Work Text:
I’m learning so many different ways to be quiet. There’s how I stand
in the lawn, that’s one way. There’s also how I stand in the field
across from the street, that’s another way because I’m farther from
people and therefore more likely to be alone. There’s how I don’t
answer the phone, and how I sometimes like to lie down on the
floor of the kitchen and pretend I’m not home when people knock.
There’s daytime silent when I stare and nighttime silent when I
do things. There’s shower silent and bath silent and California silent
and Kentucky silent and car silent. And then there’s the silence that
comes back a million times bigger than me, sneaks into my bones
and wails and wails and wails until I can’t be quiet anymore.
That’s how this machine works.
- Ada Limón, The Quiet Machine
Summer 2023
Riku pops his head in Yushi and Sakuya’s room. Yushi doesn’t look up, playing a game on his phone. Sakuya glances over, digging through his drawer for a clean pair of shorts. His hair drips onto the floor, still a little wet.
”Saku-chan,” Riku calls gently. “Let me dry your hair.”
He feels Yushi make a face at him from behind the phone. Whatever. Riku doesn’t care what Yushi thinks right now. Sakuya blinks at him, standing awkwardly to put his shorts on. “I do know how to dry my own hair, y’know.”
Riku smiles softly. “I know. Just wanna make sure you don’t accidently pull on your earrings. I did it a few times and it hurt for a day or two.”
Sakuya nods slowly, as if he hadn’t even thought about it. He grabs his towel from the shared bathroom on their way back to the living space. Riku’s already waiting, watching adoringly as Sakuya awkwardly sits between his legs.
Riku takes the towel and gently places it over Sakuya’s head. He leans to either side to tuck it around and behind his ears before digging the tips of his fingers in. Sakuya sighs softly, shoulders relaxing and head lolling whichever way Riku massages it.
”The earrings really do look cute,” Riku doesn’t know why he’s speaking so quietly. There’s nobody in the living space except for them.
Sakuya hums. “I like them. My sister’s really excited, she says we can get matching earrings now.”
Riku grins. He moves his fingers up along Sakuya’s scalp, closer to the forehead. “She’s what, eight? Nine?”
”Eight. Mom had her ears pierced when she was born, though.” Sakuya yawns. “Right before I left, I got her a pair of cherry ones and Mom swears she’s never taken them off since.”
Riku’s chest warms. Sakuya’s hair is already drier than he expected. “Aww. You’re a good brother. You care for her a lot.”
Sakuya tries to nod, catching himself at the last moment. “Yeah, of course. She’s my baby sister.”
Riku can’t take it anymore. He ruffles Sakuya’s hair through the towel, narrowly resisting the urge to hug him around the neck. “You’re my baby.”
As expected, Sakuya squirms, whining in the back of his throat. He turns, half-heartedly glaring at Riku over his shoulder. “You fucked up my hair.”
Riku just puts his face in his hand and smiles. He’s so endeared. Everything Sakuya does is so effortlessly cute. “I did. You’re still adorable.”
Sakuya reddens just the tiniest bit, standing up with a huff. He holds the towel in a fist, as if he’s almost scared of it. Or scared of himself, of what he might do if he lets go. Interesting.
“Saku-chan.” Riku still speaks softly.
Sakuya doesn’t answer, but he looks over his shoulder.
”Try not to sleep on your side.” Riku’s gentle smile doesn’t leave his face. “I know I already said that, but…”
Sakuya nods, taking a long breath through his nose. “I’ll…try. Good night.”
Riku hums, eyes locked on the way that the tips of Sakuya’s ears are red. “Night, Saku-chan. Sleep well.”
He watches silently as Sakuya shuffles back to the bedroom, grins again when he hears Yushi snort with laughter at the way Sakuya’s hair was actually fucked up. Riku’s whole body feels so warm, so happy. Sakuya always seems to have that effect on him.
Riku takes a deep breath of his own, standing back up to head to his own room. His thighs are slightly wet from Sakuya’s hair. Riku hadn’t even noticed.
—
Spring 2024
”They just dyed Yushi’s hair,” Sakuya mumbles around his toothbrush. “Our shower looks like something died.”
Riku snorts, rinsing the rest of his face wash off. “Is it red?”
Sakuya nods, making the floppy ears on his headband wobble. “It was blue like last week. But whatever I guess. It’s not my head they’re messing with.”
Riku hums. “Would you let them? Dye your hair, I mean?”
Sakuya purses his lips, spitting out the toothpaste and rinsing his mouth. “Mmm…I mean. I think it’d be fun. I think a bright color would be fun.”
Riku pats the toner pad across his face. “I think you could pull off, like, a golden brown really well. Ash blond. Whatever that’s called.”
Sakuya makes a face at him in the mirror, one Riku can’t quite decipher. “…I don’t think any kind of blond would look good. I’m too pale.”
Riku rolls his eyes, waving his hands at his face to make the toner dry a little faster. “Of course you don’t think you’d look good, you’re talking about yourself. Would I look good with blond hair?”
Sakuya nods immediately, passing Riku his moisturizer. “Yes. Riku would look good with anything.”
Riku grins. “See? It’s much easier to be objective when it isn’t yourself.”
He dabs the moisturizer in small bits, doing one third of his face at a time. Sakuya shuffles back out into the bedroom while he waits, running his fingertips over the random things on Riku’s shelves. Photos of himself and Ai from his teenage years, his parents hugging him during a middle school volleyball game, his most recent photostrip with his friends from the karaoke spot in Fukui. Random ugly keychain Yushi got for him when they were trainees. A colorful bottle cap Riku found along the Han River, also with Yushi, from the first time they spent a free weekday together. A letter from his mom.
”Saku-chan,” Riku calls softly, having finished rubbing in his moisturizer.
Sakuya looks back at him, still-slightly-wet hair sticking to his forehead.
Riku melts into a soft grin. He really is so fond of Sakuya. “Let me blow dry your hair. I’ll lose it if you get wet hair on my pillow.”
They’re not talking about that, either. The dorms changed and suddenly Sakuya spends all his time in this apartment instead of his own. He blames it on Sion grabbing and groping him over there, but Riku’s pretty sure that’s just an excuse. More often than not, Sakuya falls asleep in Riku’s bed, or games with Yushi for so long they both fall asleep in the living room, or sometimes he even drags Yushi into Riku’s bed. Riku doesn’t mind at all. Riku and Yushi have shared a bed hundreds of times, shared kisses and hands and groans in more beds than they can count. That’s nothing new. It’s comfortable. Just Sakuya is comfortable too, even if Riku’s chest hurts a little bit in the morning, when Sakuya is snoring lightly on his chest.
Sakuya shuffles back into the bathroom, looking down at his feet. Riku plugs in the blow dryer, humming under his breath.
It whirs to life, and Riku puts a hand in Sakuya’s hair. Sakuya has gotten taller these past few months. Riku has to press onto his toes to see the top of his head now. Ah.
Riku tilts his head to the side, desperately trying to air the last drops from the ends of Sakuya’s hair. Sakuya nuzzles into his palm, not unlike a small animal. It’s so cute.
“You’re so cute,” Riku mumbles, unable to stop himself. “It’s killing me. Stop growing.”
Sakuya warms, although Riku can’t see if he’s blushing. “Don’t wanna stop growing. Need to surpass you.”
“Me?” Riku grins. “Nah. Need you to stay juuuust below me forever. It’s perfect.”
He switches the blow dryer to the opposite side of Sakuya’s head, leaning his head accordingly. Sakuya holds onto his forearm gently, still pressing into Riku’s palm against his cheek. It’s endearing. Riku’s so endeared. Sakuya is actually the cutest person in the entire world.
It doesn’t take very long for Riku to finish. Sakuya is growing his hair out, but it’s not super long yet. It’s long enough to put in a ponytail, sure, but he can still see if his hair is in his face. Riku can’t. He wants to cut his hair so badly.
“All done,” Riku says softly, switching the dryer off and putting it back beneath the sink. By the time he stands back up, Sakuya is already curled up in Riku’s bed, staring at him across the hall.
Riku’s face hurts from smiling. His chest squeezes a little. He shuts the bedroom door on his way in, slipping into bed next to Sakuya. Sakuya immediately wraps himself around Riku’s body, tucking his face in the spot between Riku’s collarbone and shoulder. He sighs contently, warm against Riku’s sleep shirt.
Riku hugs him close, because of course he does, kissing the very top of his head through the freshly-dried hair. It’s soft, tickling Riku’s face. He doesn’t mind at all.
“Good night Saku,” Riku whispers into his hair. Sakuya squeezes him in response, hand pressed against Riku’s waist. It’s surprisingly comforting, as many things about Sakuya are.
It’s so easy to fall asleep like this, so Riku doesn’t fight it. He lets Sakuya’s steady breathing pull him into dreams of pandas and bread and softly chiming bells.
—
Early Fall 2024
Riku is falling apart. They all know it, too, but there’s not really anything they can do. It’s Riku’s own fault.
Mokpo was nice, mostly. It really had been relaxing to get away from the city, to be able to walk around and not have anyone recognize them. Riku had felt better for just a few hours, enough to curl into Sion’s side and let his shoulders drop. But it didn’t last nearly long enough, and by the time Riku woke up in Sion’s childhood bed the next morning, it was like nothing even happened. Every limb weighed too much.
Riku doesn’t know what to do. He watches himself dissociate during rehearsal, watches himself dance on autopilot. Feels Sion’s eyes on him, heavy and fearful like he’s watching for the moment Riku breaks. Riku hardly speaks anymore, avoiding cameras like his life depends on it. He snapped and threatened a staff member, felt guilt pile into his stomach as she walked away, visibly shaken by Riku’s animosity. He regretted it immediately, but apologizing means discussing what’s actually wrong, and Riku doesn’t know. He has no idea.
Ryo clings to him these days. Tucks his face into Riku’s chest and stays there for hours, when he can. Riku loves it, loves him, but he can’t even really hug Ryo in return. He just sits there with his arms weakly hanging down Ryo’s back. Riku wishes he could feel any emotion at all.
Daeyoung is clingy, too. He takes every opportunity to let Riku be the little spoon like he loves, cooks an extra portion of samgyeopsal and sadly watches it get cold at Riku’s abandoned place at their table. Yushi heats it up and eats it when Riku doesn’t. Riku can’t remember the last time he had all three meals. He’s rarely hungry at all.
Yushi makes sure he wakes up every morning. Sometimes calling softly from the door, sometimes crawling into Riku’s lap and shaking him by the collar until he stirs, silent tears landing on Yushi’s thighs. Riku can’t even give him a weak smile as thanks. Can’t do anything but squeeze his hand. Riku can’t even cry.
Riku feels like he’s drowning when Sakuya wraps his arms around him from behind. It’s like he’s dragged back to reality from somewhere else, although Riku can’t say where somewhere else is. He feels Sakuya tuck his face into Riku’s neck and it’s over.
A tear drips off Riku’s chin. His shoulders are shaking. Sakuya hugs him tighter, presses his face into Riku’s jaw. Riku’s curling in on himself, falling down and down and Sakuya’s being dragged with him. Riku’s head is being cradled when his knees hit the wooden floor of his own bedroom, pulled close and tight. Riku hates this, hates feeling useless, hates feeling like he has to rely on the youngest even when Sakuya’s often one of the strongest.
Riku’s supposed to be one of the strongest. He’s the second oldest, the most familiar with the industry, the best at comforting after poor evaluations. He’s the one Ryo cries to, the one Daeyoung sometimes needs to hug to sleep, the one Sion can rely on. He’s not supposed to be falling apart on the floor. He’s not supposed to break in the first place.
”You should…take a bath,” Sakuya mumbles into Riku’s hair. Riku doesn’t remember the last time he washed it. “That usually makes me feel better.”
Riku sniffs. Getting in the shower sounds like hell right now, not to mention—
“You don’t have to do anything. Yushi can help. Wants to.” Sakuya’s arms tighten around his shoulders.
A wave of irritation flashes through Riku’s stomach; he’s not an incompetent child, for fuck’s sake. The feeling is immediately drowned out by sheer, unbridled warmth and love. Riku aches. He feels more tears well up again, burning hot against his skin. He can’t stop shaking, even though Sakuya’s arms are tight and sturdy around him.
When did Sakuya get big enough to do that? He’s not even struggling. Riku aches again.
“I’ll put clean clothes out for you so you don’t have to think about that either,” Sakuya kisses his temple. Riku’s so warm inside. He’s so lucky. He can’t stop crying, twisting a little in Sakuya’s arms and gripping Sakuya’s shirt right in front of his face.
Riku feels like a child. This is one of the many times Sakuya seems wiser than his years, seems like he knows horrors beyond anyone’s imaginations. Riku hopes he doesn’t. Riku would kill somebody if it made Sakuya’s life even just a small bit easier.
”Does that sound okay?” Sakuya’s speaking to him in his normal tone. He’s not talking like Riku is a baby, or fragile, or something to be scared of. He sounds no different from normal, unlike Ryo, who tends to use his baby voice, or Daeyoung, whose voice wobbles if he looks at Riku for too long. Yushi always has a hint of fragility hiding in his, like he’s afraid Riku is one second from exploding into shattering pieces.
Riku nods slowly. His head feels like it’s full of stone. He feels the sinus pressure jump even with the tiniest movement. Sakuya rubs his arms gently, letting Riku catch his breath enough to function.
It takes either an hour or two minutes. Riku honestly can’t say. But he’s in the bath with Yushi kneeling on the floor the next time he focuses on reality again.
The water’s a little bit too warm. Riku’s feet sting a little. But Yushi’s humming softly under his breath, using Ryo’s fancy soap that smells like cherries and leaves skin feeling soft. He wipes the cloth across Riku’s skin so tenderly, doesn’t let his hands or eyes linger. Riku, for once, doesn’t even want him to. It’s not the time, nor does it seem like either of them have the energy. Riku has never been naked around Yushi and not had it lead further. This is kind of nice.
Yushi’s hands sneak into his hair, wetting it poorly. Riku doesn’t want to move to dunk his head, and Yushi doesn’t seem to want to move him either. It’s a little uncomfortable. Water drips into Riku’s eyes, down the sides of his face. Yushi wipes it with a finger when he notices.
It’s Daeyoung’s shampoo, the matching half of Ryo’s shower set that also smells like cherries. Yushi’s forearms are dripping. He can’t be comfortable, but Riku can’t help him. He can’t move, really, stuck in a trance with Yushi’s gentle touch, soft humming. Riku loves his voice, always has. Yushi used to practice in the shower, back when they lived together as trainees, sharing a bathroom and a bedroom and hidden kisses. He used to think Riku couldn’t hear him. Riku never told him, too scared he’d stop.
Yushi taps his chin, tilting it back a little. He dumps a bowl of water over the lather, running his nails along Riku’s scalp. It takes a few times to clear the shampoo out, and Riku feels himself shiver every time. Riku’s chest aches a little with the domesticity. If he was less of a coward, maybe he could have this. Maybe even with—
“Riku.” Yushi’s soft voice makes him jump. He’s holding Riku’s wrist. “All done.”
Ah. Riku isn’t quite ready to move. He’s so comfortable right here. Yushi lifts him anyway, pulling Riku against himself even though Riku’s still soaking wet. He drenches Yushi’s shirt immediately, feels a zing of mortification go through his stomach. Riku doesn’t get a chance to apologize, because Yushi kisses him.
It’s over just as quickly, Yushi’s hands rubbing a towel gently across his skin. He poorly ties it around Riku’s waist when he’s done, visibly resisting the urge to leave his hands there too. Riku would let him.
Yushi turns on the sink, lathering Riku’s face wash. Riku hadn’t even thought about washing his face. His chest hurts again. He stays completely still as Yushi runs through Riku’s usual skincare routine, picking up Riku’s products as if it’s natural to him. Riku hadn’t even realized Yushi knew his skincare routine. It seems there’s a lot of things Riku hasn’t noticed lately.
Yushi kisses him again when he rubs the last of the moisturizer in. Longer, this time, less gentle and more meaningful. He shoves his emotions into that single press of lips, too many tangled strings for Riku to unravel in such a short period of time. Riku doesn’t want him to pull away. Riku doesn’t know what he wants.
Yushi leads him back to Sakuya, hand in hand. Yushi really is soaking wet, Riku notices. His shirt is plastered to the front of his chest, and his pants are drenched. Riku feels guilty all over again. He knows, logically, that Yushi wouldn’t have done this if he were truly uncomfortable, but there’s not a lot of brainpower in Riku’s head at all right now.
And oh.
Sakuya is sitting on Riku’s bed with a towel in his hands. There’s a clean shirt and pair of shorts laid out next to him. Riku feels himself tear up almost immediately.
“Riku-chan,” Sakuya calls softly. He holds the towel out in front of himself. “Let me dry your hair? Don’t want you to get sick.”
Yushi presses against Riku’s lower back, pushing him into the bedroom. Yushi doesn’t move, standing in the doorway, looking between Sakuya and Riku with a warm expression Riku can’t quite read.
Sakuya calls him again. Riku takes a hesitant step towards him, and then another. The door closes behind Riku at some point, but Riku barely notices.
”You should get dressed first,” Sakuya tosses the clothes at him. Ah. Yes, Riku probably should.
Riku pulls the shirt over his head, one of the softer old ones from when he was in highschool. He stands right next to Sakuya, who is intentionally staring at Riku’s shelf in the corner, tips of his ears red. It’s cute. Sakuya is so cute.
Riku hums once his shorts are on. Sakuya turns back to him, gaze so warm it makes Riku’s heart pause for a moment.
”Sit,” Sakuya pats the mattress, even though they both know it would be easier for Riku to sit on the floor.
Riku does. Sakuya presses against his back a moment later, kneeling upwards to reach. He’s warm.
The corner of the towel smacks Riku in the face as Sakuya places it over his head, a bit awkward but genuine. He’s rubbing soft, massaging circles into the back of Riku’s skull, probably not drying the hair all that much. It feels really, really good, though, so Riku doesn’t mind.
He feels warm all over, really. Sakuya is good at making him feel that way, always has been. Sakuya is special. Riku doesn’t know how to explain it, exactly, but he is, and everyone knows he is. He was born to be a star, and Riku will do anything to make sure he gets there.
“Your mom called twice while you were in the bath,” Sakuya says softly.
Riku’s eyes well up immediately, against his will. He bites his lip.
”Um…I answered the second time. I thought it might be important.” Sakuya reaches forward, tips Riku’s head backwards by tapping his forehead. “It…it wasn’t. She just said she missed you, and asked you to call her when you get the time. She misses your voice.”
Fuck. Riku is a horrible son. He can’t remember the last time he called his mom. He hasn’t had anything to say, really, but especially not recently. He didn’t want her to worry, even though he’s not sure what there is to worry about.
”A-ah…” Riku’s voice cracks. Sakuya’s hands pause for a second before they continue trying to towel dry his hair. “I…I’ll call tomorrow.”
Sakuya doesn’t reply for a long moment. Riku lets his eyes fall closed, relishing in the sensation of Sakuya’s short nails digging into his scalp. Riku could sleep like this. It’s usually him hugging Sakuya to sleep when they do share a bed, but Riku thinks he could get used to this.
”Riku…” Sakuya speaks so softly that Riku has to take the towel off his head for a moment to hear him. “I…Yushi and I…we think you should go home. Remember what Fukui smells like.”
Riku’s blood runs cold.
“Your parents are still there, right?” Sakuya’s voice sounds tight. “Your sister can come back from Osaka. They—“
”You’re throwing me away,” Riku’s voice is hollow. He doesn’t sound like himself. He sounds like a child. He feels like a child.
Sakuya stills. “N-no, I—“
The tears hit Riku’s thigh hard and warm. “T-there’s something wrong with me, and you’re s-sending me away.”
Arms wrap around Riku’s shoulders, pulling him sideways and backwards until his head is against Sakuya’s. Sakuya sounds like he’s two seconds from crying, too. “Nn…no. Yes, you’re not doing well. Yes, I think you should go home so you can heal. No, I’m…we’re not throwing you away. That’s horrible. Don’t ever think that.”
Riku can’t even speak. He can barely breathe, sucking in breaths like they burn, faster than his lungs can keep up. Riku’s entire body shakes against Sakuya’s skinny arms, even though they hold him tighter than anyone else.
”I’d never think like that,” Sakuya’s voice cracks this time. “I love you. I—I’m worried. I don’t want—“
—to lose you. Sakuya doesn’t have to finish the sentence for Riku to understand. Riku wants to throw up. He’s worrying his favorite person in the world to the extent that he’s afraid of what Riku might do to himself. Sakuya deserves better than this, than Riku.
Riku doesn’t even know what to say. He feels so, so terrible, like he’s doing nothing but dragging Sakuya in the mud behind him. Riku is a grown man, for fuck’s sake, he should be able to take care of himself. Riku doesn’t want to die, he never has, but maybe that would feel better than letting Sakuya down. Riku wouldn’t wish this sensation on anyone.
Sakuya pulls the towel out from around Riku’s shoulders, tosses it on the floor. He pulls Riku even closer, rubbing his back as Riku sits there uselessly and cries. Riku’s so fucking tired of crying. Sakuya keeps mumbling I love you over and over again, in every language he knows, mouthing it against Riku’s temple and forehead. Riku wishes he felt loved. He’s never taken Sakuya’s love for granted, nor Yushi’s, nor anyone’s, but there’s something in the way. There’s a wall, or maybe a hard shell, surrounding Riku’s brain and preventing any sort of loving from getting to him.
Riku weakly hugs Sakuya back, overwhelmed and overly emotional and broken. He thinks about calling his mom as Sakuya runs fingers through his still-wet hair. It’s a humbling sensation, being held by someone like this, and Riku wants nothing more than to return this love to Sakuya tenfold. As soon as Riku feels capable of love, at least, which might be much sooner than he thinks if Sakuya is involved.
Riku takes a deep, shuddering breath, and feels Sakuya’s arms tighten. Riku hurts, and aches, and wonders how expensive a flight to Osaka actually is right now.
—
Winter 2024
Fukui, as it turns out, smells exactly the same. City mixed with salt mixed with home. It’s an unusually warm day when Riku steps off the train and into his mother’s arms.
Riku can’t cry right there, not in public, but he gets close. He holds his mother’s hand like he’s a child as he gets onto the smaller local train towards their house in Sakai, and then takes a shuddering breath the second he leaves his shoes in the genkan.
His sister hugs him first, equally familiar warmth surrounding him again. Riku still doesn’t know why he’s crying. He should be happy to see his family, for fuck’s sake. They’re supposed to be in Ishikawa in a few months anyway, although nobody knows that yet. He hasn’t seen his parents for almost a year, his sister for even longer. He should be grinning and laughing and bothering the family dog.
But instead, Riku is falling apart right here at his front door, sobbing into his older sister’s shoulder for reasons he can’t even explain. He feels useless, because everyone knows he came home unannounced because something bad happened. Riku still doesn’t know what the something bad is. He can’t explain why he doesn’t want to go outside, or why he can’t even make it out of the bed, or why even dancing or the gym feel like they’ll destroy him if he tries. Riku has been to the gym thrice a week for the past seven years of his life. He hasn’t gone in two months.
His sister holds him right there in the genkan until Riku’s tears dry. By the time that happens, his mother has soup in a bowl on the table, steaming and fresh and waiting for him. Riku picks up the spoon and takes a sip, and for the first time in who knows how long, he feels his shoulders relax.
❤️
Two weeks later, Yushi calls while Riku is at the grocery store.
”What’s up?” Riku reaches for the Spam, puts a few containers in the basket.
Yushi is eating something back in Korea, something small and hand-held. Riku can’t see what it is in the low lighting of the practice room corner. Yushi doesn’t say anything, either, just staring very intently at the phone screen. Riku continues grabbing his mother’s grocery list as Yushi decides if he wants to talk or not.
”…You should shave,” Yushi says a moment later. “You look old.”
Riku rubs a finger over his lip, a bit self-conscious. He hadn’t realized it had been that long. “No, I look sexy and mysterious. There’s a difference.”
Yushi doesn’t look impressed. Ryo shoves his head in the frame a moment later and makes a nearly identical face to Yushi’s from a minute earlier. Riku’s chest squeezes. He misses Ryo so much. “Eww. You do look old.”
Hmm. Maybe Riku really will shave when he gets home. Ryo giggles on the other end when something (or someone?) crashes against the wood floor. Riku can’t see whatever it was. He grabs a fresh carrot off the shelf, unsure if his mother needs more than one. He grabs another. Fuck it. He’ll eat it raw if needed.
”How is Fukui?” Yushi asks several minutes later. Riku’s almost done shopping.
Riku smiles softly. “Same as always. There’s a new coffee shop near the train station. I haven’t tried it yet because I saw an employee with a Sion keychain on her bag.”
Yushi snorts. “Mm, don’t.” He doesn’t need to say anything else. The less people know Riku is home, the better.
They don’t say anything else, although Riku doesn’t hang up. Yushi leaves the phone in the corner of the practice room, angled so Riku can kinda sort of see what they’re working on. A cover of Super Junior’s Miracle, if Riku’s not mistaken, probably for end of year awards. Or SMTown. Riku would know if he’d been present for the meetings he kept calling in sick to.
Riku walks back home with his grocery bag, watching his friends struggle to leave space for him in the positioning. Riku thinks that should hurt more than it does.
🩷
Takahashi Ai joins him at the beach the next week. It’s far too cold to actually get in the water, now that it’s nearly December, but that hasn’t ever stopped Riku from going. He’s standing against somebody’s outside wall right where the pavement slopes down and starts becoming sand. It’s a sunny day, so at least his skin is warm for a second until the breeze starts blowing.
Ai leans against the wall with him, undoubtedly freezing in a long skirt and leather jacket. Riku is too warm, the single turtleneck already causing him to sweat. Ai always ran cold where Riku ran hot.
”You didn’t tell me you were back, Rikkun.” She speaks softly, like she’s afraid of someone hearing them over the waves. A gull caws somewhere nearby.
Riku swallows. He hadn’t been avoiding her, exactly, but he hadn’t looked for her, either. “I didn’t tell most people I was back. Sorry.”
Ai takes a sip of her drink, something warm and steaming. “Did you choose to come back all of a sudden, or…”
Ah. Riku hesitates a moment too long, and she looks at him sideways. “Mm…well, do you want to talk about it?”
Riku’s stomach flips. No, he doesn’t, he doesn’t have anything to talk about. But also Ai is perhaps the only person in his life who might have any kind of idea how to fix whatever is wrong with him. Because something has to be wrong with him. If there is, then it’s fixable.
“Your helix will close up if you don’t put anything in it,” Ai says a moment later. Riku reaches up, rubbing the tip of his ear between his fingers. The skin is sore from the cold and it burns very quickly. “You were so excited to get that piercing a few years ago.”
Riku had been. His sister had taken him, not Ai, but he’d come home to Ai and her husband in the living room anyway. She’d cheered with joy exactly like she had when Riku had passed the audition, and suddenly Riku feels a little guilty. Is he disappointing her by being here? By running from disappointment in Korea, just to bring it home?
Ai passes him the steaming cup. Riku takes a sip wordlessly. It’s fresh green tea, a distinct flavor Riku hasn’t tried before.
”Sakuya-kun’s family mailed that tea over,” Ai knocks their shoulders together. “They wanted to thank Oba-san for raising someone who takes such good care of their son.”
Riku’s heart does something he can’t explain. Sakuya’s parents have never even met him, let alone his parents. To his knowledge, only Yushi has ever met his mother, and only Ryo has met Ai. And purely because she begged.
”Ryo-chan’s family sent us Uji matcha, a family friend’s company or something. Yuu-kun’s mother sent us some kind of fancy Italian pasta that Oba-san is scared to cook. She looked it up and converted the Euro and had to sit down for the rest of the day.” Ai laughs softly.
Riku’s chest aches. Hurts. He doesn’t know why.
”They’re good kids, Rikkun.” Ai speaks a little louder. “They’re good for you. They love you. I’m sure Sion-kun and Jaehee-kun’s families are just as sweet.”
Riku bites his lip. They are good. Riku loves them too, some he even loves more than he should. That’s becoming increasingly clear to him. Riku wonders if he’s gotten too attached, if he started suffocating them before he left.
And he did leave. It feels permanent. They’re already learning choreography where the space left for him isn’t noticeable. Riku isn’t even positive they left him space in the first place.
Yushi has Sakuya, and Ryo has Daeyoung, and Sion still has all of them. They don’t need to leave space for Riku. Ryo is probably relieved to breathe for a little now without Riku “re-energizing” by using him as a body pillow.
Ai bumps their shoulders again. “Let’s go get yakiimo. Have you had one yet this year?”
Riku hasn’t. He blinks the tears back into his eyes, unwilling to cry in the cold. He doesn’t even know why he wants to cry. This is the reality of idol life, he’s known that better than anyone his entire life. Ai is going to buy him food to calm him down before talking about the next steps, the what comes after.
The yakiimo burns his hands when Ai passes it to him. They’re back on the main street, Mikuni Shrine several blocks to the east even though Riku can’t see it behind all the buildings. The metal siding of the yakiimo cart is rusted from the sea salt, a visible hole in the top corner. Riku once again remembers that things here in Sakai are old, rusted regardless of use and buildings that creak with humidity or lack thereof. Ai looks at home here, like she always has, never worried about being harassed or followed any more, because half of the current Sakai residents knew her before she ever became an idol. She’s just Ai-chan from around the corner. If anything, she’s only gained more respect after coming back to Sakai post-idol career. She brought pride to a sleepy little town in Fukui. Riku is just her copycat.
The wind whips Riku’s hair against his eyes. The sweet potato’s steam warms his face, and Riku closes his eyes for a second. Riku wants to make this moment last, even just for a short time. It’s refreshing, in a strange way.
”What’s your favorite thing about being on stage, Rikkun?” Ai asks around a mouthful of potato. She walks while she eats, leading Riku through streets he’d nearly forgotten, even though a town as old as this would consider eating while walking a bit mannerless. Riku eats slowly, savoring every warm, sweet bite. Riku has to think about an answer, anyway. Ai seems to sense that, not rushing him at all, simply dodging icy spots on the road in silence.
What is Riku’s favorite thing about being on stage? Dancing, of course, although that’s not what Ai is looking for. Attention and adoration from the fans, if he were being interviewed formally. Having fun, if he asks himself.
“…Performing?” Riku takes a big enough bite to prevent him from having to answer whatever question Ai follows with.
”Mm…yes, okay, but what part of performing?” Ai still doesn’t turn back towards him. She punches the button for the crossing signal. “Your nasal tone? Sweat dripping into your butt and there’s nothing you can do about it? The small-but-certain ego boost when somebody looks at you like you’re their whole reason to exist? The fanservice-but-real?”
Oof. Riku swallows, mouth empty. Not the direction he’d been expecting. Ai was the first person in his life to know he was gay, and she probably figured it out before he himself did. Still. He’s not sure he wants to talk about it right here, out in public.
”…Fans love my nasal tone,” Riku poorly defends himself. He thinks it makes him stick out from the rest, but Ryo pointed out one time that not every group has six members who sound so different from each other. Half of the current competitors have the same flat, acceptable-but-common clear tone as it is. Sakuya has said before that Riku and Yushi are his favorite voices to hear around the dorm. Riku thinks Sakuya is just biased.
Ai pauses in the middle of the crosswalk, startling Riku out of his thoughts. “Yes. They do. Do you not love your fans?”
”Wh-what?” Riku anxiously pulls on her arm, watching the meter count down into single digits. “We have to go, c’mon.”
She doesn’t budge. “Do you not love them enough to respect and believe them?”
Riku is so lost. “What are you talking about?” The signal ends completely. Riku glances at the single car waiting for them to finish crossing. What is she doing?
”If they love you, and tell you over and over again something they love about you, why wouldn’t you believe it?” Ai’s gaze is fiery, something Riku hasn’t seen in years. “Do you think so little of their opinion that you just automatically discard it?”
Oh. Riku stares. He doesn’t know what to say to that. He’s never thought about it like that. He wasn’t that self-conscious about his tone, truly, but it’s also true that he’s never really believed someone when they say he sounds beautiful.
The car honks, having waited politely long enough. Riku jumps out of his skin, although Ai simply takes a deep breath. She finally finishes crossing the street, walking past Riku like she hadn’t just upended his entire life.
”Do you respect your members?” She asks, several feet ahead as she walks towards home. “Aren’t they your closest friends now?”
Riku swallows. It’s true. Taka-kun and Maki-kun are no longer Riku’s best friends. Taka-kun is somewhere up in Hokkaido, running a restaurant, and Maki-kun is somewhere near Gifu doing farm work. Riku hasn’t talked to them since last year. “Yeah…they are my best friends. Yushi…” Riku trails off, unsure how to say that Yushi is sometimes more than a friend, sometimes not.
”Then you should respect them, too,” Ai says softly, looking over her shoulder. “You should believe it when they say they miss you.”
Riku bites his lip so hard he tastes blood. He is not going to cry right here on the street. “…I do. I miss them too.”
Ai finishes her potato, putting the foil wrapper in her coat pocket. “Text Ryo-chan. He messaged me last night because he says you aren’t answering and he’s worried.”
Riku’s chest burns with shame.
Ai continues, “He says Sakuya-kun is making himself sick. He won’t let anybody but Yuu-kun and Ryo-chan near. He misses you so badly Ryo-chan thinks it’s heartache.”
Riku flushes, both in shame and flattery. Ai laughs softly. “It sounds like he’s in love with you, Rikkun.”
”He is,” Riku answers easily. He doesn’t even need to think about it. Sakuya loves him, treats him (and Yushi) like he would treat a partner, and Riku’s been aware of that for months. Riku hasn’t done anything to stop it, either, although he probably should have.
Riku is greedy like that. He loves the way Yushi and Sakuya love him, in all their differences and similarities, and doesn’t want any of it to end. Riku doesn’t feel like a mature adult about it, he feels like a giddy teenager caught in a love triangle, except he doesn’t actually want to make a choice. He wants to keep their attention and devotion for as long as he can, until they get tired of him and move on to somebody more worthwhile.
”Are you going to do anything about it?” Ai is still speaking softly.
Riku blinks slowly. He wants to kiss him, to hug him, to give the love back in any way he can. “I’ll call him when we get home.”
Ai pauses at another crosswalk, standing so close to Riku her short hair whips him in the face with the wind. “Your favorite thing about being on stage is them, isn’t it?”
God, Riku missed her. So much more than he realized. He hums in agreement.
Ai grins. “Me too. I mean, I loved singing, still do, of course. But I think I really loved having fun with my friends, and I think you’re the same.”
Riku still doesn’t know how to feel about being seen through so easily. If anybody would understand, it’s Ai, but still. There’s something harrowing about every emotion being on display no matter how hard Riku tries to hide.
They cross the street, turning the way back to Ai’s house. A small, modern house she’d bought with her husband as soon as she decided to move back. There’s a guest room big enough to hold a single double bed and a small stool, and the kitchen is smaller than Riku’s own in the dorm. It’s homey and exactly what Ai needs. Riku loves it.
“I think you should lean into that, Rikkun,” Ai says softly. Riku had nearly forgotten what she was talking about. “These are your best friends, your favorite people in the world. Sleep with them if you have to, lord knows I nearly did.”
Riku chokes. He hadn’t known, actually, although he’s not surprised. He can’t imagine being straight in the idol business. Daeyoung became bisexual very quickly, either because he always was or because it was easier than trying to sneak women in to the dorms.
Ai looks at him through her eyelashes, amused. “Sorry. I just want you to remember why you became an idol in the first place. I think that’s the most important thing for you right now. I don’t even know why you wanted to be an idol, for the record.”
She steps around a section of uneven ground that Riku absolutely would’ve tripped over if he hadn’t seen her move. They’re nearly at the house, he realizes.
“You don’t have to tell me. It doesn’t really matter to me, honestly. I know you didn’t become an idol to follow in my footsteps, you’re not that kind of person. You’ve always been stubborn and true to yourself.”
She’s right. Sure, Ai might have inspired him, and he certainly never would have passed his audition if not for her. He probably never would have attempted to audition if she hadn’t convinced him. But it was always something he’d thought about, a pipe dream bouncing around in the back of his head. If his circumstances were different, if he wasn’t busy washing dishes at the restaurant to save up enough to move for university, if he wasn’t dancing as a hobby with one of Ai’s old trainers who retired in Fukui. Ai had given him a 20-minute Powerpoint presentation on why he needed to go to the damn audition and at least try.
Ai unlocks her front door, turning to make space for Riku to follow her.
Riku does owe her this much. He owes her a reason, one for why he became an idol and one for why he’s here, right now. He think he’s ready for that, at least. He steps inside and toes his shoes off, letting the heat soak to his bones.
🩵
It’s dark and cloudy in Fukui when Sakuya calls him.
Riku answers immediately, propping the phone up against his desk lamp. “Saku-chan, happy birthday.”
Saku grins in response. He still has a full face of makeup, Riku realizes. They must’ve been shooting something today. Riku’s chest aches with yet another thing he won’t be a part of.
“Riku! I miss you!”
Sakuya says it so easily, so openly. Riku loves that about him, loves how easily Sakuya loves. He is never, ever ashamed of emotions, regardless of what they are. Sakuya tells everyone how much he loves them, tells them when they’re being annoying, tells someone he’s uncomfortable, all without thinking or squirming. He’s not doing anything naively, either, he’s just truly that self-aware. Riku envies him.
“I miss you too,” Riku smiles helplessly. Riku cannot miss Sakuya’s birthday ever again. Ryo screams with laughter somewhere around Sakuya, whichever dorm they’re in.
Yushi shoves his face into the frame, blinking slowly at Riku. He’s flushed — drunk, Riku realizes a bit belatedly. Yushi leans on Sakuya’s shoulder, eyes hazy. Sakuya’s face softens immediately, a lovelorn expression Riku knows entirely too well. He can tell Sakuya’s arm is around Yushi’s waist, even if he can’t see it.
“Rikkun…” Yushi speaks slowly. “…You suck.”
Riku huffs a laugh of surprise. “Do I?”
Yushi hums. “Should be here…Saku’s birthday…”
Yushi hugs Sakuya tighter. Riku would say possessively, if he didn’t know better.
“…Ah.” Riku’s chest hurts, a deep, twisted feeling. “I…yeah. I know. I’m sorry. I wish I—“
“It’s okay,” Sakuya interrupts. “I love you anyway.”
Riku doesn’t know what to say.
“Um...the best gift Riku could give me…” Sakuya keeps talking. “I want Riku to get better. As soon as possible. That’s all I want.”
Riku, humiliatingly, feels a tear run down his face. The last person in the world he wants to hurt or disappoint is Sakuya. His voice cracks when he tries to speak. “…Yeah. Okay. I will, I promise.”
Riku’s already feeling better, for what it’s worth. He still hasn’t gone to the gym, but he’s doing basic exercises at home again. He dug his old volleyball out of the attic, and he’s been spiking against the side of the house when it’s not freezing outside. He met up with Maki-kun while he was in town for a short run around the neighborhood. Riku can breathe again, even if the idea of going back to Korea still fills him with dread.
Yushi nuzzles into Sakuya’s neck, presses a kiss very low on his cheek. Riku aches a little as Sakuya preens, watches the way Yushi blinks slowly back at the camera.
“…Rikkun needs to get better. So you can…” Yushi trails off, but they both know what he means. So that Riku can kiss Sakuya’s other cheek, can be there to hold both of their hands. Riku wants that, wants it so bad he feels like he might really cry.
Sakuya is sober, which Riku would know even if he weren’t acting normally. Unlike either of his housemates, Sakuya has very little interest in alcohol, and even less interest in losing his inhibitions. Riku expects that Sakuya will rarely get fully drunk, if ever, even as he gets older. He just isn’t the kind of person who would enjoy it.
“Saku-chan,” Riku knows his face looks sappy, probably a little ridiculous with his visible yearning and watery eyes. “Love you. Happy birthday. Take good care of Yuuchan for me.”
Sakuya grins. Riku trusts him so much in that moment, nearly more than he trusts himself. Riku wants to be there so badly his skin itches. He should be there, helping Sakuya corral a tipsy Yushi, should be vaguely tipsy himself so that he can finally be brave enough to hold Sakuya like he wants to.
Riku will. He will be better. He cannot miss the anniversary, cannot miss the new year. He needs to be there, needs to hold both Sakuya and Yushi to his chest to fall asleep.
“Love you too, Riku. I miss you.”
—
January 2025
Riku takes the Kyushu ferry to Busan. The idea of flying still makes him a little anxious, so he takes any small steps he can take to avoid it until the last minute.
It’s fairly empty, unsurprising for the middle of winter. The ocean is spitting cold, and the freezing wind makes Riku’s bones hurt. It’s snowing in Busan when he steps off the boat, soaking through his jeans and into his socks.
Riku stumbles into the first hotel he can find, an uncomfortably modern beach-view building near the ferry station. He has no intention of making it to the KTX terminal today, even though it’s so close. Quite frankly, Riku has minimal interest in rushing.
The room is tiny, barely enough room for a two-person table, some cushions, and a twin-size bed. The floor is freezing when Riku takes his shoes off, outside air seeping through the floor-to-ceiling glass balcony door. He watches the snow fall for what feels like hours, unsure what to do with sudden free time.
He eats two of the onigiri his mother made before he left. He plays mahjjong on his iPad until he gets stuck and runs out of hints. He watches three episodes of a drama Ai got him hooked on. He takes a nap, waking into the shadows of the setting sun.
Only now does Riku check his phone. Ryo sent him four iMessage games in a row, even though neither of them uses iMessage for anything else. Sion has sent no less than 142 messages updating him on his daily activities, complaints and all. Yushi sent him a cat reel on Instagram, a noisy black kitten mewing as his owner holds him in his hand. Daeyoung asked what his new year’s resolutions are, even though Riku rarely ever makes them on his own without hearing everyone else’s first. Sakuya sent him a picture of Yushi flipping off the camera, his loss at Mario Kart blurry in the background. Ai and his mother both sent messages wishing for safe travels.
Riku feels the tears welling up before he can think, and lets them fall. After all, why not? There’s nobody here in this cold, frozen corner of Busan.
So Riku cries. He lets everything out, every painful, pointless emotion, every ounce of regret over missing so much, every ache seated deep in his bones. He throws it out of his body, expelling it as far away from himself as possible, shoulders shaking with each sob.
He cries until he runs out of tears, until his head feels like it’s full of all the weight that was previously on his chest. He sniffs blearily into the bathroom, turning the water onto the hottest setting. His nose runs nastily as soon as the bathroom fogs up, and Riku relishes in it.
The misery soaks off, running off his body and into the metal drain. He feels the heat in his bones, feels the way his shoulders relax for the first time in months. It’s still not perfect, he won’t fully relax until he’s holding both of them tight again, but it’s something. It’s been so long since Riku had something.
He towels off slowly, rubbing the hotel lotion into every pore of his skin. It’s been too long since he last waxed; his body feels unfamiliar like this. It’s such a strange thing to miss that Riku laughs to himself.
This hotel even has a sheet mask tucked in the corner of the sink. Riku doesn’t even look at the ingredients before putting it on. Whatever it is, he could use it. Riku wishes he had a headband to push his hair back.
He throws on the hotel bathrobe, not bothering to wear anything else. He turns the heat up when he passes it, not wanting to freeze while naked. He’s usually hot-blooded anyway, but the last thing he needs right now is a cold.
Riku checks his phone again, plugged in by the bed. About four hours until the sun rises. Riku isn’t that tired anymore, not after sleeping nearly all day, but he wants to catch the sunrise. A stupid, cliche moment, sure (a quite literal symbol of fresh beginning), but a moment Riku is looking forward to nonetheless. Ai told him to find those, find the little things to help get through the bad days. This isn’t a bad day, but Riku figures a little extra practice won’t hurt.
When the ten-minute timer goes off, Riku peels the sheet mask off. It’s a cheap one, so there’s not a whole lot of product to attempt to rub in, but still—Riku’s skin feels firm and healthy again. Riku smiles softly at himself in the mirror.
He heads back to bed, unsure of what else to do for the remaining few hours. It’s comfortably warm in the room now, and Riku somehow manages not to sweat to death fully beneath the covers. For the first time in months, Riku is asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow, and it’s never felt more welcome.
—
The pink glow of the first seconds of sunrise hits Riku when his alarm goes off. It’s warm on his skin through the glass. It stopped snowing at some point during the night, and Riku stares at the few centimeters of snow left on the ground outside. The beach is already clear of snow, meaning it either never stuck or has already melted away.
The waves glisten beneath the sunrise, a pink-orange-blue that Riku always wishes he could capture. The phone camera makes it more orange every single time, no matter what Riku does to the settings. The soft shutter goes off in front of Riku’s face, trying and failing to capture the colors for the thousandth time.
The sun rises in the direction of Japan, in a direction that if he looked far enough, might eventually be the Fukui coast. Riku is forced to think of home every time the sun rises in Korea, a sensation he hasn’t gotten used to in however many years he’s been here.
There’s a deep ache in his chest that he can’t quite explain; something this beautiful is meant to be shared, he thinks. Even if it can’t quite be captured, the bright, colorful melancholy of it all screams to be seen. The waves crash against Busan’s beaches, rough and raw and, to Riku, something holy.
Riku steps out onto the freezing balcony and takes a short video, just five seconds — the now-orange sky reflecting against the water, snow on the edge of the balcony rail, the soft sound of the waves the only sound. And then Riku calls Sakuya, despite the insanely early hour and the fact that Riku is shivering.
”…Hello?” Sakuya answers groggily, not awake.
”Saku-chan,” Riku feels like crying all over again. “I miss you. I wish you were seeing this sunrise with me.”
Sakuya hums, a soft whine escaping as he stretches.
Riku swallows. There’s nothing else to say. “It’s cold here in Busan.”
”Mm…it’s cold in Seoul too,” Sakuya yawns. “Is it snowing in J—wait, Busan?”
Riku feels his heart rate pick up. “Mmhmm. Busan.”
Sakuya gasps, the sheets and blankets making a loud rustle as Sakuya clearly sits up in surprise. “You’re back in Korea?”
Riku grins, relishing in the way the sun warms his face against the freezing air. “Wake Yuu-chan up. I’ll be home in a few hours.”
Riku doesn’t have a ticket back yet. He didn’t know how long he was planning to stay in Busan, had been trying not to plan anything at all. But right now, there’s absolutely nothing Riku wants more than to be tucked into Sakuya’s side, to be held like something fragile in Yushi’s arms.
”He’s—“ Sakuya coughs, background noise increasing. “Yushi. Wake up.”
Yushi’s already there, Riku realizes. Laying next to Sakuya, probably slept there all night. Riku’s chest aches with want, feels his breath catch at the way he can hear Yushi whine the way he always does in the morning.
Riku steps back inside, pulling the door closed behind him. It’s far too warm in the hotel room now, turning nauseating against Riku’s adrenaline/anxiety mix. He holds the phone to his ear with his shoulder, frantically packing the few things he’d taken out. He puts it on speaker as he changes into a cleaner sweatshirt and pants combo, not wanting to miss a second of the early morning sounds coming through the phone. Riku wants to kiss them so badly his mouth tingles.
He drags his suitcase into the hallway, letting the door slam rudely. “You hear that? I’m leaving, like right now.” Riku’s voice is so giddy, so childishly excited he can’t believe himself.
”Hurry,” Yushi speaks softly into the phone, and Riku practically runs to the elevator.
—
Everyone is gone when Riku finally gets to the dorm. Sakuya had texted him in the middle of the train journey, a simple unplanned shoot, sorry :( that Riku understood immediately. It happens all the time, when all of a sudden the entire production pulls off a miracle and they need to shoot right now, and they all have maybe half an hour to get to the shooting site.
It’s fine. That gives Riku a bit of time to recover anyway, to readjust to being in the dorm. He leaves his stuff just inside his bedroom door, feeling no desire to unpack anything just yet. He reaches into his own closet before thinking for a second, and then steps into Yushi’s room next door. He picks through until he finds a shirt that was undoubtedly originally Sakuya’s, large enough for any of the three of them to wear.
Riku takes another long, hot shower. There’s no crying this time, but it feels almost as therapeutic. Yushi’s musky body wash, seascape-scented shampoo — they soak into Riku’s skin like they belong there, like Riku is just as much home for them as Yushi is. Daeyoung’s fresh towel hanging on the door is the softest thing Riku thinks he’s ever felt.
Riku cracks the door to let the steam out, pulling on Sakuya’s shirt as he finishes drying off. He puts on just underwear beneath it, opting for maximum comfort, even though he’ll probably be a little cold outside the bathroom. He wipes the mirror with an abandoned hand towel, barely removing any of the condensation from the glass. He’s plugging in the hair dryer when the door swings open.
“Riku—“
Riku doesn’t even get to turn around fully before somebody is kissing him. Gentle, certain, and cautious, much like the person the lips belong to. He doesn’t need to open his eyes to know who it is, and sighs happily against Sakuya’s mouth.
Large hands hold Riku’s face, cupping his cheeks like he’s something precious. Thumbs swipe across his cheekbones, wiping tears that Riku hadn’t even realized were there, long fingers reaching to the base of Riku’s skull. It’s so nice, so gentle, so—
Sakuya pulls away, looking back at Riku with such deep emotion that it makes Riku’s chest squeeze. Yushi stands behind him, leaning on the doorframe, lovesick watching them. He approaches slowly, and Sakuya doesn’t move away.
Yushi kisses Riku right there, only a few inches away, just as tenderly as Sakuya had. Yushi mumbles missed you, love you, please stay into Riku’s lips like a prayer, letting both of their tears mix where their mouths meet. Yushi’s fingers are freezing where Riku’s wet hair has dripped onto them.
None of them say anything else, Sakuya and Yushi both pressing a cheek against one of Riku’s. He doesn’t know how long they stand there in the soaking wet bathroom, sniffling and holding each other close like they only have a few minutes left.
They have forever, Riku realizes all at once, or at least as long as they’ll have him. Riku is the oldest, just twenty-two; they have so much time ahead of them, so much time to fall in love all over again, to take care of one another like Riku’s always wanted. There’s no need to rush.
Riku squeezes each of their hands, watches as Sakuya and Yushi reach for each other, too, like it’s natural. It is, Riku supposes. It’s always been the three of them for as long as he can remember. He never wants it to be anyone else.
Yushi presses his mouth to Riku’s forehead, pushing his wet hair out of the way. “Rikkun…let me…”
Yushi picks up the hair dryer and plugs it in. Sakuya sits on the edge of the sink, playing with Riku’s fingers in between his own. Riku takes a step closer, leg brushing Sakuya’s knee, and turns to Yushi with a warm smile.
Yushi kisses his nose, eyes full of so many emotions Riku can’t even begin to explain, and flicks the hair dryer onto the lowest setting, knowing it’ll take way longer than necessary this way.
Riku doesn’t mind at all.