Chapter Text
Ricky wanted to be an actor when he grew up.
He would have been one of Hollywood's biggest names. An icon of his generation, the star of every romcom to come.
He dreamt of experiencing true love. A kiss under the rain and a summer wedding in Italy.
He wished for a script to follow, one that would tell him what to say, how to act.
One that would guarantee a happy ending.
Unfortunately, life isn’t a scripted film.
There’s no teleprompter feeding you the right lines, no director calling cut when you mess up.
In real life, you have to make your own choices, and live with the ending, whether it’s happy or not.
Sometimes, all you can do is act and pray it turns for the better, even when it means secretly slipping into the locker room and making sure no one is around to witness what you are about to do.
Hao always told Ricky that choosing love takes courage.
Thus, it is with immense courage that Ricky tiptoes toward the locker of the one he has chosen, a letter clutched tightly in his hand and enough perfume on his skin to make him slightly nauseous. The strawberry scent clings to him, sweet and overwhelming.
He’s moving like a criminal with a plan in mind, one formed after long weeks of deep overthinking and a lot of judgment from his cousin.
His goal is simple. All he has to do is slide the love letter into the right locker and wait until Matthew reads it. Then he prays that his perfume is strong enough for Matthew to find him across the school, take him in his arms, and reciprocate his love, while church bells ring in their hearts and seal their love forever.
Ricky’s happy ending depends on this letter alone.
The first time he met Matthew, the encounter could be described as a disaster by most.
Ricky had been sitting on the grass near the outdoor dance area, sketching everything in sight, near or far, trying to keep his mind busy and fuel his imagination. A routine he’d kept for some time now, perfecting his attention to detail. Plus, he liked their playlist.
That day, a dancer got caught mid-leap, stumbled, and accidentally came crashing straight into him. The impact was sharp enough to make Ricky stagger back as blood rushed from his nose.
Just then, the sexiest man on earth came running toward him, the scene unfolding as if in slow motion, with “Heaven Can Wait” by Michael Jackson playing vividly in the background.
So it’s no wonder that Ricky felt his heart begin to race when Matthew helped him to his feet and, without hesitation, pulled off his top to use it to stop the bleeding.
Ricky had then turned his sketching near the outdoor dance practice into a scheduled part of his day.
He positioned himself just right: enough to be noticed without overdoing it, far enough from the dancers to avoid any more accidents, but close enough for the crew to see him, for Matthew to notice him.
It was only after a week that the dancer deigned to interact with him. Slowly, simple greetings turned into conversations.
Ricky learned that Matthew was Canadian, that he had come to Korea hoping to make a name for himself in the industry, that he was the younger brother of a sister whom he missed very much, and that he was the father of a cat named Gia, with whom Ricky apparently shared some similarities.
Then he began to notice how Matthew would always burst out laughing after trying to act serious, the way he would sulk when his friends made fun of his Korean, when he would start dancing when it got too cold to warm his body up, when he would take Ricky's hand and guide him through the moves, when he only spoke to him in English, when he would say that Ricky was what reminded him of home.
So screw it, who could blame him for thinking that his feelings had a chance to be reciprocated?
Ricky is patient, he waited a year. A year to test the waters. Enough time to understand that their friendship wasn't threatened by a simple letter. In the worst-case scenario, Matthew would reject him, and they'd be able to laugh about it in a few years.
Or perhaps this confession would allow him to open his eyes, to realize the unconditional love he had for Ricky and how they were meant for each other.
It is therefore with unwavering confidence that Ricky slips his letter into the doorway of locker number fourteen. He has just closed the locker when a familiar voice sounds behind him.
“Ricky? What are you doing here?”
Ricky turns around so fast he causes himself a slight dizziness.
Matthew is standing beside the large metal door that leads outside. He is dressed casually in dark washed jeans and a black hoodie that is much too big for him, holding the strap of his bag with one hand to secure it over his shoulder.
“Oh, hey! I was just… I was looking for you actually. Didn’t you guys have practice today?” Ricky hardly breathes.
“Nah, coach canceled last minute. You needed me for something?”
“Yeah, um…” Ricky’s voice jitters. “I guess I wanted to wait until the end of practice so we could eat together.”
He laughs awkwardly, too loud for such a quiet room. His heartbeat drums in his ears. Somewhere behind him, locker number fourteen still glints under the neon light.
“Aw… were you really willing to sit here by yourself just to be with me?” Matthew coos and Ricky can feel a flush creeping across his cheeks. “I actually agreed on eating with the guys earlier, but it’d be nice to have you with us!”
“I wouldn’t want to intrude.” Ricky murmurs, fiddling with his shirtsleeve.
He actually has no desire to eat with Matthew nor any of his friends. Not that he doesn’t enjoy their company, on the contrary. But he originally planned on playing dead and avoiding Matthew until the man had read his letter.
Ricky is a coward. He is aware of it and has accepted that fact in high school when he casually walked away on his crush confessing to him because he didn’t know how to react, like, at all.
So he knows without a doubt that the stress of knowing that his wholehearted confession is currently unread and lying inside of this damn locker will definitely cause him to act like a maniac in front of anyone.
“Dude, what the hell?” Matthew scoffs, almost offended by his response. “You’re part of the friend group, of course you’re always welcome.” he puts an arm behind his back and pulls him along. “Come on, they probably already saved us seats.”
The bay windows surrounding the cafeteria allow a view of the entire interior. It is surely Ricky's favorite spot in the entire school. Probably because the lunch menu offers the best pizzas he’s ever eaten.
It doesn't take them long to spot the pairs of colorful heads they are looking for.
After collecting their plates, they make their way with difficulty through the canteen, which is far too crowded for a Tuesday at 1 p.m. Matthew and Ricky reach their table, greeted by bursts of laughter.
“Damn, you cuties are so lively today.” Matthew chuckles slightly and settles down next to Gunwook.
Ricky examines the table but is quickly interrupted by Hanbin, who gestures for him to sit next to him. He shoots him a grateful smile as he places his plate down and puts his bag between his legs.
Matthew looks around, searching for a missing person. “Where’s Gyuvin?”
“He went to get his umbrella in his locker, apparently it's going to rain later.” Gunwook informs him.
“He should have told me, I would have brought it back to him.”
Gunwook shrugs, almost slumping over the table, looking at Matthew.
“Anyway,” Hanbin picks up, turning to Taerae. “Tell them what happened with you know who.”
“You mean Junhyeon?”
A sudden snicker is heard. Ricky glances around at the rest of the table to see Matthew put his hand over his mouth, trying to hide the food that is spilling out while the other boys wear small, amused smiles.
“Your coworker Junhyeon? Did something bad happen?” he asks Taerae, concern slipping into his voice.
“Not really. He just randomly decided to emotionally devastate me during my last shift.”
“I don’t know why you’re making it seem like such a bad thing.” Hanbin intervenes in a soft giggle. “I think it’s cute.”
“You mean cringe?” Gunwook snorts, and by the look Taerae gives him, he is probably killing him with his mind.
Ricky looks back at Taerae, confused, waiting for him to keep talking. He doesn’t dare ask.
“Let’s just say,” Taerae starts, almost carefully. “Junhyeon had something he wanted to tell me, so he did it in a… pretty old-fashioned way.”
“He wrote him a five page essay on all the things he liked about him. Like, dead serious.” Matthew interrupts, as if it is the most absurd thing in the world.
Oh.
“As in taking pieces of paper and a pen and writing him five long, drawn-out letters by hand, on how he adores watching him stretch because his belly button shows up.”
Ricky freezes a little.
“Honestly, that's not even the worst part,” Matthew keeps going. “They literally only see each other at work, during a night shift at a 7-Eleven. Where the hell did he find the energy to fall in love?”
Well.
Maybe not everyone is a diehard hopeless romantic.
Gunwook shrugs. “I don’t know. Lock two people in the same place hours per week and it’s probably going to lead to situational attachment. It’s basic human psychology.” He pauses. “And for the letters, some people need time to put words together.”
Hanbin grins immediately. “Gunwook, you're so romantic.” Then he turns to Taerae, eyes gleaming. “Imagine someone liking you so much they need five pages.”
Taerae groans. “Please don’t.”
Matthew immediately raises both hands. “No, see, that’s exactly what I mean. I don’t get the hype.” He leans forward this time, more serious than before. “If you have something to tell me, I’d much rather you tell me to my face. I think that takes more courage.”
Ricky’s stomach drops.
It feels sudden, sharp, like missing a step on the stairs. His body goes light, then unbearably heavy all at once. He keeps his expression carefully neutral, like his heart isn’t currently folding in on itself.
Hanbin blinks. “Really?”
“Letters make it one-sided.” Matthew replies without hesitation. “You’re pouring everything out and expecting something back, and I’d feel awful if I couldn’t match that energy. I’m bad with words like that. I’d overthink every sentence.” He laughs, a little self-conscious.
Hanbin, completely oblivious, claps his hands once. “Well! Good thing no one here is actually writing love letters, huh?”
Ricky places both hands on the table and pushes himself up, his legs trembling too much to work on their own. He hopes the crushing feeling of shame he is experiencing on the inside isn’t showing too much on his face.
With a shaking chin, he looks back at his friends, who are all staring back at him, their eyes wide with a mixture of worry and curiosity.
An awkward silence falls between them.
“Are you alright?” Hanbin asks, as it isn’t Ricky's habit to act unpredictable.
Ricky opens his mouth before stopping himself. Then he looks at Matthew and feels his breath rushing.
“God I’m such a dumbass.” He facepalms. “I have a really important assignment due before tonight. I absolutely have to get back to the studio.” He grabs his bag and hurriedly throws it over his back. “It was great to see you, we should do this more often.” Ricky leaves without giving them time to answer.
Still, he hears Taerae calling him from behind.
“Are you seriously going to make us clear your plate?!”
Two hundred meters is the exact distance any student has to walk to reach the gym from the canteen. The equivalent of a 3 minute walk.
For Ricky, it took less than a minute to reach the locker room, a minute that seemed like an eternity, enough to destroy any hope he had just an hour ago.
He opens the metal door leading to the corridor, nearly cracking the wall against which it had just shattered then rushes towards the lockers.
Everything's fine. Everything's fine. He just needs to activate plan B. Not that he had one but Ricky will find a way to open that locker, then he'll simply retrieve his letter and change his strategy. Everything's fine. Everything's fi–
Well, fuck him.
The changing rooms are quite small, too small to accommodate all the athletes from the school. The lockers are arranged in a U-shape against three walls. In the middle of the room are benches with coat hooks. A practical way to maximize the limited space.
On one of the benches sits a young brunette, his knees almost folded up on him, surely surprised by the noise made by the slamming door, his face pale and his eyes, once fixed on Ricky, bulged out of their sockets.
He has the right to be there. Much more so than Ricky, who has nothing to do with any sports club. What he doesn’t have the right to do, however, was sit in a public space, calmly reading the love letter that Ricky had spent trial and error perfecting for a man who isn’t him.
A man who isn’t Gyuvin.
“What are you doing?” Ricky asks sharply.
“Hey.” Gyuvin starts and slowly gets up. He glances at the envelope and bites his lip before looking back up at Ricky. “You didn’t put a name on the envelope, so I—”
“Going through people’s stuff is not okay.” Ricky snaps.
Caught off guard, Gyuvin takes a step back and clutches the letter to his chest.
“I beg your pardon?” He shoots back, voice lower now, defensive. “I’d like to point out that it was in my locker.”
“Don’t lie to me.” Ricky fires back. “I put it in number fourteen.”
Gyuvin’s voice rises, disbelief breaking through his tone. “Yeah, number fourteen, my locker?!”
Ricky blinks, words catching in his throat. “Fourteen’s Matthew’s number.”
Gyuvin stares at him for a second, jaw tightening. “Ricky… you do realize we rotate lockers every year, right? Fourteen was his number. Last year.”
Gyuvin’s words hang in the air. A thick, suffocating kind of silence that settles between them like a fog.
Ricky’s brain stops.
Then restarts, violently.
He read it.
Ricky’s throat tightens, the back of his neck burning as the realization slams into him. Gyuvin read his letter. Gyuvin knows.
He can’t even look up. His eyes dart toward the locker, as if the metal door could magically swallow him whole.
Gyuvin’s expression shifts, the anger fades first, then confusion, then something like compassion. “Hey…” he starts, softer now. “Listen, I didn’t know it wasn’t for me. I understand there was a mistake. I shouldn't have read it.”
Ricky still can’t move.
“I just saw the letter and, I mean, you only put your name, and I thought—”
At first, he was confident. If his feelings weren't reciprocated, he reassured himself by thinking that Matthew certainly wouldn't say anything to anyone else. To spare Ricky the monstrous embarrassment of an imminent rejection.
He had been in love with his friend for a whole year, from the very first day, and no one would ever know. Because after a rejection, love at first sight wouldn't seem so romantic.
But now he risked being rejected through a snitch, and that was really bad.
“Ricky.” Gyuvin tries again, voice calm this time. “It’s okay. Really. No one else saw it.”
But Ricky isn’t listening. His thoughts are already spiraling, faster and faster, looping around the same sentence over and over again.
He needs to do something.
So he does.
Ricky lunges for the letter, grabbing Gyuvin’s forearm to pull him forward. Gyuvin loses his balance and stumbles into the back of the smaller boy, who turns around and leans slightly forward, trying to lift Gyuvin and tip him over.
“I will shove this piece of paper so far up your ass you’re gonna be shitting papier-mâché for weeks!” His voice cracks halfway through and his face is flushed red.
Gyuvin tightens his grip on the letter, eyebrows shooting up. “You’re threatening to use it as a weapon and now you expect me to hand it to you?” He tries to pull his arm free.
“You’ve read it, haven’t you? It has my name on it! It belongs to me, so give it back!” Ricky yells, refusing to let go.
“Well, technically it’s Matthew’s now…” Gyuvin mutters.
“Park Gyuvin, you’re so dead!”
“It’s Kim.”
“I don’t give a fuck what your name is! You weren’t supposed to read this letter!”
Gyuvin frowns, his tone softening a little. “Don’t you want Matthew to have it? Why do you want it back now?”
Ricky exhales sharply through his nose. “Because I realized this was a stupid idea, and also none of your business!”
“Don’t say that.” Gyuvin stops moving, lowering his voice and calming the chaos at the same time. “Your feelings aren’t stupid, they’re something to treat with care. I thought it was rather sweet, actually…”
Ricky blinks, thrown off. “What… so you think the letter’s a good idea?”
“Oh no, it’s super lame.” Gyuvin says flat, waving the letter slightly. “But the content is deeply moving. I think if you try to give off what you wrote into real life, there’s no way he won’t fall for you.”
Taken aback by his sincerity, Ricky pauses.
He may have overreacted a bit.
Ricky crosses his arms, glaring. “So what do you suggest, smartass?”
“Well,” Gyuvin says with a shrug and a half-smile. “I don’t have any ideas right now, but if you give me some time to think, I promise I'll help you make the confession of the century.”
And what can Ricky even say in front of so much determination.
The electronic beeping when Ricky enters his security code echoes down the long hallway leading to his apartment. He pushes the door and lets it close by itself once he's inside.
The apartment smells of Chinese spices, and some random Korean show playing on the TV serves as background noise. It's warm and comforting, and Ricky's shoulders drop as he realizes that the day is finally coming to an end.
He takes off his shoes and, raising his head, notices a tuft of black hair hovering in the living room.
"Don’t you have a place of your own?" Ricky sighs in a hoarse voice as he walks beside him, his eyes half-open due to fatigue, and a little annoyance.
When he moved in with Hao, he quickly realized that it would never just be him and his cousin. It would also be them and Hao's friends, especially Jiwoong…mostly Jiwoong. Which, honestly, wasn't that surprising given that the two were colleagues and often met to grade student tests together.
A fascinating activity that wouldn't bother Ricky if the man didn't spend his life lingering even when Hao wasn't home.
“I have a place. Ownership is rented separately.” Jiwoong answers very seriously.
"What does that even mean…"
"Hi Ricky.” Hao sweetly calls for him. "How was your day?" His voice is muffled by the walls surrounding the kitchen.
"I’d rather not talk about it." Ricky dives headfirst onto the sofa and exhales all the air from his lungs.
“Did you give the letter?" Hao leaves the stoves and crosses the living room. He approaches with light steps then drops his apron onto the sofa in front of which he squats.
Ricky mumbles and slowly turns his head, his cheek still against the cushion. He is face to face with Hao, who is looking at him with squinty eyes shining with curiosity.
"I did… then I didn’t."
Hao raises an eyebrow.
"I put it in the wrong locker, and when I wanted to retrieve it—" he stops, thinking back on the scene requires too much effort. "It was already too late."
"What happened to the letter?"
"Gyuvin took it.”
"You’re acting like I know every person in Seoul. Who’s Gyuvin?"
"You know every gay person in Seoul for sure." Jiwoong snorts in the background.
Hao shoots him a nasty look before refocusing on his cousin.
"He’s part of Matthew's dance team"
"And now what? Is he gonna tell on you? Do you want us to beat his ass?”
"No! Absolutely not.” Ricky rubs his face. “This is like asking your parents to fight some dude for you. I’d rather send Yujin to hack his Roblox account."
"Aw, Ricky. Do you see me as a parental figure?" Jiwoong crouches next to Hao.
It's Ricky’s turn to shoot him a nasty look. Then he lowers his eyes, frowning, before flitting them up from where they were locked.
"He said he’ll help me confess to Matthew."
"Why?" Hao gently scoffs.
"I don’t know, guess he wanted to be an ally or something." He rolls his eyes, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
“He seems like a nice guy.” Jiwoong hums.
Ricky shrugs at that. Because he frankly isn’t sure what to think. He doesn't know Gyuvin that well. Although they're the same age, of the whole group, he's probably the one he's interacted with the least in a year.
Ricky is shy by nature, and Gyuvin picked up on that very quickly. Wanting to respect his personal space, he didn't try to break the ice like Hanbin or Gunwook might have, and Ricky appreciates that. However, it must have prevented them from having a few opportunities to socialize.
“Anyway, enough talking about boys!” Hao suddenly exclaims. He stands up, placing a hand on Ricky's butt before giving him a light spanking.”I know you're tired but that's no excuse to dawdle, come help set the table.”
“Aah.” Ricky fidgets like a scolded child. “You’re worse than my mom.”
“Is that why you chose to live with me?” Hao deadpans.
Touché.
“You know, the fact that you're comfortable enough to air your family dramas in front of me makes me feel really included.” Jiwoong brings a hand to his chest, a warm smile on his face.
“It's not like there’s moments when you’re not here so we can talk about it privately…” Ricky mutters under his breath.
Jiwoong's chin retracts slightly onto his neck and he lets out a small shocked and offended sound.
“The table!” Hao sings as a warning as he heads towards the kitchen.
That's enough to get them back on their feet and Ricky takes the time to cuddle Jiwoong to apologize.
It’s only once Ricky gets ready to go to bed that he receives a text from Gyuvin.
Kim Gyuvin
hi! not telling you who this is, you better have my number saved lol
eat lunch with me tomorrow, ill tell you about my plan!!
its ok if you dont want to tho, no pressure (^^)
so yeah see you maybe
Ricky doesn’t bother answering and throws his phone onto his bed. He dives beside it, hugs his pillow, and buries his head in it.
In the darkness of his room, the mild September air filtering through the vent gently caresses the back of his neck. The hallway floorboards creak, and the faint voices near the front door signal Jiwoong’s departure. Soon, Ricky hears only the sound of his own breathing and the steady thump of his heartbeat against his chest.
He rubs his feet together, then uses them to gently tap against the mattress. He rocks his body from side to side without lifting his head, where it rests so comfortably on its cloud of foam.
Suddenly, he lets out a groan and sits up with dizzying speed. He grabs his phone and opens Gyuvin’s texts before sending him a specific address.
me
We’re meeting there.
He doesn’t have to wait long before Gyuvin texts back.
Kim Gyuvin
sure! looks good
good night :)
This time, he actually doesn’t answer. He quickly switches his phone to airplane mode and lets Morpheus take him wherever he pleases.