second, don’t act like you didn’t cry over that Pikachu scene.”

Gyuvin, sitting by the window, was halfway folded over from laughter, barely hiding his giggles behind his hand. “Let him cook, Wook.”

“I’m not stopping the music,” Taerae said, eyes on the road. “Driver has the final say.”

“It’s not even his playlist!” Gunwook protested.

And then, right as the final chorus of a Pokémon theme faded out—

Jiwoong burst into song.

It was something he made up on the spot, about them camping and the excitement of it all. His voice dipped and soared, full of drama and flair. He pointed to trees as if narrating their life stories. He sang the breeze into existence. And somehow, the others didn’t even try to stop him.

Taerae’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “He’s improvising again, isn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Gyuvin said brightly. “But it’s actually kind of good,”

Then suddenly—

“YAH!” Gyuvin suddenly shouted, sitting up so fast his seatbelt caught with a click! .

Taerae flinched. “What now?”

“LOOK!” Gyuvin was nearly bouncing. “Mangoes! MANGOES! On sale! Right there!”

Off to the right was a tiny roadside fruit stand, tucked between trees and sunrise mist. A handwritten sign fluttered in the breeze:

[Mango Sale! 3,000 won per kilo!]

Gunwook leaned forward, squinting. “They do look kind of... really yellow.”

“They’re radiant,” Gyuvin breathed. “They’re calling to me. I can feel their sweetness spiritually.”

“You need to stop saying things like that,” Matthew muttered, tugging his hoodie over his head.

“I’m pulling over,” Taerae said calmly, flicking on the signal.

———

It was still early—just past six—but the vendor, an older lady in a wide straw hat with a sleepy smile, waved them over cheerfully.

“Good morning! Fresh from my brother’s farm,” she said.

“Oh my god, I believe her,” Gyuvin whispered, practically reverent. “I can smell how sweet they are.”

“You sound like you’re about to marry the mango,” Matthew said dryly.

“I would,” Gyuvin replied, dead serious.

Gunwook gasped. “Ricky will hear of this.”

“Wait—no! I wasn’t thinking straight!”

“Okay, okay, don’t actually panic.” But Gyuvin was already lightly tugging at Gunwook’s sleeve in distress.

Taerae chuckled as he handed over some bills, shaking his head. “He’s married, and still like this.”

“Get five kilos,” Gunwook said. “We’ll eat some on the road and save the rest for dessert.”

“Save the sweetest ones for Ricky,” Gyuvin added quickly. “He likes them soft-ripe, right?”

“Yeah,” Gunwook said with a small smile. “He always says they taste like summer.”

Taerae let out a long, dramatic sigh. “Oh, now you’re both being sweet and domestic.”

“Do I have to film this?” he added.

“Yes,” Jiwoong said before anyone else could, already pulling out his phone.

They ended up buying seven kilos—because they couldn’t decide, and the vendor gave them an extra one for free, smiling as she said they were her first buyers of the day.

The absurd number of mangoes didn’t feel absurd at all—especially knowing they’d disappear in a blink.

Back in the van, Gyuvin cradled the mango box like it was a newborn. “You’re going to love your new home.”

“They’ll be gone in an hour,” Matthew muttered.

“That’s what makes it beautiful,” Gyuvin said.

———

Meanwhile, in Hao’s van, Ricky stirred from his nap just as Hanbin guided them back onto the highway’s long stretch.

“…Did someone scream earlier?” Ricky mumbled sleepily, rubbing his eyes.

“Probably,” Hanbin replied smoothly.

“Was it the other van?”

“Definitely,” Hao said from the passenger seat, turning slightly to look at him with a smile. “They just bought mangoes.”

Ricky blinked once. “Of course they did.”

And with that, he leaned back in his seat, smiled to himself, and drifted off again, with nothing bothering his sleep until the next stop.

They took only an hour of rest. Just enough to stretch their legs and fill their stomachs, but not so long that they’d lose the early morning calm they were chasing on the road. The gas stop they chose was a mid-sized one perched along the highway, the kind with shaded outdoor tables, rows of clean restrooms, and a wide convenience store.

Inside, the glassy food court smelled like comfort—sizzling oil, fresh bread, and something hot on the grill. It didn’t feel like a break in the trip so much as another part of the adventure.

Even if they’d already eaten something small before leaving, this was breakfast. Real breakfast. Hot and hearty. Something about eating while traveling made it feel more delicious. Maybe it was the slight chill in the air or just how comforting it was to sit down together after a few hours in separate vans.

They lined up at two food stalls—one offering tonkatsu sets with crispy pork cutlets drizzled in sauce, the other serving kalguksu, hand-cut noodle soup in a milky broth. Most of them ended up getting both, splitting plates between them. Because what’s better than one breakfast? A shared one.

They found a corner table just outside, under the soft shadow of a wide umbrella. The wooden benches were slightly cold to the touch, but the steam rising from their bowls warmed the space between them.

Ricky sat in the middle, as always, not quite by choice, but simply because that’s where the others always gravitated toward. He was quietly sipping soup, eyelids still a little heavy from sleep, when Gyuvin leaned in.

“Ahh,” Gyuvin said, holding up a piece of cutlet with his chopsticks. Not dramatic this time—just warm, familiar, and full of fondness.

Ricky blinked at him, mouth parted slightly from the steam. Then, wordlessly, he leaned forward and took the bite. Chewed, slow and quiet.

Gunwook was then scooping some rice and pickled radish onto Ricky’s tray. “You’re eating too slowly,” he said. “You’ll get cold.”

“I’m chewing,” Ricky mumbled, lips still full.

“You’re cute,” Matthew commented, sliding beside him with his own bowl of noodles. “Why are you always so cute when you eat?”

“He’s always cute,” Gyuvin replied, like it was the easiest truth in the world.

Taerae rolled his eyes from across the table. “You guys act like he’s going to disappear if you stop staring at him for two seconds.”

“He might,” Gyuvin said with a straight face.

“I won’t,” Ricky said softly.

They were already laughing at themselves when Yujin suddenly perked up from his seat. “Jiwoong-hyung, let’s go get dessert.”

“Oh right!” Jiwoong said, standing up so fast his chair screeched. “Let’s go.”

They ran off toward the bakery stall at the far end of the rest stop, laughing and lightly arguing over flavors. There was vanilla custard, chocolate-filled, and the holy grail: chocolate-covered with vanilla custard inside.

“Too much?” Jiwoong asked.

“Buy many,” Yujin declared. “I am going to devour that.”

When they came back, the box was still warm from the oven. They placed it in the middle of the table, and the soft scent of butter and sugar curled up into the morning air.

“It’s sweet,” Ricky said, blinking down at it.

“Just like you?” Gyuvin offered.

“Just like Ricky,” Gunwook added with a grin.

“Oh god, I hope ants eat you up. Lovingly, that is,” Hao said as he walked past with a coffee in hand.

Everyone laughed, picking their cream puffs one by one—slowly, lazily, like there was all the time in the world. And maybe there was. It was still morning, after all, and the day already felt full in the best way.

Maybe it was the sweetness. Or maybe it was just how naturally Ricky leaned into Gyuvin’s side without thinking. How Gunwook casually brushed a flake of pastry off his cheek like it was second nature. But somewhere between the chewing and the sighing, someone finally said what everyone had been thinking.

“You two can’t keep sighing longingly every time you remember Ricky’s not beside you,” Matthew said, licking custard from his thumb.

Gyuvin and Gunwook didn’t even try to defend themselves.

So it happened—just like that. No dramatics. No overthinking. The final van arrangements shifted with nothing more than a few soft laughs and a couple of nods.

They packed up their trays, tossed the wrappers, stretched their limbs in the morning light.

And then, as if they already knew, Taerae and Jiwoong stepped away from their original van without a word.

“Go,” Jiwoong said to Gunwook. “Before your soul leaves your body.”

“Thank you,” Gunwook whispered, half-serious.

And so the new arrangement was this:

Jiwoong, Taerae, Hao, and Hanbin in the first van. Jiwoong took the wheel this time, humming quietly as they pulled out of the stop.

And in the second van: Matthew, Ricky, Gyuvin, Gunwook, and Yujin.

It hadn’t even been a full minute on the road when Matthew spoke up over the low rumble of the engine.

“Okay, tell me,” he said, glancing around. “Why are we in this arrangement again? It’s always like this.”

“It’s because we always come in threes,” Gyuvin said proudly, glancing at Ricky and Gunwook beside him.

“No,” Yujin corrected from the passenger seat, still nibbling on a cream puff. “Four. Always four.”

Gunwook leaned in from the back, grinning. “Yujin’s right. He always goes with Ricky.”

And Ricky, nestled in the middle of it all as usual, let out a soft laugh. “You guys are so clingy.”

“Let’s just sleep,” Gyuvin said, already resting his head on Ricky’s shoulder like it was made for him.

Gunwook shifted to tuck Ricky’s jacket around his lap.

Yujin just smiled at Matthew, who muttered under his breath, “Why am I stuck here?”

The road stretched on, golden and smooth under the morning sun. In the second van, filled with too many feelings and not enough legroom, everything felt exactly where it was meant to be.

They arrived at the campsite before the sun turned mean. It was still soft on the skin, more golden than burning, the sky above them a quiet blue with no clouds in sight.

It should’ve been a smooth start. Just set up the tents, sort the supplies, rest a little. But of course, it wasn’t.

Even with so many hands, pitching tents wasn’t exactly graceful. There was rope, stakes, fabric flapping with the wind, someone reading the instructions upside down, and someone else already hammering things into the ground without a plan. The process was filled with sighs, light teasing, a couple of near-misses, and eventually—sweat.

“This side goes here,” Hanbin said.

“No, that’s the bottom.” That was Jiwoong, holding what might’ve been a stick.

“I’m just going to hammer this in,” Matthew muttered.

“Wait—don’t—!”

Too late. One of the poles collapsed.

Ricky was calm through it all. Just quietly worked the ropes, adjusted knots, and stood in the middle when the fabric threatened to fly away.

“Why are you so good at this?” Gyuvin asked, holding one pole while very much staring at him.

“I just read the diagram,” Ricky replied, brushing his hair back with his arm.

“Well, it is easy if you follow through.” Gunwook said under his breath.

They got it done in the end. Two tents upright, an overhead tarp set up with folding chairs under shade, and a little sense of satisfaction blooming in their chests. Not bad at all.

There was something lovely about seeing trees instead of buildings, the faint rustle of branches above instead of traffic. Busan had always been known for its waves and sea breeze—but maybe this part of Busan, this forest tucked inland, could become a memory too.

It was too early to cook. Too warm to sit still. So someone suggested a walk. No destination. Just a loop around the area, see what Busan looked like when it wasn’t the coastline. Hao and Hanbin stayed behind, content to watch over their things, claiming they liked quiet moments too—though more likely they just wanted a break from the noise.

They walked around for a bit, taking in the small details—like the road where bicycles passed, sometimes joined by slow-moving cars that clearly belonged to fellow tourists. At the side, a group of kids were playing with a ball, their laughter echoing softly. It made them smile, let out a few quiet “aww”s , and remind themselves to video call their children later.

A little further along, they found a convenience store. Not fancy. One of those neighborhood ones that had everything they might need.

“Let’s see what we can buy,” Jiwoong said, already stepping forward.

“But we brought everything we needed,” Matthew reminded him.

“Exactly. Let’s buy everything we don’t.” Yujin replied.

And like that, the small store turned into a treasure hunt. They didn’t have a list. Or a plan. Just the kind of mood that led to baskets filled with unnecessary snacks, drinks, and a few “what if we suddenly need this” impulse grabs.

“I want this,” Yujin said, holding up a pack of chips he clearly didn’t even know the flavor of.

“Can we actually buy this ice cream?” Taerae asked. “There’s a cooler at the campsite. It’ll survive.”

The alcohol aisle came next. Not because they were drinkers, not really. But it was there, and it was a night for themselves.

Jiwoong held up a bottle of soju like a trophy.

“Why not wine?” Ricky asked from behind, gaze drifting lazily over the shelf.

And just like that, chaos ensued.

“Do any of us even drink?” Gyuvin muttered. “Like, properly?”

“I don’t even like the taste,” Gunwook added.

“You all sound old,” Jiwoong said, grinning. “We can live a little.”

“You’re the oldest here,” Matthew deadpanned.

Still, they picked out a few bottles of soju—flavored ones, because maybe they’d like those better. And beer. And juice, of course. And strawberry milk, because Ricky looked at it once and Gyuvin immediately grabbed three.

When they stepped out again, plastic bags hanging off their wrists, they spotted the butcher shop next door.

“Oh meat,” Gunwook murmured, reverent.

They went in, of course.

Ten kilos of pork belly. Ten kilos of beef. Short ribs. Marinated skewers. Matthew muttered, “ Oniku kamisama! Oniku kamisama! ” under his breath like a prayer.

Taerae deadpanned, “Please stop referencing anime,” but no one actually stopped him. Because Matthew was right. Good meat was good food. And this butcher shop reeked of raw meat—blood and all—but somehow, it still looked good.

On the way back, they took a different route. And that’s when they saw it—a fruit stall tucked under a canopy, colors bursting against the brown wooden crates. Strawberries, mangoes, grapes, watermelons in halves and quarters, glistening under the sun.

They slowed down without meaning to.

“Let’s get mangoes,” Gyuvin said, already reaching for the ripest ones.

“And strawberries,” Ricky said quietly. Of course, there were no questions to be asked.

So they did. And they got watermelon too, because it was summer and it felt right.

———

When they got back, they didn’t unpack immediately. Instead, they dropped the bags near the table and ran over the grass for a while. Just ran. Or walked fast. Or paced in circles and talked about absolutely nothing.

Their lunch was simple—some stew, bubbling over a small burner. Broth, noodles, vegetables they brought from home, and pieces of meat they didn’t feel like saving for later. Dinner was supposed to be the real event. But this was enough for now.

Jiwoong was crouched near the burner, stirring the pot with focus, when Gunwook, watching from the side, said, “We should’ve bought more meat.”

“We did,” Ricky replied, not even looking up. “You just want an excuse to go again.”

“If you asked us to, we would,” Gyuvin added, completely unbothered.

But they didn’t go again.

Instead, they sat under the trees—conversed among themselves, laughter stretched easy between them. Plastic bags rustled in the breeze. Someone had already unwrapped a popsicle, slowly biting into it like they had nowhere else to be.

Honestly, it felt more like a food trip than a road trip.

And maybe that was fine, because the point was to enjoy themselves, after all.

It was when the sky had just begun melting into a soft blur of purple, pink, and orange that they decided to call home. The breeze had settled down by then, the grill not yet lit, and the forest humming quietly with the promise of evening.

Ricky sat cross-legged on the grass, a woven mat laid out beneath him, soft enough to make it feel like a proper seat. Phone in hand, his thumb hovered for only a second before tapping the call button.

“Hello, Rui,” came Mama Shen’s warm voice through the speaker. The moment she appeared on screen—with her usual gentle smile—Ricky’s face lit up without him even realizing.

“Hello, Mama,” he said softly.

But he didn’t get to say more before there were shrieks in the background—tiny feet thudding against the floor, something crashing lightly offscreen, followed by an unmistakable scream.

“Is that Daddy?!!” Harui’s voice pierced through, the camera wobbling as the kids piled toward it.

“Is it Appa? Is it Papa?” Haneul and Hana joined in, the three of them yelling at the same time, their faces popping in and out of the frame in blurry chaos.

“And hello to you too, Gyuvin, Gunwook!” Mama Shen added over the noise, ever patient.

“Hello, Mama!” Gyuvin and Gunwook chorused together, practically leaning into the phone from either side of Ricky, trying to squeeze into frame.

The camera jostled again before settling into a slightly better angle. The triplets were gathered now, hair tousled from playing, cheeks flushed, practically bouncing with excitement.

“Appa! Papa! Daddy!” they all shouted, faces close to the screen.

“Are you three being good?” Gunwook asked, trying not to laugh at the way Haneul’s hair was sticking up like he’d just rolled out of a laundry basket.

“Yes! We’re very good!” Hana said, nodding seriously.

“We’re helping with chores!” Harui added.

“Helping Hiro too!” Haneul pointed offscreen, and Ricky leaned in slightly.

“Hiro?” he called, and sure enough, from somewhere behind, a small voice called back, “Hello Uncle Ricky!”

Hanbin and Hao perked up from where they were lounging nearby. “Did I just hear our son?” Hanbin asked, sitting up. Hao was already halfway to peeking over Ricky’s shoulder.

“Our cuties are together,” Hao sighed. 

“They’re all playing restaurant,” Mama Shen explained, gently shifting the phone as the camera caught a glimpse of Hiro holding a plastic tray with crayons as “food.”

“He’s the chef,” Hana added helpfully. “And we’re the critics.”

“Very honest critics,” Mama Shen muttered with fond exasperation. “Too honest.”

“Do you want us to bring anything home?” Gunwook asked, glancing sideways at the others.

“Something yummy!” Haneul shouted immediately.

“Something sugar, spice, and everything nice!” the triplets echoed, dramatic and unified, clearly quoting whatever cartoon was blaring in the background.

“Bogoshipda ~ ” Hana sang out, not missing a beat, her voice a little softer, like she meant it.

Ricky narrowed his eyes slightly. “Mama… have they had chocolate again?”

Mama Shen, completely unbothered, said. “Just a little bit, Rui. They’re with their grandma, after all.”

“I knew it,” Ricky sighed. “Please don’t let them be too hyper. You know how they get.”

“I’ll try,” she replied, not at all convincing. “Besides, your husbands are always saying how much energy they have. Let them use it.”

“Mama,” Ricky started, already sounding resigned.

“Hmm?” she replied, all innocence.

“Thank you,” Gyuvin cut in, grinning. “They’re clearly having the time of their lives. And it’s only fair. They miss their Daddy.”

“They do,” she agreed, gaze softening. “But they’re not crying because they know their Daddy is being taken care of too.”

Ricky blinked at that, caught off guard.

She smiled knowingly, proud and warm. “I can see it on all your faces.”

Gunwook ducked his head, the tips of his ears turning pink. Gyuvin didn’t even bother hiding the way he smiled—wide and honest.

“Take care of each other, okay?” she added. “And Rui, if you have time, bring home some Busan specialties for your mother.”

“Of course, Mama,” Ricky said gently.

“I love you,” she said.

“I love you too. Take care over there, okay?”

“You too,” she replied, eyes crinkling. “Now go. Have fun. I’ll handle the chaos here.”

The call ended with three more kisses blown toward the screen and a final chorus of “BYE BYE!!!” that echoed even after the phone had gone dark.

Gyuvin, still smiling, let out a soft breath. “They look like they’re having a lot of fun.”

“Then we should too,” Ricky replied, setting the phone aside.

Gunwook reached over, brushed a stray blade of grass off Ricky’s shoulder, then stood—offering his hand.

Ricky took it without hesitation, fingers warm in his.

And as if the timing had been rehearsed, Jiwoong called from the other side of the clearing. “Let’s start grilling!”

Not far from him, Taerae and Matthew were laughing over their makeshift campfire, trying to keep it alive long enough for marshmallows—if they ever actually got around to roasting them.

Above them, the sky had started to dim. The moon, still shy, peeked from behind the trees—quietly joining them for the night.

What do you actually do on a camping trip?

Eat. And eat again. Then eat some more while everyone’s mid-conversation about nothing and everything. It’s food and talking, food and stories, food and laughter—and in between, someone throws a piece of grilled meat into your mouth and suddenly you're part of a memory.

So that’s exactly what they did first. Barbecue. Glorious, messy barbecue.

Gyuvin and Gunwook were assigned to the grill—unsurprisingly, not by choice but by fate (and by Ricky’s soft “I think I’ll sit over there” that they both interpreted as please cook for me even if he never said it out loud).

They were lined up by the grill, both of them hunched like they were protecting national treasure. Smoke rising. Meat sizzling. One of them always holding tongs like a weapon.

“I’m going to make this the best tasting one,” Gyuvin said with full drama, lifting a slice of beef like he was about to bless it.

“You said that three slices ago,” Gunwook muttered, flipping pork belly with precision.

“But I meant it this time.”

They were cutting up the cooked meat using scissors, loading it onto plates like a machine. Ricky was sitting a little away from them, tucked between Hao and Yujin with his little bowl of strawberries in hand. He wasn’t really helping—well, unless smiling cutely at everyone counted as helping (and in their book, it did).

On the side, Matthew was hovering near his pot of boiling ramyeon like it was sacred broth.

“I’m telling you,” Matthew announced, stirring it with purpose, “this is going to be the best-tasting one. Ramyeon and barbecue? Elite combo.”

“Just trust me, guys,” he added.

“We do,” Hao said, dragging the words out, eyes narrowing with slight doubt.

“Ricky, Ricky,” Matthew called sweetly, grabbing a spoonful of hot soup. “You love my cooking, right?”

He turned, hand already moving, and fed it to Ricky without waiting for a response.

“Yah, Matthew-hyung!” Gyuvin called out, scandalized, waving his tongs like a protest flag. “Do you see how hard we’re working here? Our sweat, our tears—!”

Gunwook was nodding solemnly beside him. “We’re grilling our love onto this meat.”

Ricky swallowed the spoonful Matthew gave him and looked up, voice quiet. “It does taste good.”

Matthew beamed like he won an award. “See? Ricky loves my cooking.”

“What—” Gyuvin cried out, deeply offended. He waved his tongs like they were a weapon of justice. “That soup is pre-made! We’re grilling with our bare souls!”

Gunwook nodded seriously beside him. “Blood, sweat, and beef.”

Ricky just blinked slowly, lips still curved into a small smile. “Then I’ll eat that too.”

And just like that, not even a full second passed before Gyuvin shoved another piece of beef toward him—fresh off the grill, carefully blown on. Ricky opened his mouth. Accepted it like it was the most normal thing.

“Ricky, is it delicious?” Gyuvin asked, eyes sparkling, leaning in.

“Michelin, Michelin,” Ricky said calmly.

“What did you say, Ricky?” Taerae called from his seat, eyes crinkling with amusement, a smile already playing on his face.

“Michelin!” Ricky repeated.

A collective chorus of laughter followed. Jiwoong was laughing from the far end like he was watching a rom-com. Yujin, still beside Ricky, clapped softly like he was watching a play. Hao simply said, “You guys are insane,” with absolutely no heat behind it.

And Ricky? Ricky just blinked, smiling to himself while chewing, completely unaware—or perfectly aware—of how much joy he was radiating.

“Oh, don’t forget we have fruits here,” Hanbin called, lifting a container of watermelon and mango.

“I didn’t forget,” Ricky said, munching on a strawberry. “Multitasking.”

“The strawberries are good,” Gyuvin muttered from the grill. “Even if I haven’t even had them yet.”

That made Ricky smile brighter. The kind of smile that made everyone pause just for a second.

Even his eyes were smiling.

“What about the soju?” Taerae suddenly asked, kicking his feet lazily near the cooler. “Are we drinking now?”

“No,” Jiwoong answered like it was law. “Later. With a game.”

“What kind of game?”

“I don’t know. Just a game. With drinking.”

“Very convincing,” Hanbin muttered, already slicing up fruit—neatly arranged strawberries, mango slices fanned out, watermelon in triangles. It looked almost too pretty to eat.

Dinner kept going. Meat was disappearing. Stomachs were slowly giving in. But there was still one last act left.

The fried rice.

“I’m doing it,” Gyuvin declared, rolling up his sleeves even though they were already short. “This is my legacy.”

“You’re so dramatic,” Gunwook muttered beside him, but didn’t argue. Instead, he stepped in and brought over the leftover meat, dropping it into the pan with a satisfying sizzle.

Gyuvin tossed in the rice, followed by chopped kimchi, gochujang, and a swirl of samjang. Lastly, a splash of sesame oil sealed the deal.

“Smells good,” Matthew admitted, now on his third bowl of his own soup.

“Because love is the secret ingredient,” Gyuvin said, tossing the pan and narrowly missing burning it.

“You say that like Ricky’s not right there,” Taerae deadpanned.

“Oh, he knows,” Gyuvin said, glancing back at Ricky with a grin.

Ricky, leaning back on one hand with a piece of watermelon in the other, didn’t say anything—just smiled.

The fried rice stayed on the pan, still warm. Jiwoong kept going back for more, clearly its number one fan.

And dinner carried on like that—smoke in the air, plates being passed around, laughter slipping easily between bites. They were getting full, not just from the food, but from being there together. From laughter and love.

And the soju hadn’t even been touched yet.

The campfire crackled gently as night finally blanketed the forest. Warm light flickered across their faces, soft shadows dancing behind them. The grill was cooling off, the smell of fried rice and charred meat now fading, replaced by the scent of toasted marshmallows and the occasional hiss of an opened soju bottle. The stars were coming out too, slowly, like they were curious what this group was up to.

"Okay, okay," Jiwoong said, rubbing his hands together like a scheming villain. “Everyone sit down. No one’s escaping tonight. It’s ghost story and soju hour.”

“I really fear we’re not into alcohol,” Gunwook muttered, eyeing the green bottle with suspicion.

“I feel like I’d taste it once and call it a night,” Gyuvin added, nose scrunching.

“Oh come on,” Jiwoong groaned dramatically. “You guys are no fun.”

“But we’re here, aren’t we?” Matthew said, already pouring.

And maybe it was because the stars were too pretty or the fire too cozy or Jiwoong too persuasive, but one sip turned into another, and another. The soju really did taste like isopropyl alcohol—but no one said it out loud. Because weirdly enough, it got easier with every glass.

“I don’t even taste it anymore,” Yujin mumbled with his face buried in a bag of chips.

“That’s the problem,” Taerae deadpanned.

“Okay ghost stories now!” Hanbin said, practically bouncing. “And fireworks!”

“No one’s lighting fireworks when we’re tipsy,” Ricky mumbled, blinking slow. His voice was soft, almost dreamy, and the ends of his words were starting to blur just a little. It made everyone’s head turn.

Because flushed Ricky was a rare gem. Pink on his cheeks, eyes slowly blinking like he could fall asleep right there in the grass if you let him. He had one hand loosely gripping a half-empty fruit soju bottle, the other lightly picking at the corner of a marshmallow packet.

“Ricky, are you okay?” Gunwook asked, immediately hovering.

“He’s so cute right now, what the hell,” Gyuvin whispered like a confession.

“He always is,” Matthew sighed.

“Can I sleep here?” Ricky asked suddenly, eyeing Yujin’s shoulder like it was the comfiest pillow in the world.

“Yeah, sure,” Yujin said, shifting a little to make room. “Take my whole arm.”

Before Ricky could lean, Gunwook was already adjusting a jacket over Ricky’s shoulders, and Gyuvin had grabbed a random cushion from who knows where. “You’ll catch a chill,” Gyuvin muttered, brushing Ricky’s bangs back gently. It was honestly offensive how whipped they both looked.

But the stories continued anyway.

Gunwook began, his voice dipping low. “So… I visited these ruins for work once. It was underground—like really deep. It used to be a dungeon, and they made wax figurines down there. Wax. Figurines.”

“Wait, that’s creepy,” Hanbin said with wide eyes.

“No, listen. The creepy part is, there was this room, and no matter how many times you went in… it felt like someone was breathing behind your neck. Always cold. Always watching. And when we turned the corner once, one of the figures wasn’t where we last saw it.”

“No. NO.” Taerae hugged his knees.

“I’m so intrigued,” Yujin whispered, eyes wide.

“And I swear I saw one move,” Gunwook finished, voice low. “I’m not even joking.”

Silence.

Then Yujin jumped in, eyes a little too wide. “Okay—okay, you remember in university? That rooftop statue? The one overseeing the main gate?”

Everyone nodded. Of course they did. It was infamous.

“My friend was there late at night for club practice, right? He said when he passed by the statue, it looked like it was crying.”

“Crying?” Jiwoong blinked.

“Yes! Like, actual tears. Running down its stone cheeks.”

“Maybe it was rain,” Gunwook offered logically.

“NO!” Yujin said quickly. “It wasn’t raining. I checked. And multiple people said the same thing! One even said they saw a puddle of water beneath it when it hadn’t rained for days. It’s cursed, I swear.”

Everyone fell quiet.

“And,” Yujin continued in a lower voice, “one time during midterms, a guy was climbing the stairs to the rooftop to cry. He swore the statue’s head was turned the other way when he got there. And then when he came back down… it was facing the gate again.”

That made even Hanbin stop munching his chips.

“It’s like those paintings I saw once,” Ricky chimed in suddenly. His voice was soft, dreamy—half-there. “In one of the museums. No matter where you walked, the eyes followed you.”

“Are you awake?” Gyuvin asked softly, like he didn’t want to disturb.

“I’m curious about the stories,” Ricky replied, blinking slow. He was curled up like a sleepy cat, hair slightly messy, cheeks flushed a lovely pink, eyes heavy with sleep and so, so soft. The firelight hit just right, casting gold on his cheekbones and the slope of his nose. Gyuvin, without thinking, gently brushed back his bangs.

“Please continue,” Ricky said quietly.

And it was like everyone snapped out of it.

Jiwoong was just watching the whole thing with the fondest smile. “I knew getting you all drunk would be worth it.”

“No one’s drunk!” Gyuvin said, way too defensively for someone who had clearly forgotten he was holding an open soju bottle.

“Wait, I just remembered a story I had while driving,” Hanbin said suddenly, sitting up straighter. “It was late at night—like this one—”

But then he stopped himself with a laugh.

“Why are you laughing if it’s scary?” Matthew asked, already spooked.

“Sorry, sorry. So, there were no road lights. Just the moon, the trees, and my headlights… And then, in the middle of the road, I saw someone standing there.”

Everyone tensed.

“I braked, right? Hard. But when the lights hit the figure—it was gone. Just gone. Nothing. Not a single footprint. And when I got home… there were small muddy handprints on my back windshield.”

Yujin let out a gasp.

“NO,” Taerae said, scooting closer to the fire.

The stories continued, one after another. 

But the warmth of the fire softened the chill of the tales. Ricky eventually fell asleep, curled into Gunwook’s side, hand loosely holding onto the edge of Gyuvin’s sleeve. And Gyuvin? He stayed wide awake, on guard, ready to swat away embers, bugs, or bad dreams.

Nothing like a drunken night filled with creepy tales. But stranger than the stories was the realization that, no matter how spooky the night got, being with the right people made everything else feel easy.

Morning came and they stepped out of the camper van one by one, blinking against the light like it offended them. The world was too bright, the breeze too loud, the birds too cheerful. Their heads were heavy, their throats dry, their stomachs rumbling in strange, twisted ways.

But the sleep was good—a deep one, like the kind you only get after too much laughter and just enough chaos to make your body give up completely.

Ricky was the last to stir inside the van, tucked warm under a blanket that was not his, arms around him that were very much familiar.

Still barely awake, he felt lips press against his forehead, soft and persistent, then another on the tip of his nose. And another on his cheek. And a long, sleepy groan as arms wrapped tighter around his waist from both sides. Gyuvin’s voice was half-buried against his hair.

“Good morning, our lovely lovely Ricky,” he said with the softest grin, nuzzling closer.

Gunwook was holding Ricky like he didn’t want him to ever move again, arms wrapped around Ricky’s back, nose pressed to his shoulder, his hand drawing little circles lazily on his side. “You’re so warm,” he mumbled. “Let’s stay like this for the whole day.”

“Are you still drunk?” Ricky croaked, eyes still shut. He didn’t move. He didn’t want to.

“No,” Gyuvin said at once. Then, “Maybe a little.”

But honestly, even if they weren’t, this level of clinginess was still completely normal for them. Whether they were sober, tipsy, exhausted, or just very much in love—Ricky always ended up in their arms. Like gravity. Like instinct.

“How are we even fitting in this bed?” Ricky finally opened one eye, peeking at the cramped but somehow cozy space.

“Special edition camper,” Gunwook replied sleepily. “For special people. Like our Ricky.”

“Stop, it’s too early.” Ricky whined softly, trying not to smile. But he was already smiling. His eyes gave him away.

They eventually tumbled out of the van—reluctantly, lazily, messily. Hair sticking up at odd angles, rubbing sleep from their eyes. Jiwoong and Taerae were already sitting outside, nursing hot drinks and chatting quietly, while Hanbin and Hao were slowly stretching by the tents. Matthew had a towel over his head like a makeshift hat. He looked entirely done with the sun.

Yujin was already dragging Jiwoong toward the nearby convenience store.

“We need food,” he announced.

“Hangover food,” Jiwoong added.

“Ramyeon,” Yujin declared. “Also, eggs. If there’s egg, it’s breakfast.”

They came back with two bags full of essentials: ramyeon cups, bread, and bananas. Someone found a kettle. Someone else found a clean-ish table. They ate in silence for the first few minutes, just sipping, chewing, and existing.

Then, of course, the question came.

“Is the trip ending today?” Yujin asked, slurping his noodles.

“It’s only two days and one night,” Taerae reminded, voice muffled with bread.

“But we haven’t had Busan specialties yet,” Matthew said.

“Let’s go to the market,” Hanbin offered.

“There’s that 500 won jajangmyeon place.” Jiwoong added, suddenly more alive than before.

“Jajangmyeon!” Ricky perked up immediately, eyes lighting up like someone flicked a switch. “I want that.”

His husbands turned to him in sync. “If you want it,” Gunwook said.

“Then we’re going,” Gyuvin finished.

“Look at this kitty,” Hao teased, watching Ricky smile like sunshine. “Getting whatever he wants.”

“As he should,” Yujin said with a nod.

Ricky just continued sipping his hot water and munching on egg-stuffed bread. The light was softer now, filtering through the trees. The air still smelled like campfire smoke and dew, but it wasn’t unpleasant. It smelled like memory.

They sat like that for a while. Letting time slow. Letting the morning stretch long and easy.

They were full from last night, still hungry for today, and not at all ready to leave.

Not just yet.

For their second day in Busan, there was one main plan on the itinerary: the zipline. Not just any zipline, either—it was the kind where you could see the forest sprawl below you and the ocean glimmer in the distance, with the wind rushing past and your legs dangling like you were flying over the whole city. It sounded a bit terrifying, yes, but mostly thrilling. And honestly, kind of romantic. 

After finishing breakfast—egg-ramyeon and convenience store bread that somehow tasted better because they were sharing—they packed up their stuff, tossed jackets and snacks into bags, and climbed into the vans again. The drive wasn’t long, but the excitement made it feel like forever. The road curved gently upward, surrounded by trees that grew taller and thicker the deeper they went.

“Are we sure this is the right way?” Matthew asked as the van bounced slightly on the gravel road.

“Yeah, the sign said ‘zipline this way,’ right?” Yujin replied from the passenger seat, squinting ahead.

Sure enough, after one more bend, the forest finally opened up.

There it was—a wooden clearing carved into the trees, overlooking the slope below. The air smelled faintly like pine and sun-warmed ropes. Ropes stretched between tall platforms, and the sky above was clear and impossibly blue. A few instructors stood by a welcome sign, smiling as the vans rolled to a stop.

“This looks sick,” Yujin muttered, already undoing his seatbelt.

They stepped out of the van and into the clearing, the wind catching their jackets. Someone stretched. Someone else immediately took a selfie. There was a rack of helmets in one corner and gears that they would wear.

“Okay, safety briefing first,” the staff announced cheerfully. “And don’t worry—this’ll be more fun than scary. Just don’t look down too early.”

They laughed, some nervously, some way too confidently.

One by one, they strapped in. Helmets clipped on. Mini action cams adjusted. They huddled for the safety briefing. The guide explained how to lean back, how not to death-grip the wire, and that it was okay to scream. Encouraged, even.

And with that, the real adventure began.

There were three ziplines, so they went in groups.

First up: Matthew, Yujin, and Hanbin.

“ALRIGHT!” Matthew shouted, blowing a kiss to the camera and throwing finger hearts with both hands. “Busan, let’s go!” And just like that, he launched himself off the platform like it was nothing.  “WHOOOOO—BUSAN IS GOOD!” His scream cut through the trees like a battle cry. His legs kicked, jacket flapping wildly, and the staff burst out laughing behind them. “He’s going to be even louder later,” Gyuvin muttered, already bracing.

Yujin was grinning wide but surprisingly calm. “Let’s go!” he called, and the moment he was off the platform, the grin widened into full-blown joy. “I love this!” he shouted midair. “This is so coooool!!”

Hanbin stepped off with the softest little “Whee!”—but his smile reached all the way to his ears. His helmet looked slightly tilted, and his cheek dimples were so deep Hao actually cooed, “Look at him! He’s adorable!” from where he was still waiting his turn.

Second group: Ricky, Gunwook, and Gyuvin.

“Oh no, this one’s going to be dangerous,” Taerae whispered, already pulling his phone out to film them.

Gyuvin was vibrating. “Okay. Okay, okay, okay. This is it. Ricky, do you wanna hold hands?”

“That’s not really safe,” Gunwook said, already stepping forward.

“Okay, but like—metaphorically!” Gyuvin said, eyes sparkling under his helmet. “We’re always holding it.”

Ricky laughed, adjusting his strap. “Let’s just have fun,” Ricky said, his grin so wide it was practically sunshine.

And with a cheer, all three of them went—launched into the air like comets.

Ricky’s camera caught it all: the wind rushing past his face, the trees streaking by below, and the way his smile never once faded. He let out a laugh, loud and clear, and shouted, “Busan is so beautiful!”

“Oh he’s too cute,” Gyuvin groaned mid-flight. “I can’t even focus on the view, look at him!” His legs were flailing again, not from fear but from sheer joy.

Gunwook, meanwhile, was silent for a few seconds. Then—“I’M GOING TO REMEMBER THIS FOREVER!” followed by, “RICKY I LOVE YOU!” which was only half-covered by the wind.

When the three of them landed, Ricky stumbled slightly, caught by both his husbands at once.

“Did you have fun?” Gyuvin asked breathlessly, eyes shining.

Ricky was glowing. “That was amazing.”

Final group: Taerae, Hao, and Jiwoong.

“Oh dear god,” Jiwoong said. “Why did we get put together? This is a bad idea.”

“It’s a great idea,” Taerae grinned, hopping in place.

They were a mess even before jumping off. Hao was shouting encouragements at himself. Jiwoong was trying to record on his phone while getting clipped in. Taerae was stretching seriously.

“Ready?” the staff asked.

“NO BUT GO ANYWAY,” Taerae shouted—and they were off.

There was no silence. Not even a second of it. The moment their feet left the platform, the three of them were screaming like a rock band mid-encore.

“I REGRET NOTHING!!”

“I THINK I JUST LOST MY SHOE—OH NO WAIT NEVERMIND!”

“I CAN SEE MY WHOLE LIFE FLASHING BEFORE ME!”

The moment they touched down, everyone clapped for them—not even ironically. It was just that entertaining.

And somehow, everyone was fine. Windblown, sweaty, and legs a little shaky, but fine.

“Can we go again?” Ricky asked, eyes twinkling.

“Let’s save it for next time,” Gunwook said, brushing hair from Ricky’s face and pressing a kiss to his forehead before pulling his helmet off. “You already took my breath away once today.”

Gyuvin immediately groaned. “HOW are you always smooth?!”

Taerae flopped onto the ground and dramatically held his chest. “I’m still recovering. From fear and from excitement.”

The staff was smiling again. “You guys are the loudest group we’ve had all week.”

“We get that a lot,” Hanbin said calmly, handing out water bottles like a responsible adult.

Yujin, still riding the high, looked at Ricky and said, “You were seriously glowing up there.”

“I think I fell in love again,” Gyuvin added, sipping from his bottle.

Ricky just laughed, cheeks pink, hair messy from the helmet. “It was really fun.”

And it was. It really was.

They piled back into the van, everyone talking over each other, replaying their camera footage, arguing about who screamed the loudest (Taerae), who looked the most scared (Hao), and who smiled the brightest (unanimously Ricky). The zipline had been everything they hoped for.

And as they drove away, hearts full and voices hoarse from laughing, they were already planning where to go next.

Busan wasn’t done with them yet.

The real food trip came last. The real-real one. The final lap.

Busan specialties. Market-style. Local and loud and perfect.

They made their way into a traditional street market, wide-eyed like it was the first day of the trip all over again. The air smelled like charcoal, garlic, soy sauce, vinegar, and roasted sugar. Stalls stretched out in either direction, bursting with color and steam and the sound of vendors calling out deals.

There was everything—raw seafood laid out in icy rows, stacks of meat skewers dripping with glaze, tiny grilled meatballs on toothpicks, pancakes crisping over flat grills, egg bread, sugar-coated tteok.

Some vendors even waved them over, offering free bites, and of course they took it. Who says no to free food?

They took photos of each other—candid and silly ones, mostly. Gyuvin caught Jiwoong mid-chew, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk. Yujin took one of Hao pretending to faint dramatically after biting into something spicy. Matthew posed beside a tank of live octopus.

But there were sweet ones too. Ricky holding a piece of fruit up to the camera. Gunwook and Gyuvin pretending to argue over who loved him more. Someone managed to catch all three of them laughing in the same frame, with Ricky’s head tilted back, eyes crinkled, joy blooming across his face.

“Busan really is good,” Matthew said again, this time softer.

Taerae groaned like it was muscle memory. “How much longer are you going to keep saying that?”

Matthew just grinned. “As long as we’re still here.”

———

And then, of course, came the famous 500-won jajangmyeon.

They lined up patiently—well, kind of. Yujin was bouncing on the balls of his feet, barely containing his excitement, while Hanbin peeked over the shoulders ahead like he was calculating how long it would take.

“It smells so good,” Yujin whispered. 

The ajumma behind the counter moved quickly, ladling sauce, portioning noodles, plating with practiced hands. She didn’t need to ask anyone what they were ordering—everyone was here for the same thing.

When they sat down with their bowls, the heat from the sauce fogged up their glasses, and it was quiet for a solid minute, which said everything.

Just slurping. The sound of satisfaction.

The noodles were chewy and perfect. The black bean sauce was rich and just a little sweet, clinging to every bite. The cucumber slices on top were crisp and fresh, balancing the warmth. And somehow, it tasted like something they’d all eaten in another life. Or maybe like something they should’ve .

“Still can’t believe it’s only 500 won,” Matthew said reverently, chopsticks paused midair.

The ajumma smiled from the kitchen, like she’d heard it a hundred times.

It was true though—that this place, this bowl, had stayed the same even when the world hadn’t. Before inflation, before everything changed, before the rush of time. Some things really held on.

“Don’t jinx it,” Gunwook muttered seriously, like he might come back one day and need it to still be here.

“I’m moving here,” Jiwoong said, already halfway done and twirling his second bite like it was gold.

Ricky, quietly seated at the corner of the table with his bowl close to his chin, smiled between bites. A little sauce stained the edge of his lip.

“It’s the best I’ve had,” he said, voice soft.

And no one disagreed.

Someone passed over napkins, someone else slid pickled radish to share. 

It wasn’t a fancy meal. No dramatic scenes. Just the clatter of chopsticks, the smell of good sauce, and the warmth of being full and surrounded.

Just that.

And that was exactly the comfort they needed.

On the way back to the vans, they made one last detour—a specialty shop tucked beside the market, the kind that didn’t shout for attention but held treasures if you looked closely. The air inside smelled faintly of rice flour and herbs. Woven baskets lined the shelves, glass bottles caught the afternoon light, and handwritten labels curled slightly at the edges.

For their parents, they picked out bottles of makgeoli—carefully brewed, with stories behind them. The shopkeeper explained which rice fields they were from, how long they’d been aged, what kind of flavor lingered on the tongue. They nodded, genuinely listening, even if half of them didn’t really drink. It felt right to bring it home.

For their kids, they found a pastel pink box lined with mochi-style desserts. Some filled with red bean, others with soft chocolate. You wouldn’t want to eat them in one bite—each piece was soft and chewy, something to savor slowly.

“They’ll like this,” Ricky said softly, holding the box with the tiny bear mascot on the front. His fingers gently traced the packaging like he could already picture their children’s smiles.

“Do you want this magnet that says ‘ I ♥️ Busan’ ? Or this t-shirt that says exactly the same?” Gyuvin asked, holding both up like it was a serious debate.

“That’s hideous,” Taerae said.

“But I’m buying it,” Gunwook added, already at the counter.

They laughed. And maybe they really did buy the magnets and shirts—because who says no to silly souvenirs that will one day resurface in a drawer and bring back the sound of this day?

Before heading back, they found a mural near the street—waves painted in sweeping lines, the colors vibrant even in the fading sun. Jiwoong insisted on a photo.

“Okay, everyone in position. Timer’s on. You have ten seconds!”

He hit the button and ran.

“Closer! Act like we love each other!”

“We do love each other!” Matthew shouted.

“Then hug like it! Not that weird shoulder touch—yes, there we go!”

The shutter clicked mid-laughter, catching crooked grins, half-hugs, and a joy that didn’t need fixing.

Afterward, Ricky stood quietly, just a step behind the group. The others were still teasing each other, trying to check the picture, but he stayed still for a second longer. The sky had begun to soften, a golden light stretching over the buildings. The scent of the market lingered—grilled meat, sweet batter, sea breeze. And behind him, familiar voices layered over each other like a song he never wanted to forget.

He smiled—soft, content, like the day had nestled itself somewhere deep in his chest.

Maybe they were leaving soon. But this moment, this last stroll through Busan, would stay.

A picture. A taste. A laugh.

A piece of Busan stitched into the story of them.

As they drove back to Seoul, the mood in the van was a soft exhale—their last Sunday ride of the trip easing toward its close. 

The sun dipped lower as the highway curved gently through familiar roads. Someone had put on music—quiet, nostalgic, like something you'd hear at the end of a movie. Through the windows, trees blurred into gentle smudges of green and gold. And after a weekend of laughing, shouting, grilling, flying, and running on too little sleep and too much happiness, they all began to drift off, one by one.

Heads lolled against each other. Hoodies were pulled up like makeshift blankets. Ricky, tucked between Gunwook and Gyuvin, had already fallen asleep with a peaceful expression, cheek resting softly against Gyuvin’s shoulder while Gunwook’s hand was still gently curled around his wrist. His lips were slightly parted, and his breathing was slow, steady—like he had nothing to worry about in the world.

In the driver’s seat, Matthew glanced back and smiled.

“Yujinnie,” he whispered, nudging the youngest lightly. “Why aren’t you sleeping yet? You’re usually the first one knocked out.”

Yujin leaned forward slightly, still awake but comfortably quiet. “So that I could accompany you, Matthew-hyung,” he said with a teasing lilt.

Matthew chuckled, already sensing what Yujin really meant.

“But also,” Yujin continued, softer now, “It’s nice seeing them like that.” He held up his phone and took a quiet photo of the trio in the backseat—peaceful, tangled together like a puzzle that only ever made sense that way. “I’ll send this to the triplets,” he added. “Another gift.”

Matthew looked at him, his heart full. “You really are the best uncle, huh?”

Yujin grinned, cheeks puffed out in pride.

After a few more hours of driving and light naps, the vans finally pulled up to their homes—soft yellow light in the windows, the familiar feeling of coming back.

The door opened.

And immediately, a chorus of little voices rang out, shrill with excitement.

“Daddy!!! Appa!! Papa!!!”

The triplets sprinted toward them in a blur of arms and fluffy pajamas.

“Did you miss us?” Ricky laughed as he crouched down, arms already open.

“Missed you so much!” Haneul shouted.

“We were so lonely without you,” Harui pouted, climbing right into Gunwook’s arms like he never left.

“Oh no, our poor babies,” Gyuvin cooed dramatically, lifting Hana off the ground as she giggled. “Guess we have to make up for it with a million kisses!”

“A million and one,” Ricky added, planting a kiss on each of their cheeks.

“Do you want to see the gifts?” Gunwook asked, setting down the bags carefully.

“Later,” Hana declared. “Hug lots first.”

“Okay, okay,” Ricky laughed, pulling all three of them close, arms full and heart fuller.

Jiwoong, from just behind them, was already getting tackled by Hiro while Hanbin watched with his fondest smile. “You’ve got your priorities straight,” he said, grinning.

There in the entryway, surrounded by bags and shoes and sleepy but smiling faces, they took their time. No one rushed to unpack. No one checked the clock. They just stayed like that—soft embraces, tired grins, heads resting on shoulders, the quiet comfort of being home.

The gifts could wait. The bear-mascot mochi, the fridge magnets, the makgeoli—they were sweet, sure. But the real treasure was already here. Tiny arms thrown around their necks. Familiar laughter ringing through the hallway. The simple joy of someone leaning into your side just because they missed you.

The day had long since ended, but something comforting lingered in the air.

Because love, this steady kind of love, doesn’t end when the trip does. It follows you home. It lives in the way they smile at each other, in how easily the quiet turns soft, in how the joy never really leaves.

It wasn’t just a road trip.

It was something to carry forward. A rhythm, a keepsake. A memory that stayed.

Proof that the best adventures don’t fade after the drive back.

They live on—in laughter, in photos, in the glow you bring home with you.

♡