Archive of Our Own ^beta

Sometimes, love did not come with big realizations, heartfelt confessions and trembling hands. It could be easier, softer — it could be obvious.

When time weaved a bond that ended up feeling like home, when destiny threaded a red string through two hearts that had already found each other, when having someone by one’s side felt as comfortable as breathing — it was easy.

Sakuya never realized he had feelings for Ryo. It was just something that grew, steadily, logically, because it was the kind of things that came with having someone so close and letting yourself adore them. And once Sakuya had fallen for Ryo, he already knew. 

It was also the fact that, when someone loved you so openly, so loudly, you could not be blind to your own feelings. And that was exactly what Ryo was: a prow, a rudder, a hand holding his since the first time they met. 

He opened such a wide path for Sakuya’s love to flourish that Sakuya never, ever doubted his or Ryo’s feelings. It was just so obvious, so evident — something that did not need to be named. 

Something warm, built off insignificant memories, late night conversations, playful bickering, shared laughs, small attentions. Something that felt too good to be true.

And actually, it was.

Sakuya learned it the hard way. 

Because no matter how long one got lost in an illusion for, they were deemed to break out of it sooner or later. 

It happened in August, when the weather still felt warm and sunny. Too warm to be the theater of Sakuya’s reality being shattered.

It was one of those concerts again. The stage stretched in the middle of the venue, overlooking one of the most colored crowds of lightsticks Sakuya had ever been given to witness— yet all of them shone for the fleeting, rare reunion of the pink artists. 

This was a different kind of stress. The boys had less work, only three songs to perform, but it meant everyone’s tight schedule had to be respected down to the minute. Artists were constantly rushing backstage, surrounded by both their usual team and the SMTOWN specific staff. 

Sakuya felt like a kid among all those older, more experienced idols whose voice never wavered when speaking to the crowd, as if the light the stage shone with did not come from the spotlights but from underneath the artists’ skin itself.  

But the thrill of being part of a bigger thing, of many identities uniting under the pink letters of SM’s greatness, of stepping on the same stage as the very people who built the reputation Sakuya today benefited from— it was enough to replace his nervousness with excitement. 

And if anything, Ryo’s enthusiasm exceeded his. 

Every time without a fail, the night before an SMTOWN concert, Ryo was shaking with excitement at the idea of meeting NCT 127 backstage even only for a few minutes. Sakuya was usually his roommate too, so he had to be subjected to Ryo’s hyperactivity instead of getting rest like they both probably needed it. 

So when Ryo was missing between their two performance sets, Sakuya assumed he had left to find Doyoung.

“Where’s Ryo?” Sakuya asked before shoving a cream-filled bread in his mouth.

“He’s filming a challenge with Ye-on,” Sion replied between two sips of coffee, eyes glued to his phone. 

“Oh,” Sakuya said, his voice muffled by the food he was chewing. Not with Doyoung, then. “Thank you.”

He finished his pastry and wiped his fingers on a napkin before heading out of their waiting room. He walked through several corridors, bowed to every senior he met on the way, and finally reached the small hall where other idols had been filming challenges this afternoon. 

Ryo was there, as Sion had said, teaching the Surf hand choreography to Ye-on in a small voice. Sakuya felt amused as he witnessed Ryo’s extroverted self being reduced to a shy boy whose smile was his only weapon against the awkward situation of meeting with someone unfamiliar. 

He leaned on the wall and watched the two maknaes film the challenge together, staying behind so that he would not distract Ryo. 

Once they were both satisfied with it, Ye-on bowed and thanked Ryo as he awkwardly wished her luck and thanked her back. Sakuya understood; not only was NCT WISH still a rookie group, but Ryo and him were the maknaes— it was rare for them to be considered sunbaenims and to meet idols younger than them. 

Then, Ryo turned around and finally spotted Sakuya. His eyes lit up as he hurriedly walked to him— admittedly too hurriedly, because he bumped into someone. 

A girl, who seemingly came for Ye-on. Sakuya recognized her even from behind, thanks to her short hair: Jiwoo, Hearts2Hearts's leader.

Apologies flew out of her mouth as she extended one of her arms to steady Ryo. 

“Oh my god, I’m sorry!” Ryo said at the same time as Jiwoo asked: “Are you okay?!” 

After a short competition of who would apologize the most paired with more bows than either of them had done the whole day, they parted ways, Ryo walking to Sakuya with his head hung low because of the embarrassing interaction. 

And Sakuya would have laughed at him, if it was not for Ryo’s bright red ears and flushed face. 

Sakuya stood there, still, and watched Ryo glance back at Jiwoo, who was talking with Ye-on and holding her hands — watched the way Ryo’s eyes hesitatingly found her, as if he was not allowed to. He quickly turned away, and the blush on his cheeks had nothing to do with make-up.

“Ah, she’s so pretty,” Ryo whispered under his breath. 

Sakuya could only stare, astonished. He must be dreaming. 

Ryo looked up to meet Sakuya's eyes, probably confused that Sakuya had not yet jumped at the chance of teasing him. All things considered, Ryo must have taken Sakuya’s dumbfounded expression for teasing, because he raised his shoulders and pursed his lips. 

“What?” he hissed almost silently, for the girls not to hear — even if they were pretty far, now. 

Sakuya blinked. His mind was blank, his tongue heavy in his mouth, his heart silent. 

There was no way.

There was no way Ryo's blush had only to do with embarrassment. There was no way this whole scene had been out of embarrassment. 

Sakuya forced words out of his mouth before Ryo started suspecting something was really wrong with him. “You got a crush on her, or what?” he half-laughed.

He mentally winced when he caught the hint of accusation in his voice. He hoped it would pass as the usual aggressiveness teenage boys had in their tone when they teased each other over girls.

Because that was what boys did, right? Talk about girls. Pretty girls. 

And they certainly did not feel like they had been punched in the gut when their friend did so. 

When Ryo’s eyes went wide and his blush intensified, Sakuya immediately regretted asking. 

“What?!” Ryo squealed. He looked back at Jiwoo and Ye-on’s retreating backs, and teared his eyes away from them as quickly as earlier. “Of course not! I’m— I can’t date a girl older than me!”

Sakuya’s jaw almost fell to the floor. “Who talked about dating?” he choked, eyes widening. 

Ryo slapped a hand over his mouth. He roughly pushed Sakuya’s shoulder. Usually, Sakuya would have not even budged— but this time, he stumbled back. 

“I didn't— I don't—” Ryo said, panicking. Sakuya felt himself die a little more each time Ryo stuttered and got more flustered. “Whatever! I just said she was pretty, that's all! Don’t you get nervous around girls, too?!”

He did. Sakuya did. 

He found himself straightening his back a bit more when female idols passed in front of him, especially when they were around his age, and made sure to not look at them for too long. 

But Ryo’s reaction had nothing to do with just being nervous around girls. 

He had talked about dating a girl. 

“No,” Sakuya said flatly.

It earned him another punch in the shoulder.

“Stop lying!” Ryo retorted. “And forget about this. I don’t like her, I'm serious.”

He walked away, and it took Sakuya two whole seconds to register the fact that he had left. Sakuya blinked and followed him, ignoring the tightness of his throat as he tried to register what had just happened.

To be honest, he believed Ryo. He believed him when he said that he did not have a crush on her. But the fact that Ryo had considered dating a girl — had considered dating anyone — was enough.

Sakuya felt off. 

Like his spine was a little twisted, a little misaligned. 

A flaw that was just slightly uncomfortable, but so centered in his body that he wondered how he had not noticed it earlier. And now that he had, he could not think about anything else. The way his steps fell a bit wrong because of it, the way his heart beat a little too much to the side, the way his lungs wrapped around a crooked spine. 

He wanted to pause. He wanted to lay down, slice the skin of his back open to pull his spine out and examine each vertebra and find which one was off. He wanted to go through all the moments he had spent with Ryo and find where he went wrong, where his eyes had been blind to the obvious. 

And just like that, everything Sakuya thought he knew fell apart.  

Because Ryo did not like him. 

It was not like it changed anything. 

The world kept spinning. They kept practicing for their upcoming comeback, they kept promoting their pre-release single on music shows. Ryo acted the same towards him; because why would he change?

Except now, Sakuya was carrying on his shoulders a burden that was becoming more and more unbearable as days passed. Every time Ryo looked at him, every time Ryo held his hand, every time Ryo cooed at him, every time Ryo stood close, it got heavier. 

Sakuya’s mind was a mess. Every night, he swallowed the knot in his throat and tried to sort his thoughts out behind his closed lids. He pretended to be sleeping before Ryo got out of the shower so the latter would not ask to sleep in his bed. 

The more Sakuya dug in his memory, the more he tried to understand, the more he felt like he was losing his mind. 

He could not make sense of how Ryo acted.

He did not understand how Ryo could be so affectionate, show him so much love, stick to him to the point of carving a Ryo-shaped space in his life that felt hollow whenever he was not there— and expect Sakuya not to fall for him. 

It was unfair. 

It was unfair that Ryo could act this way with him — like Sakuya was his whole world —, then turn around and blush when a cute girl gave him attention, because she was a girl. 

And Sakuya knew the way he tried to blame Ryo only betrayed the filthier, darker poison that had slowly infiltrated his chest. 

Disgust.

Sakuya felt— gross. 

Now that he had realized Ryo did not like him, he felt like every attention he gave Ryo was wrong. Cursed. Twisted. Because what else loving your teammate — loving a boy — could be?  

Yet, it was not like it changed anything. It was not like Sakuya could end his feelings on the spot. 

It was not like he could stop remembering everything Ryo talked about, or spending almost every hour of the day with him, or his gaze from finding him first when Sakuya walked in a room. 

And he felt so dishonest, so disgusting, because now, whenever he gifted Ryo something, he hoped Ryo would get it. He hoped Ryo would see him. He hoped he would feel even a fraction of the devotion Sakuya felt for him.

And it scared Sakuya. It disgusted him. 

Because he never used to be that greedy.

Back when he thought they both liked each other, he never thought twice about giving anything to Ryo. 

But now, when he gave him a bag of pastries he had bought just for him and their fingers brushed for a fleeting second, when Ryo’s eyes sparkled with excitement and thanks flowed out of his mouth, Sakuya looked at him and wished Ryo could see.

That Sakuya was right there.

That he loved him — to the point of rewiring his own heart, for it to only beat for Ryo. That no pretty girl would ever be able to give him that kind of love.

And when Sakuya caught his own train of thought, it was as if he had been slapped. 

Was that what he was doing? Buying away Ryo’s love? Giving him attention in hope to be noticed? In hope for Ryo to, what— become dependent? 

He felt awful. He felt awful, because Ryo gave him just as much without expecting anything from him. Without stopping dreaming about having a girlfriend. 

Yet— Sakuya loved Ryo; he could not do anything about it. 

So when the third anniversary of the day they met rolled around, he still bought expensive dinner for them to share, but he kept his mouth shut. He did not tell Ryo what occasion it was for— he did not tell him it was for an occasion at all. 

Maybe this way, he could convince himself that his love for Ryo was still pure and selfless. 

That he did not wish Ryo belonged to him.

It was not even that he was jealous. It was not even that he wanted Ryo to stop being affectionate with other people. It was not even that he wanted Ryo to give him more— Ryo gave him enough already. 

He just wished Ryo meant it all in a different way. 

He wished Ryo would think of Sakuya whenever he encountered his favorite ice cream flavor, he wished Ryo’s heart would get warmer just by being by his side, he wished Ryo would look at him like he hung the stars in the sky and mean it. Because Sakuya thought he did.

He thought he did. 

And now, when Ryo ran his hands through Sakuya's hair to apply oil and Sakuya’s heart skipped a beat, Sakuya wanted to throw up. Because every time Ryo stood too close, every time his eyes got a bit too bright, every time he linked his fingers to Sakuya's in such an intimate way, Sakuya’s chest would curl on itself as he got flustered.

He hated it. 

Because Ryo did not like him like that. Ryo just appreciated him, told Sakuya he loved him like it did not matter, like it was true — because it was —, and Sakuya felt gross for being happy over those tiny things. For his crush to be fed by the smallest actions Ryo did not mean as romantic. He hated himself for twisting Ryo’s genuine gestures towards him with his feelings.

He had become so disgusted by his own heart.

He could not believe he once thought Ryo liked him back and had just let his feelings out in the open for everyone — for Ryo — to see. He had scrambled and hid everything, but he did not understand how Ryo had not noticed all this time when Sakuya had not bothered hiding something he was not aware should have been a secret. When his love had not become a burden yet.

So Sakuya found himself pushing away Ryo more often.

He had never been that physically affectionate in the first place, he just tolerated Ryo’s antics— but now, when Ryo clung too close, held him too tight, pushed his nose in the crook of his neck as he hugged him, it felt too much like something Sakuya would — and should — never have. 

Especially when Sakuya’s heart started beating faster, and he feared Ryo might hear it and realize that something was wrong with him. 

Ryo would be terrified of discovering that every time he held Sakuya's hand, Sakuya wished he was his. 

Things got worse.

Sakuya did not notice it right away, but when he did, that was the only thing he could see.

Ryo was clinging to him more. More as in— too much. Way too much. 

It was just so constant. In the practice room. On the way to music shows. In the waiting room. On stage during breaks. When the six of them went live to celebrate their comeback. Sakuya did not think Ryo had stopped hugging or touching him for more than one minute during that live. He had had to grab Ryo’s wrists to stop him from contorting him every five seconds. 

The day after, when Ryo was almost fully in his lap in the waiting room, Sakuya pushed him away with a tired groan. Ryo could not even fathom how suffocating it was to have him so close. 

Sakuya did not understand why Ryo was clinging to him even more now. Was he torturing him on purpose?  

When this kept going for days, weeks, Sakuya snapped. He ended up rejecting Ryo with more force than usual. 

And he noticed something different. Ryo did not exactly look— hurt. 

He looked irritated. 

While Sakuya was never proud of pushing Ryo away to the extent where he ended up looking hurt, he never looked like that.

Sakuya wondered if he was not just imagining everything, and if his tolerance threshold about Ryo’s proximity had just been lowered at the SMTOWN without him realizing it. But sometimes, it was so obvious that Ryo was doing too much — especially when he looked annoyed that Sakuya rejected him — that it looked like he was aware of what he was doing. 

It felt weird. They were still close, still behaving as usual, but Ryo just— kept crossing that line. It threatened to make Sakuya lose his composure. 

Sakuya ignored it. He pushed Ryo away when it felt too hard to breathe, but he did not give it too much thought. He did not want to give Ryo too much thought. He was scared of the spiral he would end up in if he did. 

But as days passed, the more it felt like their balance had been broken, and Sakuya was helpless as to what had caused it. 

He just hoped it would not ruin everything. 

Sakuya learned a few days later that it had never been a matter of if things would go up in smoke, but of when. 

He was walking out of the bathroom when he found Ryo still up, laying on his side in his bed. His face was lit up by the screen of his phone. 

“You not sleeping yet?” Sakuya asked as he pressed a towel to his damp hair. He thought Ryo had insisted on taking a shower first because he wanted to rest. 

He sat down on his bed, and blinked towards Ryo when no answer came from him. Sakuya could only see the outline of his back turned to him, dimly lit by the sliver of light seeping in from the bathroom. 

“Ryo?” 

Still no answer. Ryo kept scrolling on his phone, his back acting like a physical wall between him and Sakuya. 

That was when Sakuya noticed it. 

The tense line of his shoulders. The one that permanently stiffened his body lately, the one that betrayed the anxiety making his fingers fidget even when everyone could see, that had rendered him silent on all socials because of the guilt gnawing at his stomach. 

Without a second thought, Sakuya got up and walked up to Ryo. His worries were confirmed the instant he took a glance at Ryo’s phone and saw what app he was scrolling on: Twitter. 

“Ryo,” Sakuya said as he sat down and touched his shoulder. “Let’s go to sleep.”

Ryo shook off Sakuya’s hand with a shrug. 

“You can go to sleep,” Ryo said, short and cold. 

Sakuya was a little taken aback at how dry Ryo sounded. 

He wondered for how long he had been scrolling through comments and hate for the hurt to have pierced his heart so deep it made him use words as sharp even to talk to Sakuya. 

And Sakuya felt his heart break when he got a glimpse of a mean, just cruel tweet on Ryo’s screen.

“Ryo, come on. You don’t need to read this.”

He reached over to take Ryo’s phone, or to turn it off, or to cover the screen— anything that would pull Ryo out of his spiral. 

Ryo slapped his hand away and held his phone out of reach. “You don’t get it,” he said as his annoyed eyes met Sakuya’s.

Sakuya stood there for a few seconds, dumbfounded, his rejected hand laying awkwardly on top of the rumpled sheets. 

“You’re hurting yourself,” Sakuya stated, eyeing Ryo's screen — too far now for him to decipher any word. 

“Yes,” Ryo responded, turning away from him.

Irritation rose in Sakuya's chest. “Well then, fucking stop it—”

“Stop acting like you care,” Ryo cut him off. “Stop acting like you understand.”

Sakuya stared at his back — because that was the only thing Ryo was inclined to show him —, stunned by his words. 

“What?” Sakuya hissed, almost offended by what Ryo had just suggested. 

“You wouldn't push me away if you did.”

Sakuya scrunched his nose up, confused. Annoyed. 

“What does it have to do with those comments?” 

Ryo let out an irritated sigh. “See? You don't get it.”

Sakuya felt something in him start to break. It was as if the more days passed, the less he could understand Ryo. 

Ryo was punishing himself by reading the most awful things that could be said about him, and when Sakuya tried to make him let go of the knife he was stabbing himself with, Ryo only pretended Sakuya was the one holding it in the first place. 

He could not be serious. It was impossible for Ryo not to have realized how their dynamic had shifted in the last few weeks— how Ryo had also been acting weird. He could not be blaming Sakuya for noticing it and pushing him away. 

Except he could be. 

He could be, and Sakuya only wanted to reject him more, so that Ryo finally realized that he was driving him crazy. Ryo’s attention felt suffocating these days, and even more so since he had been pressing himself closer and closer to Sakuya. 

Sometimes, Sakuya was scared that Ryo had him figured out, and only pushed his buttons to force him to admit how fucked up he was and that he was in love with him.

Sakuya was scared that it might work. 

“It doesn't—” Sakuya started, then took a breath to try to stifle his anger. “Stop projecting your pain on me. I’m just trying to protect you.” 

“Are you?” Ryo bit back as he turned towards him. “Turning my phone off doesn't do anything. It’s not even that you don’t care, it’s that you don’t know. You don’t know, because you never had to face this.”

Sakuya’s jaw clenched. 

He suddenly leaned and snatched Ryo’s phone out of his hand. Even if he was not looking at it anymore, too busy glaring at Sakuya. 

Ryo almost hurled himself at Sakuya, stopped by the latter’s hand gripping his shoulder. “Give me my phone back,” he hissed.

Ryo did not actually care about his phone, nor Sakuya really did; it was only an ego issue. Not even about who was right, but about who would prove themselves right. 

“What’s wrong, Ryo?” Sakuya said, and he would be worried about the hint of desperation in his voice if he was not sure his anger would cover it up. 

“You,” Ryo said, his hand clasping around Sakuya’s wrist in an iron grip to try to dislodge it. “Me. This.” he gestured towards his phone. 

Sakuya frowned. “The fuck you mean?”

Ryo finally broke free from his hold, and sat back on his bed. His eyes threw daggers at Sakuya. “I’m being torn to shreds online, and you're telling me not to look at it,” he spat. “That's easy for you to say. It’s easy because when it happens to you, you have people defending you.”

“I— what?”

Ryo’s jaw twitched. “Do you know why you don’t understand how I feel, Sakuya?” he said, voice low. “Do you know why you don’t get why I’m taking it out on you?” 

Sakuya’s heart squeezed when he noticed tears welling up in Ryo’s eyes. 

“Because I’m the least popular member, Sakuya. I have always been.”

It stung. 

It stung, because Sakuya would have never expected them to go down that path. This was not a conversation he thought he was able to have with Ryo without his own heart breaking in the process. 

“And you—” Ryo exhaled. “I need you.”

It sounded so wrong. It sounded like Sakuya’s worst nightmare.

“I need you, and you don’t even understand,” he continued. “That people only see me when I’m with you. That more people end up liking me when we’re together. That's how it was during Lastart, and it never changed.” 

Sakuya stared at Ryo, stunned. He could not believe what Ryo had just said. 

What his words had just betrayed.

Ryo sniffled. “And I made a mistake yesterday. I made a mistake, but if I look innocent enough, if I look lovable enough— maybe people will forgive me.”

Things were slipping. 

Sakuya was not sure Ryo had noticed yet, but the way everything started to fall apart before Sakuya’s eyes was clear as day.

“You can’t just— pretend like that, Ryo,” Sakuya said, but his voice was weak. Vulnerable.  

“Why not?” Ryo replied, and the desperation in his voice hurt as much as his irritation. “I need people to like me.” 

I like you, Sakuya thought.

And he wanted to slap himself when he caught that foolish thought, because it did not matter. It never did, and never would.

They were idols; of course Ryo wanted the fans’ love. More than love, this was the sole reason they were doing this in the first place. Sakuya was stupid for believing, even for a single second, that his love should be enough for Ryo. 

“You don’t even have to reciprocate it,” Ryo said, and Sakuya wished he would just stop talking, because he did not realize each of his words was a sharp blade he was stabbing in Sakuya’s heart. “You never did before. It's just that— you could help a little. You’ve been pushing me away more recently.”

Sakuya felt petrified. Ryo’s pain and the fact that he was using Sakuya as a popularity lever was too much to take in at once. 

“You’ve been clinging too much to me recently,” Sakuya accused, his fight-or-flight response slipping from his lips before he had time to think — and fight it was, it seemed.

Ryo snapped. “I just told you why!”

And when his angry, wounded gaze met Sakuya's, Sakuya felt his stomach cave on itself. Because Ryo truly believed Sakuya was rejecting him and turning a deaf ear to his pain. 

“Does it disgust you so much to be close to me?” he spat. “You can't even pretend a little for the cameras?”

And Sakuya heard the irreparable crack Ryo’s words caused in his chest, the wound they carved that no bandage would ever be able to repair. He felt like throwing up.

Pretend a little for the cameras.

“You don’t need that,” Sakuya retorted, but he knew he was slipping.

“Yes I do!” Ryo yelled. “What do you not understand? You have everything. The love. The fans. People backing you up. I don’t. And I deserve it. And— the fact that I don't belong here, that I’m behind everyone else…” Ryo choked on his words as his eyes became shinier— wet with tears. “It shows. It shows, because when this happens,” he pointed at his phone, “I have no fans defending me.”

He wiped the corner of his eyes with rage, like he hated himself for showing vulnerability. He probably did. 

“You’ve always been loved,” Ryo continued. “And it’s because you are that I’m here in the first place.”

Sakuya blinked.

He felt a chill of terror down his spine when he understood what Ryo meant. And he wished he could keep Ryo’s next words in his mouth, instead of letting the slaughter happen and tear both of their hearts up.

“It’s because you were loved that I ended up in the group line-up too,” Ryo exhaled. And Sakuya felt weak, so weak, because now more pain than anger bled through Ryo’s voice. “Had you not been there, I would have never made it.”

It felt like a punch in the gut. 

“I was only added because of you. Don’t you get it?” Ryo pressed, desperate. “I need you. I can’t be Ryo without you, Sakuya.”

Sakuya’s blood turned to ice.

It should feel rewarding. Were those not words Sakuya had spent nights dreaming about hearing from Ryo’s mouth?

Yet, this felt nothing like a blessing. 

Because Ryo was not saying it out of love. He was saying it out of distress. He was not saying it as a confession, but as a call for help. Ryo was clinging onto him like a lifeline, as if he would drown if he let go.

And he was asking something impossible from Sakuya. 

“I can’t do that,” Sakuya forced the words out of his mouth. He felt the way each of them sliced an open wound in the back of his throat. 

Tears welled up in Ryo's eyes. Sakuya wanted to rip his skin apart from being the one causing them.

“Did you not hear me?” Ryo pleaded. “I need to benefit from your popularity, Sakuya. Please just— just let me have that.”

The word benefit made Sakuya’s heart sink, dragging veins and arteries with it. He wondered how much time he had before he would pass out because of organ failure.  

“How long have you been doing that?” Sakuya asked, terrified. Terrified that he had been even further from the truth than he thought. 

“Doing what?”

“Just—” Sakuya exhaled shakily. “Us.”

Ryo shook his head with a frown, eyes still pleading Sakuya. Pleading him to understand something that was so, so out of reach. “I don’t know what you… Our dynamic has been pushed since pre-debut, Sakuya.”

Dynamic. Pushed. Benefit.

Pretend. 

Sakuya knew Ryo loved him. He was not stupid enough to consider, even for a single second, that Ryo had only been pretending with him. But still— still, Sakuya could not help but wonder.

How much of it was fake. How much of it had been for Ryo’s survival.

How much of a facade did he catch feelings for. 

“I just need you to accept it more,” Ryo whispered, as if he had not just shattered Sakuya’s whole world. “Even only for a short time. Just for people to like me again.”

Sakuya felt sick. 

“I can’t do it,” he croaked out. “I can't fake closeness with you, Ryo.”

His words hit Ryo, hard, and an offended expression twisted his traits. “Why not?” he retorted dryly. “Do you really hate me that much?”

Ryo had said many insane things tonight; but this was, by far, the craziest thing he could believe to be true.

“What? Are you— I don’t hate you, Ryo,” Sakuya stammered, shocked that the idea had even crossed Ryo’s mind. “I just— I can't pretend like you!”

“Yeah, because you don’t need it!” Ryo snapped. “You think I like doing this? You think it’s pleasing to act needy just so people find me cute?” He squinted before tearing his gaze away from Sakuya. “I can’t believe I told you I needed you and you just— don’t care.” 

Oh, Sakuya cared. 

He cared so much. He cared so much he wanted to tear the flesh of his chest apart just to hide Ryo between his own ribs, to keep him warm and safe from any hate, wrapped in the confines of Sakuya’s own devotion and love.

He cared so much that Ryo suggesting he did not sent a white-hot, searing rage straight into his veins. 

“I can’t, Ryo!” Sakuya spat, throat choked up by emotion. “I can’t fake that!”

“Why not?!” Ryo screamed.

“Because I’m in love with you!”

Silence fell upon them.

They blinked. 

Any trace of anger left Ryo’s face; his eyes were wide open, a stunned expression painted on his face. 

Sakuya regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. Not only because he would have never, never ever wanted to confess, but also because he had just made Ryo's whole pain and self-worth issues about his foolish feelings.

It was too late.

“I’m sorry,” Sakuya croaked out. 

The air filling his lungs felt like cement. 

“I just— I can do anything for you Ryo, okay? Just not this. Don’t— don't ask me to pretend to love you for the cameras.” He swallowed down his nausea. “Because I do.” 

Unable to bear the weight of Ryo’s silence and everything he had just broken, Sakuya left.

They did not talk about it.

And Sakuya realized, with a sense of doom, how tightly intertwined their lives were. Even if they had wanted to, there was no way for them to avoid each other. 

Not only because of practical, physical reasons — they were sleeping in the same room, attended the same schedules, were full-on in a promotion week for their comeback too —, but also because the habits they had with each other had become synonymous with instinct. 

Sakuya always woke Ryo up because not even the loudest alarm was enough to pull him out of sleep, Ryo cooked breakfast for both of them, Sakuya needed back the jumper he had lent to Ryo the week before, Ryo bumped his shoulder to Sakuya’s when he lost focus, Sakuya’s airpod case was in Ryo's bag, Sakuya remembered where Ryo had left his lenses the day before, Ryo held Sakuya’s hand when one of them got too nervous, Sakuya carried an extra chocolate bar in his pocket because Ryo did not like to eat before a performance, yet sometimes needed that energy boost. 

They said habits died hard; but when they structured your whole day, they were incurable. 

There was no big shift between them. Sakuya could not tell if it was because they were too attached to let each other go, or if they had just become so used to each other it had turned into dependency. He wondered if there was even a difference. 

In a way, it was worse.

After spilling everything, maybe Sakuya would have needed some time to breathe. To think. To find viable solutions to the mess he had caused. 

Instead, not even ten hours after the world had been shifted off its axis, Ryo was putting oil in Sakuya’s hair in front of the mirror of their shared bathroom. 

Sakuya mentally thanked the fact that he was still sleepy, because it meant he was not that aware of what was happening and his anxiety could not kick in yet. Then, he realized his sleepiness also meant he let his guard down, and when he noticed that he had relaxed and leaned back in Ryo’s gentle hold, it was too late. 

Ryo did not seem to care. He just kept rubbing oil on the ends of his pink hair strands. He only lightly massaged Sakuya’s scalp at the end, when almost no oil was left on his fingers — because applying oil to the roots would make Sakuya’s hair greasy. Sakuya’s heart squeezed painfully, because Ryo was always so, so thoughtful. 

His head hung low, a strange mix of guilt, regret and gratitude filling his chest. He wished he had never dumped his secret on Ryo, because now both of them had to carry its heavy burden; but he still felt relieved that, despite everything, Ryo stayed. 

“Thank you,” he said when Ryo pulled away and rinsed his hands. His voice was small, but there was a rawness betraying its vulnerability.

His words hung between them, heavy with their extended meaning; Sakuya was not thanking him only for the hair oil. 

“You’re welcome,” Ryo said softly, meeting his eyes in the mirror. 

Sakuya turned away, unable to handle Ryo's kindness. He took a deep breath, and felt the way it trembled when he exhaled. 

They went about their day. And even without meaning it, they were always next to each other. Ryo still stayed by his side. Somehow, it coated everything in a bittersweet feeling. 

Because it was not like it was awkward between them. To any other members, they probably behaved as usual. 

But Sakuya felt it. 

The almost unnoticeable distance between them. 

They were sitting next to each other, shoulders pressed together, but there was a stillness in their bodies that made Ryo feel further away than he really was. When Sakuya handed Ryo his lunch, their eyes met for a beat longer than usual. Even when Ryo joked, his sparkly gaze fixed on Sakuya, and the latter could not hold back a laugh— something unbridgeable between them remained. 

In a way, it was worse.

Sakuya would have liked it better if Ryo felt awkward with him. If Ryo avoided him. If Ryo got angry at him, like he was the day before. If Ryo did anything but continue to love him. 

But Ryo was still the same person as before. A ray of sunshine reincarnated, whose happiness was as warm as it was contagious. He was still genuine, attentive, caring — he was still the person Sakuya fell for.

Of course Ryo would not change the behavior that had made Sakuya believe Ryo liked him in the first place.

Sakuya did not know what was worse between Ryo giving him attention when he was ignorant of Sakuya’s feelings or Ryo still doing so now that he was aware of them. What Sakuya did know was that he still felt miserable. 

Because Ryo held his hand, but was still out of reach — yet never far enough for Sakuya to even dare to hope his feelings would disappear. 

And when Ryo smiled at him and stayed by his side, when Sakuya joined Sion at the food truck only to discover Ryo had already placed his order with his — and got it right —, the last doubts Sakuya had vanished. No matter how he looked at it, Sakuya was also Ryo’s favorite person. 

It hurt. 

It really did. 

But Sakuya could only swallow down the pain and hope the knot in his throat would stop growing before it prevented him from breathing. To be honest, he already felt like he was constantly suffocating. 

It took him another day to notice that they were walking on eggshells. 

Ryo clung less to him. He still did, but not in that obvious, smothering, overwhelming way he used to. His touches were smaller, softer — and sometimes, it was just obvious that he was holding back. As if he had given up the whole weird act that had made Sakuya suspicious in the first place. 

Sakuya pushed him away less. It did not mean he never wanted to— Ryo’s proximity made him feel like he was about to implode more than once. But now, when Ryo was close to him, it felt too much like something he could lose. It felt too much like something Ryo needed. 

They were both holding back, trying to please each other after they had thrown reproaches as sharp as blades at each other. Ryo did not throw himself at him anymore, and Sakuya did not pull away anymore. 

It felt like they were acting out a scene, and it made Sakuya’s heart sink. Because their relationship never used to be so fragile. 

It was always about comfort. Honesty. About having a place that felt like home in someone else’s heart instead of a specific location, because it was the kind of things that happened when they became a part of you. 

Sakuya could only contemplate the pieces left behind the bond he had shattered. 

And among all of this, Sakuya’s heart still found a way to break even more. 

Because Ryo was hurting.

Sakuya still saw him look at his phone with a blank expression, his fingers whitening where they held onto it too tightly as he nervously bit his lip. It did not happen often, but Sakuya knew the harm had already been done. 

Ryo was silent, both on Bubble and Weverse. He may still be acting normal with Sakuya, he could not find it in him to ignore the mistake he had made and carelessly talk with fans as if nothing had happened. 

Sakuya did not dare bring up the subject again. He just offered comfort by his presence, staying by Ryo’s side even when Ryo’s eyes got lost in the distance and Sakuya noticed he was clenching his fists hard enough for his nails to dig in his palms. 

Sakuya knew he had talked about it with Sion. He also knew it was not his place anymore to sort this out with Ryo, given the outcome the last time he had tried. 

No matter how tortured Sakuya could feel about his and Ryo’s feelings, none of it mattered next to what Ryo was going through. Ryo could not lose two of his pillars at the same time; if the fans were torn away from him, then Sakuya would remain. He stayed there, steady and familiar, just within reach for Ryo to be aware of — to know that Sakuya was there, and would always be.

That no matter what happened, Ryo would always have him. 

So when Ryo threw a coat on his bed, missing his face only by an inch, and said he wanted to go see the eclipse, Sakuya could only accept. Even if he was about to go to sleep. 

It was easy to say he was doing it out of pity. That he was doing Ryo a favor, because Ryo was having a hard time these days. 

But Sakuya knew he would have gone even if this had happened one month ago. He would go if this happened in a month. He would always go, because his love for Ryo was timeless. 

And as long as Ryo still wanted him, he would be there.

Outside, the air felt pretty cold. 

Sakuya’s breath escaped his mouth in white, small clouds. Next to him, Ryo regularly checked his phone, making sure they still had enough time before the eclipse. 

Despite the late hour, Sakuya could see how excited Ryo was. It made Sakuya’s heart feel a bit lighter; he had only been able to see a happy smile on Ryo’s face a few rare times since that fateful day. 

They had to walk for a bit, because the Seongdong-gu suburb was too luminous for the starry sky to be clearly visible. They walked down the Han river until they reached a dark enough area, and sat down on the nearest bench they found. 

They pressed against each other, seeking warmth because of the cold weather. Ryo looped his arm to Sakuya’s, and Sakuya ignored the way his heart squeezed in his chest.

Even with how far they had gone, only a few stars were visible, because they were still surrounded by an urban area; but it was more than enough for the moon to be bright. 

That was, if less clouds had been there.

They could still see the moon, but the sky kept weaving strings of more or less thick clouds around it, like a bad overlay whose blending would have been set to an opacity too high. 

“It should start in five minutes,” Ryo said as he looked down at his phone. 

Sakuya positively hummed beside him. 

“I hope the sky clears up,” Ryo added in a whisper.

A moment passed, and finally, the round shape of the moon got bitten, its side starting to disappear before their very eyes. 

Unfortunately, not even ten seconds into the start of the eclipse, before the moon was even completely hidden by the Earth's shadow, a thick cloud that neither of them had noticed covered it. Like a heavy curtain pulled too early, before the show had even ended. 

They stayed there in silence, gazing up at a sky that was nothing but grey clouds, two hearts nurturing the same hope that the moon would appear again. Because if there was no light to shine on them, they could not pretend anymore that they were two deers too entranced in a car’s headlights to notice each other. 

What difference did it really make? The moon would have been hidden anyway. Whether it was by the Earth, or by the clouds. They could have also stayed at the dorms, and they would not have seen the moon either. 

It was curious, how people gathered to watch something disappear. To witness absence. 

Sakuya wondered if that was what they were doing. Here, on a cold bench, overlooked by a sky devoid of stars — contemplating the nothing between them. 

An eclipse was an absence by definition. Did the absence of an absence, hidden by the clouds, meant anything different? Was it meant to be softer, to let down slowly? Or was it just meant to instill cruel hope in one’s heart? Because behind the clouds, there was a chance the moon had not disappeared. It would not make sense that it had not — scientists, astronomers and the universe itself had aligned positively for this eclipse to happen. 

But like Schrödinger's cat, no one could prove that the moon had disappeared. Maybe, from the exact spot where Sakuya and Ryo were sitting, a sliver of light was left. 

There was no point in hiding a void. It did not favor anything but causing doubt about its very existence. 

Sakuya guessed it was cruel for Ryo to hide the void between them. But the lack of light sometimes seemed so terrifying, so unlike anything they had known, that Sakuya found himself grateful that Ryo wrapped him in a blanket of thick clouds. 

With the moon hidden by the clouds, their hands were left empty of any excuse to spend time with each other. They should go back to the dorms and get some sleep. 

Ryo’s arm wriggled around for a bit before his cold hand found Sakuya’s. Their fingers naturally linked together. 

“Thank you for coming with me,” he said as his breath turned into a white cloud. 

Sakuya could hear the hint of disappointment in his voice, but it was overpowered by how sorry he sounded. He probably felt bad about dragging Sakuya all this way only for them to see nothing.

“I hope you’re not too disappointed,” Sakuya replied in a soft voice. 

Ryo just shrugged, gaze still fixated on the sky. It was crazy how, even when no star shone in the sky, Ryo’s eyes still found a way to sparkle. Rationally, Sakuya knew that they just reflected the few city lights that they had not managed to escape from, but he liked to think Ryo stole the stars of the sky just to carry them in his eyes. 

“It’s okay,” Ryo responded. “At least you were with me.” 

Sakuya wished the sky had cleared up to illuminate Ryo's tormented heart. Sakuya’s love could only get Ryo so far — he wished tonight had made Ryo happier than what two intertwined hands could do. 

Ryo’s eyes met his, still bearing all the stars in the world. 

“Thank you, Sakuya,” he whispered. “I love you.”

His smile was so gentle, so tender, Sakuya audibly heard his heart crack. Ryo’s gratitude was something impossible to bear.

“I know,” Sakuya said softly. He squeezed Ryo's hand a bit tighter, hoping it would be enough to hold the shattered pieces of his heart together. 

Ryo gently tugged at his arm. “Let’s go back to the dorms.” 

They stood and walked back without rushing, palms pressed against each other and steps synchronized — like the fact that they were two sides of the same coin was not obvious enough yet. 

When the clouds parted, the moon was as bright as it was before. 

The official COLOR promotions ended faster than Sakuya expected. Maybe it was because of all the things that had happened since they started, but Sakuya felt like they were done in the blink of an eye. 

He tried not to feel too bitter about the fact that they did not win any first place. 

Sakuya only checked his phone once they were back at the dorms. He scrolled through his recent notifications, his body thrown haphazardly over the couch. He did not really pay them any mind, until one he had come to stop expecting caught his eyes. He froze. 

Ryo had sent a bubble message.  

It was the first time in a week. 

Sakuya clicked on the notification, and a chat with only two new messages appeared. Ryo was thanking the fans for allowing them to be candidates for the first place, and promised to work harder to deserve a win in the future. 

Sakuya’s heart squeezed. Ryo’s message felt distant. 

He had only come back to apologize to the fans that he could not be enough to earn a win. 

Sakuya checked his other notifications, and noticed Ryo had also updated on Weverse. A smile stretched his lips when he checked his post, and saw that he had posted silly pictures he had taken over the last few days. 

Sakuya was relieved. Ryo was slowly inching his way back into their idol daily lives. 

As Sakuya scrolled through Ryo’s pictures, he remembered the selca they had taken together that day, when Ryo was holding the camera for their behind the scenes content. 

He typed out a caption to thank Czennies for their support, attached the picture, then posted it as his own Weverse update. 

He absent-mindedly scrolled through Weverse for a few more minutes, then checked the other members’ bubbles. When a yawn took over him, he locked his phone and stretched his arms above his head with a groan. He stood up with the goal to go beg Sion to order takeout. 

He was stopped by Ryo before he made it to Sion’s room.

“Sakuya.”

The said boy turned towards Ryo, who was standing at the entrance of their room. His blank expression threw Sakuya off. 

“Yeah?”

Ryo raised his phone to put it in front of Sakuya’s face. His screen showed Sakuya’s Weverse post. 

“What’s this?” Ryo asked.

Sakuya frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Why did you post this?” Ryo insisted, as if what he was asking was obvious. 

“Because I wanted to?” Sakuya said, confused. 

His eyes went back and forth between Ryo’s phone and his eyes, trying to decipher what the issue could be. But Ryo’s face was unreadable, and Sakuya had no idea what he was trying to say. 

Ryo pursed his lips together as he took a look at his own screen. “You said you did not want to pretend.” 

Sakuya blinked. 

For a few seconds, he was speechless.

“I’m not pretending,” he said calmly. He thought this much was obvious. “I’ve always posted you on Weverse.”

Ryo’s eyes met his again. 

A beat of silence passed between them. Sakuya just held Ryo’s gaze, waiting for him to get it.

Sakuya knew what his words sounded like.

I’ve always loved you.

Maybe you just didn’t notice.

And when Ryo’s hand faltered slightly, and a hint of sadness appeared in his eyes, Sakuya knew Ryo heard it too. 

Ryo somehow looked— hurt. He scrunched his nose up, like he would do when he was holding back tears, and went back into their room. 

Sakuya did not know how to interpret Ryo's behavior. But he knew that they could not keep on ignoring what had shifted between them without both of them getting hurt. 

“Are you going to do it?”

Ryo looked up at Sakuya.

“Huh?”

He blinked a few times, seemingly trying to pull his mind out of its nervous trance. His fingers stopped fidgeting with his Kyunghee University t-shirt — the same kind they were all wearing. 

Sakuya mimicked the beginning of the Surf choreography and punctuated it with a “Whoo!” at the end, like Ryo had mentioned to him the day before. He raised his chin towards him. Ryo picked up quickly and imitated him, trying it for himself. Sakuya noticed how Ryo’s arm faltered and his voice’s volume decreased before he even got the chance to fully commit — but he got the timing right. He immediately glanced at Sakuya, unsure.

“Should I do it?” he asked, uncertainty straining his voice.

“Yeah, do it, do it,” Sakuya immediately said, a satisfied smile stretching his lips. 

Ryo was so close to finding the confidence to hype up the audience; Sakuya just needed to push him a little more. He wanted Ryo to find his place on stage — his place in front of the fans — again. 

They had been performing non-stop for the whole month, so it was not like Ryo had not seen that the fans still supported and loved him even after the incident; but Sakuya still noticed how he sometimes stood back or hesitated, as if he was not sure if he had earned back his place on stage — and within the group.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” Riku added when he saw Ryo biting his lip.

Ryo’s gaze found Sakuya’s again; and Sakuya saw it. 

Determination.

Ryo was nervous, but his eyes betrayed how much he craved to pass that threshold. To outdo himself. To prove, both to the audience and to himself, that he could do it. 

Ryo was seeking Sakuya out instead of wrapping himself in Riku’s comfort because he wanted to do it. He just needed Sakuya to pull him one inch closer to the edge; Sakuya knew he would then fly off himself. 

“Do it,” Sakuya stammered, grinning competitively.

“You don’t have to,” Riku retorted as he glanced at Sakuya, as if to scold him.

But Ryo’s eyes were locked on Sakuya, deaf to Riku’s reassurance. Sakuya knew what he needed.

“Just do it,” Sakuya said with a final tone as he adjusted his mic pack. 

And when Ryo stared at him for a second longer, clarity wiping everything else in his gaze, then turned away, satisfaction bloomed in Sakuya’s chest. 

He was going to do it. 

So when they finally got on stage, Sakuya just smiled when he heard Ryo’s small “Whoo!” through his in-ears — because he knew Ryo would do it.

It was easy, honestly, to act on the adrenaline of performances, to look at each other with starry eyes, to bicker or motivate each other, to rely on each other throughout the day. The September month felt endless; COLOR performances, university festivals, practice for their upcoming concert, recordings for their japanese album. 

And even if Sakuya could not fully ignore the thorn lodged in his heart that seemed to tear it a little more with each of his moves, addressing what was between Ryo and him felt too silly in the middle of the exhausting rush they were facing. 

Strangely, it looked like they had gotten used to that crooked dynamic. They tripped where they never used to, awkwardness seeped in cracks that did not exist before, things that were once natural felt unreadable — yet, they were still them. 

Sakuya knew in reality that this place they were stuck in was not something he had chosen, but something he pretended to be fine with to ignore the fact that Ryo was the one blatantly avoiding the topic. Sakuya wanted to heal them, to fix what he had broken, or even just apologize for doing it in the first place, but Ryo left him no opening to do so. 

It was a new kind of torture. Not exactly worse than in August — just different. 

Because it was easy to fall back into their routine and act like nothing had changed. What could you do, when your safe place burned to ashes, but your only reflex was to keep returning to it? It was funny, how they sought comfort in each other’s presence, while the very thing that had caused discomfort happened between them.

So when Ryo wrapped himself around Sakuya that evening, it did not even surprise Sakuya. He just let him do so, turning his chin away so he could keep looking at his phone. 

“Thank you for today,” Ryo whispered, his breath tickling Sakuya’s collarbone. 

“Your shout was so small,” Sakuya teased him.

Ryo pinched his side in retaliation. Sakuya immediately let out a complaint and grabbed his wrist.

“You’re so annoying,” Sakuya sighed.

“You are more,” Ryo replied, as if he was not the one putting his entire weight on Sakuya. A little more and Sakuya would have trouble breathing. 

Sakuya let go of his wrist quickly, because if he thought too much about how close their hands were, his heart would accelerate against his will; he could not afford to get flustered when Ryo could hear everything that was happening in his chest. 

Sakuya wondered how long this would last. If this incomplete comfort they found in each other would be enough to ignore the elephant Sakuya had placed in the room. 

He wished it bothered Ryo a bit more. He wished Ryo acted differently with him, addressed the issue directly, demanded answers out of him.

But when Sakuya recorded a voice message for bubble with Ryo still tightly hugging him and the latter decided to make his presence known by hollering in the background to the point where what Sakuya said was almost inaudible — and when they both burst out laughing afterwards —, Sakuya thought he would rather have this than risk losing Ryo.

Yet, he could not help but feel like this balance had a deadline. 

And it did.  

Not even a week later, Ryo burst into their room, his face twisted in a frustrated expression. 

“Sakuya, what—” he began, and Sakuya froze, because Ryo sounded like he was going to snap at him. Ryo took a deep breath. “Can we— can we talk?”

Sakuya’s stomach dropped. 

“I— yes?” he said, taken aback.

Ryo stared at him. “Outside,” he added flatly. 

Sakuya swallowed down his anxiety and stood up to grab some outer clothes. He had no reason to be that stressed, because it was not like he had done anything new and like his confession had not been hanging between them for a whole month; but he could not help but think that everything could end, just in a few minutes. 

They walked out of the dorms in silence. The sun felt too shiny for the tension between them to be that thick.

Ryo did not say anything for a moment, and when Sakuya realized he was trying to contain his anger and stifle his inner conflict, Sakuya’s throat got tighter.

This was going to go very, very badly. 

Ryo stopped in his tracks and turned to Sakuya — Sakuya almost bumped into him. Ryo opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. Sakuya only blinked as Ryo let out an irritated sigh.

“Just— What are you doing?!” Ryo snapped.

Sakuya stared at him. “What am I doing?” he repeated, confused. “What— what did I even do?”

“The tiktok,” Ryo said dryly.

Sakuya squinted, not bothering hiding his confusion to Ryo. “The— tiktok? What the hell are you talking about?” 

He raked his mind to try to guess what on Earth could Ryo be referring to — and after a few seconds, he finally remembered. 

A laugh escaped him. “Are you serious, Ryo?!” he said in disbelief.

He had filmed a tiktok with Riku that day. 

It was originally meant to be just Riku, because it was a joke referring to Ryo rejecting him on Weverse when Riku had asked to marry him. Riku had ended up calling Sakuya who was just passing by to ask him to be in the tiktok too. Sakuya had not questioned twice why Riku had thought the situation was fitting for him too, and had just joined him. They always filmed stupid tiktoks; this was not new.

So the tiktok was posted, with both Riku and Sakuya appearing under a caption that said We got dumped by Ryo.

“Are you?” Ryo bit back. 

“It was a joke, Ryo!” he retorted, not even understanding what got on Ryo’s nerves in the first place. “What, are you going to monitor all my socials, now? Do you want my passwords too, while we’re at it?”

Ryo frowned. “This is not just a joke, Sakuya, this is fanservice. Were you not the one saying you did not want to pretend?”

Sakuya was speechless. “You— what?”

“I just want to understand. Or what, are you going to tell me you were not pretending here either?” Ryo mocked, but there was no hint of amusement in his voice.

Sakuya did not know what to say. He would have never expected Ryo would get mad at this. 

And when he thought of the caption that had upset Ryo in the first place, he could only laugh.

“It’s not like it was a lie either, wasn't it?” he replied in the same mocking tone. 

It probably was the worst thing he could have replied, because Ryo’s eyes widened. 

“I did not dump you!” Ryo spat, fury shining in his gaze.

Sakuya just shrugged. “Well, you kind of rejected me, so it’s almost the same—”

“What?” Ryo cut him off, sincere surprise tinting his expression. “I did not reject you, Sakuya.”

Sakuya was going to rip his hair off his own head. 

“What— I don’t know what else to call ignoring my confession, beating around the bush forever and letting me down slowly!” he yelled, desperation straining his voice.

Ryo genuinely looked stunned. And it was driving Sakuya insane, because what exactly was so surprising about this— 

“You didn’t ask me anything!” Ryo retorted vehemently. “You just said you could not pretend to love me in front of the cameras. You—” He took a shaky breath. “You made it sound like it was so painful to love me…”

Ryo's words hit him like a slap.

“Sound like what?” he choked. “Is that— Is this really how you understood it this whole time?”

“What else was I supposed to understand?!” Ryo screamed, glaring at him. “I never heard you sound more sad, more tortured than when you told me you were in love with me. I thought… this was a curse for you. I thought this was why you could not do it, even in front of the fans.”

“What?” Sakuya laughed, but nothing about this was funny. “Where did you even— I don’t want to pretend because what I feel is real, Ryo.”

He exhaled a trembling breath, trying to calm his heart down. 

“Having you close when I know you don’t like me… This is what feels like torture.” 

Ryo stared at him for a few seconds. He blinked. “How— how can you even think I don't like you?”

Oh, Sakuya was not having this. 

“How could I even think you liked me?” he screamed, anger rising in his chest. “I fucking told you I was in love with you, and you never said anything back!”

“Because I thought you hated loving me!” Ryo yelled back. “You— I never thought about it before, and after you confessed, it just felt useless to think about my feelings.”

Sakuya shook his head, helpless. “You talked about dating girls,” he said — pleaded.

Ryo sighed. “I don't know, I… I was confused.”

“I’m—” Sakuya stuttered. “I’m lost, Ryo. We’ve been avoiding this for a month now, and I’m just… I'm just tired. I love you, that's all. There's nothing more complicated.” 

“Then why did you—” Ryo’s voice cracked. He looked away to hide the way his eyes were tearing up. “Why did you make it sound like—”

Sakuya’s heart squeezed painfully. “I just thought you didn't like me.”

“Fuck,” Ryo whispered under his breath as he pressed his sleeve to his eyes. “I— also thought you didn't like me…”

Sakuya ignored the wound in his own chest and grabbed Ryo’s wrist to force him to look at him.

“Ryo,” he said softly. “Just be honest with me.” 

Ryo’s eyes shone even more as they were filled with unshed tears. Sakuya swallowed with difficulty.

“Do you like me?”

Ryo’s nose scrunched up. 

Sakuya held his breath without even realizing it. His heartbeat resounded so loudly in his own ears that he feared he might not be able to hear Ryo’s answer. 

Ryo sniffled. “Of course I do,” he said in a shaky voice.

And, just like that.

It felt like the piece Sakuya’s heart had been missing this whole time finally clicked. Tears welled up in Sakuya’s eyes before he could hold them back. Oh, how they had tortured themselves uselessly. 

This whole time, Ryo had been within reach.

So Sakuya caught him — because he could, because Ryo was right there, in the flesh, with a heart that sang along his — and wrapped him in a tight embrace. 

Ryo immediately clung to him and sniffled onto his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Sakuya whispered, voice choked up by emotion. 

Ryo shook his head against the fabric of his sweater. “No, I’m sorry,” he said, muffled. 

Sakuya could not contain a laugh. “You sound so dumb.”

Ryo unexpectedly pushed him away with a groan, causing Sakuya to stumble. He took a few steps back and turned away to look up at the sky.

“Fuck,” he said, blinking rapidly to force the tears back in his eyes. “You’re so annoying.” 

Sakuya only smiled as Ryo reluctantly avoided his gaze, trying to get a grip on himself. He watched the way the sun shone brightly behind Ryo, but still did not feel as blinding as him. 

“Stop looking at me,” Ryo groaned, and pushed Sakuya’s shoulder again. 

A laugh left Sakuya’s lips.

“No,” he said as he stuck his tongue out. 

Ryo rolled his eyes before presenting his hand to Sakuya. Sakuya took it. Ryo’s hand squirmed a little to change their hold and intertwine their fingers. 

A moment later, Ryo nudged him with his elbow. “Does it mean you’re not going to push me away anymore?” he teased.

Sakuya just smirked. “You know damn well I will.” 

Ryo laughed. “I love you,” he said suddenly, soft and final. 

This time, Sakuya knew how he really meant it. 

Sakuya was scrolling through his gallery when he found a short video of the practice for the intro of their SMA performance earlier that year. They had arrived on stage in the order they got announced in for Lastart. That video was just the part where Ryo joined them, like the final puzzle piece needed to complete NCT WISH. 

And when he sent it on bubble and captioned it his favorite video, Ryo knew he was not pretending.

He knew how he really meant it.