Chapter Text
Kim Sunoo had just stepped back into the dorm when he was immediately ambushed by four pairs of expectant eyes.
“How was it?!” Euijoo asked first, leaning over the back of the couch with barely contained excitement. For once, it was his turn to be the nosy one.
Sunoo stared at them for half a second. Then exploded.
“WE’RE DATING! I’M NISHIMURA RIKI’S BOYFRIEND!!”
Jungwon nearly dropped the dish he was rinsing in the sink.
Takayama Riki screamed like he was being proposed to.
Jo’s eyes went comically wide.
And Euijoo—
“WHAT?!” he yelled.
Sunoo threw his hands in the air. “NISHIMURA RIKI IS MY BOYFRIEND NOW!!!”
The whole room erupted into screams. Literal chaos.
“Shut up, before Mrs Kim thinks we’re running a cult again.” Jo reminded them, while joining in the laughter.
“ASAKURA JO, SHUT UP, THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE!” Euijoo shouted, jumping up from the couch.
“We’re buying cake,” Jungwon declared. “And candles. This calls for a celebration.”
“Oh my god, we need those couple photos,” Riki gushed, already pulling out his phone. “Coordinated outfits. Matching phone cases. The freaking height distance . You two are going to out-cute even Nicholas and Euijoo-hyung.”
“Slow down!” Sunoo groaned, hiding his face behind his hands, still very much blushing. “I’ve only been someone’s boyfriend for like, a few hours!”
Jo turned to him dramatically, his voice low and reverent. “Do you understand how powerful this is? You’re dating Nishimura Riki. One of the best dancers in South Korea right now. That’s a full-time flex. A much bigger flex than Yonsei’s it-boy.”
Sunoo blinked, visibly overwhelmed and glowing. “I know,” he said softly. “I’m obsessed with him.”
Cue another round of screaming.
In the middle of the chaos, Euijoo’s phone buzzed on the table.
He glanced at the screen—and immediately stiffened. “Guys. It’s my parents.”
The room fell silent in record time.
Euijoo quickly picked up the call and shifted to a more composed position. “Umma, Appa.”
“Euijoo!” his mother greeted with a warm smile. “It’s been so long. How have you been?”
“Med school and internships are busy, but I’ve got everything under control,” he replied smoothly.
His mother gave him the look . “I can tell. You haven’t visited us all month.”
That hit with a twinge of guilt. Euijoo scratched the back of his neck. “I know. Sorry, I’ve been meaning to—”
“Anyway,” his father cut in, “we’re planning a family trip. First week of August. Jeju Island. Your older sister says yes. Can you make it?”
Euijoo froze.
The first week of August.
The same week he was flying to Taipei with Nicholas — his birthday surprise trip, fully paid for with months of tutoring and café shifts. He’d booked the flights. Nicholas had made a whole list of places they would visit, even called his mom to prepare extra food for Euijoo’s visit. They’d been planning for a while now.
There was no way he could cancel it.
“I’m going to Taipei that week,” he said before he could stop himself.
A beat.
“TAIWAN? WITH WHO?” his mother asked, eyebrows raised.
“Sunoo and Jo,” Euijoo lied on instinct.
Across the room, Jo pointed at himself with a bewildered expression. “Me?” he mouthed.
Sunoo snorted and looked away.
Jungwon turned to stare at Euijoo with a raised brow that screamed, you liar, while Riki shook his head, amused.
Euijoo cleared his throat, guilt already crawling into his stomach.
“You’re going overseas again?” his dad asked. “Can you even handle that? Last time the five of you went to Shanghai, it was five days of chaos.”
Riki and Sunoo immediately cracked up at the memory.
It had been disaster after disaster.
They’d gotten lost every day. Accidentally ordered duck blood soup and nearly cried.
Jo got into a surprisingly polite but incredibly long argument with a taxi driver.
No one could figure out how the subway system worked. They didn’t know China's internet censorship system, known as the Great Firewall, actively blocks access to apps they used frequently and took advantage of. Including Google Translate and Google Maps. Jo and Riki had to rely on their knowledge of Japanese Kanji to understand road signs, because no one in the group could ask the locals for directions in Mandarin Chinese.
It was chaos—but it was also one of the best trips they’d ever taken.
“This time is different!” Euijoo protested quickly. “I’m going with Nichol—”
He choked mid-word.
“ What? ” his mother asked, squinting. “You’re going with who?”
“I—I messed up the dates,” Euijoo blurted. “I’m visiting Busan in late August with Sunoo and Jo. The Taiwan trip is earlier. Just me and—uh—some friends.”
“You’re not going to Taiwan alone, are you?” his mom pressed, narrowing her eyes. “You can’t even speak Mandarin. You’ve never been there before. It’s not like Japan, where you can speak Japanese fluently, you’ve been to Tokyo twenty times and know the train stations by heart.”
“I-I—”
He stumbled.
He didn’t want to lie. He hated lying. But he wasn’t ready to tell them about Nicholas. Not yet. Not when it was still fragile and precious and his. Not when he didn’t know how they’d react.
“Don’t worry,” he forced out a smile. “It’s… it’s all planned. I’m not alone.”
But Euijoo wasn’t good at lying.
His voice trembled just enough. His eyes didn’t meet the screen.
His parents exchanged a look.
“Byun. Euijoo,” his father said sharply, his full name a warning.
“I-I—I'm going with someone who speaks Mandarin,” he said quickly. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine—”
“Oh, please,” his mother snapped, her tone suddenly cutting. “Sunoo, Jungwon, Riki, and Jo don’t speak a word of Mandarin. Byun Euijoo, are you making up this whole trip? Is this some elaborate excuse to avoid us again?”
Euijoo flinched.
“You haven’t come home in two months, ” she continued, her voice rising. “You never answer properly when we ask how you’re doing. And now, the one week we ask to spend as a family, you pull this? A random trip to Taiwan with vague ‘friends’ who suddenly speak Mandarin?”
She scoffed. “Do you even know what it looks like from our side? Like we raised a child who doesn’t care about his family anymore.”
Euijoo stared down at the floor, guilt flooding his chest so fast he felt nauseous.
It wasn’t true. It wasn’t. He did care. He missed them all the time. He called when he could. He wanted to be there. But this—this was something else. He was doing this for someone he loved.
His throat felt thick.
He blinked hard and quietly said, “Nicholas speaks Mandarin.”
The silence on the other end was instant.
“I—I’m going with him. I promise I’m not lying. I bought the tickets. I planned everything myself. I saved up for it. I’ll be okay,” Euijoo said, head still bowed, voice almost a whisper now. “I just… I really want to go.”
His mother opened her mouth like she wanted to say something—but paused.
His father looked like he was still processing.
And Euijoo, who had never raised his voice to his parents, who always came home when asked, who always tried to do what was expected of him—sat there, curled into himself, trying so hard not to cry.
Because it hurt.
Because he didn’t want to be accused of not caring.
Because all he wanted to do was give someone he loved the happiest birthday possible.
And now it felt like he was choosing one over the other.
Across the room, the boys were silent.
Sunoo had stepped closer without making a sound. Jungwon’s hands were still, his back straight. Jo looked like he was seconds from defending him if the call went any worse. Even Riki, who rarely sat still, hadn’t moved a muscle.
“…You’ve been so secretive lately,” his mom continued, voice sharpened by suspicion. “We never get a straight answer out of you anymore.”
“You’re not a child, Euijoo,” his father added, his tone cold with disappointment. “We’re not trying to control you. But we are your parents. We deserve honesty.”
“I am being honest,” Euijoo whispered, though the words barely made it past the lump in his throat. “It’s just… it’s hard to explain—”
“What’s hard to explain about a trip?” his mom cut in. “Are these friends more important than your family? More important than your father’s first holiday off in months?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“Then say it clearly, Euijoo,” his father snapped. “Why this trip? Why now? Who are you even going with?”
Euijoo’s vision started to blur. He stared at his hands in his lap, shaking. His heart pounded in his ears, too loud, too fast, louder than their voices but not loud enough to block them out. His stomach twisted, heavy and hot with shame.
He wanted to yell I’m trying, but it would come out as a cry.
“I told you,” he mumbled. “I’m going with Nicholas. It’s fine—”
“Who, Euijoo?” his mother barked. “We’ve never heard of him. Not once! You talk about your studies, your roommates. Never about this Nicholas.”
"That's not even a Chinese name. If you're lying, try harder." His father scoffed coldly.
“Are you lying to us, son?” his mother then asked, brows furrowed. “What are you hiding?”
“I’m not—”
“Then tell us! ”
“Why can’t you say it?”
“Why are you acting like you’re ashamed of something?”
“Byun Euijoo.”
“Euijoo, just answer us.”
Their voices overlapped, circling him like smoke. Choking him.
He was drowning in it.
He bit the inside of his cheek. Hard. But even the sting didn’t stop the shaking in his shoulders.
His breath was shallow. His hands were trembling. His chest felt crushed under the weight of all of it—of being the son who always listened, who always obeyed, who always tried —and now, being questioned like he was some liar, some stranger, some disappointment.
Euijoo stared down at his hands in his lap. He couldn't lift his gaze. His fingers were clenched together tightly, knuckles white, as if holding them still would keep everything from falling apart. But inside—inside, he was unraveling.
He could feel the sting in his throat building. His ears were ringing. His heart was thudding so hard it hurt. All he wanted was to protect something gentle—this small, special thing he had with Nicholas. And yet here it was, being twisted into something shameful, something suspicious.
Why did it feel like everything he said was wrong?
Why did it feel like love was something he had to defend?
Nicholas wasn’t his first boyfriend, but Euijoo had never been forced to come clean to his parents. His parents, although conservative, probably knew he was romantically attracted to men, however probably thought he was either joking or making an excuse to save himself from being asked about his relationship status during family gatherings so that he could be left studying in peace.
And then came the words that landed like a punch in the gut.
“I don’t even recognize you anymore,” his mom said bitterly. “You used to be so diligent. So reliable. What happened to that son? What happened to our Byun Euijoo?”
The room went still.
It was the kind of silence that hurt more than yelling.
Euijoo’s mouth opened, but no words came out. Because what could he say?
His own parents—who knew him, who raised him, who watched him cry when he broke his first toy, who stayed up with him through school projects, who kissed his forehead before his university entrance exams—were looking at him through a screen like he was someone else entirely.
And for the first time in his life, Euijoo felt completely and utterly alone.
Next to him, Sunoo quietly shifted. Euijoo didn’t notice the way his hand was still wrapped around his until that moment—until Sunoo gently let go. The absence of touch was like a thread snapping.
Sunoo stood up.
“I’m gonna use the bathroom,” he said gently. “Be right back.”
Jo, always quietly tuned in, gave Sunoo a short nod. An approving one.
“Hi, Nicholas,” Sunoo had whispered into his phone, already walking down the hall. “Niki already told you guys? Awww, thank you so much, you too, you too.”
And then it hit.
Kim Sunoo, his observant, thoughtful psychology major of a best friend—was calling Nicholas.
That realization alone had almost undone him.
Sunoo—sweet, observant Sunoo—had connected the dots faster than anyone else. And now he was calling the only person Euijoo could think of who might make this feel even a little bit okay.
Nicholas.
Euijoo wanted to run to him. Throw himself into his arms. Feel his warmth, his breath, his hands cupping his cheeks gently while he whispered, “I’m here. I’ve got you, Juju.”
But he couldn’t.
He was here.
On video call.
Still crying in front of his parents.
And they were still watching him.
“Are you crying?” his father asked, his voice suddenly disgusted. “Is that really how fragile you are now?”
Euijoo’s lips trembled. His lungs stuttered. He curled in tighter, unable to stop the shaking.
“We ask you for one week of your life, Byun Euijoo. One week. And instead of explaining like an adult, you break down like a child.”
Euijoo couldn’t speak.
He couldn’t even breathe properly anymore.
Everything inside him felt shattered. His thoughts. His voice. His resolve. All in pieces.
And still—he hadn’t told them. He hadn’t said boyfriend. Hadn’t said Nicholas is someone I love. Hadn’t dared.
He wanted to.
So badly.
But he was afraid that would only make it worse.
He curled further into himself, shoulders trembling.
Jo slowly reached forward and placed a tissue box in front of him, silent.
Jungwon moved next, crouching beside the bed, watching Euijoo with quiet, concerned eyes.
Even Riki was serious now, still and calm, as if he understood the weight of the moment.
Sunoo had just ended the call. He returned quietly, his phone tucked in his sleeve.
“He’s on his way,” he whispered to Jo and Jungwon, who both nodded without speaking.
The air was heavy, like it was pressing down on all of them.
On-screen, Euijoo’s mother scoffed.
“I don’t even believe he’s going to Taiwan at this point,” she said, not even addressing Euijoo anymore—speaking instead to her husband, as if he wasn’t there, as if he were invisible. “Maybe he just wants to run away. Maybe he doesn’t want to see us anymore. Big, fancy Seoul, big, fancy medical school. Probably thinks he’s too good for us now.”
“That’s not true!” Euijoo cried, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. “I literally bought tickets! I have proof! I bought them!”
He scrambled to his backpack, fingers shaking as he opened his wallet and yanked out a folded paper—the receipt from his booking. He held it up to the screen, the edge quivering in his grip.
“Here!” he gasped. “I have physical proof!”
But his mother barely looked.
Euijoo swallowed hard.
His vision blurred. His chest was rising and falling too fast. He was cornered, so completely backed into a wall he could barely breathe.
His nails dug into his palms. His mouth was dry. His head was pounding.
“And who are you going with, Euijoo?” his father said, voice cutting, like steel. “Because if you’re so desperate to prove the trip’s real, then prove the rest. Who’s more important than your family?”
And something in him just snapped .
“I’m going with my boyfriend !”
Euijoo’s voice cracked straight through the air like thunder.
Everyone in the room froze.
The silence on the video call was instant.
Even Jo, Jungwon, and Sunoo—all tense but quiet—sat utterly still.
“I—I’m going with my boyfriend,” Euijoo repeated, his voice shaking. “To meet his family. In Taiwan.”
He was breathless, trembling.
There was a pause.
A long one.
Then—
“Unbelievable,” his mother breathed, voice tight with fury. “So what you told the aunties at Seollal were right. Our son is actually gay.”
She didn’t even look at him when she said it. She spat it out like venom.
Euijoo felt something crumble inside him. Something deep. Something he didn’t even know was still holding on.
“You don’t know what love is,” his father barked. “You’re just confused. Or worse—being manipulated.”
“He’s not manipulating me!” Euijoo’s voice cracked. “He treats me better than anyone I’ve ever met—he listens to me, he knows me, he—he loves me—”
“Oh, so now he is your family?” his mother shot back, eyes gleaming with hurt and anger. “Not us? You’d choose him over us?”
“I’m not choosing anyone!” Euijoo cried. “I just want to be honest! I want to live my life— my life, not some version of it that’s acceptable to everyone else!”
His father leaned closer to the camera, and for a second Euijoo could swear he could feel the cold of it through the screen.
“You are our son. We raised you. Paid for everything. And now you turn your back on us for some boy who probably doesn’t even care about you?”
“That’s not true,” Euijoo said, his voice small again, breathless.
“I can’t believe this,” his mother whispered. “We gave you everything. And this is how you repay us? With secrets and shame? Running off to another country with a man? Is this how you want to represent our family?”
“You think your professors at med school will respect you when they find out?” she continued. “You think the hospital will want a gay doctor when the patients start whispering?”
Euijoo gasped, stunned.
“Umma—”
“We thought we raised a good, respectful son,” his mother continued. “Not someone who’d run off behind our backs to play house with some boy we’ve never met.”
“Some boy,” his father repeated, lips tight. “Some foreigner , no doubt.”
Euijoo’s blood turned to ice.
“Stop it,” he choked. “Don’t talk about him like that—”
Euijoo couldn’t take it anymore.
He pressed both hands to his face, digging his palms into his eyes, trying to stop the tears from coming again—but they did anyway. His whole body shook. It wasn’t just sadness anymore—it was grief. Exhaustion. Helplessness.
He had never felt so far from home. Or so unwanted by it.
That was it.
That was the moment.
He broke.
“I—I’m sorry.”
The words came out strangled, barely human, torn from somewhere deep inside him. The tears came in full force now—hot and shuddering, no longer quiet or restrained. A sob tore from his throat, sharp and wet, and he doubled over where he sat on the couch, curling in on himself like he could disappear. Like if he made himself small enough, maybe their voices would stop.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—” he repeated, over and over, like a prayer, like a plea, like it might undo all of it. His shoulders shook violently, his face hidden in trembling hands. His knuckles were white from how hard he gripped his own arms. “Please, please, just stop yelling at me…”
It didn’t matter how much he explained. It didn’t matter how much he tried to be good.
His parents didn’t want to hear it.
They didn’t want him.
Not like this.
“Does your sister know?” his mother snapped, voice still icy through the screen.
Euijoo nodded without looking up. His sister turned out to be one of Nicholas’s subscribers on YouTube as well as part of an active community of fans on TikTok and Instagram, and when she saw the first TikTok they had filmed as a couple, she was so shocked she immediately requested a video call. His voice cracked. “She… She saw a post on Instagram. She figured it out. She sent her blessing. Said she was happy for me.”
His father’s voice exploded like thunder. “How dare she didn’t tell us!”
“Please don’t bring Noona into this,” Euijoo begged, barely able to get the words out. His breath was hitching with every syllable. “She… she didn’t think it was her place to say—”
“Oh, I’ll make sure she tells us everything ,” his father seethed. “Every secret you’ve been hiding from us—!”
“Please, no!” Euijoo sobbed. “Don’t drag her into this! I’m sorry! I-I’m so sorry!”
“Oh, you should be.”
Euijoo flinched like he’d been struck.
He folded further into himself, burying his face in his knees now, ashamed of the tears, ashamed of the shaking, ashamed of everything . His breathing was sharp, too fast, too shallow, like the panic was caving in his lungs. He couldn’t speak anymore. Could barely even hear them. His parents’ voices were still echoing from the laptop speakers—but in his ears, it had all gone fuzzy.
He felt small . Pathetic. A failure of a son.
A failure of a boyfriend.
A coward.
And through it all, the room around him had gone quiet.
So quiet it hurt.
Sunoo sat beside him, his hands trembling where they clenched in his lap. His jaw was locked tight, lips a thin line, eyes wet and furious as he stared at the phone screen. But he didn’t say anything.
No one did. Not Jungwon. Not Jo. Not Riki.
The silence was unbearable. Like they were all witnessing something too cruel to name. Like none of them could believe what they were hearing.
Until Jo opened the door.
Footsteps.
Quick. Light. Familiar.
Nicholas.
He had barely stepped into the room when he saw Euijoo curled in on the couch, shaking, broken.
He was still slightly out of breath, hair rather messy from rushing, but his expression was razor-sharp. He was dressed in a black tank top with silver graphics inside a black leather jacket, dark cargo pants with silver chains on the side – fuck, he must’ve been up to something else, something rather important when Sunoo called, judging from the many accessories he was wearing – two rings on his left finger, three on his right (including the couple ring) two chain necklaces and rings on his ear. Euijoo suddenly felt guilty. Nicholas had to leave whatever he was doing to be here. For him .
The room turned to look at him.
He didn’t pause.
Nicholas walked straight over, knelt beside Euijoo so that Euijoo’s parents wouldn’t see him, and wrapped his arms around Euijoo’s waist from behind—careful, steady, protective.
“I’m here,” he whispered, just loud enough for Euijoo to hear.
Euijoo shuddered once, then all but collapsed into him. His hands reached for Nicholas like he was the only solid thing left in the world.
Nicholas just held him tighter, whispering softly against his ear:
“I’m here, baby. I’ve got you. I’m here.”
Euijoo shook his head, still hunched and trembling. “I’m sorry—”
“You have nothing to apologize for.”
“But they—” He hiccupped a breath. “They hate me—”
“No,” Nicholas said firmly, his voice thick with emotion. “No. You don’t deserve to be treated like that. You don’t deserve any of it.”
He gently pulled Euijoo into his arms.
And Euijoo didn’t resist.
He collapsed against Nicholas’s chest, sobbing openly now, his hands fisting into the back of Nicholas’s shirt like he needed to hold on or he’d fall through the floor. Nicholas held him tighter, one hand on his back, the other carding gently through his hair.
“I love you, Euijoo.” Nicholas whispered. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
Nicholas glared at the phone on the table, jaw tight, barely holding back the retort burning in his throat. His Korean wasn’t perfect, but he could hear the venom. And he could feel Euijoo shaking against him.
Euijoo’s face was pale, his eyes swollen and red, his lips trembling as he clutched Nicholas’s sleeve with both hands.
Then, barely above a whisper—
“親親我可以嗎？” ( Can you kiss me?)
Mandarin. The words were hesitant. Soft. But unmistakable. Euijoo wasn’t fluent in Mandarin—not even conversational—but that phrase, he knew. Nicholas had whispered it against his mouth before. At the Han River. On late nights in bed.
Nicholas stilled. The camera would see him.
But then slowly—gently—he leaned in, pressing a kiss to Euijoo’s temple. One to his cheek. Another to the corner of his jaw. Not on the lips. Not for show. Just enough to say:
I’m here. You’re safe. You’re loved.
Euijoo closed his eyes at the touch. His breathing hitched. For a moment, just a moment, he forgot the ache in his chest. The sound of his parents shouting blurred into white noise.
But the second they heard the Mandarin—the second they realised Euijoo had picked it up, even just a little—
The rage intensified.
His father’s voice cut through like a blade. “So now you speak his language? What’s next? Forgetting where you come from entirely?”
“You think this is love ?” his mother hissed. “He’s just using you. All foreigners do. He’ll toss you aside like trash once he’s bored of you—”
“ Stop! ” Euijoo shouted, his voice cracking. “ You don’t know him! You don’t know anything about him! ”
“He’s not even Korean,” his father spat. “How could you be so shameful, Byun Euijoo?”
Nicholas didn’t move.
But his eyes were burning. Not with anger for himself. But for Euijoo.
“Please, father,” Euijoo’s voice was hoarse. Desperate. “Please don’t say those things—please just stop—”
But they didn’t.
It kept coming.
Insult after insult.
Racist. Cruel. Unforgiving.
“You don’t even know him!” Euijoo shouted back, voice hoarse, broken. “You don’t know him, you can’t say that—he’s kind , he’s gentle , he—he loves me—!”
Nicholas pulled him closer, shielding him, arms wrapped tightly around his frame. And as Euijoo’s voice cracked again, Nicholas pressed another kiss to the crown of his head, grounding him.
“ Please! ” Euijoo sobbed. “Stop talking like that, please, you’re wrong—!”
“Wrong? We’re wrong?!” his father exploded. “Do you even hear yourself right now? Brainwashed. Letting that outsider touch you— corrupt you—!”
Jungwon, face pale, stood from the armrest he’d been leaning on and quietly beckoned Jo and Riki toward the hall. They didn’t speak. Didn’t argue. Jo grabbed Riki’s hand and followed, face dark, jaw clenched.
They were foreigners too. And they shouldn’t have to hear this.
Sunoo stood the longest. He had tears in his eyes already. His parents were supportive of him coming out, and he was devastated to hear Euijoo’s parents, seemingly the chillest, most supportive parents he had ever known besides his own, were surprisingly homophobic.
And racist, too. His mouth was trembling with things he wanted to scream. Things he knew he couldn’t .
But Riki saw it. And gently wrapped an arm around his shoulder, guiding him toward the bedroom.
Sunoo looked back just once, gaze landing on Euijoo still shaking in Nicholas’s arms.
“I’m sorry, Sunoo,” Euijoo choked, the tears returning. “Not… not on this happy day…”
Sunoo gave him the smallest nod before disappearing down the hall.
The door shut softly.
And suddenly, it was just Euijoo.
Nicholas.
And the still-snarling voices of his parents on the phone.
Euijoo wiped at his face, heart breaking open all over again. “You don’t get to say those things about him. About us. He’s not using me. He loves me. And I love him. Isn’t that supposed to be something you want for me?”
“Listen—” Nicholas spoke, putting on his glasses, voice low but steady.
“Nico— Yi-hsiang , you don’t have to—” Euijoo whispered, clutching at his sleeve again.
“I want to,” Nicholas said.
Then, in perfect Korean, he added:
“I need to.”
He turned around so that he was facing the camera, gaze leveled straight at the screen.
“Euijoo’s coming with me. First week of August. To Taiwan. You can go to Jeju without him if you despise him that much. Or—if you actually care—change your plans. Move it a week.”
His voice didn’t rise. But there was something dangerous about the calm in it. A sharpness behind the gentleness.
Euijoo’s father bristled. “How dare you—!”
“You’re not the only parents involved in this relationship,” Nicholas cut in, firmly. “Mine are, too. And they want to meet your son. They want to welcome him. Shower him with love and respect. Because that’s what he deserves.”
His words struck like iron against ice.
“I know I’m not Korean,” Nicholas said, “and I’m not a med student either. But I love Euijoo. For who he is . For how he sees the world. For how kind he is. For the way he takes care of me. And his romantic life?”
Nicholas’s eyes narrowed slightly. “That’s his business. Not yours.”
Silence fell.
It was deafening. Heavy.
Euijoo could barely breathe.
He stared at Nicholas, eyes wide, overwhelmed—because no one had ever stood up for him like that before. Not like this. Not in the face of his parents.
His parents were stunned speechless. The screen flickered—just slightly. Then his father’s voice, brittle with cold fury, broke the stillness.
“You’re out of your depth, young man. You don’t know this family. You don’t know our culture. You don’t know us. ”
Nicholas exhaled softly. “You’re right. I don’t. But I know him. And I won’t let anyone— anyone —make him feel like he has to apologize for who he is. Not even the people who raised him.”
Nicholas looked at Euijoo, nodded once, and reached forward.
He ended the call.
Euijoo’s breath hitched again. He bit his lower lip hard, trying to hold it in—but the tears returned anyway.
“ Yi-hsiang , I’m sorry,” he murmured again, mostly to himself now.
But Nicholas turned to him immediately, gently cupping his face.
“ No. Stop apologizing.”
He leaned in, forehead to forehead, his voice barely above a whisper.
“You don’t owe them anything that hurts you.”
Euijoo collapsed into Nicholas’s chest again, breathing in tight, broken gasps. Nicholas wrapped his arms around him fully now, rocking him gently in place.
“I love you, Euijoo.”
“I love you too, Yi-hsiang,” Euijoo whispered, still breathless, voice rough from crying. “I’m sorry for what happened earlier.”
“It’s not your fault.” Nicholas brushed a thumb under Euijoo’s eye. “I’m sorry you had to hear all that.”
They stayed like that for a while—arms around each other, warm in their shared quiet, safe for the first time in hours. Nicholas could still feel Euijoo trembling just slightly, like his body hadn’t caught up to the stillness yet.
Then—
“OH MY GOD, HE PINNED YOU TO A WALL AND KISSED YOU?!”
Nicholas blinked. Takayama Riki.
“STOP!!! THAT IS SO K-DRAMA CODED!” Jungwon shouted back.
He smiled faintly. That had to be Sunoo’s doing—changing the mood on purpose. Shifting the dorm’s energy for Euijoo’s sake. Sunoo knew what it was like to hurt like that. And now, he was giving Euijoo a moment to breathe again, even indirectly.
Pinning someone against the wall? Way to go, Niki.
Nicholas glanced at Euijoo, who was wiping his cheeks, eyes already flicking toward the direction of the noise.
Of course he was curious. Euijoo loved listening to his friends. He always lit up when they had good news. He always wanted to be happy for them, even when he was hurting himself.
But Nicholas gently took his hand again.
“You deserve to hear all about their good news,” he said quietly. “But I think you should rest first. Just… take care of yourself tonight.”
He paused.
“Do you want to spend the night in my dorm room?”
“Huh?” Euijoo looked up, blinking, surprised—his doe eyes still shimmering with tears.
“I want to take care of you,” Nicholas said. “Just like you looked after me when I was homesick that first night. Please.”
There was a silence.
Then, quickly, Euijoo nodded.
Nicholas smiled softly. “Okay. Pack your clothes and everything you need. I’ll wait.”