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Riki and Heeseung had been intertwined with Sunoo and Jungwon’s love life since god knows when.
Since late night convenience store runs where Sunoo cried into a packet of honey butter chips, swearing he was over Jungwon while very much not being over Jungwon.
Since Heeseung had once sat Jungwon down at two in the morning, hands wrapped around a lukewarm cup of instant coffee, and gently told him that love was not supposed to feel like constantly holding your breath.
Since Riki had learned, early on, how to listen without fixing, how to sit beside someone’s ache without rushing it toward resolution.
They had been there through the misunderstandings, the almosts, the quiet longing that stretched years longer than it needed to. Through the way Sunoo and Jungwon had loved each other like best friends afraid of naming the thing that had already claimed them.
So seeing them now, standing together beneath an arch of white florals and warm light, hands clasped like they had done this a thousand times before, felt surreal in a way that stole the air from Riki’s lungs.
The venue was grand in a way that did not scream opulence but whispered permanence. Soft ivory silk drapes, rows of polished wooden chairs, flowers chosen not for extravagance but meaning. Sunoo had insisted on lilies. Jungwon had wanted baby’s breath. They had compromised with both.
Heeseung sat beside Riki in the front row, posture straight but shoulders tense. He hadn’t realized he was crying until Riki quietly handed him a handkerchief, the corner embroidered with tiny initials that Sunoo had sewn himself.
“You’re crying,” Riki murmured, not teasingly, but with fondness.
“I know,” Heeseung replied, voice thick. “I can’t help it.”
Riki smiled, soft and understanding. “You raised them well.”
That earned a shaky laugh.
Sunoo’s vows were earnest and a little rambling, filled with laughter and the occasional crack in his voice when he spoke about how Jungwon had always chosen him, even when it was difficult. Jungwon’s were quieter but devastating in their simplicity, each word carefully placed like he was afraid the moment would shatter if he rushed it.
When they kissed, the room erupted. Applause, cheers, tears. Riki felt something twist warmly in his chest. Pride, maybe. Relief. Love, even if it was not his own.
He glanced at Heeseung just in time to see him wipe his eyes and smile, wide and unguarded.
“You okay?” Riki asked.
“Yeah,” Heeseung said. “Just happy.”
The reception that followed was filled with light and noise and the kind of joy that feels contagious. There was music that made the older relatives nod approvingly and the younger ones laugh about how outdated it was. There were speeches that were outright embarrassing, and stories that should never have been told with a microphone in front of a crowd.
Sunoo, radiant and glowing, took the mic at one point with Jungwon by his side, fingers laced together.
“Okay, everyone,” Sunoo said, grinning in a way that immediately made Riki suspicious. “We have a little surprise planned.”
Jungwon squeezed his hand, smiling sweetly. Too sweetly.
“A surprise?” someone echoed.
The lights dimmed just a bit, and the massive screen behind the stage flickered to life.
“Kiss cam!” Sunoo announced proudly.
A ripple of laughter spread through the room.
“Oh no,” Heeseung muttered.
The camera swept across the crowd, landing first on Sunoo’s parents, who laughed shyly before leaning in for a quick, affectionate kiss. Applause followed afterwards. Then Jungwon’s parents, more reserved but no less sincere.
The cam moved on, capturing married friends, older couples who kissed like it was a ritual they had practiced for decades, younger ones who giggled and hid their faces.
Each kiss was met with cheers.
Riki felt it before it happened, a strange tightening in his chest.
The camera lingered on him and Heeseung.
The room erupted.
Whistles. Cheers. Someone shouted, “Finally!”
Heeseung froze.
Riki felt his ears burn, turning tomato red at the sudden embarrassment.
They had always been something unspoken. Lingering looks. Casual touches that weren’t casual at all. Late nights where the space between them felt louder than the conversation. They knew. Sunoo and Jungwon knew too. Everyone did, apparently.
But knowing and saying were two different things.
Heeseung laughed nervously, waving at the camera like that might make it go away. “Oh my god,” he whispered. “This is a trap.”
Riki swallowed.
The chanting started.
“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”
He turned to Heeseung, heart pounding not from the attention but from the weight of the moment. This was not something he wanted to rush, not something he wanted to steal in front of an audience without care.
Riki reached out, gently taking Heeseung’s hand.
The noise seemed to dim.
“Hyung,” he said softly. “Look at me.”
Heeseung did.
Riki had always loved his round eyes. Warm. Kind. A little unsure right now, but extremely honest.
“You know I’ve always loved you, right?” Riki asked.
Heeseung’s breath caught. “Yeah,” he said, voice trembling. “M-me too...”
Riki smiled, small but steady. “Do you want to make us official and seal it with a kiss?”
For a second, Heeseung forgot about the room. The camera. The expectations. All he saw was Riki, standing there with patience and certainty, offering him not pressure but choice.
“I’d love that,” Heeseung said.
The cheer that followed was deafening, but Riki barely heard it as he leaned in slowly, giving Heeseung time to pull away if he wanted to.
He did not.
Their kiss was gentle, unhurried. Not a spectacle, despite the screen magnifying it for everyone to see. It was the kind of kiss that felt like the cusp of something new rather than the end of a performance.
When they pulled apart, Heeseung laughed breathlessly, forehead resting against Riki’s.
“Well,” he said. “That just happened.”
Riki chuckled. “At a wedding, no less.”
Sunoo was crying again. Jungwon looked smug.
“About time,” Sunoo said into the mic, not even pretending to be subtle.
The rest of the night unfolded like a dream. Riki and Heeseung danced together for the first time without pretending it was just friendly. It felt natural, like they had been moving toward this rhythm all along.
Later, as the party mellowed and conversations softened, they found themselves outside, fairy lights glowing above them, the air cool and quiet.
Heeseung leaned against the railing, exhaling slowly. “I can’t believe they did that.”
Riki smiled. “They meant well.”
“I know.” Heeseung glanced at him. “I’m glad they did.”
Riki reached for his hand again, this time without hesitation. Heeseung squeezed back.
Inside, Sunoo and Jungwon laughed together, beginning their life as husbands, unaware that in trying to celebrate love, they had quietly helped another one find its voice.
And for the first time, Riki and Heeseung stood not on the sidelines of someone else’s story, but at the beginning of their own.