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“So, where do you wanna go?”
Sion felt his stomach do a flip when Yushi’s first reaction to Sion’s question was to smile back at him. They’d only just started dating. Barely a week since Sion finally broke and confessed like a middle schooler, not really expecting his feelings to be returned—and when Yushi quietly took his hand and told him, he liked Sion too? Sion was on cloud nine.
Everything was new to them, the kind of new where all the unspoken rules still felt like a fun game: who would break first every time their eyes met, who would lean in closer on the couch after a break in practice and pretend it was because the room was cold, who would notice the other’s tells: like the way Yushi smiles this small smile whenever he’s genuinely happy.
When the opportunity provided by a rare free day from their training schedule came up, Sion had suggested going on a first date.
Yushi had that smile on his face when he responded, “I’ve always wanted to go to an amusement park.”
Sion discovered he loved that smile the way he loved an ice americano, something he could drink a hundred times and still find a new taste each time. He’d chase it like a beat in his favorite song. He’d tuck it in his pocket and carry it whenever Yushi was away if he could.
Sion’s brain did the fireworks show first, seeing Yushi smile. He’s so cute… Then his stomach drops in free fall. An amusement park? He’s going to die .
He didn’t let the panic show. He watches Yushi’s expression instead: bright, eager, a little bashful. That same quiet smile was there, the one that seemed to live just beneath his skin, and Sion thought, if an amusement park is what makes him smile like that…
“The amusement park sounds perfect,” Sion smiles, like he wasn’t doing catastrophic mental exit strategies from loop de loops. “Saturday?”
“Saturday,” Yushi agreed.
They’d tried to keep their new status quiet, tucked neatly under teamwork and long practice hours. Riku kept giving them looks, and Jaehee had simply handed Sion a bottle of water one afternoon and said, “Hydrate. You always look thirsty.” But no one said anything outright, and the secret felt fizzy and sweet between them, like the first sip of soda after a hard rehearsal.
That night, Sion lay in his bunk and stared at the metal slats above him. He imagined the sound of a roller coaster climbing, a steady click-click-click that felt like a countdown to bad decisions. He imagined Yushi, though, round-cheeked with laughter, hair ruffled by wind, fingers curled around his wrist not because Sion needed rescuing (he would need rescuing) but because holding on was the point.
“Fine,” Sion whispered at the ceiling. “I can do this.”
“Who are you talking to?” Riku mumbled from the lower bunk.
“No one,” Sion whispered back. “My future ghost.”
“Tell your future ghost that I’m trying to sleep.”
***
He thought too much about what to wear. He tried on a navy sweater (“Too formal?”), a retro striped tee (“Too try-hard?”), and finally a soft black hoodie he knew Yushi liked (“You look cozy,” Yushi had said once, voice too casual to be accidental). He put on the hoodie, then took it off because he was sweating, then put it back on because the hoodie felt like courage. He ran a hand through his hair, sighed at his reflection, and practiced looking unbothered.
He was mid–eyebrow check when Riku appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame like he’d been there a while.
“Big plans for our day off?” Riku asked, one eyebrow raised.
Sion, startled, smoothed his hoodie like it was suddenly suspicious. “Just… going out.”
“Mm.” Riku nodded slowly, the kind of nod that said I don’t believe you, but I’m letting you talk. “Yushi’s got other plans too, apparently.”
Sion tried to keep his expression neutral. “Does he?”
“Yeah,” Riku said, studying him in the mirror. “Funny how you two both have mysterious, separate plans on the same day.”
“It’s a big city,” Sion said, shrugging in what he hoped was a casual way.
“Mm-hmm.” Riku’s mouth curled, part smirk, part warning. “Just don’t get caught in the same ‘big city’ at the same time.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Sion said dryly.
Riku pushed off the doorway, but not before saying, “Nice hoodie, by the way. That’s the one Yushi said he likes on you, right?”
Sion froze, caught between indignation and a grin he absolutely could not let show. “You’re imagining things.”
“Sure I am,” Riku said, already disappearing down the hall.
***
When he met Yushi in the lobby of their dorm at nine, Yushi was wearing a denim jacket and a cap pulled low, strands of hair peeking out. He looked at Sion and smiled a little, that quiet smile again, and Sion thought, If today is nothing but me chasing that smile, I’ll call it a perfect date.
“Ready?” Yushi asked.
“Ready,” Sion lied.
They took the subway out to the edge of the city where the park lifted into the sky. The air smelled like sugar and salt, fried batter and fake fog. Speakers played cheerful music from lampposts, and the entrance arch glittered with bulbs that blinked like they had their own heartbeat.
By the time the staff asked for their tickets, Sion was already pulling up the QR code he’d bought the night before at two in the morning, because if he was going to be terrified, he might as well be prepared for it.
“You bought them already?” Yushi’s eyes rounded. “Sion—”
“My treat,” Sion said, shrugging, “You can treat me next time...”
Yushi laughed. Sion basked.
They started gentle. Carousel. Sion could do a carousel. He picked a horse that looked smug and tried not to look like he was measuring the centrifugal force of the universe. Yushi, for his part, tipped an invisible hat when the ride started, like a cowboy. The music was bright, the kind that made children point and tug at sleeves. Yushi kept glancing over, eyes crinkled in a way that said he was pleased and not yet suspicious.
“See?” Yushi said as they stepped off. “Fun.”
“So fun,” Sion said, and meant it, in a small way—the kind that sits on your shoulder and says, You’re okay. For now.
They graduated to teacups. Sion discovered, with horror, that the teacups were in no way as mild as he assumed them to be. Sion grabbed the sides and decided that if he focused on Yushi’s face, he would not perish. Yushi’s cheeks flushed with movement, his mouth parted, his eyes bright with ridiculous joy. Sion felt a laugh climb up from somewhere that wasn’t his usual dramatic one; it came out quiet and surprised.
“Good?” Yushi asked, breathless.
“Great,” Sion said, meaning you’re great , which was not what Yushi asked, but that was the truth anyway.
They tried a pirate ship. Sion clutched the safety bar like it contained answers to unsolvable questions. Yushi’s knee bumped his on the upswing; Yushi’s hand slid over his on the downswing. Sion’s heart did a complicated dance that had nothing to do with the swing of the ride.
In between rides, when Sion hyped himself up internally, they ate like children set loose. Sion bought a corndog, while Yushi bought powdered donuts because he claimed the secret to happiness was sugar in inconvenient forms. They shared both, sugar dust and oil clinging to their fingers.
“Wait,” Yushi said, and reached over with a napkin to wipe a sugar smear from Sion’s cheek. He did it like he was allowed, like he’d been doing it for years and would keep doing it for more. Sion’s breath snagged on nothing and made a knot.
“You’re going to get caught,” Sion said softly, nodding toward a passing cluster of teenagers.
“I’m wearing a cap,” Yushi murmured. “And you’re wearing confidence.”
“Am I?”
“You look like it,” Yushi said. The quiet smile again, and Sion wanted to put it in a frame.
They moved through the park the way new couples do, clumsy and careful, each learning the other’s rhythm: which hand Yushi preferred to hold his drink with, how he tilted his head when he found something interesting, how he stood a fraction closer when a crowd pressed in. Sion noticed all of it and stored it away. He wanted to be a map of Yushi’s small comforts. He wanted to be the person who knew where to stand so Yushi could see the parade; he wanted to be the person who would buy a bottle of water before Yushi realized he was thirsty. It was ridiculous, but love had always made Sion ridiculous—bolder, brighter, a little bit foolish.
They queued for a drop tower. Sion spent the entire line performing an internal TED Talk about bravery. Bravery is not a lack of fear; bravery is pushing through to make Yushi smile. They sat. The safety bar came down. Sion did not faint, fortunately. He did, however, make a sound that he was grateful wasn’t caught on a recording when the ride dropped. Yushi laughed helplessly, grabbed his arm, and shouted something about the view. Sion kept his eyes mostly closed and thought about after, about cotton candy and flat ground and Yushi’s head tucked briefly against his shoulder.
By the time they reached the plaza near the big roller coaster, dusk had started to gather. The coaster arched against it in black silhouette, a line that looped and dove, traced by little strings of light. People screamed in a way that said fun and danger, and we are alive enough to make noise.
“Last one?” Yushi said, and pointed. His voice was casual, hopeful. He was trying to be the kind of date who listened, who adjusted to Sion’s comfort. But he loved this. Sion could tell by the way he stood—weight forward, cap brim tilted, eyes tracking the cars.
Sion’s mouth said, “Let’s do it,” even if his mind screamed no, and his body tried to walk in the opposite direction.
The line was long enough for his doom to ripen. He watched the cars climb at a ferocious angle, listened to the chain’s mechanical insistence. The metal railing vibrated with a thousand footsteps. He stole glances at Yushi, at the way Yushi’s thumb rubbed absent circles over the back of his hand when they stood close, at the way he bit his lip when he got excited. Sion decided he could do anything for two minutes. He could keep his eyes open. He could keep breathing. He could swallow fear and call it adrenaline. He could give Yushi this.
When it was their turn, the attendant checked their restraints. Yushi squeezed Sion’s fingers once where they threaded between the bars.
“I’m actually kinda scared,” Yushi confesses, but still smiling. “You ready?”
“As I’ll ever be,” Sion lied.
The climb was everything he had dreaded: a metronome of doom, a slow confession. He could feel his heart beating like it was trying to signal a passing aircraft. Yushi’s shoulder pressed against his, steady. The top was a horizon you could fall off.
They fell.
Sion’s stomach departed for a different plane of existence. Wind tore through everything he was pretending to be. He heard himself yell, then not yell, then the track looped, and the world inverted, and he thought of Yushi’s smile—oddly, absurdly—because love insists on being present even when you’re upside down, and then… nothing.
***
He woke to the clack of harnesses lifting, and the world was both too loud and not loud enough. The sky had gone deeper blue. He was in the station. Yushi’s voice cut through, bright with panic.
“Sion? Hey. Hyung, look at me—hey.” Hands framed his face, gentle but shaking. “Are you okay? He fainted—can we get someone—excuse me—”
“I’m okay,” Sion croaked, which was true only in the broadest, most optimistic sense of the word. His tongue felt like paper. His pride felt like it had taken a spin cycle. A staff member who smelled like antiseptic and cotton candy dabbed his forehead with a cool cloth. Someone offered water. Yushi took it and held it to Sion’s lips like he’d done it a thousand times.
“You fainted,” Yushi said, voice trembling, anger and fear braided together. “You scared me…”
Sion could’ve laughed it off. Could’ve blamed the heat, the food, anything. But Yushi’s eyes were still too wide, his shoulders too tense. Sion hated that he’d put that look there.
“...I’m sorry” Sion finally says once they’ve gotten out of the car. Yushi helped him sit down on a bench nearby, still holding on to him like he’d faint again.
Sion turns to see the worried look on Yushi’s face, something Sion decides then he should never be the reason for Yushi to look like that. The day was about making Yushi smile. Nothing else mattered.
“Yushi…” Sion started, “I’ve … never really been the one to enjoy rides…”
Yushi doesn’t respond, just looks at Sion and lets him continue.
Sion laughs quietly at himself, “I’ve always been afraid of them.”
“Why did you agree to it?” Yushi asks quietly after a brief silence.
Sion had the decency to wince, as he softly said, “Because I wanted you to have fun.”
“We could have had fun,” Yushi said, nudging Sion’s shoulder, his previous panic morphing into exasperation. “Fun does not mean you suffering silently to impress me.”
“It wasn’t to impress you.” The truth came out before he could take it back. “I just… didn’t want to be the guy who ruins the first date that you wanted. I like—” He stopped himself, heart crashing around. The word you had almost flown out. “—this,” he finished, helplessly. “Us.”
Yushi looked at him for a long beat. The noise of the station blurred into a hum around them, as if the park could sense two people trying to land somewhere gentle.
“You’d never ruin anything for me,” Yushi said, careful. “Especially not because of being scared of some dumb rides. A date is supposed to be fun for both people. That’s the rule.”
Sion swallowed. The back of his throat felt tight. “Is that written somewhere? Like park policy?”
“Yes,” Yushi said, dead serious for a second. Then his mouth quirked. “It’s in small print under ‘please keep hands and arms inside the ride at all times.’”
“And hearts?”
“Those too.” He softened. “Are you okay to walk?”
“I can stand,” Sion said, and wobbled to prove it, ridiculous. “I can also sit down again, if that’s part of the plan.”
“It is,” Yushi said. He put an arm around Sion in a way that didn’t feel like a show or secret. Yushi let Sion lean into him like a tilted plant propped by a stake. Sion closed his eyes for a count of ten and breathed through the last of the shakes, counting them like steps away from something he didn’t owe anymore.
“Hey,” Yushi said softly, after a while. “Do you want to just… walk and eat everything in sight?”
“Yeah,” Sion said, not even pretending to debate. “That sounds nice…”
“Good,” Yushi said. “I like walking with you.” He didn’t say, and I like eating with you , but Sion could hear it anyway.
They walked. The park lights bloomed as though someone had turned up the saturation on reality. Performers in sequined jackets strolled past on stilts, waving at children. A parade of musicians marched by, and Sion clapped along on autopilot as a trumpet player winked at a toddler. Sion felt fine, and then he felt more than fine. He felt relieved. The worst was behind him. He’d told the truth, and the sky had not cracked. Yushi kept touching his sleeve with the back of his hand like a lighthouse signal, I’m here , and Sion filed the small comfort in the same mental drawer where he put good tea and gold stars.
The day slowed after the roller coaster. They stuck to the stalls—ring toss, balloon darts, the occasional snack stand—like they had silently agreed to avoid anything with harnesses or high-speed drops.
But as the sun started dipping toward the horizon, Sion spotted the Ferris wheel rising above the park, its lit carriages turning lazily against the orange sky. The thought came to him fast, like it had been sitting in his chest all day: This could be it. A quiet moment, just them, no screaming crowds, no prying eyes. The kind of place where you could say something soft and have it stay between the two of you.
“Hey,” Sion said, nudging Yushi’s elbow. “Want to try that?” He nodded toward the Ferris wheel.
Yushi glanced at it, then back at him. “Are you sure?”
Sion gave a little shrug, keeping his voice casual. “Yeah. It’s not as intense as the other stuff. I’ll just… maybe not look down.”
Yushi smiled faintly, like he could see through Sion’s attempt at nonchalance, but he didn’t press. “Alright. Let’s do it.”
***
The line wasn’t long. Before Sion knew it, they were stepping into a small carriage with bench seats on either side, the door closing with a soft click. The ride jolted, then began its slow, deliberate climb.
At first, it was fine. The ground slipped away inch by inch, and the park spread out beneath them like a model set. The tiny people, tiny stalls, and the faint squeals of rides now just a background hum.
Halfway up, Sion’s palms started to sweat.
By the time they were nearing the top, his legs felt like they were buzzing. He gripped the seat edge and tried to focus on the horizon, on the way the sky melted from blue to purple.
“Hyung,” Yushi said gently, “you okay?”
Sion took a breath. “Yeah. Just… not looking down.” Then, after a pause, he added, “I, uh… I wanted to do this because I thought it’d be… romantic.”
“Romantic?” Yushi echoed, tilting his head.
“Yeah. Just us, up here, no one to see. I thought maybe we could—” He faltered, realizing how absurd it sounded when his fingers were digging into the seat like it was a lifeline. “— you know . But I’m… not exactly feeling very suave or cool right now.”
Yushi looked at him for a moment, and then his lips curved into that quiet, warm smile—the one that always made Sion feel like he’d done something right without even trying.
Instead of teasing, Yushi shifted closer, his shoulder brushing Sion’s. “How about we save that for when you’re not afraid you’ll fall out of your seat?”
Before Sion could reply, Yushi leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. It was quick, gentle, and somehow made the height less important.
Sion swallowed, the corners of his mouth tugging upward despite himself. “Yeah,” he murmured, still feeling the warmth of it. “That works too.”
They stayed that way the rest of the ride—Sion staring straight ahead, Yushi sneaking glances at him like he was storing them away, and the Ferris wheel turning slowly, carrying them down to solid ground.
***
Sion took a deep breath the moment they stepped on solid ground again. Yushi held onto him, laughing quietly as he threaded their hands together.
“Okay?” Yushi asked.
“Okay,” Sion didn’t lie.
The Ferris wheel ride was nicer than Sion had expected. He looked at their intertwined hands as they walked and felt himself smiling as he looked up at Yushi, who was already smiling at him.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
They stopped at a claw machine that Sion had spotted. The glass case glittered with plush animals stacked in hopeful heaps. Sion fed the machine coins and squinted at the flimsy claw and the massive animal plushies inside. He moved the joystick and dropped the claw. It closed around a massive cat’s tail and then, in blatant defiance of physics, lifted. The cat slid, wobbled, and toppled into the chute.
“Impossible,” Yushi whispered, as if he’d just watched someone turn water into confetti.
“I used to be very bad at this,” Sion said solemnly. “But love improves one’s fine motor skills.”
Yushi laughed, the sound small and sincere. He looked at the cat, then at Sion, and something behind his eyes went soft. “You won me a cat.”
“I did,” Sion said, suddenly shy in a way he rarely was. “I think it looks like it wants a kind owner.”
“I’ll take good care of it,” Yushi promised, and hugged the cat impulsively. The cat’s face squashed against his cheek. Yushi blinked at Sion over its pointy ear, and Sion had to swallow around the urge to kiss the air between them. They weren’t there yet—not here, not in public—and it didn’t matter. It would matter later, in a different way. For now he pocketed the moment like a coin he’d spend when the night went quiet.
Fireworks crackled open as they left the game lane, shy colors first, then bold. They found a spot near the edge of the lake where the reflections doubled the spectacle and halved the noise. Yushi leaned his shoulder against Sion’s like they were two books on a shelf. Sion watched the sky sew itself into flowers and thought about how silly he’d been to think that vulnerability would subtract from him. If anything, it had made more space inside—room for eating too-salty potatoes and pressing closer when the crowd surged, for winning cat plushies and losing ring tosses, for the relief of telling the truth and not being less adored.
He glanced sideways. Yushi’s cap brim threw his eyes into shadow, but his mouth was unhidden, set in that quiet smile that always looked like a secret just for Sion. He was looking up and not at Sion, and that made Sion braver.
“I like your smile,” Sion said, conversationally, like he was commenting on the weather.
Yushi didn’t look away from the sky. “What smile?”
“The one you do when you’re truly happy,” Sion said. “The quiet one. It looks… like I got away with something.”
Yushi’s mouth tilted, confirming the diagnosis, and turned to Sion. “You make it easy to smile like that.”
Sion looked mirrored that smile and quietly threaded their fingers together again as the sky lit up with fireworks. He leans against Yushi and settles quietly, wanting the moment to last a little longer.
***
They snuck back into the dorms like burglars in a family comedy—one carrying a ludicrous cat plushie, the other carrying hubris and a bag of half-eaten donuts. The hallway lights were dimmed low while the clock on the microwave looked like an accusation. Sion tiptoed. Yushi tiptoed harder.
The living room light clicked on.
Riku, on the couch, blinked at them. He looked at the plushie. He looked at their faces. He inhaled like he was about to deliver a monologue.
“What’s that?” he deadpanned, voice too even to be innocent.
“A training prize,” Yushi said immediately. His cap brim shadowed his eyes; the plushie shadowed everything else. “For… excellence.”
“Team spirit,” Sion added, because lies sounded better when layered. “Morale.”
Yushi tries to suppress a laugh.
Riku stared, then smiled the kind of smile that said he knew something nobody else did. “Right. So the training program now includes ‘Win a Boyfriend-Sized Cat Plushie’.”
“It’s.. friend-sized,” Sion corrected weakly.
“Right,” Riku said again. He looked at the cat like it had told him state secrets. “Well, congratulations on your… extracurricular success.” He reached for the remote and turned the volume up two notches, a gesture that somehow carried I will not tell, but I will make you sweat in repayment. “Don’t let me stop you, lovebirds.”
“We’re not—” Sion and Yushi said together, then met eyes, then both closed their mouths.
Riku smirked and went back to his show. “Sure you’re not.”
They escaped to the hallway, the door to Sion’s room. Yushi held the cat like an apology and a trophy.
“Sorry about—” Yushi started, and Sion shook his head.
“I’m the one who should be apologizing.”
Yushi laughed softly. The quiet smile came back, full and familiar. He hugged the plushie tighter. “You don’t need to… Thank you for today.”
“Thank you for rescuing me from certain doom,” Sion said solemnly. “And for not thinking I’m pathetic.”
“I think you’re brave,” Yushi said. “And a tiny bit ridiculous, which is my favorite combination.”
“Next time,” Yushi added, “you choose the date.”
Sion pretended to ponder. “Okay. I choose… a bookstore. And a bakery. And a park bench.”
“Perfect,” Yushi said immediately, like he’d been holding that wish behind his teeth all day.
Sion wanted to reach for him and tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. He wanted to do everything too fast. So he only said, “Goodnight,” with more care than any word he’d used all day.
“Goodnight,” Yushi echoed. He touched Sion’s sleeve, a whisper of contact, then vanished into his own room with the plushie.
Sion exhaled like he’d been holding his breath from the top of the roller coaster and had finally hit level ground. He went to his own bunk and lay on his back and stared at the ceiling again. His phone buzzed.
Yushi ⭐
Thank you for the plushie. And for being brave.Sion 🌷
Thank you for the smile. I plan to collect many more.
A beat. Then:
Yushi ⭐
Deal.
Sion grinned into the dark, because he could. Because there was no attendant to tell him to keep his heart inside the ride at all times. Because the ride was a thing they could step off when they needed, keep walking hand-in-hand under string lights, and invent a new rule where dates were fun for both people.
He thought about fear in new terms. Maybe it wasn’t an enemy. Maybe it was a marker on a map: Here be dragons, sure—but also here be treasure, if you went with the right person.
He drifted off imagining a future of small and tender things: Yushi’s cap brim tilted toward him under rain, two cups of hot chocolate shared over a practice table, Riku being a menace about all of it while simultaneously defending them from the others’ teasing. He imagined a hundred more of that smile, filed and stacked, a collection displayed on a shelf only he could see.
He slept like someone who had fallen and discovered he could float.
***
The next morning, Riku made pancakes with a highly suspicious level of generosity and set two on a plate shaped like a cat. He slid the plate toward Sion with a flourish.
“Team spirit breakfast,” Riku said.
Sion bowed solemnly. “Morale is important.”
Jaehee walked in, took one look at the cat pancake on the plate, at the cat plushie sat at the table, at Sion’s face, and at Yushi’s flushed cheeks as he accepted his share, and said only, “Ah,” like he’d solved an equation he’d written himself.
“Woah,” Ryo said as he enters the room, “What a cute cat.” Ryo walked over to the plushie and patted its head. “Competition for Riku-hyung.”
Sakuya followed in last and stuffed his face with pancakes before noticing the massive cat plushie sat across from him on the table. “Hello,” he greeted it, mouth full as he looked around the room.
“It’s our new team member,” Riku supplied as he refilled Sakuya’s plate.
Sion caught Yushi’s eye over the kitchen island. There it was—a quiet curve, steady and unguarded. Sion felt his own mouth mirror it without any effort at all.
He could do a lot of things, it turned out. He could pass out on a roller coaster and still be someone’s favorite. He could tell the truth and be rewarded with a better day than the one he’d planned for. He could buy tickets at two in the morning and pretend it was bravery, then discover the real thing later on a bench under lights. He could win a cat plushie in a claw machine and a promise in a text message on the same night.
Mostly, he could collect smiles. He decided he would make a career of it.