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Summary
Back then, whenever he rutted against Riku’s thigh, he would train his eyes elsewhere. The headboard. The apples of Riku’s cheeks. His hair spread out on the pillow.
Anywhere but his hyung’s beautiful neck, all exposed like it was his for the taking. But that would never be the case for it was never bare of that damn blue star. The gemstone always glinted in the low light, staring back at him, mocking. He could only ever have Riku like this; temporary, and distant, and false. Living on borrowed time and love. In those moments, Daeyoung would swallow the longing in his throat, the depth of it forever dying on his tongue.
Riku would never ruin Yushi like this, Daeyoung thinks.
Or: Daeyoung is a good dog.
He has learned to accept whatever leftover love Riku had left to give, for he would never know what it means to be special to Riku the way Yushi is.