still 3 p.m.

by baggyjeans (beewonu)

Summary:

Sion gets a haunting email from the International Programs Coordinator.

or

sion gets abroad student yushi assigned to help him with university

Chapter 1: first day (let it be the last)

Summary:

Sion loves first days. Until he accidentally signs up to babysit a Japanese exchange student. In a language he barely speaks. He barely passed Korean.

If there was one thing that got Oh Sion excited was the first days. The kind that crackled in his chest like static, that turned his stomach into a hive of restless wings. He remembers, mainly because his parents and brother Jaehyun had branded it into his memory like a cattle iron, being the only child who didn’t cry on the first day of school. Not when they woke him at dawn, his mother's fingers combing through his hair like a prayer, not when they left him at the gates, his father's hand a fleeting weight on his shoulder. Maybe he'd cried at pickup, but that was Jaehyun's fault, his brother's teasing a relentless tide in the backseat until their house swallowed them whole again.

High school had been different. The nervous energy never faded; if anything, it grew stronger each year, a live wire sparking beneath his skin. Not anxiety, not stress, but pure, raw excitement. He thrived in the chaos of new beginnings, loved being surrounded by people his age, by his school friends, and meeting new people each year. It kept Sion’s mind occupied during summer, even betting with his neighborhood friends about how many transfer students they'd get or whether this would finally be the year a foreign exchange student arrived.

But university? That was another beast entirely.

The summer before freshman year, his excitement curdled into something sharper, darker. Fear slithered through his veins, of not being enough, of not making it. Fear of being the only one that didn’t get to go to his dream school, study his dream career. He'd been a shaking mess after exams, barricading himself in his room until the acceptance email arrived. When it finally did, he read it twenty times before believing it was real.

“I told you you were going to get into it, dumbass” 

Jaehyun's voice cut through the smoky haze of their celebratory barbecue, the scent of sizzling pork belly mixing with the summer night's humidity. His brother leaned back in his chair, the plastic creaking ominously, a beer bottle dangling from his fingers. Sion looked at that bear like he wanted to try, like now he deserved it, and Jaehyun picked it up quickly because he handed him the bottle, and Sion sipped softly. Smiling, he gave it back, staring at his brother. The orange glow from the patio lights caught the sharp angle of his jaw, the knowing glint in his eyes, always feeling at ease when looking at his brother.

“I know, but still, it’s kind of unbelievable, Jae. I'm shitting myself bro”

“If I made it through, you can absolutely do it.”

Sion poked at his rice with his chopsticks, grains sticking to the polished metal bowl. "How are you so sure?"

"Because I know you." Jaehyun tilted his head back to stare at the stars, the column of his throat exposed. "And you'll meet people. Not like my friends, God knows you don't need another Jungwoo in your life, but your own. Probably better ones, too."

“Your friends are awesome, Jaehyun. I wish I could find people half as cool as them.”

“You will, don’t worry. Fuck Sion, you are making me miss university… I thought I was never going to feel that” 

Sion smiled at him and rested his head on his older brother’s shoulder. That night, with fireflies blinking in the tall grass and the remains of their feast scattered across the table, Sion let himself believe it.

He spent the summer in a whirlwind of preparation, as if crossing items off a list could somehow quiet the restless buzz beneath his skin. He drafted countless to-do lists, revised, then abandoned them when a new wave of panic sent him scrambling to rewrite them. Did I submit the housing form? What if my scholarship doesn’t process in time? His laptop stayed perpetually open, tabs multiplying like wildfire: tuition fees, course syllabi, campus maps. He checked the enrollment portal so often that he could recite the confirmation emails by heart.

Between the chaos, he threw himself into work at the barn, the familiar rhythms of Mokpo grounding him. The smell of hay and damp earth, the sweat on his brow as he hauled feed buckets, it was mindless, comforting. His parents didn’t say much, but he caught the way his mother lingered when she handed him water, or how his father pretended not to notice when Sion paused to stare at the horizon, lost in thought. This is it. Last summer. Everyone knew, but nobody was ready to talk about it. At least not him.

Seoul loomed in the corner of his mind, like a glittering, terrifying promise. He’d packed and repacked his bags weeks early, then unpacked them just to make sure he wasn’t forgetting anything. The night before leaving, he lay awake, heart pounding, replaying every possible disaster: What if I get lost on campus? What if my roommate hates me? What if I’m not smart enough?

But beneath the fear, there was a current of something else, something electric. That first day fire that crackled in his chest. A new life was waiting. Seoul was waiting.

Seoul. 

Sion felt his chest tighten when he looked through the backseat window during the road trip on the moving day, and he saw the skyscrapers clawing at the sky, their glass faces reflecting the late summer sun in jagged shards. The city pulsed through the car windows, a living thing, all honking cabs and neon signs bleeding into the twilight. Sion pressed his forehead to the glass, his breath fogging the view. The feeling was bittersweet, as he wasn’t able to look away, in awe, almost shaking because he needed to get out of the car and walk those streets with his legs, at his own pace, but at the same time, when they parked right in front of the dorms, he didn’t want to get out.

He had reached out to a couple of childhood friends whom he followed on social media, but neither of them reached back. He had looked through the lists of people who were in his class, even at his dorm, and he didn’t know anybody. He didn’t want to get away from the people who raised him.

His mom raised him like an angel.

Not the kind from storybooks, not like Sion had read much of those, but the real kind, the kind with calloused hands and tired eyes that still softened whenever she looked at him. She poured everything into Jaehyun and Sion, love so fierce it could’ve bent the world to its will. And they knew. They weren’t perfect sons, God knows they’d given her enough headaches to last a couple of lifetimes, but there wasn’t a single thing they wouldn’t do for her. Everyone knew. Sion lived for her quiet pride, for the way her voice would hitch just slightly when she bragged about him to the neighbors.

Every opportunity he had, every door that opened for him, she’d handed him the key without a second thought, carelessly, like it was nothing. But he knew. He knew the sleepless nights, the sacrifices folded into the seams of their life. He’d spend forever trying to repay her, even if she’d never ask for it. 

His dad taught him how to fight devils. 

Not with fists (though there’d been a time or two), but with grit. When Sion’s legs bounced raw with exam anxiety, when some teenage heartache convinced him the world was ending, his dad was there, steady as a warm sunrise. He never dismissed it, never told him to man up. Instead, he’d grunt, “Sit down,” and push a mug of too-sweet hot chocolate into his hands (Sion still blames to this day his dad for his insane sweet tooth).

When bullies at school made his blood boil, his dad didn’t fight his battles; he just stood at his shoulder, a silent reminder: You’ve got this. And when Sion was small, plagued by nightmares, he’d tiptoe to the living room and curl into the sagging old couch. Without fail, within minutes, his dad would appear, draping a blanket over him like an afterthought. Neither ever spoke of it. They didn’t need to.

And Jaehyun. If childhood had been a battlefield, they’d been rival warlords, scratching, yelling, a never-ending cycle of “Mom said!” and “You started it!”. Sion had assumed they’d hate each other forever,  but then, around his thirteenth birthday, something shifted. Maybe it was his own brother turning eighteen, or maybe they’d just run out of stupid things to fight about. Probably both, but whatever it was, they’d learned to breathe, two deep counts before snapping, two more before answering.

These days, their worst arguments were over who stole the last dumpling. Their mom would scold them for their ridiculous inside jokes (the dirtier, the better), but even as she rolled her eyes, the corners of her mouth always twitched.

Sion didn’t want to get away from that; who would want that? But he needed to. Eventually, he got out of the car and made it to the dorms that loomed ahead, a concrete monolith. For a wild moment, he wanted to listen to his intrusive thoughts and beg on his knees to his parents to turn back, but as soon as he entered the chaotic never ending halls and got to see that people were as lost as him, he smiled to himself, already with an unknown feeling of belonging.

His roommate was a storm in human form: Osaki Shotaro. All sharp cheekbones and sharper grin, his dyed-blond hair mussed like he'd just rolled out of someone's bed, or someone had just rolled out of his bed, which, judging by the smell of the room, Sion thought was most likely the second option. 

He lounged on his bed, one arm slung over his eyes, a lollipop dangling from his lips, like it was just a facade. "You're my new kid?" he'd said, voice rough with sleep or mischief. "Nice to meet you, dude."

During that first year, he learnt a lot.

About Shotaro, Sion learned three things quickly: he was filthy rich (his parents' monthly "allowance" could probably fund a small country), allergic to studying, and unexpectedly patient when teaching Japanese between his hookups and all-nighters.

"Say it again," Shotaro demanded one night, sprawled across Sion's bed like a starfish, the scent of soju clinging to his shirt.

"You are my friend," Sion mumbled into his textbook with the most broken Japanese someone had ever spoken.

Shotaro barked a laugh. "Wow, okay, real smooth… Here's one you'll actually need-" He leaned in, his breath warm against Sion's ear as he whispered something decidedly less innocent. 

Sion only found years later what that meant.

He also learnt how hard moving out was. He probably fucked up half his clothes during the first two weeks, messing up detergents and having his clothes stolen. Jaehyun wasn’t too happy when he had to visit them only one month after dropping him off, even if he lived in Seoul too, but because he only went there to give Sion half his wardrobe, threatening him to give it back as soon as university finished and he had a stable job so he could buy his own clothes. Sion just nodded quickly and thanked him endlessly, not because he finally had wearable clothes, but because Jaehyun’s ones were amazing.

He learnt how to flirt, not only with girls but with boys, which was something completely new and confusing. It happened one night when he was out with Shotaro, of course, Shotaro’s best friend Jisung, and Wonbin, a guy he befriended because they were always at the gym during the same hours. He was completely drunk, and a guy made a pass on him, and he didn’t even flinch; he just smiled and nodded, kissing him. The next morning, he was teased to death, but he didn’t regret it.

And of course, he learnt a lot about architecture. 

He decided to study architecture one year before finishing high school, and his interests in physics and drawing were picking up quickly. He started looking at different spaces differently, drawing whatever he felt like it was his future dream house, and every single chair he saw in different cafes. He got into architecture with so basic knowledge of it just because he liked physics and drawing, a couple of 'nerdy' high school subjects, so it was fucking hard for him to pick up on his classes. He didn’t go as much as his friends did, especially Shotaro, because he was usually busy doing tons of projects, models, drawings, plans… and studying way more than simple physics, but also math, history, arts… it was challenging, but Sion loved it, so he pulled through.

The second year was completely different than the first one, as Shotaro moved to another dorm, sharing the room with Jisung, and he got a new roommate. Second year brought Daeyoung: quiet, serious, with a perpetually soft furrowed brow that softened only when he talked about film, revealing his slightly crooked teeth behind his thin lips.

He was one year younger, and Sion wasn’t really happy about starting a new friendship with someone younger, but Daeyoung turned out to be one of the best people Sion had ever met. He was studying film, which Sion didn’t think was a real career until he saw that Daeyoung had to do the same amount of submissions and assignments as him, also studying hard during finals. Maybe that’s why he got his grades significantly up that year, because having a roommate who did study was very helpful. Not that Performing Arts was an easy degree, but Shotaro always failed whatever subject that had to do with studying, but excelling in whatever he had to do with performing. He still partied, still flirted, even fucked around a couple of times, but it was way more chill than his first year, thank god, because he knew he couldn’t keep with that pace until he graduated. Where Shotaro was wildfire, Daeyoung was steady earth, grounding Sion day by day.

He tried to balance everything out: studying architecture, learning whatever he could learn about film from Daeyoung, drinking enough to be completely drunk but never blacking out, learning whatever he could learn about law from Wonbin, doing laundry properly and not missing his gym sessions, learning whatever he could learn about pediatrics from Jisung, still learning Japanese from Shotaro… it was a lot, but he loved it. He loved being a university student.

So, of course, the morning he woke up and realized he only had a weekend left to start his third year, he was far beyond stoked. He had everything prepared, from the outfit to his backpack. 

He woke up early, trying to get the most out of the last free Friday that he was going to have for a while. He got to the gym, went to buy some groceries to have in his small room fridge. He changed his sheets, did some laundry, did a deep cleaning of the room with Daeyoung, and checked his email while his sweet roommate cooked something for both of them. After what felt like a year of catching up with emails, he reached the last one, and little did he know it was going to be the most important one.

 

Subject: Assignment as Language Support Student for Exchange Program

From: International Programs Office
To: Oh Sion [ [email protected] ]
Date: September 10^th, 12:05

Dear Sion,

We hope this message finds you well.

We are reaching out to inform you that, as part of our university’s ongoing exchange program, you have been selected to assist one of our incoming international students during the upcoming semester.

According to your submitted application materials, your Japanese proficiency is listed as above average (Level B+). Based on this information, we are assigning you as the language support partner for Yushi Tokuno, a third-year exchange student from Japan who will be joining the Department of Architecture.

Your responsibilities will include:

• Assisting Yushi with basic translation of lecture content and assignment instructions during shared classes.
• Helping him navigate campus life and participate in group projects.
• Serving as a point of contact for academic or administrative clarifications.

You will receive up to 6 academic credits under the International Communication Support Program, depending on the outcome of the assistance. Additional details will be provided in the attached PDF.

If, for any reason, your availability has changed or you have concerns about your assigned role, please contact our office no later than Friday, 17^th.

Thank you in advance for your cooperation and support toward fostering a more inclusive academic environment.

Best regards, 

Lee Taeyong

International Programs Coordinator

 

The words glared from the screen: Tokuno Yushi. Architecture. Japanese. His pulse hammered against his ribs. Sion choked on air, standing up quickly while pacing around the room, combing his hair roughly through his fingers, as if he was going to find the reason behind that email in between his scalp and his brain. He only stops when Daeyoung enters the room with a big ass pan of japchae, and he doesn’t even let him close the door properly when he adresses the obvious tension in his face.

"You look," Daeyoung said slowly, "like you just realized you signed up to babysit a tiger."

“Something like that” Sion said defeated, left hand in between his lips, threatening the safety of his nails ”Daeyoung I fucked up, I fucked up sooooo bad bro.” 

“What is it? Are you okay?” his friend asks worriedly, chopsticks hovering mid-air, japchae noodles slipping back into the pan with a wet slap.

“Remember about the International Program we enrolled in at the end of last year? When Wonbin told us something about not being able to get some kind of involvement with the university programs or some shit like that.” 

“He specifically told you, not us, that "you couldn't get involved with university activities outside mandatory excursions and trips, and that it was highly unfair that you were considered one of the most relevant people that the student council talked about only because you volunteered one time to donate blood."” he quoted 

“Well, okay, yes, that, you clearly remember right?” Sion said, taken aback by how great he remembered the scene, “So Taeyong, Jaehyun’s friend, the coordinator of the international program, just sent me an email about having to do some kind of assistance for a Japanese guy I don’t even know! Because he is going to transfer this year!”

“Do you actually know Japanese? Like real Japanese?”

“Shotaro had been teaching me some things for two years,” he said, embarrassed.

“What things, Sion?” Daeyoung asked, hands on hips and looking half sassy, half done

"I'm dead," Sion agreed, dragging his hands down his face. "I'm so dead. Shotaro taught me how to ask someone back to my room, not explain structural engineering!"

“Jesus Christ, let me read the email you dumbass”

Sion points at the computer as if a bomb were ticking over there, and Daeyoung knew exactly how to make it stop. But it only takes a few seconds after he turns, lips pressing together so he doesn’t laugh. Sion knows him. He had only been living with him for a year, but he knew him.

“Why didn’t you read it sooner? This is from last week.” Daeyoung says after a few seconds

“I don’t know, dude, I don’t usually check my email ON SUMMER.” Sion raises his voice, expressing frustration. “And now I cannot even say no because it's literally...” Sion checks his watch. “Half past two, the office closed more than an hour ago.”

“Even if you could cancel it bro, that goes right to all the info they have about you, and that wouldn’t look good, especially if you want to work here.”

Fuck. 

Sion had forgotten he also enrolled in that program because he wanted to be an architect for Seoul University, and programs like that boosted his curriculum so much. He knew it because Jaehyun had some friends, like Taeyong, who worked at the University too, and they all recommended him to do such things.

“Let’s eat and then let’s search that Takeru Yushi up okay? I’m sure he looks nothing like a tiger,” Daeyoung says, already serving the food on two plates.

“Isn’t it Tokuno Yushi?” Sion says, getting his glass up the bridge of his nose and squinting his eyes at the screen, pointing at it, “It’s Tokuno Yushi, you imbecile.”

“I’m not the one who knows Japanese.”

“You could learn too, you know, for your films”

“Don’t have time for that, if I wanted to learn a new language for my films,” he said, air-quoting the last two words, “I would learn French. Man, I love a cheesy French romcom.”

Sion just rolled his eyes, feeling defeated. After having lunch, he let himself snooze for a bit in his bed as he lost all his energy he thought he was going to have today, the email literally crushed him. He texted Shotaro. He was going to need his help.

 

sion

dude

i fucked up

i got a japanese exchange student 

i need to be translating classes for him

 

shotaro

come over 

like right now

 

He rolled out his bed lazily. He usually was excited to go to Shotaro and Jisung’s room, but he knew he was going to be so teased, and he honestly didn’t have the energy for that. He asked Daeyoung if he wanted to come, but he was going to meet with some classmates, so he was all by himself when he knocked on his friend's room, not even getting to the third one before Jisung was opening, looking even more tired than Sion.

“Bro, you okay? You look like you had been stepped on,” Sion said playfully, already crashing on Shotaro’s desk. “Is it Jiwoo again?”

“Yes dude, she is not only not responding to me but leaving me on read on the other group like… I swear to god I didn’t do anything.”

“Maybe that’s the problem, dude, you never do anything.” 

Shotaro quickly chirps in, getting out of the small bathroom. He came out straight from having a shower, at least Sion assumed, because he was shirtless, with a towel around his waist and his hair sticking harshly against his nape. Shotaro was fucking beautiful, Sion knew, but he couldn’t feel the slightest attractions towards him because of the amount of shit he had heard him say and saw him do over the two years he had known him.

“Put some clothes on, you are going to get me all worked up,” he joked, throwing at him the shirt he found on the table he was sitting at

“You would love that, wouldn’t you?” He teased back, smirking

They both laughed, Jisung joining too. Sion quickly broke down the situation to both of his friends. Jisung seemed now way more invested in this topic than in his own problems, and that made Sion smile, because he got to help his friend, indirectly. Shotaro was straight up laughing at him, and every time he read the email, he laughed even more. 

 “Dude, this is hilarious,” Shotaro finally said after Sion snatched the phone away from him. “You are going to get fired before they even hired you.”

“What the fuck do you mean bro!” Sion hit him hard, complaining loudly, “I need your help, seriously, I need you to teach me as much architectural Japanese vocabulary as you know.”

“My vocabulary in architecture is so little, and even less in Japanese…” Shotaro muttered, turning around the room to find some dirty socks under an even dirtier pile of clothes. “This is going to cost you-”

“How much?” Sion cut him, desperation drowning in his voice

“Considering we do this seriously,” Shotaro started saying, but quickly shut himself up, doing some quick numbers. “I would have to look at your notes over these two years, you would literally have to teach me Architecture, and I would have to-”

“How much bro, I can’t fuck this up, you know it”

“I know, you little shit, I am messing with you. I was thinking like… mandatory going out at least once a week?”

“Once every three weeks and stackable if I go more than once,” Sion gambled with his options.

“Once every two and not stackable. Not getting home before three.”

“Done deal” 

It was kind of crazy, but very Shotaro-coded that he was asking Sion to go out in exchange for teaching him Japanese, but they understood each other, so Sion extended his hand to him.

Shotaro hesitated so little before agreeing to close the deal. “I will be here tomorrow at ten. You are the only witness to this exchange, so please be fair about it.” Sion directed those last words to Jisung, looking at him with so much care in his eyes

“I will, Sion. But I want you to bring coffee every time you come over, especially if it’s morning.”

“Done deal, Jisungie.” Sion extended his hand, too, and Jisung shook it, smiling

“Now you two get the fuck out, I am meeting someone here in like ten minutes” Shotaro said without looking at them as he was checking himself out in the long mirror they had in between their closets.

“Dude, you can’t kick Jisung like that out of his own room.” 

“It’s okay, I was heading out to the gym anyway. I need a distraction.”

“You could stay and get distracted with us,” Shotaro said as if it were the most normal thing to say

“Let’s get out before you start even considering,” Sion said while grabbing Jisung’s wrist, pulling him out of his own room like a poor stray dog.

On their way out, they saw a Japanese girl heading to the same exact room they just got out of, and after hearing her knock, Sion and Jisung exchanged some laughs, seriously not believing Shotaro. He was another kind of unhinged that they didn’t know how to deal with.

Sion spent the little he had rest of his Friday watching a bunch of documentaries about the Japanese Metabolists, different podcasts about art and literature, everything in Japanese. He felt some kind of confidence build up in his chest because he did understand more than he thought he was going to do, so that motivated him to keep up his promise. He went the next day to Shotaro and Jisung’s room, bringing coffee as promised, too, and they went right to it.

Sion explained a lot of things of basic architecture, mainly what he would be needing to do that year: he explained some things about urbanism, such as the fifteen minutes cities and green corridors; he explained some constructions terms, but that was easier because that year was all about pre-fabricated constructions and a lot of calculations, which luckily for him, was something universal. He also explained more topics of his third-year subjects, like the design of different facilities and stuff. Shotaro was absolutely invested in helping him, so Sion only got more motivated, the next day going again to keep with his private lessons, while Shotaro drilled him on terms like "cantilever" and "load-bearing wall" between fits of laughter, complaining about how he didn’t even knew those words existed, only stopping the teaching when Wonbin brought some food over, along with Daeyoung.

“How is the study group going? And why wasn’t I invited?” Wonbin said as he quickly got into the room

"He's doomed," Shotaro announced cheerfully, flipping through Sion's notes with exaggerated horror. "But hey, doomed looks good on you," he continued, tracing his hands along Sion's cheek.

They all got seated on the floor, sharing some pizzas between the five of them. It was a usual plan for them, but because the majority of them were usually so hungover that Daeyoung refused to cook for them, in case they were going to vomit. He didn’t want his efforts to get flushed down the toilet, quite literally.

“Is it going that bad? Should we get backup?” Daeyoung said as he quickly finished one slice 

Sion wanted to answer quickly, but finished chewing first, letting Shotaro answer, “Not really. It’s going well, I think I am learning more architecture than Sion Japanese, but well, the effort is clearly there. Did you know there are certain measurements of things to design furniture? So that everyone could use them?”

Everyone looked at Shotaro, speechless, but quickly ruined the silence with a bunch of laughter. 

God, what would Sion do without them? 

They devoured their meal in record time, hunger leaving no room for conversation. The moment the last bite was taken, Jisung and Daeyoung lunged for the controller, booting up some game on the TV, while Wonbin wasted no time collapsing onto Shotaro’s bed, already half-asleep. But Sion and Shotaro? They had a mission.

Hours slipped by unnoticed. The others drifted around the room like restless ghosts: Jisung eventually succumbed to sleep beside Wonbin, Daeyoung swapping the game for a movie, his eyelids drooping dangerously as he slumped against the floor. Meanwhile, Sion and Shotaro remained anchored in place, only breaking focus for quick bathroom breaks. By the time they finally surfaced from their task, the afternoon had melted into evening.

Daeyoung and Sion trudged to their room, exhaustion clinging to their steps. Before Sion could even muster the energy for their usual late-night debate, Daeyoung was out, really soft snores disguised as heavy breaths filling the silence. Sion tried to follow suit, he really did, but sleep refused to come.

He tried to relax, but he couldn’t. To breathe normally, to even close his eyes, but he couldn’t. He was excited, nervous, and expecting the worst to happen. 

His body was rigid, his mind racing. No matter how hard he tried to steady his breathing or shut his eyes, anticipation buzzed under his skin like a live wire. What if their schedules didn’t align? Would he have to rearrange his entire semester? And Yushi... What if his accent was so thick Sion couldn’t understand a word? Shotaro was from Kanagawa, which was urban enough that his quirks were manageable, but what if Yushi was from some tiny village? What if he spoke in riddles, used words that didn’t even exist in dictionaries? What if he had a barn too? What if he looked-

Sion shot upright so fast his vision blurred. Shit.

He’d forgotten the most crucial step: research. He hadn’t so much as Googled Yushi. No Insta deep dive, no Naver search, nothing. He needed answers. Now.

In a flash, he was at his desk, slamming his laptop open. Phone searches were for amateurs, this called for full FBI mode. His fingers flew across the keyboard as he copied the name from the haunting email, heart pounding.

 

Tokuno Yushi.

 

He searched up and down the internet, but nothing came out. Nothing. No old Facebook photos, no forgotten rage tweets, no tagged party pics, no scandalous headlines. He tried variations, just Yushi, just Tokuno, inverting the order, but the results were the same: a blank slate. The relief was fleeting. If anything, the mystery only coiled tighter in his gut.

The morning of orientation (at least that's what the university called it, because it was just like any other Monday, but the teachers introduced themselves) arrived too soon, as Sion felt he had slept for five minutes rather than six hours. He stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his shirt for the twelfth time, his reflection wavering in the dawn light filtering through the blinds. Somewhere in this sprawling campus, Tokuno Yushi was waking up too, unaware that his academic survival now rested on Sion's patchwork language skills and Shotaro's questionable teaching methods. Fuckin' hell.

Daeyoung back-hugged him, both looking at his worried reflection. "Stop panicking. Just... point at things and smile a lot."

Sion caught it with trembling fingers. "What if he's from some tiny village with a crazy dialect? Like you?" He explained his concerns from last night, “Or worse... What if he's an actual genius who realizes I'm a fraud by lunch?"

"Then you'll have a great meet-cute story for your wedding." Daeyoung dodged the pillow Sion hurled at him, laughing. "Don't be like that! You are the one who looks like a groom practicing your speech in front of the mirror!" He said, dodging the second and last pillow, "Go, your future husband awaits."

The campus pathways were already bustling when Sion stepped outside, the air thick with the scent of freshly cut grass and nervous sweat. Somewhere beyond the crowd, past the chatter of a hundred new beginnings, his own first day waited. His feet moved on instinct, weaving through the tide of students, but his mind raced too fast to keep pace.

The campus felt now too big and his body too small, like his very first day here, a speck in the overwhelming newness of everything. Every step toward his much-known building felt like walking into a storm he couldn’t see the end of. His palms were damp, his breath shallow, but still, something inside him burned, not quite fear, not quite excitement, but that same static hum that always came with first days. Except now, it wasn't just in his chest, it was everywhere, down to his fingertips. He paused in front of the glass doors, heart hammering, shoulders tense.

He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and stepped forward.

Notes:

hey hey heyyyy so first chapter of this new fic i started to write...... i already have a lot of things decided as chapters and contents and the pace of it so im sure i will be uploading at least once every week/two weeks! hope you liked this goofy sion, careful jaehyun, crazy shotaro and sweetheart daeyoung !! more chapters to come, more characters and more things heheh

alsoo hope u liked the little nopogy jungwoo reference of yushi's surname lmaoo that was hilarious and ofc toronto’s window mark iconic final line

kudos and comment super appreciated ! hope you liked the chapter and i hope you have a fantstic day too ! fic playlist here !

Chapter 2: understanding people’s feelings (or trying to)

Summary:

Not a breakthrough, not a transformation, just… a beginning. A first week that didn’t leave him smaller than before.

Notes:

second chapter!! hope its not too confusing the japanese thing... enjoy!

It wasn’t the first time Yushi had gone to Korea.

He had been making the trip between Tokyo and Seoul for years now, back and forth, back and forth, like a pendulum suspended between two worlds. His parents, both working for a famous Japanese casting agency, had been transferred to Seoul when their company expanded. And so, Yushi’s life became a series of transitions: sometimes staying in Tokyo with his mother, other times with his father, but always, always with his brother Yuta.

They were both half-Korean, half-Japanese at that point (not by blood, but they spent half of their childhood in both Asian cities, equal parts); but where Yuta thrived, effortlessly charming, effortlessly seen, Yushi existed in the shadows. Yuta was the golden boy: the effortlessly handsome, extroverted football star-to-be who could command a room with just his smile. Yushi, on the other hand, was… Yushi.

Average-looking (maybe). Good at football (definitely). But where words should have been, there was only silence.

He had always been like this, struggling to speak, struggling to exist in a world that demanded action, in a city that existed within the noise. As a child, he spoke late, his voice trapped somewhere deep inside him. As he grew older, he hid behind nods and hums, behind glances that held entire sentences he could never force past his lips. The more he stayed quiet, the more the silence became his prison.

Moving between countries should have changed things. It did, in a way, he and Yuta had to learn Korean fast, stumbling through grocery store transactions and restaurant orders. But while Yuta laughed off his own mistakes, not really caring if he said the correct thing, Yushi’s voice only grew smaller. Every mispronounced syllable, every hesitant pause, made him retreat further. Yuta tried to help, stepping in when Yushi’s throat closed up, but it was only ever a temporary fix. The real problem, the crushing weight of his own voice, or lack of it, remained.

Yuta was loud. Yuta was bold.

Yushi was just… Yushi.

He never resented his brother for it. How could he? Yuta was his anchor, the only one who could read the meaning in his silence. When Yuta graduated, seven years older, leaving Yushi alone in high school, the loneliness was suffocating.

Alone? A laughable idea… He was constantly jostled, his shoes scuffed by rushing classmates, his name occasionally called by teachers who barely waited for an answer. Yet he moved through it all like mist, unseen, unheard, untouched. Classmates talked about him, not to him, whispers of "Yushi’s disability," "Yushi’s mental illness," "That weird kid who just stares at the wall."

He heard it all. Every word. Every laugh. Every pitying glance.

And it hurt.

Nobody noticed he was there, talking to his face like he couldn’t hear them. Yushi hated that; he hated that with all his heart. Just because he couldn’t bring himself to talk didn’t mean he couldn’t hear them, understand it, and be hurt by it, right?

He later learnt exactly the opposite. He started to think about how he couldn’t complain; he couldn't be sad whenever he heard people talking about him. He learnt to live with that, with the weight of those words, of those looks, of the mean gazes and rough pushes at crowded halls. It wasn’t too much to notice by anyone, but he always noticed everything, and it hurt like hell. 

So he folded into himself, sharp edges and all, only focusing on himself, his hobbies, his feelings, his family, and… nothing more.

He started chasing his architecture dream when the whole traveling started, as he was amazed by both Japanese and Korean architecture, the balance between the temples, the old villages, the skyscrapers, and the new cities. Everything around it amazed him, and he wanted to be a part of both cities, not only as a citizen but as a constructor. He wanted to be a man able to build a city, even if at the time he was only a boy trying not to drown in it.

Getting into university was easy; perfect scores came naturally when the only thing he had to focus on was the paper in front of him. But the real challenge was the people.

In Japan, he was Yuta’s brother, the quiet shadow trailing behind a star, a very shining star. Strangers approached him for photos, for autographs, for Yuta’s number, as if Yushi’s silence was an inconvenience rather than a boundary. Yuta tried to shield him, pleading in small interviews for fans to leave his family alone, but it never stopped.

And Yushi hated it, because he felt helpless.

The second he passed his exams, he started right away to look for accommodation. He knew his parents weren’t going to be okay if he asked to stay with them, because as they said, “You need to start cracking your little shell open, Yushi, it’s time”. He knew they were right, but that didn’t make it easier to handle. So he searched during the whole summer for the perfect building, the perfect floor, and the perfect room, until he found it. He picked the quietest, most forgotten corner of campus: Building C, eleventh floor, last room on the left. The oldest building, the one with creaking pipes and flickering lights, the one no one else wanted.

Luckily for him, it was around the cheapest ones too, so he tried to redact a very formal email asking specifically for that room. And maybe he didn’t have the worst of the luck, because they agreed for him to choose that room in exchange for one of Yuta’s autographs.

Yushi grinned, took out a piece of paper and signed like his brother always did, with a winky smiley face on the left of it, and saved it in a folder. Done deal.

Next thing, waiting.

Anxiously waiting to know who his roommate was going to be. And he didn’t know for a long time. He moved a month earlier, so as he expected, the dorm was empty, almost like an abandoned building, and Yushi felt comfort in that. He felt comfort in walking down some floors, switching to the elevator playfully to the ground floor to do some laundry, ordering some food through an app, and waiting to be delivered at his door, looking through the peephole until the delivery guy was already getting back to the elevator. It was relaxing, grounding. He was just getting used to it. He opened his big abura soba bowl and grabbed his favorite chopsticks and his phone, ready to binge on some anime, but he received a call from his brother.

“Hey Yushi,” he heard him talk steadily through the line, feeling warm because of his familiar Japanese accent, “How you doin’? Dad and Mom told me you moved to the dorms earlier. Everything okay?”

“Hmm,” Yushi hummed, nodding his head.

“Nice, it’s nice to hear from you. Listen, I think I will be in Tokyo by the end of next month for some collaboration and a fan sign, do you want to meet? I think I will only be there for like three days or so, but still, if you wanted to”

“Hm,” Yushi answered, and his brother knew

“Nice. I’ll let you dinner then, sleep tight, Yushi.”

“Bye,” Yushi whispered and waited for his brother to hang up.

Yushi loved how great he could communicate with his brother, without words, but with a language that they built over so many years. No one could get him like Yuta did.

The next morning, he got up by the sound of a door slamming right next to him, and as he woke up confused, he looked around only to understand the situation. His solitude was shattered.

A boy entered like a hurricane, suitcases tumbling, backpack nearly toppling him over, a whirlwind of energy and noise. Yushi might have laughed if not for the way the boys’ eyes locked onto his the second he realized he’d woken him.

Oh.

The boy rushed forward, hands fluttering in apology. "I am so, so sorry! I thought the room would be empty. Hi, I’m Riku, Maeda Riku."

Yushi hesitated, then reached out, gripping Riku’s hand in a slow, tentative shake. Like he wanted to find something in that grip, to get to know his whole life behind it, but he just shook it, and his own voice was barely a whisper. "Yushi."

“Nice to meet you, Yushi! Hope I didn’t bother you too much, you can keep on sleeping or something while I get to know the campus a little.” He said while gesturing, trying to shush Yushi back to sleep like a magic trick, “I can be back in a couple of hours.”

But Yushi quickly nodded, not wanting to be an inconvenience already for someone he didn’t even know.

“Really I don’t mind, in fact I need to be at one of my departments office in like… fuck, five minutes. Sorry to leave this like this,” Riku continued, pointing at the mess he just made in their room. “I'll be back and unpack properly.”

Yushi saw Riku picking up a couple of things from his backpack and getting them into his see-through tote bag. “We can grab lunch later if you want,” he said hurriedly, running to the door and turning to see Yushi.

Yushi nodded. Not because he knew how to say yes, but because he didn’t know how to say no, not to that smile, not to the way Riku looked at him like his answer mattered. He knew he had to try to bond with him because they were going to live together for fucks sake.

So he nodded, and Riku? He beamed like Yushi had just handed him the world.

Yushi never went back to sleep that morning and waited for Riku to come back, and to have lunch together.

That was how it started.

With a slammed door, a mess of suitcases, and a boy who didn’t just see Yushi, he understood him.

He started studying architecture at the University of Tokyo, and Riku started psychology, and they both spent their first year together, really together. Riku, loud and bright and tactile, who hugged without warning and slung an arm around Yushi’s shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world. Yushi, who flinched at first, then slowly, so slowly, leaned into it. They fell into rhythm like two puzzle pieces clicking together.

Riku learned the meaning behind Yushi’s hums, his glances, and the way his fingers tapped when he was thinking. Yushi learned the weight of Riku’s hand on his shoulder, I’m here, the way his laughter filled the silence between them, warm and unafraid.

And then, one evening, Riku flopped onto Yushi’s bed, eyes sparkling. “Let’s go to Seoul.”

Yushi blinked. Gasping. Dizzy.

“A year abroad.” Riku continued, slowly, “You’ve been teaching me Korean, right? And you know Seoul. Come on, it’ll be fun!”

Yushi hesitated. Seoul was his parents’ half city, his brother’s half city, his own half city, a place where he had always been half-invisible. But Riku was looking at him like this time, it would be different.

So Yushi also nodded at that, because he would go with Riku to the moon and back, knowing he would always have his back. And his parents were going to be very proud of him, too. Maybe it could help Yushi to keep on growing. To keep on understanding himself.

He couldn’t speak to people in either of the cities; he had been trying for years, so it wasn’t any more bothersome than it already was, right? Maybe it was nonchalance, maybe it was defeat, or maybe it was because of Riku’s hopeful gaze, but he nodded. So they applied, and they got in, and they celebrated like crazy: Riku yelling through the half-empty hall, running back and forth with the email opened on his half-broken phone, and Yushi smiling, running softly behind him, looking at the very same email with teary eyes.

They started to work like a tandem, a very great, oiled and comfortable tandem. Riku went to all the meetings, writing down everything, calling everyone who could solve the slightest question they both came across when discussing it. And Yushi wrote endless emails, sorted out the scholarships, the accommodation, everything that didn’t require actual one-on-one conversations. And when they crossed the door of the new room, in Seoul, they looked at each other like they had already won in life.

The city Yushi had always known in quiet fragments suddenly felt alive, brighter, louder, warmer. They raced through streets, Riku chattering in broken-to-average Korean to shopkeepers while Yushi hovered behind him, smiling at the way Riku’s enthusiasm made even the sternest locals soften.

They ate street food under extremely bright neon signs, Riku stealing bites from Yushi’s plate because "Yours always tastes better", and Yushi let him, because the way Riku grinned after was worth it.

It was the first time Seoul felt this alive, and Yushi couldn’t shake the feeling that it was because of Riku. He didn’t tell him, but he looked at him with everything he had, and Riku acknowledged it silently, patting his head and nodding silently. Quiet but not absent, and Riku knew.

The last Friday before starting classes, Yushi received an email telling him he was going to have one student assigned to help him in classes, translating for him and assisting with whatever he needed to get used to the new university as fast as possible. He read the name of the student.

Oh Sion.

His throat became dry, his chest tight, and his hands clammy. He showed the phone to Riku as both of them were just lying on the floor, having some silent time with each other.

“Got one too. Guess it’s standard for foreign students.”

Yushi stood up, confused, furrowing his eyebrows.

“I don’t know Yushi, I didn’t make up that rule. I’m sure it’s not going to be that bad, okay? Think of it as a mere translator, for the really specific shit that you can’t even understand in Japanese”

Riku said that last thing, laughing between his lips, and Yushi smacked his leg.

“But I’m being serious!” Riku quickly said, getting up, grabbing his now red thigh, “I don’t think that… Sion,” he finally said after squinting his eyes too to read the name on the haunting email, “it’s going to bother you too much. You guys are almost finishing your degrees, I think both of you have more important things to do than to bond in between structural classifications and kinds of wood pathologies or whatever the fuck is that you do in Construction 101”

Yushi just let out a soft sigh, trying to breathe away his worries.

Riku laughed, rubbing his thigh, but his voice softened. "Seriously. It’s not a big deal. Sion’s just there to help. And if they’re annoying? I’ll handle it."

But the reality was that he couldn’t handle it, at least not the suffocation he felt. He couldn’t wash them away as if it were some kind of dirt being erased as soon as you showered. It wasn’t like a tangled hair that went away as soon as you brushed your hair softly. It was the kind of thought that stuck with him during the whole day, until the same minute that he fell asleep.

When he woke up, it wasn’t like he was nervous; he never felt exactly like that. It always had a twist, sometimes it was sadness, sometimes it was suffocation, like yesterday. That day was apathy. It was the flatline before the fall, a quiet disengagement his body chose like a shield. No excitement, no hope. Just the numbing buzz of a day already decided, the usual feeling that came along when he was going to try new things, as if his body was ready to shut down every second without getting hurt, even if he knew it was a lie.

So, as he was preparing his things, he could feel Riku’s eyes on his neck. When he finished his backpack, he revised his email on his phone one last second, and turned, seeing Riku exactly how he thought so: hands on his hips, biting his lips worriedly.

“You don’t look too excited,” He muttered, getting close to him

“I’m not,” he whispered, almost without realizing

“Let’s do something, look at me,” Riku said quickly, as if it was something he had already prepared. “First of all, give it a try, let’s not just manifest bad vibes, okay?” Riku shook Yushi’s shoulders, as if he was letting go of some unspoken weight. “Second of all, if you want, you can text me whenever you feel like the day isn’t going too good, okay? And later we can talk about it. And if it’s too bad, call me, first days are not really decisive for our big brains, so let’s go, let’s go get them.”

Yushi looked at him dead serious, trying to comprehend whatever words he was saying, catching up some of them but not being able to pair them together. He gulped hard and went out of the dorm, not even waiting for Riku because he knew it was going to make it worse. He was hyperaware of everything and everyone that surrounded him: halls felt narrower, people's gazes felt scarier, judgier. He felt out of breath as soon as he entered the university building, gripping hard his backpack handles over his shoulders. It was kind of early, almost half an hour, but the class was open. He checked his perfectly tailored schedule and, while confirming it was indeed the right class, he came in, sitting directly at the last seat, the closest chair to the wall.

Before he could unlock his phone to check the email again, the door opened, and a boy entered.

He was tall, but not too much. He had light hair, but it wasn’t a simple color. It wasn’t quite white, or silver blonde, it also had some hints of deep ash, his bangs framing his brown eyes perfectly. He had a thin face, but a sharp jawline and defined nose bridge.

It was weird, like magic weird. A wave of déjà vu ran through his spine, opening his eyes widely to focus his vision. In his head, he found himself like two years ago, surrounded by the slight panic that he felt when Riku slammed their dorm door the first time they met, followed by that strange calm before the storm. He saw this boy’s lips moving, looking at him, but he didn’t hear. Maybe he was far away, or maybe he was petrified.

The boy came closer, slowly, and asked again, and this time Yushi listened.

“Are you Taker- Tokuno Yushi?” the boy said in a broken Japanese, startling Yushi to the core.

How did he know?

“Sorry, I just, I don’t know-”

“Yes, it’s me,” he explained so softly, but the boy listened carefully, letting out a breath as soon as he heard those words.

“Oh, okay, oh… It was just because I didn’t recognize you and… well, you look… well, okay, hello! My name is Sion, Oh Sion.”

Yushi nodded, and when Sion extended his hand, he quickly stood up, bowing and shaking his hand too. Were they both shaking?

“I’m your assistant for the… uhm… the foreign student thing… for translating.” Sion ran his shaky fingers through his fringe, wetting his lips with his tongue, like looking for something. “Uhm, so, sorry for my Japanese.”

Yushi shook his head slightly, wanting to say something.

God, please say something, Yushi. Say something now you dumbass.

“It’s okay if… I sit… there?” Sion said with an awkward smile on his face, pointing next to Yushi

He nodded in a shy response because he would rather have had him sitting by his side than some random person, so he moved the chair slightly to let Sion sit comfortably.

“Thank you very much,” he said, bowing as he was sitting there

It was kind of comical, how they were both sitting on the last row of an empty class, almost like they were at a theater, expecting something mind-blowing to happen.

“So this is also your third year… study architecture?” Sion asked, and Yushi nodded, “Oh, nice, me too.”

Minutes passed, and Yushi felt how the air became denser. With thoughts, with sighs, with the rustling of the notebooks Sion was taking out of his backpack, with the aggressive fingertips Yushi was pressing against the half-empty table.

“Where are you from?”

“Japan,” Yushi said

“Oh yes, okay, but like… city?”

“Tokyo,” he said again.

“Oh! Cool!” Sion said, genuinely excited, “I’ve never been to… Tokyo… or Japan… But… best friend… Japanese. Shotaro” Yushi nodded, trying to remember the name. “He taught me Japanese… but it’s bad,” he let out with a soft chuckle.

“It’s fine.”

Yushi lied. He blatantly lied. It wasn’t only that his Korean was way better than his Japanese (maybe because he had learnt it by actually living in Korea rather than having a college boy explaining to him), but also because Sion spoke Japanese so badly, it was almost cute. Almost.

Before Yushi could blame himself for the fifth time in minutes for not being able to continue the conversation, or Sion trying to ask him something else desperately, so the silence in the room wasn't suffocating, students started to enter the class.

People didn’t look at Yushi twice, all of them sitting in chairs across different rows of the now half-full class, until one of them turned around and approached him politely.

“Are you Tokuno Yuta’s brother?”

Before he could even answer, Sion turned as quick as lightning. “He asked if… Tokuno Yuta? Is your brother”

Did Sion thought he couldn’t speak shit of Korean. Was that what was happening?

Yushi tried his luck and nodded softly towards Sion, and he looked so proud when Yushi let him know, turning to the student who came asking, “Yes, he is.” He answered in Korean.

The shift Sion made in his tone when changing into Korean almost made Yushi flinch. Not only did he sound more confident, but his tone went slightly deeper, like he actually meant everything he was saying.

“Oh dude, that’s so cool… Could you get me an autograph?”

Yushi didn’t have to raise his head before Sion was talking again. “Come on, Minseok, it’s his first day, give him a break.”

Not only did Sion speak his mind out loud without a hint of doubt, but he did it so friendly, so down-to-earth. Yushi thought it was admirable to get into translating for someone when you barely knew the language, and he wanted to know why Sion did it.

He reminded Riku’s words that same morning, so he quickly texted him as the class filled with people.

 

yushi

sion doesn’t really speak japanese

just like you speak korean

 

riku

holy fuck

and why did they pick him to translate for you?

 

yushi

exactly my thoughts

 

riku

well don’t be a victim, you know korean you dumbass

i hope my assistant student actually knows japanese

 

yushi

i hope

teacher is coming in

ttyl

 

Yushi locked his phone, quickly getting it in his backpack, and as he looked over to Sion, he was slightly turned around, googling “Tokuno Yuta”, clicking directly into images. Not only that, but he opened the first one and zoomed in on his face, and later on the football shirt. Sion shook his head, locking his phone too. Maybe Sion didn’t know who his brother was, but Yushi couldn’t care less in that moment, because it wasn’t like he could explain it to him, so he just let it slide, concentrating on the introduction the teacher was already doing.

And against all odds, Sion started to translate, slowly but steadily, every single word. Sometimes he mixed plural and singular, completely messing up the verbs and stuttering once every sentence. But he didn’t seem uncomfortable; it was like he was looking through everything with a hint of spark, like he wanted to know everything.

“Like I said at the beginning of the class, these are my consultation hours, and this is my email. Please only contact me if it’s something urgent; if not, we can discuss it next class.”

“He said,” Sion started translating as soon as the teacher was done. “That… uhm… Those are consulting hours… and this is email,” he said, pointing at the screen and his notes. “It’s important you write it down.”

“Uhm,” Yushi nodded, writing it down immediately.

As soon as the teacher was finished and people started leaving for the next class, he came over to Sion and Yushi, tons of folders in his hands and a briefcase that looked way too heavy to be carrying with one hand only.

“So I guess you guys are foreign students? May I ask you where you guys are from?”

“Hi, sir,” Sion said quickly, bowing to him. “My name is Oh Sion, and he is Tokuno Yushi. This is my third year at this university, but he is a new student from Tokyo.”

“And could you let me know why you were constantly talking in my class?”

“I'm sorry, sir, I was just translating for him; he’s Japanese.”

“You already told me that,” he said quickly to Sion, turning to Yushi immediately. “So you don't know Korean?” he asked, with a soft laugh and a hint of desperation.

Yushi froze.

Of course, he knew Korean.

The words sat heavy on his tongue, sharp and ready.

Yes, I understand. I don’t need a translator. He wanted to say those words so bad.

But the moment stretched, thin and suffocating, and his throat closed around the unanswered question, lingering in the air, threatening to take the air out of Yushi’s lungs in a violent shake. The teacher’s expectant stare, Sion’s quiet presence beside him, and the weight of his own silence all pressed down until his lungs burned with the effort of breathing.

Say something.

But he couldn’t.

It wasn’t just the fear of speaking, of stumbling over syllables in front of strangers. It was the way Sion had stepped in without hesitation, how he’d fumbled through translations all morning like it mattered. Like Yushi mattered. And now, to admit he’d understood everything, to render Sion’s efforts pointless, felt like betrayal.  The imaginary wall in his head was tall, thicker, unreachable, and he didn’t know what to do. He wanted to at least nod, to say something, to hum something in a faint agreement, but he didn’t.

“He doesn’t.” Sion broke the agonizing pause. “But don’t worry, sir, I will help him during his classes, we will try not to be a burden.”

Guilt twisted in Yushi’s chest. He should correct him. He should. But the teacher was already nodding, already moving on, and the moment slipped away like sand through his fingers.

“Whatever works for you two.”

Yushi felt bad.

He felt awful, understanding everything that was happening in front of his eyes, but how could he say now he understood it? After Sion had spoken for him, had defended him?

When the teacher was already out of the class, Yushi risked a glance at Sion. His translator, his unnecessary translator, was packing his things with the same quiet determination he’d shown all class. Something was unsettling about it. Sion wasn’t just going through the motions; he was trying. Bad Japanese, awkward pauses, and all.

And Yushi had let him.

The realization settled like a stone in his gut. He’d been so wrapped up in his own dread that he hadn’t considered how Sion must have felt, thrown into a role he wasn’t prepared for, scrambling to bridge a gap that didn’t even exist.

Why is he doing this?

Was it an obligation? A favor for the university? Or was it just… him?

“Could I see… uhm… timetable?” Sion said as soon as he stood up, grabbing his backpack

“Schedule?” Yushi suggested, so low he thought he was going to have to say it again

“Oh! Yes! Schedule!”

Yushi nodded, and unlocked his phone to show Sion his classes, already sorted in an Excel spreadsheet, sorted by afternoon ones, morning ones, English ones....

“Uhm… Okay… I have the same classes, almost,” Sion explained, as a conclusion to his quick study, sitting again in the chair. “Except… On Wednesday, I have an Urbanism project…  and you have lesson.”

Yushi looked at him with a hint of confusion, wanting to know more.

“If you want, I can change it,” Yushi heard him say, and shook his head softly, not wanting to cause any more trouble. “It’s okay, I wanted this but… no space in class… I will say, teacher, I am translating”

Yushi smiled, covering his face. Sion's Japanese was getting worse by the minute. How was that possible? He didn’t want to offend the other, so he tried to get serious, and looked at him, but Sion was smiling too, almost threatening to let out a hard laugh.

“I… We need to go to… Building Physics”

Yushi nodded and quickly finished packing his things. He followed Sion to the next class, and Sion translated for him, and the same again in Heritage Protection, and lastly in Geotechnology. Yushi wasn’t used to that kind of persistence.

 

And, for some reason, Sion was actually kind of helpful in the last hours, where Yushi was already a bit overwhelmed, and he wanted to thank him for the day, but Sion quickly said goodbye, saying something about some meeting he had with a friend, so they just went their separate ways at the entrance of the building. Yushi was feeling so hungry as he forgot to have breakfast that morning, between classes, and understanding Sion’s sayings, so he texted Riku again.

 

yushi

just got out

want to grab lunch?

 

riku

i cant

mondays are deadly for me

i think ill have an early dinner as soon as i get to the dorm

you okay tho?

 

yushi

yeah

it wasn’t that bad

gonna have lunch at the room then

see u

 

Yushi got his AirPods and blasted some EXO’s old songs, locking them after and going directly to the cafeteria. Ordering food wasn’t too bad if you were listening to Cloud 9. He quickly got a menu and took it to his room, already unwinding as he was changing clothes.

By the third day, Yushi had once again perfected the art of invisibility.

He moved through the halls like a ghost, shoulders hunched, eyes fixed on the floor. If he didn’t look at anyone, they wouldn’t look at him. If he didn’t speak, no one would expect him to. It was a fragile system, but it worked, mostly. He had already learnt the campus layout, especially his building, and he tried to feel familiar with the noise, with the soft twitching of the lights, with the strong smell of coffee all around the air, with loud laughs and gentle touches between people he knew he wasn’t going to get to know. It was okay with him; he was doing okay.

Except in class.

Architecture lectures were crowded, desks packed tight, and every time someone brushed past him, Yushi’s breath hitched. Their elbows bumped his notes. Their backpacks knocked against his chair. Their voices, loud, effortless, normal, drowned out his thoughts until all he could hear was the rush of his own pulse.

Too close. Too much.

He gripped the edge of his desk, nails digging into the cheap plastic. The air felt thick, syrupy, like he was breathing through wet cloth.

“Hey.”

A voice, low and familiar.

Sion.

It was always him who got him out of his self-imposed trance of being in class too early for his own good, too caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t even realize the class had started.

He slid into the seat beside Yushi, his usual spot now, and dropped a couple of dusty notebooks into his desk. When Yushi didn’t move, Sion nudged it closer.

“Notes,” he whispered in broken Japanese. “From last year, Civil Engineering two. It’s less important than today’s Civil Engineering three, but… I have been… translating them… For you”

Yushi blinked. He couldn’t believe it.

Slowly, he unfolded the paper. Sion’s handwriting was messy but precise, a mix of Korean and clumsy Japanese translations in the margins. He’d even drawn little arrows pointing to key terms, like he’d tried to make it easier. They had some cat drawings, flower ones, even some different handwriting, like he had been translating that with someone. It was surely the guy who taught Sion Japanese, he could already tell by his handwriting and shortened words.

Yushi’s chest tightened.

He glanced at Sion, who was already flipping through his own notebook, brow furrowed in concentration. There was a smudge of ink on his cheek, probably from where he’d rubbed his face absently mid-thought.

Sion was hard to read whenever he wasn’t meeting his gaze, and Yushi was thankful for that; he really didn’t want to know what Sion thought about him. But the notes in his hand ached, burned. He saved them in his backpack, storing them between his legs during class, not risking them getting lost.

The first assignment came on Friday, a preliminary design draft for their Architectural Design of Service Facilities class.

Yushi had spent hours on it the day before, sketching and erasing until his fingers ached and his head felt like boiling, every single thought vaporizing through his ears. He’d always been good at this, at losing himself in lines and angles, where the only voice that mattered was the one in his head. It was the usual first week creative block, as he hadn’t had time to read or research anything this summer, he felt he was out of shape, but he ended up with some design for a small library, and he was confident when he submitted it online.

But the next morning, the professor started opening random submissions on the screen, and people stood up to explain their designs for a couple of minutes, receiving rather harsh feedback from the teacher and a couple of classmates. Yushi didn’t say a word about his classmates’ work, even though he thought they were pretty lacking in a lot of aspects, it was only the first week.

But suddenly, the professor called his name to present, and Yushi’s stomach dropped.

No. No.

He shrank back in his seat, praying the professor’s gaze would slide right over him.

It didn’t.

“Tokuno Yushi.” He said again, ready to get his name on the absent list.

The room went quiet.

Yushi’s throat closed. His hands trembled against his drafting paper. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t.

Then, a rustle beside him.

Sion stood.

“Ah, Professor,” he said in Korean, voice steady. “Yushi’s still adjusting to the language. Can I present his work for him?”

The professor hesitated, then nodded.

Yushi exhaled, shaky.

Sion took his draft without waiting for permission, and while he studied for a long minute, before speaking again, Yushi felt like fainting. He had submitted a clearer version, but the one Sion was holding was full of messy lines, hundreds of keywords in such messy and sleepy handwriting that Yushi wasn’t sure he could read them, even if he was the one who wrote them just twelve hours ago.

“His concept focuses on natural light diffusion in high-rises,” he explained, pointing at one corner of the big screen. “The staggered balconies here reduce shadow overlap, and…”

He stumbled over a word, a thought, and frowned, switching to Japanese, glancing at Yushi.

“You wanted… open plan? With concrete?”

Yushi nodded before he could stop himself. He wasn’t sure if he was asking because he couldn’t understand the messy coloring on the walls or because it was absurd to make that design with concrete.

“Concrete open plan, for better space reading and better concept understanding, highlighting the double height,” Sion continued in Korean, triumphant, proud.

The professor looked impressed. The class murmured.

“Great job, I would add some wood panels to bigger openings if the windows are south oriented, and it would be better to make it a symmetrical section so we can understand it as a whole.”

Yushi stared at Sion, something warm and unfamiliar unfurling in his chest. Not only did the teacher like the project, but people didn’t criticize it either. Sion quickly sat again next to him and translated what he said. Only then did Yushi write it down. He realized Sion smiled every time Yushi wrote down something he said, so he waited for him to translate so write it down.

That afternoon, Riku kicked Yushi’s chair slightly after he told him about that morning’s events.

“You’re smiling.”

Yushi startled, pressing his lips together. “No, I’m not.”

“You were.” Riku leaned in, grinning. “How does it feel to best the best student in class even though it’s your first week at this university? Must be a familiar feeling…”

Yushi shoved him away, but his ears burned. It was well known in their previous university that Yushi’s grades were the best, only getting points reduced from the final grade because of his poor participation in classes, but overall, everyone knew Yushi was smart, really smart. And it felt good to have it acknowledged by people, and if those people were Riku, it felt even better.

Riku laughed. “You know you are”

“Shut up.”

“You are.”

“You don’t-” Yushi fumbled for words, then gave up, slumping over his desk.

Riku’s grin softened. “Hey. It’s okay. I’m so proud.”

Yushi didn’t answer. His lack of words, of responses, of attempts at communicating… they never felt suffocating with Riku.

“Want sushi for dinner? Jaemin recommended me a great place just about 10 minutes”

Yushi rolled his eyes. Na Jaemin was Riku’s translator, and he actually knew Japanese because he spent so many years in Osaka when he was a child, so he knew what was up. He gave so many recommendations to Riku over the first week, about food, about museums, and he even recommended him to enroll in some kind of student group for Japanese students. Yushi hated the idea so they blacklisted it as soon as Riku brought it up, but he couldn’t say no to some sushi.

“I want to eat here,” Yushi whispered, crossing his legs in his chair

“Okay, but then you pay.”

Yushi nodded eagerly.

Eating sushi with Riku in their room was probably going to be the highlight of the week, so he smiled as the excitement crept over his face.

By the time the food came, Riku and Yushi sat on the dusty floor, chopsticks in hand, music playing softly in Riku’s computer, and he let himself breathe. The world hadn’t changed; people still talked too loudly, classes still buzzed with too much energy, and he still didn’t speak much. But something was different. And maybe that was enough for now.

Not a breakthrough, not a transformation, just… a beginning. A first week that didn’t leave him smaller than before.

Notes:

sooo yushi's pov! so i will be switching sion's and yushi's pov... next chapter is sion!

hope you liked yushi's lore, his relationship with yuta and riku! a lot of things have to unfold yet... and i want it to be as realistic as possible so ig there is going to be a little of... slowburn...

thank u for the bookmarks, comments and kudos! they are always super helpful and kind! hope yall have a great week! (also yushi and sakuya's new hair got me lowkey tweaking like... yushi looks soo good but also like a cute old man lmao and saku looks soooooo cute)

Chapter 3: since when has music at parties been so loud?

Summary:

“So, today it’s going to be your very first payment,” Shotaro said, showing Sion some Instagram story. “Jaemin is throwing a party at his house.”

Notes:

double update this week...these chapters just aren’t worth making you wait a whole week lmao

The water hit Sion’s back like a punishment.

Not hot enough to burn away the fatigue, not cold enough to shock him awake, just there, lukewarm and useless, like everything else this week. But it had a hint of pain, like those droplets weren’t made out of water only, but tiny needles, wanting to take the worst out of him.

Sion felt drained to his core.

He braced his hands against the shower tiles, letting his head hang between his shoulders. Five days. Five fucking days. And yet it felt like he’d been dragged through an entire semester, back and forth. New classes, new professors, the gym routine he’d promised himself he’d stick to this year, the mountain of small assignments already piling up, and, of course, Yushi. The light-brown-almost-orange haired Japanese boy.

Who the fuck moves to another country without learning the language?

The thought was uncharitable, and he knew it. But exhaustion made him bitter. Korean wasn’t some optional elective; it was the fucking baseline. Half the classes were in English, sure, but the other half? The critiques, group discussions, consultations, and exams? Yushi might as well have been deaf for all he understood.

And yet… Sion squeezed his eyes shut.

That library design.

Yushi’s draft had been perfect, not only for his liking but for the professor too, which was what mattered. Sleek, modern, all sharp angles and soft light, the kind of thing Sion would’ve spent countless weeks agonizing over. And Yushi had just… drawn it. Like it was nothing. Like it was some sort of quick sketch on a dirty napkin… Like breathing. Meanwhile, Sion’s own submission, a half-baked floor plan for a public school, scribbled in a sleep-deprived haze, had been embarrassing in comparison. He’d stood there in front of the class, explaining Yushi’s work as if it were his own, and the worst part?

Yushi hadn’t even seemed to mind. Just a nod. A quiet hum of approval. Like he was used to do breathtaking drawings like that every single day. Like Sion was doing him some grand favor instead of stealing credit for a masterpiece.

Why won’t he just talk to me?

It wasn’t like Sion expected gratitude. But maybe something. A word. A sentence. Anything beyond those infuriatingly polite nods. He’d spent hours translating notes with Shotaro, sacrificed unwinding Netflix sessions with Jisung to Japanese podcasts, showed up early to every damn class just to prep Yushi, and for what? Seven words in five days. Seven.

Japan. Tokyo. It’s fine. Schedule. Yes. No.

That was it. That was all he knew.

He couldn’t even remember his voice; only whispers came out of him when answering. Was his Japanese so bad that he couldn’t understand it? Was Yushi so full of himself that he thought he didn’t need Sion?

Sion dragged his hands down his face, water making its way between his fingers. His body ached in ways that had nothing to do with the gym. He let his palms drift lower, over his neck, his chest, his hips, seeking some fleeting relief, some distraction from the static in his head. He closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on the slow friction, but his thoughts were relentless.

Did you write down the books Professor Jeon told you?

Weren’t you supposed to do groceries for that weekend?

Was Jisung okay after the Jiwoo thing?

He quickly switched the water to the coldest temperature, snapping out of everything, his hot thoughts and his suffocating ones. Today wasn’t a good morning.

He went out of the bathroom as soon as he was finished, towel around his hips and messy hair.

“Your dye is fading out,” Daeyoung said from his desktop, already working on an essay. “Want me to get more today? I need to go grocery shopping.”

“Oh, was it your week today?”

“I think so, but still, I want to go, I need to get a couple of things. I also need to go out to record a couple of things.” He said, sighing already.

“Want me to go with you? I could use some fresh air,” Sion admitted, getting on some baggy jeans and a sleeveless top.

“Yeah! Want to be my model? I need to record someone crossing the street and sitting on a couple of surfaces. I have them written down already.”

“Yeah, but I think your professors are going to be tired of me being the main character of all your videoclips.”

“They are not videoclips, you stupid idiot,” Daeyoung said, already getting ready to go out, searching for some socks in his drawers. “Want to get Wonbin? I think he wanted to grab coffee today.”

“Gonna call him, can't rely on him replying soon enough”

Daeyoung nodded, and Sion called Wonbin, and luckily for them, he answered. Shotaro joined their little grocery run, Daeyoung recorded different scenes of mundane actions, and once they were in their room, Shotaro and Wonbin splattered across his bed. Daeyoung stored the groceries in the small fridge, and he started folding some laundry.

“So, today it’s going to be your very first payment,” Shotaro said, showing Sion some Instagram story. “Jaemin is throwing a party at his house.”

“Oh really!” Wonbin snatched Shotaro’s phone out of his hand, checking the information “Jaemin always brings the best people to his parties…”

“And I do need to go right?” Sion asked, turning around again to fold more underwear

“Yes, baby,” Shotaro said in Japanese, switching into Korean right away, “Who should we invite?”

“First of all, it’s not your house,” Daeyoung said, closing the fridge door once he was done. “Second of all, you are the one who knows people besides… us”

“What about your classmates?” Wonbin pitched in

“Too indie for their good,” Daeyoung said, sitting in his bed, across Sion’s. “Jisungie can’t come?”

“He has an exam next week already,” Shotaro explained

“Really?” Sion asked, getting through the second pile of clothes

“Uhmm,” Shotaro nodded

Sion’s brain bugged at the nod, thinking instantly about Yushi. Should he ask them? Was he being sensitive about it?

“So only us,” Wonbin said, sighing

“You mean it like it’s a bad thing?” Daeyoung complained

“I wouldn’t mind opening our friendship circle… to like.. girls,” Wonbin said

“Can’t” Sion said quickly “Shotaro would flirt with half of them and then fuck half of that half”

“So like a quarter,” Wonbin said, Sion nodding along

“Don’t make it sound like that you crazy fuck” Shotaro whined “They would ask me… and even if we befriended more guys, Sion would fuck half of them too so I don’t know why you pointing fingers so carelessly”

“Hey, no fighting in my room,” Daeyoung said quickly, standing up. “Are we driving? Should we Uber?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll have Sungchan pick us up; he’s coming too.”

“Oh nice, remind me to grab his sunglasses, I forgot to return them last time,” Sion said to Daeyoung, the second one just giving a thumbs up.

Morning stretched like gum, sticking to the room walls. Sion tried to focus on his assignments. He focused on simply making some plans for his Civil Engineering class, feeling a bit frustrated because he had a couple of complicated parameters to follow, especially the whole insulation and masonry things, but he still pulled it through.

Daeyoung prepared some kimchi rice and fried chicken to have lunch, and they both bonded over some of the food they were having, like they always did. In the afternoon, they both went to play some indoor basketball; Daeyoung wanted to exercise a bit, and Sion wanted to relax, not thinking about the dreadful week, and the hunting next one.

By the time they were too exhausted to keep on, it was almost time to go, so they rushed the fuck up to their dorm, took quick turns to shower and dressed up in record time.

Sion was the kind of guy who didn’t dress up too much to go to parties, just selecting crucial pieces, like his fitted crop tops and fake glasses. As he looked in the mirror, seeing the oversized jacket on him and the big black cargo pants, he realized his dye was in fact fading, and he was going to ask Jisung to dye his hair again. He didn’t have the time, will, or money to go to a hair salon.

Daeyoung dressed up slightly more, styling his hair subtly, a white long-sleeved shirt under an oversized one, formal jeans, and some sleek white sneakers, too white for a frat party, but he wasn’t going to remind him again; he knew what he was getting into.

As expected, Sungchan picked them up exactly at ten p.m., and as soon as he sat in the backseat with Wonbin and Daeyoung, he realized two things. The first one, he forgot the sunglasses. The second one he realized as he heard his stomach growl, as neither he nor his roommate had had dinner. Knowing Jaemin, he would probably offer something, but it was kind of late, so there wasn’t going to be much left. He confirmed that the second they entered Jaemin’s house.

Jaemin was a psychology student, famous for being in the university band, along with his boyfriend Jeno, their mutual friend Jisung, a couple of Chinese guys, a Canadian one, and Donghyuck. They weren’t famous, but people at UOS knew who they were, and they threw great parties too.

The bass thrummed through the floorboards like a second heartbeat, rattling the half-empty cups scattered across every surface available. Sion leaned against the wall, letting the vibrations travel up his spine as he took in the scene, bodies packed tight, laughter too loud to distinguish, the sticky-sweet scent of spilled soju and cheap beer clinging to the air. Jaemin’s house was the kind of place that felt lived-in in the best way, walls plastered with band posters, a well-worn couch that had seen one too many parties, fairy lights tangled haphazardly around the stair railing, casting a warm, hazy glow over everything.

Every corner was packed with people, but not crowded enough that they couldn’t get past the entrance. There were people from their university, and some people Sion caught wearing another university uniform. He didn’t know everyone, but he said hi to whoever he bumped on his way to the kitchen, which, for some reason, was pretty much empty.

Shotaro quickly assorted plastic cups and five kinds of alcohol bottles on the counter, acting like a real bartender. Sion looked constantly through the window and the door to check the maximum number of people he could, but he only recognized Yujin from his class, and Jaeseok from a trip they did together a while ago.

His friends didn’t seem to know many more people than him, because as soon as they stepped out of the kitchen, Shotaro, Wonbin, and Sungchan spread through the floor like dust, dinging their places right next to someone they either knew or wanted to know.

Daeyoung went outside to greet to a couple of girls who called him over, and Sion just went to the basement. He knew the vibe there was going to be chiller, so he secured himself a spot on the couch and greeted everyone he half recognized. He took another sip of his drink, the burn of the liquor settling low in his stomach. The kitchen had been a brief reprieve, Shotaro playing bartender with an almost comical seriousness, the sharp citrus of freshly cut limes cutting through the alcohol-heavy air, but the basement was where the real energy pulsed.

Down here, the music was louder, the crowd looser. Jeno and Donghyuck were mid-argument with Renjun and Chenle, voices rising over the groovy beat, hands flying in exaggerated gestures. Sion watched, amused, as Mark swooped in like some kind of mediator-messiah, shoving shot glasses into their hands with a grin. 

Sion joined the round and took two because of some sort of punishment he couldn’t remember. He went upstairs again, bumping into Wonbin, who switched his drink. After the third hour at the party, he could say he was drunk. Not wasted, no, especially because he went out to have some fresh air and people outside the house weren’t drinking that much, so he slowed down his sipping game, but he was dizzy, hot, and aware. Too self-aware.

“Do you think I’m boring?” he said to a boy he was sharing a bench with

“Dude, I don’t even know you,” the boy answered drunkenly, too

“But would you say it?” Sion stood up, stumbling over nothing, standing in front of the guy, making some sort of awkward pose. “Would you say that I look boring?”

“Not really? I don’t know dude”

Sion couldn’t accept such an ambiguous answer, so he went inside and asked the first person he could recognize.

“Shotaro, do you think I’m boring?”

“Pretty fucking much” Shotaro said in Japanese

“I’m talking seriously,” Sion pouted

“No, you are not, you are asking silly questions, so I will answer you with silly responses.”

Sion shook his head, not quite understanding his friend. He stopped drinking a while ago, so he wasn’t getting any drunker, but he needed to go piss so bad if he wanted to feel lighter. He went to the upstairs bathrooms, knowing they were going to be emptier, and he grinned when he saw Daeyoung was also waiting in the queue. He was talking to a guy he didn’t recognize.

“Bro! Sion! Come over!” Daeyoung called for him as he finished climbing up the stairs. “Meet Riku, he’s a Japanese student too,” he said, pointing at the shorter guy next to him. “He knows Japanese.”

Sion could tell by the things Daeyoung was saying, and the things he was in fact saying, that he was drunk. “I do not, I’m learning.”

“Well, it’s a hard language,” Riku admitted

“He’s Jaemin assisted student, Jaemin is also translating like… the classes and notes… for him”

Sion thought Riku was a lucky guy because Jaemin knew Japanese for real. Unlike him. Poor Yushi. Maybe he could ask Riku for classes too? He didn’t want to even mention the fact that he also had someone assigned, in case Riku was going to ask him to speak Japanese… and he wasn’t in his right mind for doing it, not when sober, less when drunk.

Luckily for him, the door opened, and Riku excused himself, getting directly into it.

“Dude I’m like, so fucking dizzy” Sion said, resting his back against the hall wall.

“Do you need some water? I can go get you some,” Daeyoung said, placing a steady hand on his shoulder.

“Nah, it’s okay, I think I’ll go now and just go to the basement bathroom. Do you want to go home like in…” Sion looked at his watch, only fifteen minutes until it was three in the morning. “Fifteen minutes?”

“Don’t think so? I’m not too tired, so I think I will stay longer. You goin’ back now?”

“I think I'll go as soon as I'm done peeing half of the drinks I’ve had. See you tomorrow morning, I won't be waiting awake for you.”

Sion patted Daeyoung’s side, waving his hand. He did as promised, got some water, and went to the basement bathroom. The music was too loud now that he wasn’t that drunk, and he felt it when he got out of the house, the suburban silence coating his face. It was a cold night, considering it was the end of September, and he thanked himself for bringing a jacket. He decided to walk home until the alcohol wore off, even if it was going to be a rather painful walk without his AirPods. He had an impulse to text Jaehyun, so he did, knowing tomorrow he would probably forget about it.

 

sion

can I go next weekend to ur place

 

Jaehyun’s response came in less than five minutes, and Sion's mind wandered with curiosity about why his brother was awake. But considering it was a Saturday, and he didn’t work the next day, he concluded he was probably as drunk as he was.

 

jaehyun

yeah

want me to pick you up?

we can go out to have dinner

 

sion

yeah

sugar daddy core

will liv be there?

jaehyun

its her place so like… probably

don’t make me regret it

we should go to mokpo one weekend too

im sure they miss us

 

sion

i know

we can talk about it next weekend okay

 

jaehyun

okay

get home safe

i can see in findmy you are in the middle of nowhere

 

sion

dramatic much?

im just…

an hour away

 

jaehyun

text me when you get there

 

sion

okay

bye bye

 

Sion ended up ordering an Uber after not feeling his legs for almost ten minutes.

The next morning, Sion woke with a dull, throbbing haze in his skull, the remnants of last night clinging to him like a second skin. At first, his mind was blank, but the moment he shifted in bed, reality crashed down: his knees ached as if he’d been kneeling for hours, his lips were dry and split, his throat parched like he’d swallowed sand. His hair stuck to his forehead, greasy and stiff with sweat. He hadn’t bothered to shower before collapsing into bed, and now he regretted it.

The worst part? Daeyoung was already at his desk, headphones on, fingers flying across his keyboard, completely absorbed, so locked in that he didn’t realize Sion was awake. He threw a dirty sock at him, smirking when it landed perfectly in his lap, startling him so much he let out a soft gasp.

Daeyoung jolted, his breath hitching in a sharp gasp as he ripped off his headset. “Fuck Sion, one day you are going to give me a heart attack”

Sion smirked, but the expression felt brittle. He propped himself up against the thin headboard, wincing as the movement sent a fresh pulse of discomfort through his body. “How are you even up?” he grumbled, his voice rough. “When did you get back last night?”

Daeyoung blinked. “God, were you that drunk? I was already here when you stumbled in. I split a cab right after we said goodbye; my head started to hurt like hell.” He tilted his head, studying Sion. “You walked back, right?”

“Halfsies…” Sion said, raising his voice and teasing, placing his index finger in his lower lip, removing it quickly after the joke, “Who did you come with?”

“Riku and Wonbin”

“The Japanese guy? Does he go to UOS?”

“I told you, he’s Jaemin assisted assistant or whatever you guys call this secret organization.”

“Ohhh fuck I remember now” Sion said, slapping his head harder than he should have done “Was he nice? Sorry I couldn’t stay longer, I needed to get out.”

“It’s okay, next time you will be drinking as much as Jisung, just in case.” Daeyoung laughed softly, getting up from his desk and walking up to Sion, lying in his bed with him. “And yeah, Riku was nice. So so nice”

“You guys talked about something, or you were too busy getting down each other's throats?”

“Ewww, don’t be gross,” Doyoung said, attempting to tickle Sion’s feet. “We didn’t talk much; Wonbin was being a pain in the ass. But Riku was funny. And his Korean was way better than I expected.” He shrugged, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Honestly, I don’t remember much. Music was too loud, and the shots just kept coming.”

Sion rolled his eyes, the bitterness rising like bile. He didn’t want to think about Japanese exchange students or how good their Korean was. Instead, he focused on the familiar annoyance of Wonbin’s drunken antics.

“Like always,” Sion complained, sitting on the edge of his bed, trying to get himself together and go for a shower. “What hour is it?”

“Half past eleven, I think,” Daeyoung said, going back to his desk. “I’ll head to the library after grabbing some breakfast. I have a group project.”

“You eating lunch there too?” Sion asked, voice rough as he grabbed a set of folded clothes (thank god past-him had at least done that right). Daeyoung hummed in confirmation. “Okay.” Sion exhaled, the word coming out flatter than he intended. “I’ll probably stay here. Got shit to do anyway.”

The shower was lukewarm, again, the water pounding against his skin like it could strip away the lingering unease, again. But even as the steam filled the tiny bathroom, his thoughts kept circling back. Again. He didn’t bother this time to attempt anything. He wasn’t going to get frustrated again.

By the time he stepped out, Daeyoung was gone. The room felt too quiet. Sion dropped back onto his bed, pulling out his phone and scrolling mindlessly through Instagram. Jeno had posted videos of Chenle and Mark drunkenly dancing; Shotaro had flexed his expensive watch alongside a cheap plastic cup filled with crystal clear alcohol; Wonbin had uploaded a dozen blurry, incoherent clips. Then he saw Jaemin’s post: a picture with Riku, their shoulders pressed together, grinning like they’d known each other for years.

Fuckin’ hell.

Sion tapped Riku’s profile. Private. No mutual followers, not even Daeyoung. He locked his phone with a sharp click, tossing it aside. The frustration was irrational, gnawing at him, but he couldn’t shake it.

He tried to do some stuff for a couple of classes, only to stop after half an hour to grab lunch. He was sort of productive the rest of the afternoon, but as soon as Daeyoung finally returned, they ended up in Wonbin’s room, eating cheap takeout while Jisung dyed his hair in the corner, wrapping the first week of another year of college like that. Daeyoung and he went back to their room relatively soon, and Sion took it as his opportunity to talk about what he had avoided bringing up during these two days.

Sion waited for both of them to be neatly tucked in their respective beds, light turned off, and no other noise around to raise his thoughts out loud, “Hey, so, I’m like, uhmm, so the thing is-”

“You talking by yourself?” Daeyoung turned around to check on him

“No, bro, I want to ask you something.”

“Oh, okay, tell me.”

“Maybe I am being dramatic, and I know these things are heavier in my head than they should be, but I don’t want to mess it up.”

“Sion, you sound like you are about to break up with me… Are you dropping out?” his roommate said quickly, sitting crookedly on the edge of his bed.

“No! What the fuck? No bro,” Sion defended himself, sitting straight too. “It’s about Yushi.”

“What about it?”

“I don’t want to sound like a pussy but he doesn’t talk to me. He doesn’t talk to me Daeyoung is so fucking frustrating” Sion stood up finally, turning the lights on “And you might say ‘But Sion, it’s only your first week’ and you know what? You would be right! But precisely because it’s our first week, we don’t fucking know each other… shouldn’t we like… talk? To get to know each other?”

“There is something deeper about it, and you are not telling me,” Daeyoung said as he crossed his legs in his bed, sitting straight and following Sion around. “This breakdown can’t be because someone doesn’t talk to you.”

“It’s not only like he doesn’t talk to me! He doesn’t look at me unless I tell him something… And fuck Daeyoung, it’s not like I’m the brightest student over here, do I need to remember last year I had to take three retakes? I’m fucking hysterical that this is my third year and here I am” Sion said, opening his arms “Translating fucking notes from last year into Japanese… Trying to translate every fucking word everyone says around him… And he doesn’t even seem to care? Isn’t it rude?”

“Well, it sounds inconsiderate.”

“Exactly,” Sion quickly pointed at his friend, “Inconsiderate… It’s not like I am going to confront him about it, and maybe I’m not the best at the whole translating thing, I know, but I also know I am damn able to conversate with someone in Japanese” he said defeated, siting back in his bed “What should I do?”

“He doesn’t acknowledge anything that you do? Like anything at all?” Daeyoung’s question hung in the air, blunt but not unkind, exactly like him.

Sion opened his mouth to snap back an automatic yes, but for the first time all week, he paused. The frustration that had been boiling inside him flickered, making room for something quieter… doubt, maybe, or the beginnings of clarity. He lay down, exhaling slowly as he replayed the past few days in his head.

Had Yushi really ignored him?

Now that he thought about it, really thought about it, Yushi had looked at him. Not often, not openly, but sometimes, when Sion wasn’t paying attention, he’d catch it: a glance that lingered a second too long, something curious, almost searching. Once, when Sion had made a sarcastic comment under his breath, Yushi’s lips had twitched, like he was fighting a smile. And another time, when Sion had dropped his pen and scrambled to pick it up, Yushi had bent down a second faster, giving it back right away.

Then there were the notes. Yushi scribbled in that damn notebook constantly, and yeah, maybe half of what he wrote was dry, technical crap, but sometimes, Sion had caught his own words scribbled in the margins. Not the important stuff, not the facts they were supposed to be recording, but offhand remarks, his observations, things Sion had said without thinking. Yushi had written them down anyway, like they mattered.

And yes, Sion was always early to classes, but Yushi was always there first, his notes already spread out, ready, like he was waiting.

Had he been trying, too?

The realization settled over Sion slowly, like dawn creeping through a half-open curtain. Maybe it wasn’t indifference. Maybe it was something else, something hesitant, something guarded.

He didn’t say any of this out loud; he didn’t know how to. He didn’t know what to think, what to conclude. Instead, he shrugged, rolling his eyes like the thought was ridiculous. But for the first time all week, the knot in his chest loosened, just a little.

“Whatever,” he muttered, but the edge was gone from his voice. “Tomorrow’s a new week, right?”

Daeyoung agreed, turning off the light for them. Sion fell asleep quicker than he thought, his body preparing him for his second week.

And it was supposed to be a normal week, but his alarm didn’t go off, so he didn’t wake up to his usual off-tune melody, but to Daeyong shaking his shoulder violently.

“Bro, wake up, you are going to be late.”

Sion stood up in a second, his body reacting before he could even process it. He went with his usual routine, but much faster and whilst muttering constants ‘fucks’ ‘fuckin’ hell’ and his personal favorite,  ‘fuck me already’. He ended up leaving the room before Daeyoung, but with clear signs that he had slept on: messy hair, wrinkled clothes, his thick ass glasses instead of his contacts, mismatched socks and disorientation at its finest.

He ran through the halls until he found his class, knocking in it twice before opening it. Sion scanned the room and he found Yushi in the last row, as usual. Class was packed, but no one was sitting beside him. He frowned, not quite understanding. Was it because they knew he was going to sit with him? Did Yushi threaten them all?

“Sorry, sorry,” he said to his classmates as he crossed to the last seats. “Hi, sorry, I… sleep… no alarm,” he said now to Yushi.

And of course, Yushi only nodded, half acknowledging him, half not caring. Sion just sighed and went on with his day: taking notes, translating, rushing to another class, taking more notes, translating again, greeting people with automatic smiles, texting Shotaro a quick ‘you alive?’ between lectures, gulping down bitter dining hall coffee that tasted like regret. By his last period, his brain was fried, and the only thing standing between him and his bed was this damn Greenery Design seminar.

Sion slumped into his seat as the professor called his name. He dragged himself to the front, flipping open his sketchbook with a thud. His own design, a half-hearted cluster of geometric shrubs, looked embarrassingly juvenile under the classroom lights. He cleared his throat.

“Uh. So. This one’s mine.” He tapped the page, forcing a smirk. “It’s modular, you can rearrange the plants.”

Silence. A few polite blinks. The professor, Lim Seohyuck, adjusted her glasses and leaned in. “Sion, the assignment was to integrate greenery into urban spaces with consideration for flow and function. This is just… squares.”

A snicker from the back. Sion’s ears burned. “Squares are functional,” he defended.

Because what the hell? He had been researching and researching for these couple of sketches only for his teacher to throw them away in ten seconds.

She sighed and motioned to the next slide. “Who’s this one?”

Of course, it was Yushi’s, and of course, he had to present his work.

Sion went to the back of the class to snatch Yushi’s notebook to explain the slides, and as he flipped through Yushi’s work, his own scribbles looked like a child’s doodles. Yushi’s sketch was meticulous: a rooftop small garden that cascaded into terraces, each level designed to filter rainwater and shade the building naturally. Notes in neat, tiny handwriting lined the margins, wind patterns considered, native species prioritized, communal space here…

“Now this,” the professor said, voice warming, “shows real understanding. I saw the submissions this morning, and this one stood out to me the most… The layered approach solves multiple urban challenges at once. The attention to airflow alone is excellent.” She glanced at Yushi, who sat perfectly still in the front row. “You clearly put thought into how people would interact with the space, not just how it looks.”

Sion clenched his teeth, getting all the strength he had left to keep on speaking in front of the whole class. “He said that… uhm… interaction is well thought… It’s beautiful and functional,” he translated

Yushi nodded once, no smile, no pride, just a quiet acceptance of the praise, like he’d expected nothing less.

Sion clenched his jaw. Of course. Of fucking course Yushi’s work was flawless, and of course he didn’t even have the decency to gloat. The worst part? Sion couldn’t even resent it properly. The design was brilliant.

He gripped his sketchbook a little too hard. “Yeah, well. Some of us didn’t have time to overthink it.”

The professor gave him a look that clearly said ‘try harder’, and Sion slunk back to his seat, ignoring the way Yushi’s gaze flicked toward him, brief, unreadable, before turning away again. For fucks sake, he could decipher whatever roast his teacher was saying to him through his eyes and he couldn’t even guess what Yushi was trying to say to him?

“Do you want something?” Sion said confidently as he practiced that phrase with Shotaro and his Japanese friends for months now

Yushi pointed at his hand and whispered, “My notebook.”

Sion gave it back without even looking at him, rolling his eyes. It wasn’t like him to be this pitiful, it truly wasn’t, but he couldn’t help it.

The rest of the week didn’t bring any breakthroughs, but at least the feedback he got was marginally better. Slightly. He skipped one class entirely, telling himself he hadn’t had time to prepare anything worthwhile, trying not to think too much about whether Yushi was going to be okay without him. Someone else around it could help him, right?

The next day, Sion didn’t bother to ask, and Yushi gave no indication that he’d cared. He was the same as always: quiet, focused, absorbed in his notes. They took an online test on urban design tactics, and Sion breezed through it, smug right up until he caught a glimpse of Yushi’s screen.

60%.

Sion blinked. That… didn’t make sense. Wasn’t Yushi supposed to be the genius here? He craned his neck subtly, double-checking, maybe it was a translation error. But no, the questions were in Japanese, the webpage auto translated, and Yushi had even jotted down corrections in the margins, his handwriting tight with frustration. He didn’t look devastated, just… unsettled. Like the number didn’t fit the narrative he’d built for himself.

As soon as the class was over, Sion started packing his things quickly, wanting to go to the cafeteria to grab a coffee so he could endure the next three hours, but something stopped him. He felt Yushi’s fingers close around his forearm: light, hesitant, but enough to make him freeze.

He turned, and the look on Yushi’s face hit him like a punch to the chest; he looked terrified. His breaths were shallow, his grip trembling faintly against Sion’s sleeve. For a second, neither of them moved. Then, voice barely above a whisper, Yushi spoke.

“Could you… explain this to me?”

The words were low, barely audible. But they were real. Not nods. Not hums. Words. A full sentence.

He held out his notes, the page filled with frantic underlines and question marks.

Something inside Sion cracked, and he couldn’t move for a second. His brain flatlined. Was this happening?

“Right now?” he asked, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Yes. Please.”

Please. Yushi had said please.

The request wasn’t desperate, but it was raw. Vulnerable. Like he had clawed the words out from wherever they’d been buried.

And in that moment, Sion stopped being mad. He stopped being bitter or jealous, or annoyed. Because Yushi, closed-off, half-silent, brilliant Yushi, had asked for him. Trusted him.

He knew it had to be something deeper than that because he hadn’t seen, rather heard, Yushi speaking that much in the same minute. Did he only mean the online test? Did he want something more? He wasn’t going to solve that at the moment, so he just nodded, sitting right where they were. Sion felt intimate again, both of them sitting at the back of the class when the rest of the seats were empty, moving along the class, like a hurricane had just bolted through the university, and both of them were the only survivors.

Sion swallowed hard, nodded once, and sat back down without another word. He spread his notes back out, pointing to sections Yushi had missed, rough sketches of plaza layouts, arrows indicating foot traffic flow, messy annotations only he could decipher. Their shoulders barely brushed as they leaned over the notes, and for the first time since they met, it didn’t feel like translating anymore. Yushi copied them with painstaking precision, his pencil moving in deliberate strokes, interpreting each line Sion made, and making it his own. It was mesmerizing how he could transform a single layout of spaces into something already so understandable.

“That’s better than… what I have.” Sion admitted as he tried to get him to talk again, to open up, but Yushi just shook his head without looking at him. “You are so pretty.”

The word left his mouth before his brain caught up.

Yushi’s pencil stopped mid-stroke.

Sion’s stomach dropped. “Wait, no, shit, I meant…the drawings are pretty. Not…not you.” He cringed the second he said it, mixing up his Korean and Japanese “I mean, not that you’re not…fuck.” He dragged a hand down his face. “Just. The lines. The lines are nice.”

Yushi’s head was bowed so low his bangs shadowed his eyes, but the red creeping up his neck was unmistakable. His grip on the pencil was white-knuckled. Sion wanted to throw himself out a window.

Before he could dig the hole deeper, the classroom door banged open: students flooded in for the next lecture. Saved by the bell. They both jolted, scrambling to gather their things. Once in the hall, Yushi looked at him for a second, and Sion swore he was blushing. He didn’t know what to say, so he just went to grab his much-needed coffee, and Yushi followed him. They got to their class, almost twenty minutes late, but Yushi wasn’t shaking anymore, and his grip against his notes wasn’t threatening anymore, but sure, steady.

That night, Sion lay in bed staring at the ceiling, AirPods in but no music playing. His thoughts were loud enough. He’d survived only one more day, barely, held together by bitter coffee and accidental compliments. His legs still ached from running to class, and his pride stung from every sideways glance he imagined Yushi gave him after the "pretty" comment. He winced, covering his face with his hands.

God. The lines. You meant the lines.

Still, he hadn’t been brushed off. Yushi hadn’t looked disgusted. He hadn’t said anything at all, really, like his usual self, but he had looked at him. And followed him to class. That had to mean something. Maybe Yushi was trying, in his own quiet, unreadable way. Maybe Daeyoung was right. Fuck.

Sion rolled onto his side, exhaling into his pillow.

Let the professors be chill.

Let the classes make sense.

Let Yushi forget the whole ‘you’re so pretty’ thing.

Let him smile, even just once. A real one.

And maybe, maybe, let Sion say something right for once.

That would be nice.

Please.

Notes:

but i hope you liked it anyways!!! ill be uploading next chapter next mondayyy... im so excited bc the breaking point is closer than we expect but also we need more context...

hope you have a fantastic weekend and that you are liking this story... thank you sm for the kudos and comments! they motivate me soo much to keep writting... also ateez/wayv/nct dream comeback... we must enjoy life

Chapter 4: the suffocating night silence

Summary:

Riku couldn’t understand how he felt, because not even he could explain what happened in his head whenever he was in that situation.

Yushi was being selfish, he knew. He didn’t need anyone to remind him.

Every day, the weight of his silence pressed harder on his chest. He wanted to speak, to tell Sion he didn’t need his help, to stand in front of the professors and declare that he could manage on his own. But the words dissolved in his throat, swallowed by the fear of stumbling, of being judged, of proving himself inadequate.

Architecture classes in Seoul were brutal. The professors tore through student work with sharp tongues, as if the hours spent on sketches meant nothing. Yushi had only been there slightly more than a week, but he already felt the sting of their critiques, even when they weren’t directed at him. The tension coiled tighter in his stomach with each passing day, making his silence heavier, his voice further out of reach.

He was doing okay, technically. His work wasn’t being torn apart, except for the stupid online urbanism test that he had to take. That whole day was a mess; he was messing up completely on half of the questions of the test, feeling so out of place when he saw his classmates did way better than him, asking Sion, and had looked at him with those stupidly warm eyes and said:

"You're so pretty."

In Japanese. With that accent. That damn accent.

Yushi had frozen, his face burning, his mind short-circuiting. Sion had corrected himself immediately, brushing it off as a slip of the tongue, but the damage was done. Yushi hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it, the way it had sounded, the way it had made his chest tighten... He didn’t think too much about it when it happened; he wanted to stop blushing, but the memory clung to him that night… And because he couldn’t stop thinking about it, he told Riku the next day.

"I would have folded sooo bad, bro," Riku had giggled, eyes sparkling with mischief.

Yushi regretted it instantly.

Ever since Riku had met Sion at that party, he wouldn’t shut up about Korean guys: Jaemin, Jeno, Daeyoung, even Sion. Yushi didn’t meet half of them, but Riku had been showing pictures of everyone at the party, making sure he knew about it. It was Riku’s way of including him; it was something he had always done. Every mention made Yushi’s jaw clench. He wanted to snap that Sion wasn’t that special, but he knew it was a lie. Sion was attractive, but more than that, he was there. He was the one who sat beside Yushi in class, who translated for him, who smiled at him like he was worth paying attention to.

And that was the worst part.

Because Riku? Riku got attention effortlessly. He laughed, he flirted, he charmed his way through every conversation. Meanwhile, Yushi couldn’t even force out a full sentence without his throat closing up. But it wasn’t Riku’s fault; it was his.

"Did you blush? I’m sure you did," Riku teased, poking at Yushi’s arm.

Yushi scowled, but his traitorous face burned anyway.

"See?! I was right, you blushed!"

Yushi turned back to his laptop, gripping the edges too tightly. He didn’t care about Sion. He didn’t care that Riku found him hot. He just hated how easy it was for everyone else. 

Luckily for him, the rest of his second week went okay: teachers kept on liking his submissions, Sion didn’t say anything inappropriate again, and some of his scholarship came through. He wanted to make some plans with Riku for the weekend, like going to a nearby town or a museum, but Riku had told him that morning that he was going out.

“Jaemin invited me again… He does this kind of parties like every other Saturday, I can’t just say no.”

Yushi looked at him meanly, judging every word he just said. He was distracting himself while the conversation flew, doing some cleaning around the room as Riku did all the talking.

“Okay, maybe it’s because I don’t want to say no… I had so much fun last time! I really want to meet new people, maybe I can get to see Daeyoung and Sion again… I could put in a good word for you.”

Yushi’s jaw locked. “Just don’t-”

“I won’t tell them you know Korean," Riku cut in, rolling his eyes. "But Yushi, they’re going to find out eventually. Especially Sion. And when they do, it’s going to be way worse."

Yushi wanted to scream.

Instead, he turned sharply, snatching his pillow and aggressively shoving it into a fresh case. He didn’t want this conversation. Not now, not ever.

“You’re not getting away with this, Yushi.” Riku’s voice dropped, uncharacteristically firm. “I hate lying to people, and if-”

“Riku, I can’t.”

Yushi spun around so fast the air stung his cheeks. Riku stood there, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

He had told him the first day about his inability to explain to Sion that he knew Korean, that he didn’t have to worry about him, and Riku had scolded him, of course he did, because Riku was good at this. At talking, at existing, at breathing without feeling like his lungs were full of glass. But for Yushi, every day that passed made the lie heavier, the secret more suffocating. And Riku treated it like some forgotten chore: Oh, did you take out the trash? Oh, did you tell Sion you’ve been understanding every word he says this whole time?

Like it was that simple.

Like, Yushi wasn’t already drowning in it.

“I could tell them for you, you know?” Riku’s voice softened, but it didn’t help. “Like, I completely get how hard it can be-”

“You don’t.” The words ripped out of him, raw and jagged. “I can’t.”

And before Riku could say another damn thing he wasn't ready to listen, Yushi was out the door, his worn-out t-shirt clenched in his fists, his vision blurring.

Riku couldn’t understand how he felt, because not even he could explain what happened in his head whenever he was in that situation. He dissociated from it so much, and he couldn't come back, at least not with words. And every day it was worse, and it was going to kill him.

He walked hurriedly to the library, climbed quickly up the stairs to the third floor, and grabbed a couple of books, something about construction in Western countries. Something entertaining enough to distract him, but the library was quiet. Too quiet.

His fingers trembled against the pages.

Riku didn’t understand. Couldn’t understand.

Because it wasn’t just about the words, it was about the way his throat closed when he tried to speak, the way his mind split in half, one part screaming at him to just say it, the other part locking him in place, choking him silent.

His phone buzzed.

Riku’s name flashed on the screen.

Yushi didn’t open the message.

 

riku

im sorry yushi

i just, i dont know

i dont want to be unfair, i don’t want to be biased

but you are still my best friend

i wont say anything okay 

im sorry 

please come back

 

He wanted to come back to the room, not to talk to him, but to let him hug him, be around him. Instead, he pressed his palms into his eyes until colors burst behind his lids.

He was a terrible friend.

A terrible liar.

A terrible person.

And he didn’t know how to fix any of it.

Yushi locked his phone again, getting immersed in the book again. 

Concrete, floor plans, sections, sketches, figurines, wood, textures.

Another hour passed, and he checked his phone again; Riku kept on texting.

 

riku

i wont bother anymore

i left some food if you want to come by

im going on a walk and ill go to jaemins directly after that

you can come back 

please do

 

The tears came back: hot, shameful, impossible to choke down. Yushi pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes again, trying to feel some sort of grounding, but it didn’t stop the tightness in his throat. 

Pathetic. 

The word throbbed in time with his pulse. He wasn’t even sure why he was crying anymore. Was it guilt? Frustration? Or just the crushing realization that he was failing: failing Riku, failing himself, failing at everything at once?

Around him, the library hummed with quiet activity; the scratch of pencils, the occasional murmur of study groups. Normal sounds. Normal people. He felt like an intruder in his own skin.

With jerky movements, he shoved the construction books back onto the shelves, ignoring the way the pages crumpled under his grip. He needed to get back. Maybe Riku hadn’t left yet. Maybe if he just moved, if he didn’t let himself think, he could fix this before it was too late.

The walk back to the dorm was a blur of too-bright hallway lights and the echo of his own footsteps. His key fumbled in the lock, hands unsteady.

Empty, the room was stiflingly quiet, Riku’s absence a physical weight. Of course, he was gone. Off with Jaemin and Daeyoung and Sion, laughing and drinking and living the kind of effortless life Yushi couldn’t even begin to navigate.

Then he saw them: two containers stacked neatly on his desk, condensation still beading on the lids. Rice. Tofu stew. Still warm.

Yushi’s stomach lurched.

Riku had cooked for him. Again. After everything.

He’s treating me like a fucking child.

The guilt was a knife between his ribs. He gripped the edge of the desk until his knuckles blanched. Why couldn’t he just say what he meant? Why did every attempt feel like trying to scream through a mouthful of wet cement? He needed air. Needed to move.

He tried the gym, but the fluorescent lights felt like interrogation lamps. A few scattered students lifted weights or jogged on treadmills, their easy breaths a contrast to his ragged gasps. He attacked the machines with a violence that bordered on self-punishment, pushing until his muscles burned, until his vision spotted, until the thoughts dulled into a numb static.

It didn’t work, but time passed anyway, and night fell.

Back in the dorm, he picked at the food Riku had left, each bite ash in his mouth. It was good. Of course it was. Riku always took care of him. And what did Yushi do in return? Shut down. Run away. Make everything harder than it needed to be.

He tried to lose himself in distractions, a movie, a drama, an old EXO interview he’d seen a hundred times, but nothing stuck. His body thrummed with restless energy, his breath hitching unpredictably, like he was on the verge of sobbing or screaming or both.

The room was too small. He wrenched open both windows, letting the cold night air bite at his skin, then sank onto the floor, pressing his forehead to the cool linoleum. He was officially losing it.

Time blurred.

He didn’t sleep. Couldn’t. Shifting between the cold floor and the warm bed.

Every rustle of the building, the creak of pipes, and distant laughter from another room jolted him upright. He was supposed to be used to that, to feel himself inside a building. But that wasn't today's case. 

The silence was worse than anger. At least anger was something he could understand. This? This was limbo.

Then, the click of the door.

"See you tomorrow then," He heard Riku giggling and talking Korean to someone he couldn't get to see

Riku stumbled in, cheeks flushed, hair disheveled, the sharp tang of soju clinging to him. He blinked at Yushi, slow and unfocused. "…You’re still awake? And why are you on the floor?"

Yushi’s mouth opened. Closed.

He should say something. Anything.

The silence between them stretched like a fraying thread. Riku sighed, kicking off his shoes with clumsy, alcohol-loosened movements. "Go to sleep, Yushi." His words slurred slightly, but the dismissal in them was clear.

Just like that, the moment slipped away.

Yushi turned toward the wall, listening to the rustle of Riku changing clothes, the creak of his bedsprings. The silence settled over them like a shroud, thick and suffocating. He squeezed his eyes shut, fists clenching the sheets. 

"No." The word tore from his throat before he could stop it. He turned abruptly, sitting on the edge of his bed, fingers tracing desperate patterns along the wooden frame. "We need to talk."

A beat of silence. Then the rustle of fabric as Riku shifted. "Oh. Okay, we can talk." His voice was softer now, the drunken edge giving way to something more alert.

Yushi barely saw Riku's shape moving in the dim light, just the outline of messy hair, arms wrapped around knees. The moonlight from the open windows caught the exhaustion in Riku's posture, the way his shoulders slumped slightly. Guilt twisted in Yushi's chest again, but the pressure building behind his ribs was too much to contain any longer.

"I'm sorry," he started, voice cracking dangerously in the quiet room. "I don't want you to... to lie for me, but I can't-" His breath hitched, the words dissolving into a wet gasp as tears spilled over. He felt rather than saw Riku move, the dip of the mattress, the warmth of a body settling beside him, knees brushing. Riku's hand found his, fingers intertwining, anchoring.

Yushi swallowed hard, the words tumbling out in broken fragments. "I can't tell him... I feel like... like he would feel betrayed." Each phrase came punctuated by unsteady breaths. "Riku, he's trying so much." A sob wracked his frame, the dam finally breaking. "And I'm just there, existing... I don't know how to-"

"Yushi, breathe." Riku's grip tightened, his voice a steady counterpoint to Yushi's trembling. "You are trying too, I know that, okay? I know."

"But he doesn't know..." Yushi's voice was barely above a whisper now, tears dripping onto his already damp t-shirt. "And I don't know... I don't know how to..." He choked on the words, shoulders shaking. "I want him to know that... that I'm trying too."

"Okay, I hear you." Riku shifted closer, his arms coming around Yushi in a firm hold, not quite a hug, but something more purposeful. A hold perfected over years of friendship, calibrated exactly to the way Yushi needed to be held when he was coming apart.

Riku's voice was soft but certain. "I'm sure he knows. You're doing amazing, Yushi, I promise." His hand rubbed slow circles between Yushi's shoulder blades. "You show up to class every fucking day. You nail every single submission..." A quiet laugh. "I've seen your work, Yushi. And I'm no Kazuyo Sejima, but that shit was amazing."

Yushi opened his mouth to protest, but Riku cut him off gently. "I'm saying what I want to say, so don't fight me, okay? Not tonight." There was a playful lilt to his words, an offering of peace. After a beat, Riku shifted slightly. "Do you want me to comb your hair? To scratch your head?"

Yushi nodded immediately, the motion small yet precise.

"Would that make you feel better?" Another nod, Yushi's head bowing further.

Riku moved with practiced ease, settling against the headboard with his legs crossed. Yushi didn't hesitate: he leaned forward, resting his head in the cradle of Riku's thighs with a quiet sigh. The tension bled from his body as Riku's fingers began their familiar dance, tracing light circles at his temples, carding gently through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp in the way that always soothed him.

The rhythm was hypnotic, the touch grounding. Yushi felt the exhaustion of the day, of all the unsaid words and pent-up emotions, settling over him like a heavy blanket. His breathing slowed, eyelids growing leaden. Some distant part of him wanted to fight it, to stay awake and savor this rare moment of peace, but his body had other ideas.

As sleep pulled him under, his hand found purchase in the fabric of Riku's sweatpants, fingers curling loosely around his knee. An anchor. A silent thank you. Riku's fingers never stilled, even as Yushi's breathing evened out into sleep. 

As night pulled him in, the sunlight woke him up slowly. He hadn’t moved at all during the night, and as he turned, he had to suppress a loud laugh. Riku had been sprawled out even more during the night, clothes curled up in all the wrong places, limbs tangled in Yushi’s sheets, face mashed into the pillow, mouth wide open as he snored like a chainsaw. Riku didn’t snore, except when he drank. That made it even funnier.

Yushi slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb him, and headed to the shower. He dressed quietly after, eyeing Riku’s unconscious form as he shifted every half-hour, curling tighter into himself like a cat on a sunlit couch. He guessed he was being silent enough. At least until someone knocked at their door. 

Yushi froze mid-step, the dusty floorboards creaking under his feet as he turned toward the door. He pulled it open just enough to see one of the guys from the party.

“Sorry, I was looking for Riku. I’m Daeyoung,” Daeyoung, the guy supplied, smiling. 

Yushi glanced over his shoulder. Riku was still dead to the world, limbs splayed like a starfish. He turned back, shaking his head slowly.

Daeyoung’s smile faltered. “Oh… isn’t this his room?”

Yushi’s brain short-circuited.

He slammed the door.

Nope. Not dealing with that.

He hurried back to his bed, shaking Riku’s shoulder. Nothing. He jostled harder, nearly rolling him onto the floor.

“What?!” Riku jolted up, wild-eyed. “Oh my god, Yushi, what’s up?!”

“Daeyoung. Door.”

Riku’s face shifted instantly. “Oh fuck.”

He scrambled out of Yushi’s bed, yanking his wrinkled clothes into place, fingers raking through his hair like that would undo the fact that he’d clearly spent the night in the wrong position. He flung the door open, blinking blearily.

“Daeyoung! I’m sorry, I just- I fell asleep-”

“Don’t worry!” Daeyoung laughed, easygoing. “We can reschedule for next week if you’re not up for it.”

“No, no, it’s fine!” Riku waved his hands. “Just give me five minutes. Quick shower, and I’ll be ready.”

“Sure! I’ll ask Shotaro or Sion if they wanna come too.”

Yushi stiffened.

Sion.

His stomach twisted.

Riku shut the door and bolted for his clothes, but Yushi was already on his feet, hovering, looking at Riku like he owed him answers.

“The Japanese Student Club. They’re doing matcha and arare today. Why?” Riku said rushedly

“I want to go.”

Riku paused, eyebrows shooting up. “Really?” Disbelief colored his voice. “Last week, you said it sounded like I was sending you off to the Hunger Games.”

And it had.

But things had changed.

Matcha and arare sounded to die for, but that wasn’t the only reason. 

At the time, the idea of sitting in a room full of people fumbling through basic Japanese phrases had made him want to peel his skin off. He’d told himself he was above it, that he didn’t need to force himself into learning his native language so he could speak in it. 

But the truth was simpler, and uglier:

He was scared.

Yushi swallowed, his fingers tightening around the edge of his desk. He couldn’t explain it, not without sounding paranoid, but he needed to see Sion outside of class. Needed to gauge his reactions in a space that wasn’t lecture halls or stiff study groups. Maybe if they talked casually, laughed over stupid jokes, shared snacks, then…

Then, when Yushi finally admitted the truth, it wouldn’t be a bomb.

It wouldn’t be ‘Hey, I’ve understood every Korean word you’ve ever said about me.’

It would just be… a misunderstanding. A funny story.

Or Sion would punch him in the face.

No in-betweens.

But he was so scared. Not just about Sion finding out the truth. Not just of the judgment. But of being left behind by the only people who felt like Seoul was worth it. He needed to stop lying to Sion, and by that, stop making Riku lie for him.

Maybe it was going to be easy like that, on a cool Saturday midday, outside of their suffocating classes, Riku being there.... And other students. And maybe if Yushi proved he wasn’t some fraud, just a guy who’d gotten stuck in a stupid lie, it wouldn’t end in disaster.

He met Riku’s gaze, looking ready.

Riku grinned. “Cool. You’ve got five minutes.”

The Japanese student club looked nothing like he thought it of. Daeyoung had guided them to it, and Yushi left them talking upfront while he was just observing, behind them, not thinking about where they were going.

“So this is the Engineering building… not to be cliché, but they have the best installations, and there are always empty… so people just gather here.” Daeyoung explained as they crossed the lobby, “Shotaro told me they have been doing this Japanese club since last year because the number of Japanese students was increasing heavily every year… So yeah! This is it! Welcome!”

Daeyoung pushed open the doors to reveal a sprawling lounge that felt more like a high-end social club than a university space. The air hummed with chatter, the clatter of game controllers, and the occasional burst of laughter. The walls were lined with sleek, modern furniture, black leather sofas arranged in casual clusters, some occupied by students hunched over card games, others lounging with drinks in hand. The lighting was warm but dim, casting a cozy glow over the room, though the far corners remained shadowed, giving the space an almost secretive feel.

To the left, a group of students sprawled across plush cushions, their cards fanned out in careful hands. The low murmur of strategy and playful taunts filled the air. To the right, two large flat-screen TVs flickered with the vibrant chaos of Mario Kart, surrounded by a ring of spectators cheering or groaning at every missed turn. The scent of matcha and something subtly sweet drifted from the central snack table, where an array of colorful snacks and steaming cups were laid out.

At the back of the room, a quieter nook held low wooden tables and floor cushions, shelves stacked with manga and board games. It looked like the kind of place people retreated to when they wanted to just exist. He liked it.

Yushi’s gaze flickered between faces, searching for something familiar, until a sharp laugh cut through the noise.

“Riku! Daeyoung!” A guy with an easy grin waved them over, introducing himself when they approached him. “Hi, I’m Shotaro.”

Yushi barely had time to respond before Sion’s voice sliced through the noise, cold and deliberate.

“He’s Yushi.”

The words landed like a warning. Shotaro’s smile didn’t falter, but Yushi felt the shift. Sion’s stare was a blade pressed against his throat, like he wasn't supposed to be there.

The realization sent a prickle down his spine.

Shotaro switched to Japanese seamlessly, pulling Yushi into a rough hug that knocked the air from his lungs, not before squinting his eyes to see his face more detailed. “Wait, are you Tokuno Yuta’s brother?”

Riku answered before Yushi could, his voice too quick, his eyes flashing a silent don’t. Yushi swallowed hard.

Sion’s laugh cut in again, sharp and humorless, when Daeyoung asked about arare. He was different here, looser, louder, surrounded by people who clearly adored him. It was strange, seeing him like this. Almost fascinating. But then Sion’s gaze slid back to Yushi, and the warmth drained away, leaving only ice.

Sion said, looking again at his friends. “You have to try it, then you judge it.”

Daeyoung nodded obediently, and they all tried the food on the table. After a couple of minutes of discussing whether Japanese snacks were better than Korean ones, Shotaro, Riku, and Daeyoung quickly went to the TV area, as a couple of controllers were left unattended for a second. Neither Sion nor Yushi could process it, so they just stood there awkwardly in the middle of the living room.

It was ridiculous, right? How awkward they were behaving towards each other when, that literal week, Sion had called him pretty? By mistake? Yushi’s pulse spiked. He scrambled for something, anything, to say, but his throat had sealed shut. Sion’s presence was a wall, unreadable and impenetrable. The room’s noise blurred into static.

Say something. Move. Do anything.

But all he could do was stand there, trapped under the weight of Sion’s disdain. Yushi picked up a piece of arare, trying to fixate on anything else, but the crunch was too loud in the silence.

Sion glanced at him.

"You like it?"

A nod.

"Hm." Sion swirled his matcha, the foam clinging to the edges. "Riku didn’t say you were coming."

Yushi’s throat tightened. He shrugged.

Sion's face shifted with almost a nervous laugh. "Didn’t mean it like that… uhm… I just…"

“It’s okay, I know.”

Yushi was so fucking proud of himself, not only because he managed to express himself but because Sion's face eased with those words, relaxing as if he needed to hear them. A shout erupted from the TV area, Riku cheering, Shotaro groaning about blue shells, but neither of them turned to look.

Sion’s thumb tapped against his cup. Once. Twice. Then, quietly, "Do you want... to sit over… there?"

The arare turned to dust on Yushi’s tongue. They were going to go to a quieter place. That only meant conversation. But had to, at least try.

“So… uhm did you… Go to the party last night?” Sion asked him as soon as they sat down, their two matchas and some cookies splattered on the table, creating an invisible barrier between their hands.

Yushi blinked twice, gulping and shaking his head slowly.

“Oh, that’s fine, it wasn’t that great…. uhmmm… either!” He proudly said that last word, “Don’t you like parties?”

Jesus, why did Sion keep on talking Japanese to him? Couldn’t he slip and speak Korean, and Yushi could just answer him?

“Uhm… no”

“It suits you,” Sion said, smiling

Yushi wanted to confront him. What did he know about him? What did he know about what suited Yushi? But he didn’t have to know him for a lifetime to know parties weren’t Yushi’s cup of tea, so Yushi just smiled and nodded, feeling seen.

“Sorry, are you-?” 

Yushi quickly turned, seeing a couple of older guys approaching him. It wasn’t rude, he was just fed up.

“How are the Civil Engineering plans going?” Sion ignored them, catching Yushi’s attention again

“Good,” Yushi muttered after biting one caramel cookie. He wanted to look like he was actually busy, having a meaningful conversation, and it was a good try because he side-eyed them, seeing already how they were turning around.

“Obviously,” Sion said while nodding, letting the information sink in, and Yushi had to think twice before he realized he was still talking about the plans, and as confusion filled his brain, he tilted his head and blinked, “I mean… You are very good student… I could teach you Korean and… you could teach me how to… draw… actually draw”

Yushi instantly shook his head. That wasn’t going to happen. He wasn’t going to make Sion to teach him Korean because he already knew. But he could teach him a couple of things about drawing.

It would be so easy to just say, ‘I don’t need the Korean, but I can show you how to draw’ in actual Korean. Instead, he only shook, feeling guilty.

“It’s okay, I don’t mean to… uhmm” he quickly searched for something on the translator “To impose anything or like… I just want you to teach me to draw like you do.”

“Okay,” Yushi agreed.

It was enough for Sion, who was already smiling like the happiest boy on earth. But their little bubble popped soon, their friends coming over the table with defeated looks.

“We can’t fucking win over that fucking kid” Shotaro said, pointing at the area where they were before.

Yushi glanced over and he saw a boy, very young looking, crashing everyone at the game. It was impressive, especially because next to him, another young boy was giving him instructions, as if he were really a driver and he was his coach.

“His name is Sakuya, and his friend's name is Ryo. God, don’t they look like literal kids? Did we look like that two years ago?”

“I did,” Sion admitted. “What do they study?”

“Sakuya is doing Film too,” Daeyoung answered in Korean 

“Ryo is in Computer Science, that’s why they knew the spot besides being new,” Riku explained

“I mean it’s not really a secret spot if you announce it on every Insta story every single Sunday” Shotaro complained “Besides… what the fuck dude? Let us enjoy it too… if he wants something to play with, he should get a guitar or something, not hoard the stupid game.”

Yushi was already laughing before Shotaro could finish. There was something absurdly funny about a guy who looked like that, all sharp cheekbones and effortless cool, complaining like a kid denied his favorite toy. Maybe it was the tension of the past hour, the weight of Sion’s silent disapproval still pressing against his ribs, or the fact that he was trapped in a lie with no way out. But the laughter bubbled up, unstoppable, spilling out in breathless, hiccuping bursts. He clapped a hand over his mouth, shoulders shaking, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

When he finally caught his breath and looked up, the reactions around him were a mixed bag.

Daeyoung stared at him like he’d just spoken in tongues, brows knitted in utter confusion. Shotaro, on the other hand, looked pleased, smug, even, as if Yushi’s laughter was some kind of personal victory. Riku’s expression was softer, his usual guardedness melting away just a fraction, like Yushi had finally cracked through some invisible barrier.

And then there was Sion.

His gaze was unreadable, but something in it made Yushi’s stomach drop. Was that… disappointment? Annoyance? Or something else entirely?

Before he could even address it, Riku broke the slight tension. “Do you guys want to grab something to drink? Or eat? I’m still hungry.”

Daeyoung smiled, nudging Riku’s shoulder with an intimacy that made Yushi’s stomach twist. The way Riku leaned into the touch, the way Daeyoung’s fingers lingered just a second too long on Riku’s sleeve… Interesting, to say the least.

“Bet,” Shotaro agreed quickly, “I’ll get my car, should we get to Seoul?”

“Nah, bro, it’s too late for that, we should…”

Yushi stopped listening, not allowing himself to care. He wasn’t going to join them.

He stood up and slowly approached Riku, grabbing his hand and closing it tightly, motioning to the exit.

“You leavin’?” Riku asked, not concerned but not at ease either, and Yushi nodded. “Want me to go with you?”

Yushi shook his head, and he closed his hand once more over Riku’s, leaving it quickly as he started getting back to his dorm.

He had tried to tell Sion, and he failed. 

But had he tried?

It was always one step forward and three steps back.

The dorm was quiet when he returned, the kind of stillness that amplified every thought. The debate circled in his head, exhausting and pointless.

He ate leftovers mechanically while finishing some designs, the taste barely registering, then killed the lights and collapsed onto his bed. Music hummed softly in his ears, a feeble distraction. His fingers traced absent, soothing circles over his forearm, a habit, a comfort, until sleep finally dragged him under.

But even then, the echo of Sion’s gaze followed him into the dark.

Notes:

yushi riku fight bc all besties fight at some point...

updating fast bc im writing fast too... currently finishing chapter eightt so very excited to share with you all more and more! hope you liked this one and i dont even know what no beta read means, i dont have anyone that reads this for me so i just re read it like 3 times before posting it so very very sorry for any mistakes! you can let me know kindly in the comments <3

thank you so much for all the bookmarks and comments and kudoss! im so happy and grateful for the love this fic had been receiving... hope it keeps like that! hope you had an amazing week ahead

Chapter 5: longing for the weekend

Summary:

He shouldn’t have gone to that party. He shouldn’t have let Shotaro talk him into it. Meeting Riku again, agreeing to go to the Japanese Student Club… and why? Just in case Yushi was going to be there?

Sion was so fucking done.

Every choice he’d made in the past five days had been a mistake. A slow, agonizing buildup of regret that settled in his bones. He was exhausted, not just from the lack of sleep, not just from the hangover still clinging to his temples like a vice, but from the sheer weight of it all.

He shouldn’t have gone to that party. He shouldn’t have let Shotaro talk him into it. Meeting Riku again, agreeing to go to the Japanese Student Club… and why? Just in case Yushi was going to be there?

Riku told him beforehand, ‘He’s not going to come, he doesn’t like this kind of stuff’ alongside ‘He has a lot of things to do’. Sion knew all of those three things, he knew, and he definitely shouldn’t have let himself hope, even for a second, that Yushi might show up.

He knew he wasn’t going to go; he didn’t look like he attended social events at all, and he knew all too well that Yushi was busy because Sion’s own schedule was packed too. But still, still, he hoped he would go. So he could see him again. It was such a childish-like thought of his, to spend the entire weekend nursing a stupid, pathetic little fantasy, that maybe, just maybe, if Yushi were there, things would be different. That outside of class, outside of the stiff, perfunctory exchanges they always had, Yushi would see him. Really see him. That he’d smile, that he’d talk, that he’d do something different.

He regretted waking up hungover, unable to do anything productive before meeting his friends, and he regretted going out so much, because Yushi had done the same, and that was worse.

Sion had tried. God, he’d tried. He’d swallowed down his usual sarcasm, dialed back the biting remarks, even leaned in a little too close under the guise of shutting out the noise around them. He’d asked questions, he’d listened, he’d done everything short of begging for Yushi’s attention.

And Yushi?

Yushi had nodded and had given him those quiet, measured responses, just enough to acknowledge Sion’s existence, just enough to keep him hooked, before slipping right back into that infuriating distance.

It was maddening. Nothing had changed.

Then there was Shotaro, and for a second, Sion almost regretted befriending him.

Sion hadn’t even heard the joke. Didn’t matter. What mattered was the sound, bright, unfiltered, real, of Yushi laughing. Not the polite exhale he sometimes gave when Sion managed to catch him off guard, but a full, unrestrained laugh, the kind that made his shoulders shake, the kind that lit up his whole face.

And Sion?

Sion had stood there like an idiot, stomach twisting into knots, wondering why he couldn’t pull that out of him. Why, no matter what he did, Yushi stayed just out of reach, while Shotaro… Shotaro, of all the fucking people, could drag that reaction out of him with some stupid throwaway comment.

It wasn’t resentment. Not really. Because Yushi hadn’t meant to do it. That was the worst part. He wasn’t cruel, he wasn’t playing some game, he was just like that. Oblivious. Unreachable. And Sion was so fucking tired of chasing after something that might not even exist.

He regretted agreeing to grab a bite with Shotaro, Daeyoung, and Riku because it had been unbearable. Shotaro’s foolish jokes and remarks, Daeyoung’s poorly concealed interest… Sion had barely touched his food before wanting to leave them; the frustration coiled so tight under his skin he could barely breathe. Still, he quickly finished his food and left them to their antics, and walked back home. 

Back in his dorm, he stripped off his clothes like they were suffocating him, stepping into the shower before the water had even warmed up. The cold shock of it made him gasp, but he didn’t adjust it. He wanted it to hurt a little. Wanted to feel something other than this gnawing, restless ache in his chest. The heat came eventually, steam fogging up the tiny bathroom, but it didn’t soothe him. His hands moved on autopilot, gripping himself roughly, almost too roughly, as if he could wring the frustration out of his body through sheer force.

It wasn’t about pleasure. It was about release. About control, but even as his breath hitched, even as his muscles tensed, as his thoughts blurred when he emptied himself, the relief never came. Just a hollow, unsatisfying end, leaving him emptier than before. Tears breamed in his eyes…

Fuck, he wasn’t going to have a post-nut clarity moment right when he needed it less, right?

He slumped against the tiles, water beating down on his back, and let out a shaky breath.

Pathetic. He was so fucking pathetic.

Without much thinking, he came out of the shower, ashamed and ready to disappear. Sion slumped onto his bed, the exhaustion finally overtaking him. He was so tired.

Tired of wanting. Tired of trying. Tired of caring so much when nobody clearly didn’t.

But even then, even like that, he knew he’d do it all over again tomorrow.

His overwhelming thoughts only helped him to lock in for a while, at least until Daeyoung came back, humming something happily as he was changing into his nightwear.

“How was it?” Sion asked, not knowing if he wanted to know the answer

“It was so nice. Shotaro left not too long after you did.”

“He was being too clingy, wasn’t he?” Sion concluded.

“Kind of,” Daeyoung said nonchalantly. “He was just sleep deprived and needed a beer and a hug.”

“Usual Shotaro, then,” Sion scoffed. “Are we going to go back to the paper under the door then?”

Sion didn’t want to ask what his intentions were with Riku explicitly, but he tried to playfully test the waters. He wanted to think about something else that wasn’t his own shit. 

“I had never done that,” Daeyoung laughed loudly, covering his mouth. “But no, not for now. We are just getting to know each other, as friends, you know? He can help me with my Japanese, too.”

“We have Shotaro for that, remember?”

“Not really,” Daeyoung teased, jumping right into his bed

Sion turned around, focusing on his plans. It was almost midnight, but he needed to finish them, so he locked in again. He only got three hours of sleep that night. Usual Sion.

The week had started off tolerable, mostly because Sion didn’t have the energy to overthink Yushi’s behavior anymore. He simply didn’t have the bandwidth.

He dragged himself to class, translated everything he could, buried himself in assignments, and tried to function. By Thursday, he was running on fumes, eyes gritty, mind blurry, and the only thing keeping him upright was the anticipation of the weekend. He hadn’t gone to Jaehyun’s the previous one as they agreed, but instead they were heading to their parents’ house that weekend, and the thought of finally setting foot in Mokpo again gave him something close to hope. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been back. Not during the school year, and summers had been swallowed up by retakes, summer jobs, and sleeping at Jaehyun’s ugly ass sofa.

So, maybe he was a little too excited. He started packing early, way too early. Just a couple of days away, but it kept him grounded.

And in the middle of that excitement, he forgot his Architectural Design of Service Facilities submission.

He realized it in the middle of his Architecture History class, the realization hitting him like a punch in the chest. His vision tunneled. He could barely hear the professor anymore over the sound of his own blood rushing in his ears. His hands trembled as he pulled out his sketchbook and scrambled to make something, anything, coherent. His mind was a swamp of half-formed plans and messy lines, and he tried to channel it all into something presentable. He worked furiously, all while trying to appear composed, like he wasn’t on the verge of unraveling. And he still had to translate, still had to explain to Yushi, of all people, the entire Kim Chung Up movement and its legacy in South Korean landscape design.

He kept glancing at the clock. As soon as the slides ended, he bolted out of class, sprinted to his room, grabbed every page of sketches he could find, half-finished ideas, illegible notes, desperate diagrams, and ran back. No time to make it neat. No time to refine it. But it was the third week of the year, right? They wouldn’t expect perfection yet.

Wrong. So wrong.

Professor Park Minji was as vicious as he’d been last week, if not worse. What kind of man made a blood sport out of shredding undergraduates in their third week?

“Sejun, this is probably the worst thing I’ve ever seen in my entire career.”

“Minhyuck, next time, bring something you’re not embarrassed to present.”

The air in the room tightened with every blow. Sion felt his hands trembling again, gripping the soft edges of his papers so hard they were crumpling. He was sweating. Shaking. His breathing was shallow and sharp. He wanted to disappear. He tried to focus on translating for Yushi, his fallback distraction, but even that felt like too much now,  so he stopped, not wanting to project more nervousness onto him. He kept his eyes forward, unwilling to look to the side, unwilling to see Yushi’s expression, afraid of what it might reveal. Disappointment? Pity? Judgment?

But then the professor called his name.

“Tokuno Yushi?”

Sion turned automatically to respond. But Yushi wasn’t nervous. Wasn’t flustered. He was just looking at Sion, quiet, steady, something unreadable but tender in his gaze. As if asking without moving his lips.

“Tokuno Yushi?” the professor repeated, louder this time.

“Yes, sir, he’s here,” Sion replied, hastily recovering. “I’ll be explaining his-”

“Yes, we’ve been through this. You don’t need to waste our time doing it every class.”

Sion clenched his jaw and cursed under his breath. He turned to Yushi again, only to see him quietly extending his notebook. That notebook, the one he kept close every single class. For a second, Sion hesitated. But there was no time for pride. He took it and flipped it open.

And instantly regretted it.

Because what was inside wasn’t just good, it was breathtaking.

Jesus Fucking Christ Yushi, again?

Fluid, detailed sketches of small kiosks dotting the Han River, designed as seamless extensions of existing public facilities. The layout was intuitive, elegant. The lines were clean. The integration with the landscape, flawless. Subtle elevations in the flooring. Materials that responded to weather, to context, to emotion. It was the kind of work that didn’t just solve a problem, it made you feel something.

“Uhm… so, he designed these wooden cabins that-”

“You know what?” the professor cut him off. “You don’t even need to explain. One look at this plan and that sketch in the corner tells me everything.”

Park Minji stood, giving a small speech on smart designs, laser-pointer already zeroing in on the screen. “This is smart design. Elegant. Thoughtful. Yushi, you did an excellent job. Once again.”

Applause, almost. Admiration. Sion blinked hard, his eyes burning. The whole room blurred for a moment.

Yushi stood, nodded once, and sat back down, calm as ever.

Motherfucker.

Was it that easy for him? Like a fucking game?

Sion’s jaw clenched so tightly it ached. His own submission felt like ashes in his hands. And he knew, what was coming.

“Let’s see yours now, Sion.”

His pulse hammered in his ears. His throat was dry, tongue heavy like stone. He didn’t look at Yushi again. Couldn’t. He placed the pile on the professor’s desk with a kind of grim apology, as if to say, yes, I know, it’s garbage.

Park Minji didn’t even glance at him before picking up the top page. Silence. Flip. Another page.

“I didn’t have time to-”

Flip.

Each one sounded like a verdict. And then, like he was savoring it, Minji sighed.

“Is this supposed to be a service facility?” he asked, tone dripping with disbelief.

Sion said nothing. His voice had curled into the pit of his stomach, hiding where it couldn’t be dragged out. He nodded, and before he could explain whatever the fuck he had tried to make, the professor spoke again.

“It looks like a confused pavilion had a breakdown halfway through construction,” the professor continued. “My three-year-old boy drew something like that yesterday at dinner on his napkin.”

A couple of students laughed, sharp and nervous. Sion felt the heat crawl up his neck.

“This is a third-year class, isn’t it?”

He nodded, barely.

“Then this is inexcusable. These lines are lazy. The massing makes no sense. There’s zero relationship to user flow. Do you even know what a service facility is, Sion? Not to mention the fact that those are a bunch of sketches, only sketches.”

Sion’s lips parted, a breath catching in his throat.

He wanted to explain, and he did. That he’d forgotten because he was too excited about the trip. That he hadn’t slept in days, that his head was a storm of static and pressure and everything else that he couldn’t even air.

But instead, something else slipped out.

“I… I was helping Yushi,” he said, voice louder than he expected. “I spent most of my time going over his design with him, making sure everything translated. I didn’t have enough time to finish mine.”

The lie stung as it left his mouth, and still, he couldn’t stop. He said it with a kind of cold resolve, eyes locked on Professor Park like it was a challenge. He didn’t dare look at Yushi. Not once. Not even to gauge his reaction. He wasn’t going to understand what Sion was going to say, and still, he felt too ashamed to look at him. Because he knew what he’d done. He was a fraud, and now everyone in the room had heard it, dressed up as generosity.

The professor blinked, caught off guard by the confidence, maybe even a little thrown by the implication of unfairness.

“Well,” Park said, clearly annoyed but unwilling to argue over something so petty. “That’s… noble, I suppose. But this was supposed to be an individual design. You won’t get credit for being someone else’s assistant, so next time, focus more on your own design.”

Sion nodded once, stiff and mechanical, and walked back to his seat with blood roaring in his ears.

He sat down, and the silence between them was sudden and sharp.

Sion braced for it, for a sigh, or a glare, or a muttered why did you say that?, but none of it came. Yushi didn’t even seem bothered. He just stared at him with open hands.

The notebook.

Sion slammed it on the desk, in between them. Not angry. Not hurt. Just fucking tired.

He’d just stolen half of his idea, cheapened it, dragged it into his mess, and Yushi was fine?

Didn’t he care? Didn’t he notice?

Was he going to have to translate for him what he had done? The lie he had told? There was no way in hell.

Sion gritted his teeth, trying not to let the anger show on his face. He turned slightly away from Yushi, heart pounding with guilt and resentment and something else he didn’t want to name.

“He just asked something about my design… nothing else,” Sion muttered, lying.

It wasn’t fair, none of it was.

And Yushi nodded, calm, collected, untouchable, making it worse just by existing. But his lips trembled, and Sion caught that.

The professor moved on. Another name. Another critique. But he couldn’t hear anything anymore, just the soft, unbothered breath beside him. The quiet scratching of Yushi’s pen on his notebook and the screaming silence inside his own head.

By the time class ended, Professor Park had already stormed out, probably off to ruin someone else's day. A few classmates trickled toward Sion, voices hushed but faces lit up with half-curious sympathy.

“Bro, what was that?” one of them said, eyes wide like he’d just witnessed a car crash. “Was he insane or something?”

“I know, right?” Sion replied, exhaling hard. He was grateful, briefly, to have someone, anyone, acknowledge how unfair it had felt. “It’s so fucking unfair.”

“At least you saved your ass,” the guy said, gesturing lazily in Yushi’s direction without even glancing at him. “Helping him and all. He’s like, a fucking genius or whatever.”

Sion forced a laugh. “Well, I did help him,” he said, the lie sliding out again before he could stop it. “So that makes me half a genius.”

Stop lying. Stop fucking lying, Sion.

The professor was gone. There was no one left to impress. No need to keep pretending. And yet, he couldn’t stop. Maybe he didn’t want to admit it, to himself or them, that the most he’d done all week was panic and plagiarize someone else’s brilliance.

But before the shame could settle, the guy kept going.

“Still, man, why are you even doing that? The whole assistant thing? Do you, like, get credits for it? Or is he, like… a special needs student?”

Sion blinked.

“…What?”

He didn’t even know the guy’s name. Couldn’t remember if he’d ever spoken to him before. And now here he was, talking about Yushi like he wasn’t sitting right there. The fact that he didn’t know Korean and couldn’t defend himself was even meaner.

“Like, I mean,” the guy shrugged, “he doesn’t talk or anything, right? So…”

“No, you dumbass, he’s deaf so…” Seolhyun cut in, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “He’s disabled, not retarded.”

“Ahhh. I didn’t know…” the guy mumbled.

Sion’s stomach twisted. He looked at Yushi, who was calmly packing up his things, face unreadable, slow and quiet as ever. 

“He’s not deaf,” Sion said, trying to smooth it over. His voice was too flat, too late. “I just translate for him. He doesn’t speak Korean, that’s all. He’s Japanese.”

“Ohhh, that makes more sense,” the guy said, like he’d solved some kind of puzzle. He was already dragging the chair beside them out, clearly intending to stay longer. “Still though, doesn’t talk either? At all? Kind of creepy, not gonna lie.”

Sion looked down at his notebook, willing the conversation to end, willing the guy to go away.

He felt sick. His hands clenched into fists on his lap. He wanted to say something, anything, but his throat was tight with shame and exhaustion.

“Whatever, Jeonsul,” Seolhyun snapped, grabbing the guy by the arm. “Let’s go.”

“Alright, alright,” he said, laughing like this was all some big joke. He stood, tossed his bag over his shoulder, and like a final kick to the gut, he pointed at Yushi again. “Well, good luck with him.”

And then he was gone.

The classroom emptied around them.

Sion sat frozen in his seat, his jaw locked, staring at nothing. Yushi was still beside him, still methodically organizing his pencils. He looked so unfaded, so innocent. 

Sion hadn’t said a damn thing to stop them. He should’ve snapped at them. Should’ve told that guy to shut his ignorant mouth. Should’ve said ‘don’t talk about him like that’, or ‘he’s smarter than you’ll ever be’, or ‘fuck off, seriously.’ But he hadn’t, because he was tired. Because he was defeated. Because his stomach was still twisting from his own lie. Because he was a coward. 

He looked over at Yushi, who met his eyes for a brief second, calm, unreadable, unfazed. And that made it worse, the fact that he wasn’t mad, that he wasn’t hurt, or at least, wouldn’t show it.

That he had every right to hate Sion, and he didn’t.

Sion swallowed hard, throat dry. He wasn’t going to translate any of that either.

He felt like the worst person in the room.

Because he was.

He couldn’t even say goodbye; he just grabbed his stuff and stormed out, too fast, too loud, like maybe movement alone could shake off the shame burning in his chest. By the time he got to his dorm, he slammed the door shut so hard the frame rattled. The silence that followed was unbearable.

“Fuckin’ stupid people! Fuck!” he yelled, already pacing, already unraveling. “And you didn’t say anything! Are you stupid? Are you actually stupid, Sion?!”

His voice cracked at the end, a sharp edge splitting through it. He dug his nails into his palms until they stung. His head was spinning, replaying every second of that conversation: he doesn’t talk, right? Kind of creepy, and the way Yushi had just sat there, still, quiet, perfectly composed, while Sion did nothing.

He kicked his chair. “Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you just open your fucking mouth?!”

The words spilled out in all directions, messy and bitter and loud, not directed at anyone but aimed at everything. He paced harder, pulling at his own hair now, gripping fistfuls like maybe if he tugged hard enough, it’d yank the guilt out with it.

He was so angry he couldn’t breathe.

His mind was ricocheting between too many things at once: Professor Park, the lie, the guy’s face, the words, Yushi’s face. The one-second glance. That calm, quiet look. Like Sion hadn’t disappointed him. Like he hadn’t seen it happen.

Maybe that’s what broke him the most.

He felt like throwing up. He felt like crying. He did neither.

Instead, he showered with water too hot, skin turning red, scrubbing until he felt raw. Changed like a robot. Packed his bag with jerky, mindless hands, forgetting half the stuff he’d need but not caring; he knew Jaehyun was on his way to pick him up already. He wasn’t going to go to classes the next day, and he felt bad for Yushi because he hadn’t said anything to him in advance, once again. He quickly texted Shotaro as he was waiting for his brother at the usual university pick-up point.

 

sion

im leaving for the weekend 

gonna go to mokpo w jaehyun

could you go tomorrow to check on yushi?

ill send you my schedule

 

He didn’t even wait for him to reply, not sure if he wanted to see what he had to say. It was a selfish request, he knew, but he needed it. Once in the street, as he waited for Jaehyun, his feet tapped on the floor anxiously, like he just escaped some sort of high-security jail, and some drug dealer was going to pick him up. But the reality was that he was just waiting for his brother to pick him up to go for a weekend with his parents. 

Why did he feel so bad then? Like he should stay?

The thoughts quickly erased as he saw Jaehyun’s car turning, approaching him weirdly slow. Sion smiled, feeling his anxiety fading away for a second. He left his duffle bag in the back seat and quickly jumped on the passenger seat, hitting Jaehyun playfully on the shoulder as he turned the car on again.

“Where’s the wife?” Sion asked

“Don’t call Liv that, you know she hates it,” Jaehyun corrected, giving him a serious side eye, “And she’s staying this weekend, someone had to take care of the cats.”

“True… Well, we can call her later if you want. I miss her, and I’m sure Mom is expecting her.”

“Call her yourself then what the fuck, I just saw her half an hour ago”

“Jesus, grumpy much?” Sion leaned closer to inspect his brother’s face, catching the faint trace of annoyance in his furrowed brow. “You good?”

“Yeah, yeah, I just had to clock out early, and my boss called me out in the group chat. It’s whatever. I don’t wanna think about it.”

He turned the car onto the highway in a smooth, practiced motion. The city lights fell away behind them, swallowed by darkness and the distant hum of road noise. The world felt smaller here. Safer.

“Tell me about uni,” Jaehyun said after a beat. “How’s my favorite architect doing?”

“Your favorite or the only one you know?”

“My favorite, obviously,” Jaehyun shot back.

Sion smiled a little. “I’m fine. A bit tired, I guess.” He glanced at his phone. Still no message from Shotaro. Just a goodbye text from Daeyoung. “I can drive later, by the way. If you wanna switch.”

“There’s no way in hell I’m letting you drive. Not after last time.”

“Jaehyun, I’m sorry but that time it wasn’t even my fau-”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

Sion huffed but let it drop. For a moment, silence stretched between them… comfortable, almost warm.

“So,” Jaehyun asked, eyes still on the road, “tired because of school? It’s only what, your second week?”

“Third,” Sion said. “But yeah. Kinda crazy, right? It’s like… day twenty of the semester and I’ve already thought about dropping out.”

He laughed to himself, but it came out crooked, half-sincere.

“What?” Jaehyun looked at him. “What are you laughing at?”

“Nothing. It’s just… so much has happened already, but also? Nothing really did. It’s weird. Feels like I’ve been there for months.”

“Well,” Jaehyun said, switching the car screen to navigation, “we’ve got three hours and twenty minutes until we get home. That’s a lot of time for weird stories.”

Sion exhaled. Maybe it was a long story. Maybe it was one he didn’t even fully understand yet. But with Jaehyun, he didn’t feel the need to hold it all alone. That was the thing with his brother: he didn’t dig too deep, didn’t demand perfect answers. He just listened, maybe too good to his liking, so Sion leaned his head against the window, watching the dark road stretch endlessly ahead, and began to speak.

He told him everything. The whole email that started it. Meeting Yushi. The mess of their first classes. The teachers who sucked, the ones who didn’t. The parties, the first awkward one, and the second chaotic one. Learning Japanese. Jisung’s tragic love stories. Wonbin’s unfiltered, hilarious antics. Shotaro’s wild hot takes. Daeyoung’s ability to turn even silence into affection. Riku’s oddly cute accent. All of it, in no particular order, like puzzle pieces scattered across the dash.

Jaehyun listened with one hand on the wheel, occasionally throwing in a laugh or an eye-roll. He knew most of the names; he'd heard them before in rushed weekend calls or long texts and even met his closest friends a couple of times.

“Can’t believe Daeyoung still treats you so nicely,” Jaehyun said eventually. “That kid deserves everything.”

“I treat him nicely too,” Sion huffed.

“Sure you do,” Jaehyun teased. “And I definitely can’t believe you’re actually learning Japanese. That’s honestly impressive.”

“I know, right?” Sion lit up, sitting straighter in his seat. “I think I’m getting so much better.”

“Would you teach your future niece or nephew?” Jaehyun asked casually.

Sion’s eyes widened. “Don’t tell me you guys are-”

“Jesus, no.” Jaehyun practically swerved with panic.

“Oh, okay,” Sion said, snickering. “Too early for that shit, huh? We don’t need any creamp-”

“I swear to God, we’re stopping at the next gas station and you’re getting out.”

Jaehyun’s tone was horrified, but the twitch in his mouth betrayed a smile. Sion grinned widely, satisfied with the reaction. They were always like this, bantering one second, bickering the next, then crashing into laughter or some deep midnight heart-to-heart that left Sion wondering how he ever functioned without him.

They, however, did stop at the next gas station. Not to throw Sion out, but for snacks. Both of them returned to the car with armfuls of chips, banana milk, chocolate bars, and two large coffees that they promised not to mention to their parents. It didn’t matter that Sion was twenty and Jaehyun was twenty-five; around their parents, they were still the same kids who had to sneak junk food past the front door and hide their scratches because they had been playing too rough.

The second half of the ride was quieter. Jaehyun did most of the talking this time, about Liv and the mess at her job, about his coworkers and their cats, about weird dreams he’d been having, and dumb things his friends had done. Sion barely replied, too busy letting the rhythm of Jaehyun’s voice lull him into a safe, floaty haze. And then, out of nowhere, he brought it up.

“So Taeyong himself dragged you into the Yushi thing?”

It startled Sion. First, because he was half-asleep, and second, because Jaehyun hadn’t mentioned Yushi the entire ride. Whether it was deliberate or not, Sion hadn’t known how to bring him up again.

“I mean… not really,” Sion mumbled, adjusting in his seat. “But yeah, I guess he didn’t know Yushi didn’t really… speak. At all. It’s kind of frustrating.”

“He doesn’t say anything?”

“Just small stuff. Like, yes or no. Mostly nods. Hums a bit.” Sion rubbed his eyes. “It’s weird. I didn’t think it would be this awkward.”

“I didn’t know you could be awkward around anyone,” Jaehyun grinned, nudging his elbow. “Well. It’s good to know someone’s out there pushing your boundaries, too.”

“I’d like to see someone push yours,” Sion muttered, turning away again, letting the quiet settle back in.

He hadn’t come to Mokpo to be psychoanalyzed. And maybe Jaehyun sensed that, because after that, he fell into silence too, speeding up just a little as the roads narrowed and grew familiar.

And then it hit him. That wave of nostalgia. Thick and sudden, knocking into Sion like a gust of wind that almost made his glasses slip. Home.

Their family house was nestled at the edge of a quiet valley, just outside of Mokpo proper. It sat low against the slope of a hill, all wood and warm brick, surrounded by green fields and a small, stubborn vegetable patch. The scent of pine and earth greeted them before the car even stopped.

The front gate creaked as it always had. The porch light flickered once before humming steadily on. Their mother opened the door before they could even knock, apron still tied, hair pulled back in a soft bun, her smile spreading so wide it almost made Sion tear up.

“There you are!” she said, voice bright and warm. “Took you long enough!”

Their father was just behind her, crossing his arms but beaming underneath the stoic front. “I see you brought the troublemaker.”

“Which one?” Jaehyun joked, stepping forward to hug their mom.

Sion was next, arms wrapping around her waist as she pulled him in close and said, “You’ve lost weight again, Sionnie, what do they feed you there?”

“I haven’t,” Sion mumbled into her shoulder. “Besides, lately I just eat whatever Daeyoung cooks,” he admitted, almost inaudible under the loud noises his mom was making as she was hugging him.

The house smelled like doenjang stew and fried garlic, and inside it was still the same, simple, lived-in, a bit cluttered, full of framed photos and warm wood tones, dried herbs were hanging near the kitchen, and the same soft mat by the front door. The floor felt warmer than he remembered.

Sion spent the rest of the afternoon doing nothing, and it was perfect.

The next day, he helped his dad trim a few stubborn branches in the back orchard and fed the chickens and cows early in the morning. His mom made kimchi pancakes for breakfast and then scolded him for not eating enough of them. He napped under the quilt on the sofa with the window open, the sound of birdsong and the rustling breeze lulling him into the best sleep he'd had in weeks.

The next day, he read a couple of chapters of a novel Jaehyun had left behind on his last visit. He didn’t even like it that much, but the act of sitting in the sun-drenched living room, curled up with a book and no one asking him for anything, felt healing.

He didn’t check his email. Didn’t open his chats with Shotaro or Daeyoung, or Jisung. He would blame it later on the poor connection.

On Sunday, he and Jaehyun took a walk through the old trail behind the house, past the creek where they used to catch frogs and the abandoned shed they once believed was haunted. They didn’t talk much. They didn’t need to. And then, too soon, Jaehyun and his dad were loading their stuff back into the car, honking once to let Sion know it was time.

Their mom hugged them both twice. Their dad tried to act like he wasn’t getting misty-eyed but gave them extra rice cakes for the road, explicitly telling them they were for Daeyoung. As the car pulled away, Sion looked back once through the window, the house growing smaller and smaller, tucked between the fields and trees, and felt something in his chest settle. He looked at his texts, regretting it already. He opened Jisung’s next; they were from that same morning.

 

jisung

jiwoo answered

were meeting next friday

also i need our study sessions back

i almost failed my medicinal chemistry test

 

Sion rolled his eyes. He knew when Jisung meant ‘almost failed’ that meant he got a B-.

 

sion

soo happy for the jiwoo thing

tellme if you need cool clothes… hehe

and yeah, gonna lock in tomorrow

see u tonight

 

Then Wonbin, from last night.

 

wonbin

imma crash at ur bed today

cant stand being alone in the room

hope you dont mind

[attachment]

 

Sion smiled, opening Wonbin's picture. He had taken the most horrible picture of Daeyoung sleeping, and he instantly saved it, knowing he was going to use it later against his will.

 

sion

thanks for the pic bro

i didnt mind so its okay

see u tonight tho

 

He opened Daeyoung’s next, from Friday night.

 

daeyoung

have fun!

tell your parents i said hi

and try to relax, you were going bald last time saw you

 

He quickly touched his head, panicking for a second.

“Jaehyun, am I going bald?”

“No? What the fuck… But keep on doing those do-it-at-home dyes, and we will be having this conversation in a couple of years again.”

Sion scoffed, replying to his roommate.

 

sion

i brought presents

only for the bald squad 

see u tonight, ill be there in like two and a half hours

 

And then Shotaro. The elephant in the room. He had double texted; firstly, the afternoon he left, and then Friday morning, which was kind of alarming.

 

shotaro [thursday]

dude wth

i have classes too

tf imma do with him 

are you even going to pay me?

 

shotaro [friday] 

i just explained to him

and asked if he wanted me to stay

he said no, so im leaving

i gave him your number tho

so yeah

see u tomorrow?

or when u coming?

 

Sion gulped loudly, so much that Jaehyun looked at him with confusion, but he just disguised it as a small cough, turning around slightly to check the messages again.

 

i just explained to him

and asked if he wanted me to stay

he said no, so im leaving

i gave him your number tho

 

So Yushi didn’t want Shotaro in class with him. That felt better than he imagined.

But he had his number and hadn't texted either. That felt worse than he imagined, too. 

Notes:

jaehyun cameo bc i miss him so much

nct dream concert as a university band playing heavenly COULD be the death of me

also guysh should i give 0 fucks and post another chapter tomorrow........

anyways love you all a lot for reading and commenting and bookmarking and leaving kudos but most important for enjoying it! i hope you are having an amazing summer <3

Chapter 6: dreadful mondays

Summary:

And then he ran away like a coward. Like he had been caught in his own lie.

Notes:

beta read by myself while listening to fact check by nct127 but remixed by ezra hazard so like sorry if this has any mistakes, you can kindly let me know in the comments!

Yushi went with tears in his eyes the morning that too many things happened in so little time. 

The mean comments from the professor reinforced his inability to even breathe in a room like that. 

Sion’s anguish, hundred percent readable through those dark eyes, he could almost see how the glasses were sliding down millimeters because he was sweating down his forehead. Sweaty palms, shaky hands. He defended his work magnificently, but he wasn't lucky enough when he had to explain it. 

It was true that Sion’s submission had been kind of poor, only sketches and a bunch of ideas over not too steady lines, and Yushi thought it was okay since it was only like their third class, but Professor Park was ruthless.

And how did Sion dodge the bullet? By lying and saying he had been helping Yushi out with his design.

It hurt  Yushi so much, not because he stole some credit or something, he could draw things like that with his eyes closed, but Sion had lied to him, by not telling him he just forgot. And then he came back to the desk and told Yushi another lie, fake translating whatever he wanted. It wasn’t about Sion claiming something his, it was about Sion not caring enough for Yushi to be honest. And it hurt like hell, but he didn’t flinch, didn’t shift, he didn’t want to look at him. He didn't deserve to get lied to his face, like a kid. A helpless kid.

And then his classmates, bothering them, complaining about the professor, when one of them asked Sion if he was a special needs student? And another girl called him deaf? Disabled? Was university a real place with real people? 

Yushi clenched his teeth so much his jaw hurt all afternoon, not only because of their comments, but because Sion didn't deny it. He didn't contradict them, only explained that he just translated for him.

People called Yushi stupid, insinuating much more, and Sion just avoided it. And then he ran away like a coward. Like he had been caught in his own lie.

Yushi sat there, alone in the classroom, crying. He didn’t bother to wipe the tears away; he just let them fall, silent and hot, until there was nothing left in him to spill. When the numbness settled in, he picked himself up and returned to the dorm, defeated.

He spent the entire afternoon buried in physics. Music blasting. Not allowing a single thought to break through the noise. Not Sion. Not the look on his face. Not on the things he said, and especially not on the things he didn’t say.

When Riku came back, he took one look at Yushi and understood. He didn’t ask. He didn’t need to. And Yushi silently thanked him for that, for not forcing it into words.

Later, Riku suggested they head to the cafeteria. “Just to get out of here,” he said. Yushi nodded. They needed the air.

They sat with Sakuya and Ryo, who greeted them warmly as soon as they stepped into the big, echoing room. Introductions were brief, others joined the table, but Yushi didn’t say a word. He didn’t have the energy. Not after everything.

But the worst part came the next morning, when Yushi arrived early, like always. He liked the quiet before class started. The calm. But Sion didn’t show. Instead, his friend Shotaro appeared ten minutes before the bell, that same cocky grin on his face that Yushi had never quite understood.

“So Sion is not coming today, he asked me if you want me to stay with you and-”

“No, thank you,” he said dryly.

Not only did he treat him like a child yesterday, but now he had gotten him a babysitter?

“But I don’t mind really, I could-” Yushi shook his head, not even looking at him. “Okay, well, here, this is his phone, you can just ask him whatever.”

Yushi looked briefly, and Shotaro was extending him a piece of paper with a phone number written on it. He took it and got it inside his notebook, the paper already lost among the endless notes of Korean architectural regulations. The older was a bit taken aback, and as he left, he turned around to watch over Yushi one more time, but Yushi looked away quickly, not caring.

Caring too much.

‘To ask him whatever,’ Shotaro just said. And he had a hundred things that he wanted to know.

 

Why did you lie to me?

Why didn’t you correct them?

Why didn’t you stand up for me?

Am I a liability?

 

But he wasn’t going to text him. It wasn’t a crime skipping classes, but he could have told him yesterday, right? He wasn’t going to fold.

The day was insufferable, almost as insufferable as the day before. Until last class, his favorite professor, Building Law, saved the day. Jung Wooyoung was the best professor Yushi had met in UOS, and everyone seemed to love him. He was calm, strict when he needed to be, and he talked just when needed. At the end of the class, he explained that the Open Doors Week would be held throughout the university every morning. If they didn’t want to participate as volunteers, they could simply attend the afternoon schedule.

Yushi wrote it down, definitely thinking about skipping the whole volunteer thing. He got to his dorm quickly, wanting to unwind the stress of the whole week, to curl in his nest for days.

The first part of that Friday afternoon, he spent it studying physics until Riku came into the room, complaining about something he couldn’t remember. When he came out of the shower, Yushi him about the idea of switching to the afternoon classes, telling him about the volunteer thing too, and Riku agreed completely.

“Also, I met a couple of days ago a guy at the gym who is also from architecture, and he goes to the afternoon classes as well. I can ask him if you want.”

Yushi looked half curious, half worried, not wanting to repeat the whole thing again.

“He doesn’t know Japanese though, but he knows English, that’s something” Riku kept on saying, talking to himself like he was planning something “Anyways, I’m going out tonight, Daeyoung and I are going to Seoul, he wants to show me some places around, so I guess I’ll be here late” Riku rolled his chair to Yushi’s desk, demanding more attention “Do you want me to bring you dinner?”

Yushi nodded eagerly, already expecting something delicious.

The room went quiet again when Riku left, and Yushi switched subjects, revising the notes of today’s classes. He saw a couple of documentaries about the History of Japanese architecture and Korean one, finishing with some homework for his Building Law class. It was almost one when Riku came back, but as promised, he brought tteokbokki and sweet potato snacks. Yushi devoured them while his best friend told him everything Daeyoung had told him that afternoon, showing pictures of the city.

Sunday morning was quieter than usual. The campus had emptied out a bit, some students visiting family, others simply escaping the pressure that hung over the university like humidity, like they were preparing for something big. Yushi had spent most of the morning organizing notes and setting up his new weekly schedule. He still felt raw from everything, but the stillness helped. Even if only a little.

Around five, Riku suggested going to the gym. Yushi hesitated, but the idea of movement felt oddly appealing, like it might knock something loose. The gym wasn’t too crowded when they arrived. The hum of machines, the low thud of weights, and the occasional grunt filled the space. Riku waved at someone across the room and then turned to Yushi with a smile. He regretted agreeing to the gym.

“This guy must live here, what the fuck? It’s Anton, the guy I mentioned yesterday…” Riku explained, “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

Yushi followed, clutching his water bottle like a shield. They stopped near the stretching area, where a tall guy with tousled dark hair and a simple tank top was wiping down a yoga mat. He looked up as they approached, then gave a small nod.

“Anton,” Riku greeted him, bumping fists casually. “This is my roommate, Yushi, the one I mentioned.”

Anton turned to Yushi, his gaze calm, neutral, but kind. “Hey. Nice to meet you.”

Yushi gave a slight bow, acknowledging him.

Riku gestured between them. “Yushi’s switching to the afternoon schedule next week. For Open Doors.”

Anton nodded slowly, as if processing that like a checklist item. “Ah, cool. Makes sense. It’s going to be absolute chaos.”

He looked at Yushi again, more directly this time, but without pressure. “So will you join us, the afternoon losers, tomorrow?” he asked, and Yushi nodded. “Cool. I’ll save you a seat.” He said nonchalantly and returned to adjusting his earbuds.

Yushi blinked, surprised at how easy the exchange was. Anton didn’t ask questions or try to make him talk. He didn’t push anything. Just said what needed to be said and left it open. No fuss. No overcompensating. Just soft, steady reassurance, exactly what Yushi hadn’t realized he needed.

As they walked back to the machines, Riku glanced at him sideways. “He’s chill, right?”

Yushi nodded. He wasn’t going to get attached. Not like he was attached to Sion. That was not it.

Even though he and Riku had gone to bed early, the next morning still hit them like a slap to the face. The distorted screech of a megaphone blared across the open campus, dragging Yushi violently from a shallow sleep. It was one of those cheap, static-filled ones, loud enough to jolt the dead and somehow just unintelligible enough to be useless. The voice crackled something about ‘Open Door Week’ and ‘welcoming high schoolers and visitors,’ but Yushi buried his face in the pillow with a groan.

Riku let out a long, dramatic sigh from the bunk above. “This country has so many mornings,” he muttered.

Yushi didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Not when the knot was already curling tight in his stomach.

By the time they’d gotten dressed and opened the dorm door, they hated the idea of going out, but they needed to do laundry so badly. The hallways were already crawling. Loud voices. New faces. People standing in the middle of the corridor like they owned it. Yushi barely made it down the stairs without bumping into three people. He bowed apologetically each time, even when it wasn’t his fault. One girl laughed. Another glanced at him like she recognized him, but didn’t know from where. Someone else whispered as he passed, words like little needles against his back.

Outside was worse. Music, booths, shouting. Students from other universities and a couple of high schools. A guy in a tiger suit taking photos with freshmen. Yushi lasted exactly five minutes on campus grounds before turning right back around and climbing the stairs to his dorm again. He looked at Riku before going, like asking for permission.

“Brave of you to assume I’d try to stop you,” Riku replied.

Yushi didn’t leave the room for the rest of the morning, laundry could definitely wait… He barely moved. He stayed on his computer with the curtain drawn just enough to give him slivers of the courtyard. Every so often, he peeked out, hoping the crowd had thinned, the energy died down. But it hadn’t. It only got louder.

At noon, someone in the quad was blasting pop music through a Bluetooth speaker. At one and a half, there was a spontaneous cheerleading performance. He heard the megaphone again, closer this time, and flinched without meaning to.

He tried to eat lunch but couldn’t finish it. Tried reading something for class, but the words blurred together. He lay down again, stared at the ceiling, then at the clock. 3:12 p.m. His class was at four. He showered slowly and dressed even slower, like trying not to get overstimulated by his own thoughts. Riku told him that tip about a year ago, it was called mindfulness. He tried to do it whenever he thought he was going to shut down, and it always worked.

Tied and untied his shoes twice. And then, finally, he left.

The hallways weren’t as packed now, but there were still too many people, and Yushi had never been good at weaving through moving bodies. He kept his gaze low, shoulders drawn inward, his pace careful and deliberate. A few people looked up when he passed. One person greeted him with a polite nod. Another whispered something behind a hand.

He bumped into someone at the stairwell. Again. Again. He kept apologizing in little bows, refusing to look anyone in the eye. He gripped the strap of his backpack like it was a lifeline. Everything felt off. Like the air was too thick, like the walls were too loud. Even the colors felt brighter, like they were mocking him. He passed a group of underclassmen laughing loudly near the vending machines. One of them stopped mid-sentence when he walked by.

Yushi’s skin prickled.

They knew. Or at least, they thought they knew.

That’s the Japanese guy who doesn’t talk. That’s the one Sion helps. That’s the quiet one.

He turned the corner into the academic wing, finally escaping the noise. By the time he reached the classroom, his palms were damp and his jaw was clenched. He hesitated in front of the door, staring at the chipped paint, heart beating too fast.

He didn’t know if Sion would be inside; he didn’t know how to feel about seeing him.

But the thought of walking into that room full of people,  unfamiliar faces, wandering eyes, whispered words, made his chest ache with a sharp dread. He hovered there for a second, hand frozen just above the doorknob. When he didn’t see Sion inside the classroom, something in his body loosened. His shoulders, tense since he’d stepped outside, slowly dropped back into place. There was a small swell of guilt in his chest, but mostly relief. His fingers twitched around the strap of his backpack, and he took in his first real breath of the day.

Anton waved from the front row, a sheepish little gesture followed by a point to the empty seat beside him. Yushi hesitated. It was the front row, hell on a Monday, but he nodded and walked toward it. After last week, after being dragged to the floor and trampled in a sea of legs and laughter, what else could go wrong?

“Hi! You made it alive,” Anton whispered with a grin as Yushi sat down. “Even though there are more people out there than in the military.” Yushi let out a small laugh. It wasn’t forced.

Classes were… tolerable. Thankfully, they didn’t have to change rooms for once; most rooms were occupied by random activities and info sessions for Open Door Week, but theirs remained untouched. That tiny win made everything easier to manage. Still, by the time the last professor turned off the projector and the clock announced it was 8:56 p.m., Yushi felt like a sock rung dry. His brain had melted somewhere between the third and fourth class.

“You heading back to the dorms?” Anton’s voice broke his thoughts.

Yushi nodded, slowly and distracted.

“We can go together,” Anton offered. “They’re starting the night events, so it might get… intense.”

Yushi nodded again, too tired to even muster a hum. But the second they stepped outside, he regretted everything.

The buildings might’ve been empty, but the gardens were chaos. Music thudded from hidden speakers. Lights flashed. People were everywhere, laughing, moving, filling every inch of the common area. He couldn’t even see the entrance to his dorm.

Yushi froze, his breath caught in his throat, shallow and sharp. It felt like drowning in the middle of a concert he hadn’t bought a ticket for. Too many colors, too many voices, too many eyes. His heart beat faster, hands slightly trembling by his sides. He tried to swallow, but his throat was dry. He couldn’t look up. Couldn’t move.

“Hey,” Anton said softly, noticing. “Wanna try another way? I know a back entrance, it’s just through the next wing.”

Yushi nodded again, jerky and fast. He followed without hesitation.

It felt like a survival mission. A zombie apocalypse, almost. Like opening the wrong door would unleash a horde of students who’d claw at him with questions, curiosity, and judgment. They snuck through empty halls, quiet stairwells, deserted side corridors. Anton led confidently, never rushing him, never looking back to ask if he was okay. He just knew. When they finally reached the back exit, the noise was distant again, muffled by walls. And then, suddenly, his stomach growled, loud and demanding.

Anton turned, clearly having heard it. He blinked at him, surprised, and then laughed softly, warm and genuine. “You hungry?”

Yushi hummed, embarrassed.

“We can grab a bite while the crowd cools off, if you want. Just the convenience store.”

There was a long pause as Yushi considered it. He barely knew Anton. They had only shared an afternoon together, in class. But the thought of diving back into that crowd, of pushing past the lights and music and eyes again… He hummed again, quietly. Followed him once more.

As they walked, Yushi shot a quick text to Riku, just in case he was waiting. At the store, Anton grabbed a simple bibimbap, while Yushi loaded his arms with food like he was prepping for a typhoon: marinated eggs, ramen, banana chips, a wrapped panini, a carton of milk tea, two waters, and a weird jelly pouch he wasn’t even sure he liked.

Anton looked at him with visible amusement, eyebrows lifted, but no judgment. Just curiosity. They didn’t talk while eating. Instead, they sat on the front deck in silence, listening to the convenience store’s light playlist, a soft trot song melting into a K-indie ballad. In the distance, the noise from the campus event slowly faded into background static.

It felt like a silent agreement. That neither of them needed to speak to enjoy this. Only when the last echoes of laughter disappeared into the wind did they finally stand and walk back, quiet and slow.

Yushi’s dorm was closer. Anton stopped with him at the gate, gave a soft wave, and a goodnight. As he stepped inside the building, Yushi caught himself smiling. That was nice. Just… going out to grab a bite. Or multiple bites. With someone who wasn’t expecting anything from him.

He opened the door to his room softly. It was already late, but to his surprise, Riku was still up. So was Daeyoung. They were sitting on the bed, side by side, watching something on Riku’s laptop, the glow reflecting softly on their faces. The moment felt intimate. Their shoulders touched, close enough to blur the lines between comfort and something sweeter. Yushi took a step in, unsure they heard him, and they both jumped.

“Oh, hi!” Rikui said, a little breathless. “Didn’t know you’d be back so early.”

“It’s midnight,” Yushi muttered, blinking.

“Oh fuck, really?” Riku grabbed his phone. “Oh fuck.”

“You okay?” Daeyoung asked with a chirpy tone, his concern endearing rather than intrusive.

“Yeah, I just- We lost track of time,” Riku said, scratching his neck. “We’ll finish this tomorrow.”

“Oh! Yeah! No problem!” Daeyoung stood quickly and headed to the door for his shoes. “Did you… dinner?” he switched to Japanese to address Yushi, which startled him

The accent was clumsy but earnest. His heart softened.

“A lot,” Yushi admitted in a soft whisper, rubbing his neck.

Both Riku and Daeyoung laughed, and something warm bubbled up in Yushi’s chest. It felt so… easy. So kind.

“Next time… I bring you food,” Daeyoung said, still in Japanese. He smiled sweetly at both of them before heading out.

Riku stared after him, eyes lingering a little too long before he shut the door with a smile. “Sorry,” he muttered. “Didn’t think it’d get so late.”

“It’s okay,” Yushi said, already slipping into his sleepwear.

“Wanna come to the library with us tomorrow? I’ve got a midterm essay due, and I desperately need peer pressure.”

Yushi hummed.

“Nice.”

They didn’t talk much after that. Both were too drained. Their day had been long and full in different ways, and silence suited them now, and as expected, the next morning came too soon.

The same distorted announcement blared through the megaphone, jerking them both awake. Riku immediately cursed the university, the system, and whoever invented Open Door Week in general.

Thankfully, though, even if the way to the library was hell, twice the distance, ten times the people, they moved together. It helped. Everything felt easier when he wasn’t walking alone. Daeyoung kept his promise, even though he had only made it last night, as he brought some bread and coffee for the three of them. He thought about how he had time to get it while they were climbing the stairs.

The library was almost empty, and Riku grinned, already pacing quickly to his favorite area. Yushi locked in fast, as he always did, hours passing by without exhausting himself, finishing his plans and studying for next week's seminars and tests. The next day went almost like an exact copy, and the day after too: in classes he didn’t talk to Anton, but he seemed chill about it, offering Yushi some snacks after classes while they walked around the campus, unwinding. At the library, Riku and Daeyoung took small breaks, to walk around, to grab more books for Riku’s essay, just to talk outside without bothering. On Wednesday morning, one of the times Daeyoung went to the bathroom, Yushi had gone to grab a book about different plans of famous constructions in Seoul, and as he returned, weaving slowly between the tables, he caught a glimpse of Riku’s laptop screen.

He hadn’t meant to look. His eyes just landed there. The title was written in a bold, all-caps serif font, black against the stark white of a Google Doc:

Abnormal Psychology: Selective Mutism in Late Development and Social Adaptation.

Yushi froze.

His arms went slack. The book slipped.

It hit the floor with a deafening thud, loud enough to echo off the high ceilings, loud enough to startle the few scattered students around them. Heads turned. Someone gasped. But Yushi didn’t hear any of them. All he could see was the screen. That sentence. That word.

Abnormal.

“Fuck- are you okay?” Riku spun around in his seat, reaching for him. “Did it hit your foot? Are you hurt?”

But Yushi couldn’t hear him. Couldn’t move. The words on the screen grew bigger in his mind, the letters curling inward like claws. Abnormal. Mutism. Adaptation. They looped over and over again, hammering his skull.

Why was Riku researching this? Why was he calling him that?

He couldn’t breathe.

His chest heaved, but the air wouldn’t go in. Everything blurred. The room warped. The walls seemed to stretch further away, and yet the screen felt impossibly close. Like it was pressing against his eyes.

Riku stood up and grabbed his shoulders. “Yushi- hey, hey- look at me, you’re really pale, you’re not breathing, let’s get out of here, come on-”

But Yushi jerked back violently, tearing himself from Riku’s hands. He didn’t mean to hurt him. He just had to move. Now.

He turned on his heel and stormed toward the exit, bumping into someone hard at the door. A blur of a green hoodie, Daeyoung. He said something but Yushi didn’t understand a word. He didn’t hear a word. He burst down the stairs, taking them two at a time, not caring who saw him or how fast he was moving. He shoved past a crowd of underclassmen taking selfies and nearly tripped on someone’s bag. Somewhere in the mess of voices and sound, he thought he heard someone call his name.

Sion?

No, it was probably nothing. Or maybe his brain was grasping for a lifeline. A hanging thread where he could sew all of his problems.

He reached his dorm building, stumbled inside, and slammed the door shut behind him. The noise outside died instantly. And then, everything crashed.

He slid down against the wall, knees buckling, collapsing like a puppet whose strings had finally snapped. His backpack fell somewhere near the door, forgotten. His hands clawed at his hair, his scalp, his cheeks. Anything. He couldn’t feel his fingers. Couldn’t feel his mouth. He was shaking all over, his body locked in panic.

His ears were ringing. His vision was tunneling. He tried to breathe but his throat was closing, tight like a fist. No air came in. His lungs burned. He felt like he was choking on himself.

Tears spilled down his cheeks without warning. Hot. Violent. His whole body spasmed with the effort of holding everything in, except he couldn’t anymore. He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t scream. He just broke.

Everything had been a mistake: Applying for this. Coming to Korea. Befriending Riku. Pretending he could do this. Meeting Sion. Lying to Sion. Thinking he could be an architect. Thinking he could belong.

Everything was falling apart.

He dragged himself across the floor, shaking hands fumbling for his phone. The screen lit up too brightly, but he didn’t care. He typed with trembling thumbs:

 

yushi

i cant do this

i need to go back to tokyo

talk to whoever you can

please

please yuta

i am begging you

 

Replies came faster than he expected.

 

yuta

yu

what happened

do you want me to call you?

 

But before Yushi could respond, before he could even see the keyboard, someone gently pried the phone from his hands. Warm arms wrapped around him, firm and slow, drawing him into a grounded kind of stillness. Riku. It had to be him.

His breathing was fast, worried, almost rattling against Yushi’s temple. “I’m going to talk to Yuta for a second, okay? Just stay here. Just stay.”

Yushi couldn’t nod. Couldn’t answer. But he didn’t move away. Riku whispered something into the phone, his voice fast and apologetic, and hung up quickly. Then he was right there again, crouched beside him, holding his face like it was something precious.

“Yushi, look at me. Please.”

Yushi obeyed only because he didn’t know what else to do. If he didn’t, he felt like he might die, right here on this floor, suffocated by his own mind.

Riku’s hands were trembling too. His eyes were glassy, red-rimmed. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice cracking. “I didn’t mean-”

Yushi blinked hard. His muscles twitched uncontrollably. Riku guided him to the bed slowly, helping him lie down, then sat beside him, knees pressed into the floor. He kept whispering, over and over:

“I’m sorry. I should’ve asked. I didn’t think. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

He smoothed Yushi’s forearm in gentle circles, grounding him with touch, with warmth, with presence. “I just wanted to understand. I just wanted to help. Please believe me.”

Yushi’s chest still rose and fell too fast, but the storm was starting to ebb. Just a little. He stared at the ceiling, tears still leaking silently from the corners of his eyes. He didn’t say anything. Couldn’t. But he didn’t pull away either. He stayed like that silently, lying on his bed, tears flowing until they dried close to his ears, leaving a trail of guilt. Of not understanding, of not knowing. Hours passed, and neither of them moved. Yushi glanced at Riku a couple of times during the afternoon, and he caught Riku always looking at him.

The room became dark after the blinding sunset, and Yushi shifted in the bed, getting close to the wall so there was room for Riku to lie on his bed with him, but his friend didn’t move.

“You can come here,” Yushi said, looking distractedly at the wall

“It’s okay, I’m fine here.”

“Please come.”

The second Yushi said please, Riku was already moving, and when he lay on the bed, he hugged him so much it almost sucked his breath away.

“Yushi, I’m so sorry, I don’t want you to think-”

“Am I abnormal, Riku?” Yushi whispered, with tears in his eyes

“No,” Riku quickly said, “I need you to understand that.”

“It hurt, seeing it like that.”

“And I am so sorry for that, I should have told you, I should, but Yushi” he paused, like he was unsure of what he was about to say “You have been progressing so fucking much, I still remember two years ago, you didn’t say a word, to anyone, and now?” Yushi tilted his head away, not wanting to keep on hearing it. “Yushi, look at me.”

He slowly did, because it was Riku. He would only do it for him and his brother.

“You are getting better, you are going to keep on getting better, I just want you to know that, and in the meantime, you have me.”

Yushi nodded, pressing his lips subtly as he felt the urge to cry again. He looked at Riku, wanting to know more, and because he understood him, he kept on talking.

“You have Yuta. I talked to him before. You can text him when you are ready,” Yushi hummed as he made a mental list of things he had to do

“Anton texted me, and I told him you were feeling under the weather. He told me to tell you to get better. I gave him your number, and I think he texted you too.”

Reply to Yuta, then to Anton. The list kept on.

“Sion also asked for you,” Riku said softly, switching his embrace to comb his hair. “I think he saw you earlier.”

So he had heard him calling his name; it wasn’t an illusion. It was him.

“I think Daeyoung went with him, too.” Riku said softly, “You have people, Yushi, even if they are not as close as you wish, we need to try, together. You are doing more than enough, please believe me.”

He felt bad, kind of guilty, even, as Riku kept talking. His voice was gentle, if a little nervous, trailing between explanation and apology, half justifying himself, half speaking from the tender place where truth and regret mix. But Yushi couldn’t hold on to the words. His body was too worn down, stretched thin after so many hours of silence held tightly in his chest. The ache in his head was intensifying, blooming behind his eyes in painful pulses. He blinked once, then again, and everything started blurring at the edges, Riku’s expression softening into vague outlines, his voice floating like a lullaby.

A massive headache was coming; he knew it. The kind that drained the rest of the world into static. So he did the only thing he could: closed his eyes and let himself go, surrendering to the quiet rhythm of Riku’s hand moving up and down his arm, to the murmured affirmations that lingered like fading warmth in the cold. Sleep found him there, not in comfort, but in exhaustion.

Thursday came too soon, cracking open the day with sunlight far too aggressive for how fragile everything felt. The brightness made Yushi squint; the noise, all those unfiltered layers of life outside their dorm, was overwhelming. It rattled something in him, though not enough to break him, just enough to remind him of the weight he still carried. Riku looked equally drained, and yet they moved through the morning together in silence.

Regret lingered in the air between them. Thick and unspoken, they were both carrying it. Yushi forced himself to reply to Yuta and Anton, letting the latter know that he’d be attending class. It felt like a small act of self-preservation, a promise he didn't make to himself, so he had to keep. A step forward.

They spent the morning holed up in their dorm before heading to the gym for a short session. Yushi didn’t push himself, but his muscles screamed anyway, especially his shoulders and abdomen. The pain was grounding. It reminded him of the previous night. Of what he had seen. What he hadn’t been prepared for.

He had spent the entire morning thinking about it. The document. The essay. Riku’s name neatly typed at the top, the title too direct to misinterpret. The words hadn’t just stung, they had hollowed something out in him. As if his inner world, the one he had so carefully kept sealed, had been laid bare on paper, reduced to terminology and citations. It wasn’t just an essay. It was him. And Riku hadn’t asked. Hadn’t warned. Hadn’t even told him.

He had replayed the moment of discovery over and over, like watching a memory through a glass window, banging on it to stop what was already done. But the memory of what followed, the room after that, felt distant. Foggy. Like someone else’s life. Like his body had moved on autopilot, detached from whatever remained in his chest.

Anton saved him a seat again, this time further back in the lecture hall. The gesture was small, but it offered a flicker of relief. After class, the rhythm picked up like it had earlier in the week, another walk around campus with Anton, another quiet detour. They drifted down unfamiliar streets. Occasionally, Anton would ask him something mundane, like if he had a driver’s license or what his hometown was like. Yushi answered with simple gestures, a nod, a quiet hum, a short word. But the interaction felt safe.

Friday came with a different kind of chaos. The final day of the university’s Open Doors Week turned the campus into a flood of visitors. Students disappeared into quiet corners, classrooms emptied.

On their way back to the dorms, Yushi and Anton stopped at the convenience store. The front deck was quiet, the sky already dark, the temperature beginning to drop in that sudden way only autumn manages. Yushi liked it. The cold. The promise of winter creeping in. Winters in Seoul were always a safe place for him.

They sat in silence for a while, plastic chairs creaking beneath them, half-eaten ramen cooling beside their drinks. Soft music leaked from the distant campus, and warm. The flickering light above them made the shadows dance slightly, and Yushi felt, just for a moment, that rare kind of peace that comes when everything slows down.

“Any plans for the weekend?” Anton asked, voice soft, as if not to disturb the quiet.

Yushi shook his head, but glanced at him, giving permission for the conversation to continue.

“I’m going to a friend’s place. He lives in Incheon. Have you been?” Yushi shook his head again, sipping his milk tea. “Good. It’s awful over there.”

A laugh escaped him unexpectedly, light and genuine, making him almost choke on his drink. Anton chuckled, satisfied. The breeze swept Yushi’s hair into his face, and he didn’t bother fixing it. It felt real. Grounding.

“So, you okay?” Anton asked a beat later, turning his head slightly. “Riku told me you were feelin’ under the weather.”

“I’m better,” Yushi whispered, eyes down, fingers tugging at the end of his straw. “Thanks.”

“No problem. October’s a brutal month for colds, huh?” Anton stretched, then exhaled. “I don’t really like fall.”

Yushi hummed softly in agreement. And then, silence again. But it wasn’t heavy. It wrapped around them like a blanket. Familiar. Safe. Until it wasn’t.

A sudden wave of discomfort rolled through Yushi, subtle but sharp. Like static before a storm. Something felt off. He couldn’t name it, but he had learned to trust that instinct. Slowly, he turned his head, scanning the area.

And then he saw him. Sion.

Standing at the front of the convenience store, his hand halfway to the door. Frozen in place.

His expression wasn’t confused. It wasn’t blank. It was processing.

Yushi’s stomach dropped.

He had heard them. He had heard Anton talking in Korean. And more importantly, he had heard him responding. Not just nodding. Not just humming. But answering. Understanding.

The secret that Yushi had clung to like a lifeline, that he could understand Korean fluently, but chose silence as protection, as safety, as his boundary, was now exposed. His breath hitched, throat tightening. Panic surged, quiet but fast, crashing into the fragile calm of the evening. But beneath it, something else.

A strange flicker of relief. The exhausting weight of hiding was unbearable some days. Part of him was tired. So, so tired. He had been wanting to tell him for days, weeks, and he couldn’t bring himself to it, but now that he wasn’t the one who told him hurt more.

And now Sion knew.

Notes:

so yeah... cliffhanger much? to be honest i dont feel so bad about the way this chapter ended because i dont usually finish them like this but yeah this one needed it...

decided to upload again because you guys enjoyed last chapter so much i had to led you to this... and think about what it's going to happen until i upload the next one lmao... honestly you guysh are better than me bc i cannot for the love of god read a fanfic until its finished but dont u worry! ill upload weekly so hang there!!

as always.. thank u for commenting leaving kudos bookmarking reading but most important enjoying it! hope yall dont mind my oversharing long ass replies to your sweet comments... see u soon! hope yall have a great weekend!

Chapter 7: where are you?

Summary:

The chaos that followed his chill weekend was immeasurable, not just in the mess left behind, but in the way it unraveled inside him, a slow, creeping dread that settled in his bones.

The chaos that followed his chill weekend was immeasurable, not just in the mess left behind, but in the way it unraveled inside him, a slow, creeping dread that settled in his bones.

He had completely forgotten about Open Doors Week.

The realization hit him like a physical blow the second he stepped into his room that Sunday afternoon, his body still heavy with the lingering fatigue of the road trip, his arms aching from the weight of the food his mother had packed. He hadn’t even finished storing anything when Daeyoung appeared, grinning at the sight of the rice cakes.

“You should go more often if you’re gonna be bringin’ this every time.”

Sion forced a tired smile, the effort of it making his cheeks ache. “Why don’t you join me next time? The more we go, the more food we can bring.”

Daeyoung snorted. “You sound like one of those doomsday preppers with a basement full of canned beans.” His grin faltered slightly as he added, “Besides, you bolted like you didn’t wanna be found. And you didn’t reply for three days.”

“No signal,” Sion lied automatically, collapsing onto his bed. The mattress groaned beneath him, a familiar sound, but even its comfort couldn’t ease the tension coiled in his shoulders.

Daeyoung flipped him off, dropping onto his own bed with a sigh. “It said delivered, but keep lying. See where that gets you.” He stretched, then tilted his head. “What’re your plans for tomorrow? I’m guessing you’ll be at the usual stand?”

Sion frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“The Open Doors Wee-”

“No. Fucking. Way!” Sion shot upright, heart lurching. “Is it tomorrow? What day is it today?”

“Sunday, twenty-fourth of October, twenty twenty-”

“Jesus Christ.” Sion dragged a hand down his face, the weight of his mistake pressing down on him like a physical force. Of course he’d forgotten. Of course he’d let it slip his mind, and now he was paying for it.

“Yeah,” he muttered, defeated. “I guess I’ll be at the usual stand… Fuck. I was gonna use this week to catch up.”

“You chose poorly.”

“Usual me,” Sion said with a hollow laugh, but the self-deprecation tasted bitter.

Because Daeyoung was right. He was always right.

And the week was awful.

Too many people. Too many students. Too noisy.

Maybe it was just him, maybe the world had always been this loud, and he was lately noticing how it scraped against his nerves, how every laugh, every shout felt like sandpaper on raw skin. People asked stupid questions. They tried to flirt with him. A couple of times, he even had to duck behind stands to avoid his own classmates, because no, he didn’t want to deal with them, not after what happened last time he saw them. The exhaustion clung to him like a second skin, like it always did.

And then, on Wednesday, something happened.

He saw someone who looked like Yushi sprinting through the crowd, and for a split second, Sion’s body moved before his brain could catch up, arm outstretched, voice calling out, but the boy didn’t stop.

Was that even him?

Then came Riku, barreling in the same direction, leaping over obstacles like some kind of parkour artist.

Sion’s fingers twitched toward his phone, ready to text Daeyoung ‘what the hell is going on?’ but before he could, he spotted Daeyoung himself, shoving through the crowd with three backpacks slung over his shoulders, books slipping from his grip, hair wild in his face as he muttered apologies to the people he bumped into.

Sion didn’t think. He just moved. He carved a path toward Daeyoung, grabbing two of the backpacks, one of them unmistakably Yushi’s, and hissed, “Dude, what happened? Is there a fire or something?”

“Bro, I can’t even hear you,” Daeyoung snapped, his voice strained.

Sion clenched his jaw and nodded, focusing only on getting them out.

The dorm building was a relief, the thick doors muting the chaos outside just enough for his lungs to unlock. But Daeyoung was already storming ahead, so Sion hurried after him, the weight of the bags digging into his shoulders. When their room door clicked shut behind them, the silence was bliss, no noise, no music, no suffocating press of bodies. Just his own heartbeat, too loud in his ears, and the uneasy twist in his gut.

Daeyoung dropped the remaining backpack onto his bed with a grunt. “Long story short, Riku’s making an essay about selective mutism, and Yushi flipped because he felt called out.”

Sion froze.

Selective mutism?

He’d never heard of it. Was that even a real thing?

“But is it like… an actual condition?” he asked slowly, lowering the bags to the floor. “Or is he just-”

“I don’t know, bro. Riku started yelling in Japanese, cursing, I think. Didn’t understand shit, but it looked serious.” Daeyoung dragged a hand through his hair, his usual composure fraying at the edges. “Riku isn’t answering. Yushi looked like a total mess.”

Sion swallowed. He should do something. Say something. But what?

“So… what are we gonna do?” he asked quietly.

Daeyoung exhaled, shoulders slumping. “Don’t think this is a we thing. It’s a them thing. We should stay out of it, especially you, since you weren’t there. Yushi won’t want everyone knowing.”

Sion nodded, but the helplessness sat heavy in his chest. He hated this, hated standing on the sidelines, hated not knowing how to fix things.

“I’m gonna… uh… grab a quick shower,” he muttered, because he needed to move, needed to wash off the sweat and the exhaustion, but especially the uselessness clinging to him. “Then I need to go back.”

Daeyoung just nodded, already lost in his own thoughts.

As soon as the bathroom door clicked shut behind him, Sion locked it with a trembling hand, his breath already coming too fast. The tile walls muffled the outside world, but nothing could silence the storm in his head. He pulled out his phone with unsteady fingers, his throat tight, and began typing furiously.

Selective mutism.

The screen lit up with clinical definitions, cold and detached, but each word struck him like a slap.

Selective mutism is an anxiety disorder, most commonly seen in children, where a person who is able to speak normally consistently fails to speak in certain social situations, like at school, with strangers, or in group settings, despite speaking comfortably in others, such as at home with close family members.

His thumb jerked to another tab.

Not a speech disorder-physically capable of speaking, but frozen by fear…

Another.

Best treated with gradual exposure, positive reinforcement, therapy…

The words blurred. His chest ached, a sharp, twisting pain, as if his ribs were collapsing inward.

He had known. Not in the way that mattered, not in the way that would have stopped him from being a selfish, oblivious idiot. But he’d seen it. The way Yushi sometimes went rigid in crowds, how his lips would part like he wanted to speak, but no sound came out. How Sion had mistaken it for shyness, or worse, arrogance.

His phone slipped from his grip, clattering against the sink. He caught his reflection in the mirror, red-rimmed eyes, lips pressed into a thin, quivering line, and hated what he saw.

He had tried to help.

That was the worst part. He’d tried, but only until it stopped being convenient. Only until he didn’t get the reaction he wanted: loud, grateful, visible acknowledgement. And when Yushi hadn’t given it to him, he’d… God. He’d used it. Used him.

His knees buckled. He caught himself on the edge of the sink, nails digging into porcelain.

They thought he was impaired.

The memory of whispers, the sidelong glances curled like poison in his gut. He’d let them talk. Had even encouraged it with his silence.

A sob tore out of him, raw and ugly. He clamped a hand over his mouth, but it was too late. The tears came anyway, hot and shameful, streaking down his face.

Worst person ever.

He needed to pull himself together. The Open Doors event wasn’t over. He still had to show up, to smile, to pretend he wasn’t crumbling inside, because if he didn’t, the university would notice. The professors, the advisors, the people who could make or break his future. But the thought of facing another crowd, another day of performative enthusiasm, made his skin crawl. He was so tired. Not just the kind of tired that sleep could fix, but the kind that seeped into his bones, turning every movement into a struggle.

He hadn’t done a single assignment. Hadn’t even looked at them. The guilt was a lead weight in his chest, pressing harder with every breath, not just over Yushi, but over the way he was failing everything.

Just two more days.

He didn’t have the energy to deal with anything; he was so exhausted he couldn’t get anything done, not at the event, not in his room when he came back, tired but with a guilty feeling. Not only because of Yushi, but also because he was falling behind with the assignments. He needed the week to be over.

On Friday, he got up with a text from Jisung.

 

jisung

dont know if u heard

but my band is playing tonight at the event

we going to play heavenly

i would love you to come

 

Sion woke up happy because of that. He replied with a two-minute audio, voice deep at first because he just woke up, saying sorry for being kind of MIA, telling him how busy he had been, and expressing his gratitude for inviting him, and playing heavenly, his favorite song of theirs. He then texted their group friends, trying not to think about how painful the last day was going to be.

 

sion

so rave tonight

after the dreamies concert

 

wonbin

the dreamies hhehehehe

so funny

 

jisung

whatever

we finishing the gig at 9 i think

very highschool friendly

 

shotaro

oh ‘the GIG’ … u rockstar

u gon have hundreds of girls rooting for u

 

jisung

they r minors

 

shotaro

thats why i said girls and not women

anyways

we will be there

 

daeyoung

me too!

 

Sion looked around and noticed Daeyoung wasn’t in the room. Maybe he went to the gym.

 

shotaro

ill bring soju

and sungchan

 

Everyone reacted to both messages, settling the quiet again. He quickly showered and went on board with his day. It had many more people than the other ones, but as he was waiting excitedly for the night, he didn’t mind much. His thoughts were eating him alive still, every time a Japanese student came with some questions, or when a shy boy tried to get some pamphlets in between the hovering hands… Why hadn’t he realized before?

Afternoon came later than he expected, sweat dripping down his back, and his hands aching. People were shifting from the stands to the small stage, where the performances were going to take place. After tidying up everything from his stand, along with more volunteers, he rushed to his room to actually shower and get changed. He texted his friends, and they were all already close to their usual meeting point, so he rushed there, the need to feel free imprinted on his skin. His thoughts faded when he saw them all together, cheering with soju bottles and cheap canned beers.

Sungchan practically sent him to the floor, lovingly rustling his just-styled hair, so he couldn’t get mad.

“For our future UOS president,” Shotaro cheered, giving him a soju bottle.

Sion gulped down a big sip, closing his eyes, trying to feel the freshness, but the soju was cheap, and it was kind of warm.

“This tastes awful,” Daeyoung almost gagged. “I will be needing some hangover shit.”

“I can go get it later,” Wonbin volunteered. “When do they start, by the way? I need to go pee bad.”

“Hold it in, bro, Jisung just texted.” Shotaro said, showing the message on the group chat, “Let’s get closer to the stage, can’t let a bunch of teenagers cheer on him louder than us.”

Sion gulped down some more soju, and they both went to the closest area from the stage, Daeyoung opening the way gracefully.

The gig, as Jisung called it, was amazing. His band really knew how to perform, and for Sion, it was as amazing as mind-blowing how they could be in different careers, have personal lives, and be in a uni band? He cheered so much when they finished, throwing pics and recording everything that he could without missing a thing.

After the performances ended, the event just played some background music, and people spread through the open spaces, each group of friends conquering a couple of benches or semi-wall where they could lean, letting the chill of the early night sink in.

Shotaro started making up some dumb game, which instantly got Sungchan and Wonbin locked in. Jisung and his friends excused themselves as they needed to pick up their stuff from the small backstage space-like they had, promising they would come back when they finished. Daeyoung complained again about the soju flavor, and Sion remembered the whole hangover cure.

“I’m going to get some more soju, beer, and hangover drinks.”

“Do you think they would still work? Weren’t we supposed to take them before drinkin’?” Daeyoung asked half-worried, half-drunk

“We are not supposed to be drinking that kind of stuff because we are twenty-year-olds, but I will get one for you.”

Daeyoung smiled at him and joined the rest in the stupid game their friends were playing. Sion moved swiftly through the people, hands in his pockets. When he was almost outside the conglomeration of people, he searched for the closest convenience store. He knew there was one really close, but he had been avoiding it for months since one time he ate one wrapped panini that had him in the bathroom for almost one week. To this day, Wonbin blames it on the alcohol they consumed after it, but Sion was too proud to admit it, so he usually just went to the second closest one. But that day, he could let it slide as he wasn’t going to get food.

He changed his route slightly, taking a couple of shortcuts through really inclined streets until he saw it in the middle of the street, lights flicking and people enjoying snacks outside. Sion hurried up; he didn’t want to miss anything, so he quickly crossed the front desk until something caught his left eye. He slowly turned, and it was Anton. He was studying architecture too, they shared classes first year and knew each other because of Shotaro, but they didn’t see each other anymore because he moved to afternoon classes, making it impossible to meet up. He was talking softly to someone, and it took him one second too long to know, only realizing when he heard him speak.

“I’m better, thanks.”

He felt it in his gut before his brain caught up.

It was Yushi. Tokuno Yushi.

His stomach dropped, wanting to puke up everything he had drunk and eaten for the past weeks until he had emptied himself. He had to make room for the too-big-to-handle truth that he had in front of him.

It was Yushi, speaking as softly as he did, understanding and nodding as he did… in Korean.

He froze, blinked, gulped, short-circuiting.

Then Yushi turned, and that made it worse.

He was caught off guard. He was confused. His eyes said everything like they always did.

Guilt. Recognition. Fear.

Sion couldn’t breathe.

He knew. Yushi knew Korean.

All this time, all the translations, the late nights catching up, the walking him through lectures in broken Japanese, all of it…

Why?

He went inside the store, needing to think. He couldn’t do it.

Soju. Beers. Hangover drinks. Maybe a snack.

The fluorescent lights of the convenience store buzzed overhead, too bright, too present, like they were pressing down on Sion’s skull. His hands moved mechanically while his mind raced in fractured loops. He moved through the halls like a robot, doing the same path over and over again, checking every item in the store. He couldn’t face Yushi; he didn’t think he was going to meet him today, after the week he had, that they had. He thought he was going to be able to prepare for the weekend to meet with him on Monday, but things changed. Things changed so much they didn’t look like changes anymore, but whole different situations.

Yushi knew Korean.

The words echoed, sharp and jagged, cutting through the haze of alcohol still lingering in his veins. He’d spent weeks butchering Japanese for him, stumbling over grammar like an idiot, wasting hours he could’ve spent on his own work. And Yushi had just… let him. Watched him flounder. Never said a word.

Why?

He remembered the first day, the teacher’s question, Yushi’s silence, his own stupid assumption. “He doesn’t.” He’d said it so confidently, like he had any right to speak for Yushi at all. And Yushi had just… let him.

Why had he said that? What made him believe that? Just because he was Japanese? Because he didn’t answer? He didn’t answer in any fucking language… Why the fuck did he just accept that? And why didn’t Yushi say a fucking word after? Or the next day, or the next week, or the fucking day at the Japanese Student Club? Why did he fall into Sion’s illusion?

“Sorry, son, could you… ” A middle-aged woman spoke softly behind Sion’s back, making him snap.

He was already on the counter, all of the things he needed in a plastic bag, and the cashier was handing him the ticket. He quickly paid, apologizing, but stopped again at the door. He didn’t want to go out and face him, face them, because fuck, Anton too was-

Where was he?

He looked through the big windows, seeing Yushi by himself exactly at the same place he had left him minutes ago. He was looking down, scratching his knee over his jeans with shaky hands. Anton was gone.

Did Yushi ask him to leave? He had to know.

He went out, slowly, trying not to make it noticeable, but the chirping machine that sounded every time the door opened made it obvious, Yushi turning around so fast and looking at Sion like he owned his life. Like he was the worst human on earth, but he didn’t say a word, he didn’t call for him. He just pleaded his presence by staring at him. Sion moved, without thinking really.

He internally thanked Jaehyun for indirectly teaching him patience when dealing with these kinds of things. Without the endless fights, he probably would have bolted, yelling a few things at Yushi and then, if he saw him, at Anton too. But he took two deep breaths before acting on his impulses. He knew he should be crazy mad, but Yushi looked at him as if he wanted to die, as if behind Sion was this enormous void that he almost had to turn around to check, because Yushi’s eyes never lied. But there was only an empty chair. The feeling of the void stayed as he looked at it.

Yushi moved it with his feet, clearly inviting him to sit. Sion didn’t want to; he definitely didn’t need to be seated, so he just walked slowly beside him, forearms resting on the wooden railing, wind hitting his face as if it meant something, as if he needed to be there. After a couple of minutes with neither of them saying anything, he turned around, and Yushi was still there, quiet, shoulders hunched, fingers digging into his knees like he was trying to hold himself together. When he looked up, his face was raw, pale, trembling, and guilty.

Sion’s chest ached.

He didn’t want to do this. Didn’t want to stand here, heart exposed, while Yushi looked at him like he was the one who’d been betrayed. But he couldn’t walk away. Not from him. He moved closer, arms braced against the railing, letting the wind bite at his skin. Maybe it would clear his head. Maybe it would make this hurt less. He sat down, trying to ease the aching pressure on his chest.

“I’m sorry.” Yushi’s voice was barely a whisper, frayed at the edges.

“Why did you do that?” Sion asked

God, it felt so weird to be talking to him in Korean, and the idea of him understanding felt surreal, almost wanting to start translating to fill the void, to fill a purpose.

“Because… You talked to me… In classes,” Every word he said was like dragging knives out of his chest, leaving him emptier and emptier.

“I would have done it too if you asked me to, if you knew Korean,” Sion said quickly, almost regretting it because he wasn’t a hundred percent sure if it was true. If he knew the real reason, he would have done it without a doubt, but Yushi wasn’t going to tell him anything like that; he also knew that.

“I didn’t know,” Yushi answered, pain almost visible in his words. “I’m sorry.”

Sion clenched his jaw. “I told them you didn’t speak Korean. That was me. But you didn’t say anything. You just let me.” Yushi flinched slightly. Eyes on his hands. “You let me spend hours translating for you. You saw how much I was drowning.” Sion admitted, wanting to cry. “I wanted to help you… worst thing is that I still do”

He said the last part quietly to the air, both aware of what it meant. They weren’t discussing a language barrier anymore; they were talking about Yushi’s truth.

“I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry too. I should have said something the other day,” he knew he was guilty too, and it was time to address it. “I shouldn’t have taken credit for your design. I should have stuck with my crappy one, not made excuses, and I’m sorry for not defending you, for letting them talk like that in front of you when you couldn’t respond.” Sion felt exhaustion leaving his body as he explained, “Yushi, I don’t mind whatever the reason you don’t talk, or don’t talk as much. I didn’t care when I thought you didn’t know Korean. I don’t care now that I know you have selective mutism.”

Yushi bolted his gaze at him, piercing with a hundred questions.

“Daeyoung told me, I saw you the other day running away, I had to ask.” Sion sighed, needing a minute to breathe. “I think this has been a big misunderstanding, we both did things we regret, and I totally understand if you want to look for another student who-”

“No,” Yushi interrupted him, “I want you.”

“What are you even saying?” Sion complained

It was out of doubt, out of pain; he couldn’t hear the words ‘I want you’ from the person he had been thinking about since the day they met. He couldn’t let Yushi say those words without him fighting for them, at least, to fully understand them.

“Yushi, I lied to you, to your face, I lied about you, to the teachers, I didn’t-”

“I just want you.” Yushi looked up at him, tears streaming again in his eyes. “Please.”

Sion stood up and went got closer, embracing him in a hug. It was the first time since they met, almost a month ago, that they had hugged. It felt right, it felt so right that he didn’t want to let go.

“I’m sorry for everything I did,” Sion whispered, and Yushi just nodded, hugging him back with a subtle, tighter pressure. “I want to keep on helping you, Yushi. I want to get to know you, I want you to teach me how to draw for real… I don’t know Yushi, I just, I care about you, I just want you to know that, even if I don’t know how to act like it.”

Sion didn’t realize he was crying until Yushi broke the embrace and looked at him worriedly. He pointed at his eyes, and Sion brushed the tears, looking away. He didn’t want to cry in front of Yushi.

“I’m sorry, I guess I have needed this for some time now,” Sion confessed, and Yushi nodded.

He sat again, trying to compose himself.

“So I guess you had been going to the afternoon classes?” He tried to switch topics, but not completely, and Yushi nodded. “And you met Anton there? Was he helpful?”

Yushi nodded again, but with a faint doubt. Sion knew exactly what it meant by his eyes and the slight twitch from his nose.

He was helpful, but not as much as you are.

Sion's heart skipped a beat.

What the fuck?

Before he could even register the faintest feeling, his phone rang. He quickly took it out of his pocket, seeing Sungchan’s name on the caller ID.

“Yeah?”

“Uhm dude? Where the fuck are you?”

Fuck. He was supposed to get a couple of things from the store, not break down the thing that had him worried sick over the last weeks. He wasn’t supposed to stop to talk to Yushi about it. He completely forgot about the whole event, only then hearing the faint music that came from the campus, the wind guiding it over the cold deck.

“I’m sorry I… I bumped into someone and… I’ll be there in ten.”

Sion hung up before he could say something.

He looked at Yushi and realized he didn’t want to go. He couldn’t go now. It was almost like finding the exit door of a labyrinth, and just when you found it and opened it, you saw what kind of world awaited you away from those constricting walls, you closed it and went back to it, trying to look for another exit.

“What are you going to do now?” Sion asked, but Yushi just looked at him, so he tried again, “You going to your room?” This time, Yushi nodded. “Is Riku there too?”

Yushi shrugged and looked at something on his phone. Only a second later, he answered.

“No”

“Want me to walk with you then?”

Sion expected a nod. A hum. The usual silent language Yushi spoke in.

“Yes,” Yushi answered.

A single word, clear and deliberate, and it hit Sion like a punch to the chest. He nodded, swallowing the stupid grin threatening to break across his face.

Since when did a fucking yes from someone feel like winning something?

They cleaned up in silence, Sion carefully tucking the unopened snacks into his bag, Yushi’s favorites, he’d noticed by now, before stepping back into the night. They started walking towards the campus again, but the feeling was so different, so known but unknown at the same time. It was the same walk he had been making for more than two years, and yet he felt like he was discovering those streets for the first time.

The streetlights glowed warmer, the air hummed softer, and every step beside Yushi made the world tilt just a little off its axis. He wanted to slow time. To take the longest route possible. But too soon but they found themselves at the entrance of it, a huge banner announcing a hundred things at the same time in the most horrible design he had ever seen.

The crowd thickened, bodies pressing in, and before he could overthink it, Sion reached for Yushi’s hand. Cold. So cold, but Yushi’s fingers curled around his instantly, tight, like he’d been waiting for it. Sion’s pulse stuttered.

Yushi’s building was close, at least closer than his, which made it easier to get into, going straight into the elevator as soon as they were inside. They didn’t let go until the doors closed behind them, Yushi’s arm brushing his as he reached for the button. The loss of contact was a physical ache, making Sion shiver.

The doors opened again on the right floor, and Yushi led the short way, slowly, as if he didn’t want to break the clear tension between them. He stopped right in front of his door, but did not open it, only fidgeted with the keys for a second.

“Do you want me to wait until Riku comes back?”

“No need for that! I’m right here,” Riku’s voice shattered the moment, his sudden appearance by slamming the door open, yanking them back to reality.

The spell broke. The quiet tension dissolved. The vibe became awkward.

Did Yushi lie about Riku being there? Or did he not know?

Yushi’s smile was faint, apologetic. He didn’t know, and he looked like he didn’t want him to be there either, in the most friendly way. He opened the door for his friend to come in, but he stayed there, like he didn’t want to break their self-made bubble.

“See you on Monday?” Sion softly said, and Yushi nodded, smiling. “Great. Good night, Yushi,” he concluded, “Good night, Riku!” He said a bit louder so the other could hear.

Yushi nodded, cheeks pink, eyes crinkling at the corners. God.

Sion lingered, memorizing the way Yushi looked right then until the elevator doors closed between them. He went over what happened during the short elevator ride, preparing already for the questions his friends were going to ask. 
And rightfully so, his friends descended on him the second he returned.

“You are lucky Jisung and the rest of them aren’t back yet, if not, we would have ditched you so bad,” Wonbin said, way more drunk than when he left. “At least you brought backup,” he pointed at Sion’s plastic bag.

Sion let them raid the snacks until fingers brushed the bottom of the bag. Yushi’s leftovers. He yanked it back, clutching it to his chest like a reflex.

Childish? Maybe. But they weren’t his to give away.

The night blurred into laughter and drunken sprawls, and around five in the morning they were almost the only ones who were standing, but barely so: Renjun passed out on a bench, Jaemin and Jeno went home a couple hours ago, Shotaro immortalizing everyone’s disgrace with his phone, Daeyoung ranting to a much sleep-deprived Wonbin about conspiracy theories no one could follow.

Sion laughed until his ribs hurt, Donghyuck far gone in the floor… but his mind kept drifting back to cold fingers tangled with his, to a whispered yes that still echoed in his skull.

Jisung and Chenle were laughing their asses off about something really stupid that got Sion laughing too, focusing on what was happening at the moment and not the subtle heart rush he had felt hours ago. Mark was calling a cab for Sungchan, who was lying down next to Renjun. Sion made a mental note to ask everyone for pictures the next morning. Or afternoon. Or whenever he was going to wake up after that fucking long day he had.

As soon as everyone left and he and Daeyoung were in the safety of their room, Sion went to plug his phone to charge, an unconscious act that he wouldn’t think twice to check if it wasn’t because he had some texts from a couple of hours ago.

 

unknown number

hi this is yushi

thank you for tonight

also you have my snacks

goodnight

Notes:

i deeply hope you like how it resolved ?? i have read it and read it like 5 times to check for mistakes and too add more depth to sion's thoughts and words... but i am so nervous as this is probably one of the most important chapters of the fic if not the most.... so yeah... here goes nothing...

thank you always for the comments kudos bookmarks everything!! it makes me so happy you guys are liking this story and most important... best is yet to come...

have a great week!

Chapter 8: right by your side

Summary:

And that was the most unbearable thought of all. That he couldn’t mess it up. That he couldn’t want it, because if he let himself want it, he’d have to face the possibility of losing it.

Yushi woke up with a text from the same number he had texted some hours ago.

 

sion

i still have ur snacks

u going to this week japanese student club?

 

He quickly unplugged his phone to answer him, even though Yushi thought he was going to be asleep, because those texts were from almost six in the morning, and it was only nine and a half.

 

yushi

dont think so

too much to do

 

To his surprise, as soon as he sent the text, he saw Sion was online too, and the three dots bubbling on the screen announced he was replying.

 

sion

that’s true

i need to do a shit ton of stuff

 

yushi

that’s why ur up this early?

 

sion

yeah

i promised jisung we were going to do some study session

but he is not answerin me

i look like ive been stood up at the library

 

Yushi bites his lips, unsure. Did Sion tell him where he was just because he had been in fact stood up? Or did he want him to join? He needed professional advice.

He jumped onto Riku’s bed, waking up with violent shakes. As soon as he slightly opened his eyes, Yushi hit his face with his phone, showing his chat.

“Jesus Yushi, I can’t see shit, wait a minute.” Riku groaned, blindly reaching his nightstand to get his glasses. “Give it to me.”

His friend snatched his phone, squinting his eyes, and before Yushi could ask for feedback, he was typing something, smirking. Yushi panicked, throwing himself onto him to prevent whatever the fuck he was planning, but he guessed it was too late when he heard a notification.

 

yushi

i was thinking of going too

 

sion

oh nice then!

should i wait for you?

 

“Riku-”

“Listen, Yushi, I know, trust me, I know this isn’t what you’d expect a future psychologist to do, but it is what you’d expect me, your best friend, to do, so please,” Riku pleaded, placing his hands together. “Yesterday went well. You both apologized for the questionable things you’ve done over the past few weeks, and it’s like… Like someone gave you a second chance… I’m not saying you need to be best friends or get married, but you could use each other.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning you could use some help in class and he could use some help in his sketches… right?”

Yushi tilted his head, deeply thinking about it.

“Don’t do that again,” Yushi concluded, snatching his phone out of Riku’s hands and getting ready to shower.

The second he locked the door, he typed a quick reply to Sion, smiling to himself.

 

yushi

yes

ill be there in ten

 

He tried not to think about it too hard, just to go with the flow. As Riku said, last night went well; they both talked about the things they wanted to discuss, apologized, and understood each other. Yushi had broken it down to Riku when they were alone in the room, slowly, word by word. Riku was so shook when he heard about the class incident, almost wanting to get the fuck out of the room and find Sion, only to drag him by the hair all along the campus, but Yushi physically restrained him, explaining further.

They haven’t been their best selves for some weeks now, and maybe that could change.

He took a couple of deep breaths before opening the library doors, but they weren’t enough as soon as he saw Sion.

Sion looked good. Not just good, devastating.

He was sitting, sunbathing in the soft morning light filtering through the high windows, his burgundy hair catching a mix of crimson and deep purple in the sun. He was hunched over a notebook, brow furrowed in concentration, fingers tapping absently against the page. The sight made something in Yushi’s chest tighten.

He shook his head subtly, trying to put those thoughts to the side, and approached him slowly, unsure, chest full of want.

Then Sion stretched.

It was an innocent movement, arms lifting, back arching slightly, but the hem of his shirt rode up, revealing a sliver of toned stomach. Yushi’s breath hitched.

Look away. Look away now.

But he didn’t.

His eyes flickered up, tracing the line of Sion’s throat as he tilted his head, exposing the sharp angle of his jaw. When his biceps tensed, Yushi’s fingers twitched against his notebook, an inexplicable urge to touch flaring hot under his skin.

What the hell is wrong with me?

He jerked his gaze down, cheeks burning. His heart hammered so loudly he was sure Sion could hear it.

“Oh, hi!” Sion’s voice snapped him out of it.

Yushi barely managed a nod as he slid into the seat beside him, hyperaware of the warmth radiating from Sion’s arm, barely an inch from his own.

“Took you less than I expected.” He added to his embarrassment

Yushi blushed because he knew it was true. He had sped up his shower and almost run to get there.

“How were this week's classes? Could you get anything done?” Yushi nodded, and Sion smiled, like he was proud. “That’s nice. I guess you are the one who’s in charge of taking notes in classes from now on.”

“Okay,” Yushi whispered, nodding happily with his new role

“Oh no, don’t worry, I wasn’t talking seriously, I love taking notes,” Sion joked. “I’ve always been more into studying and researching rather than drawing or sketching.”

Yushi nodded, reassuring him.

“Well, I don’t want to distract us anymore, so let’s get to it!” Yushi smiled, happy that they were seriously going to study. “Oh, by the way! This was supposed to be for Jisung, but since he’s probably in his REM phase right now, do you want it?”

Sion took it out of a small paper bag. Inside were two black coffees and a small stack of pastries. Yushi wasn’t a fan of bitter coffee, but he took one anyway, their fingers brushing briefly, a spark of contact that sent a jolt up his arm.

Get a fucking grip.

He bit into a cookie to distract himself, but even that backfired, as he noticed Sion was watching him, amused.

“Good?”

Yushi nodded, mouth full, suddenly self-conscious about the way he was chewing. In his AirPods, he could only hear one of Kai’s new songs, and he tried to focus on that. Also, on his Mechanics test, they had scheduled it for next Tuesday.

By lunch, the morning had fallen heavily on their shoulders, both having developed poor postures from being too close to their screens, looking like goblins. Sion was the first one to stand up, gesturing something to him about going to the bathroom.  When he came back, he gestured for Yushi to remove his headphones, so he did, already listening carefully.

“I was thinking maybe we should… take a break? I could text Daeyoung to check if he had made something to have lunch… I’m actually starving.”

Yushi nodded. He had heard not only now from Sion but previously from Riku how great Daeyoung’s food was, so he was excited to try it.

“He’s not answering, I’m going to call him.”

Sion hurried to get out of the library, but before he could even exit, he was coming back, furrowing his eyebrows in clear confusion.

“He’s not picking it up either… We can always go to the cafeteria.”

Yushi hummed agreeing, already picking up his things.

They quickly went to the cafeteria, and the moment they stepped inside, the noise hit Yushi like a physical force: shouts, laughter, the clatter of trays, the scrape of chairs. The air was thick with the scent of fried food, soy sauce, and too many bodies packed into one space.

“Jesus,” Sion muttered beside him, wincing as a group of rowdy engineering students erupted into laughter nearby. “I forgot how bad it gets.”

Yushi nodded, scanning the room. Every table was packed, students hunched over shared notes, couples stealing bites off each other’s plates, sleep-deprived seniors staring blankly at their phones. The food line stretched nearly to the door, a sluggish crawl of impatient shuffling.

They managed to claim a small table near the back, half-hidden by a pillar, but even there, the noise was relentless. Someone at the next table burst into loud, raucous laughter, and Yushi flinched, gripping his tray tighter.

Sion noticed.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low under the din.

Yushi nodded quickly. “Just… loud.”

Sion’s expression softened. “Yeah. We can eat fast.”

Yushi nodded, focusing on his spicy chicken and kimchi soup.

“Can I have a bite from that?” Sion gestured at Yushi’s leftover noodles, an almost shy hesitation in his voice.

Yushi blinked, then pushed the cup toward him, watching as Sion slurped up a mouthful. His lips curled into a satisfied smile, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“So much better than whatever the hell I just ate,” Sion admitted with defeat, almost like he had lost some kind of bet.

As soon as they were out of the cafeteria, they approached the library again, but Sion stopped mid-track, cursing.

“Fuck, I forgot they usually close it on weekends afternoons until it's exam season… Could we go to my dorm then? I need some help for the mechanics test, at least to get through a couple of exercises that I’m sure as hell Yoon is going to ask.”

Yushi nodded, directly following Sion to his dorm. The ground floor seemed full of students just hanging out, but the room floors were empty as hell. Sion moved with ease through them until they got to one smallest ones, and Yushi actually bumped into him because he stopped again, as if in front of them were a hundred lasers and they couldn’t cross the hall.

“Sorry, I just… Fuck this is… okay, so… my room is off limits.”

Sion’s hands on his shoulders were firm, manhandling him back down the stairs with an ease that should have irritated him, but Yushi didn’t resist. He couldn’t. His body moved automatically, compliant, even as his mind spun in frantic circles.

“We can go tomorrow, if not, I will go to the gym now or whatever.”

The frustration burned under his skin. He wanted to be better at this, better at talking, at existing around Sion without second-guessing every breath. But the moment he tried, his thoughts tangled, his voice vanished, and all that was left was this awful, choking silence.

He should have said, ‘We can go to my dorm instead.’

He should have said, ‘I don’t mind waiting.’

He should have said anything.

But he didn’t.

Yushi’s face shifted, making Sion visibly confused. He wanted to offer to go to their dorm, but it didn’t feel right. He was kind of overstimulated, his head ached slightly, and Sion seemed in a rush, so he just accepted it. They waved at each other, Yushi bowing correctly to him, Sion smiling at him tenderly.

The path to his dorm stretched endlessly, or maybe that was just Yushi circling the building like a ghost, unwilling to step inside until his thoughts settled. But they wouldn’t.

Why is this so hard?

He had brought up the whole mutism thing, his thing, and he acknowledged it, wanting to give Yushi his space. And he had given it to him, so why couldn’t he grow in that space of his? Why couldn’t he make it into some safe environment? Why couldn’t he feel the slightest comfort, as when he was with Riku?

Yes, he had known Riku for longer, but still, he had to start somewhere, right?

And that was the problem, wasn’t it?

With Riku, it was easy. Riku, who had seen him at his worst and never flinched. Riku, who didn’t make his pulse stutter or his skin prickle with awareness. Riku, who was safe in a way that didn’t twist his stomach into knots.

But Sion was different.

Sion, who had hurt him.

Sion, who had said sorry, unlike anyone who had hurt him.

Sion, who looked at him like he was something worth looking at.

No.

Yushi’s nails dug into his palms.

That wasn’t why this was so difficult. It couldn’t be.

But then why did his chest tighten when Sion smiled? Why did his skin remember every accidental brush of fingers, every fleeting touch?

He groaned, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes.

This was ridiculous.

He wasn’t some flustered teenager. He was angry. Or he had been angry. Or maybe he still was, buried under layers of something else he refused to name.

It’s just guilt. Or resentment. Or the terrifying, gnawing realization that he wanted this, that he wanted Sion’s attention, his laughter, his apologies, wanted to mean something to him.

And that was the most unbearable thought of all. That he couldn’t mess it up. That he couldn’t want it, because if he let himself want it, he’d have to face the possibility of losing it.

The dorm was empty when Yushi finally forced himself inside. No Riku, no distractions, just suffocating silence. He exhaled sharply, fingers curling into his palms. His skin felt too tight, his thoughts too loud. Without thinking, he grabbed his towel and headed for the shower again, even though he’d already washed up that morning.

The water was scalding, just shy of painful, steam curling around him as he braced his hands against the tiles. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing his mind to go blank.

But it didn’t.

Instead, his thoughts spiraled, Sion’s voice, Sion’s hands, the way he’d looked at him like he was waiting for something Yushi couldn’t give. His touch was gentle, yet firm, his fingers tracing the line of his jaw, his neck, his collarbone. Yushi's breath hitched, his body responding to the phantom touch. He could feel the heat building within him, his body aching for more.

His breath hitched.

Stop.

But his body wasn’t listening.

It had been so long since he’d done this, since he’d let himself feel anything beyond frustration or numbness. But now, the tension coiled low in his stomach, relentless.

His fingers trailed down his abdomen, hesitant at first, then firmer.

Just to take the edge off, to quiet everything. But the moment he touched himself, his mind betrayed him.

Sion stretching in the library, shirt riding up, revealing that strip of toned skin.

Yushi’s grip tightened, pace quickening.

The way his biceps flexed when he stretched, veins standing out along his forearms.

His breath came in ragged gasps, steam filling his lungs.

No, not him. Think about something else.

Water sluicing over his feverish skin. Every stroke dragged him deeper into the fantasy.

The sharp line of his jaw.

But it was too late.

Every stroke dragged him deeper into the fantasy. Sion’s hands instead of his own, Sion’s voice in his ear, rough and teasing.

The way his throat moved when he sipped coffee.

Fuck, the coffee.

Their fingers brushing over the coffee cup, that split-second spark of contact.

A choked sound escaped him as he came, hips jerking forward, forehead pressed hard against the shower wall.

For a second, there was nothing but white noise.

Oh God.

Reality crashed back in.

He slumped against the tiles, chest heaving, water running cold.

What the hell was wrong with him?

But his body still thrummed with the aftershocks, traitorous and electric.

The water had gone cold, but Yushi barely noticed.

His skin was still fevered, his pulse hammering in his throat like a trapped thing. Yushi should stop. He knew he should stop. His skin was pink from the heat, his fingertips pruned, his breaths still uneven from the first time. He should step out, dry off, pretend this never happened, but his body wasn’t listening.

He bit his lip, his hand slid down again, fingers pressing harder this time, chasing the aftershocks of the first release like a man starving.

Just once more, now that the memory was still alive.

Sion’s stupid, infuriatingly perfect waist, the way his voice had curled around Yushi’s name that morning, the phantom press of his fingers where they’d brushed against his.

Just to make sure the feeling is gone.

His movements were sharper this time, less controlled. Desperate. A whimper escaped him. He bit down on his knuckle to silence it, teeth scraping skin.

It wasn’t enough.

His free hand braced against the shower wall, fingers splaying, imagining he was touching Sion’s torso, his chest, his hips… He looked like a madman, caressing the shower taps and pipes, applying pressure in all the wrong places as his hips jerked forward, water sluicing over his clenched stomach.

Pathetic.

The thought flickered through his mind, but it didn’t stop him. Nothing could, not when his body was singing with tension again, not when every stroke dragged another fractured sound from his throat.

He came faster this time, teeth sinking into his own wrist to muffle the noise.

And then silence. The kind that felt like a judgment. Maybe that was the kind of silence that always accompanied him.

Yushi slumped against the shower wall, water dripping into his eyes. His chest ached. His legs trembled.

And worst of all?

He still ached. Fuck.

Not just his body this time but his chest, hollow and raw, like he’d carved something out of himself and found nothing but want left behind.

The water ran cold.

He didn’t move.

He looked at the shower again, seeing clearly the pipes and diverters, feeling ashamed… In what universe could those metal shapes be any similar to Sion’s body? He had officially lost his mind. He went out of the shower before he could prolong it any longer, already having flashbacks as if he didn’t just do it one minute ago without being the slightest drunk.

He couldn’t get anything done for the rest of the afternoon; it didn’t matter how many hours he had spent in front of his computer; the AutoCAD file was empty, two lines intersecting each other at a very weird angle.

God.

He had jerked off thinking of Sion.

Twice.

Was he insane?

He went to bed early, faking deep asleep when Riku came into the room, smelling like popcorn and sweets. He fell asleep as he tried to keep up his act, his body begging for some kind of much-needed rest after that day.

He woke up quickly, like he had fallen asleep and was late for class, but it was only Sunday. Yesterday’s event was the first thing Yushi thought of, and he cursed to himself. Why couldn’t he just do something without feeling guilty?

He sure as hell wasn’t the first twenty-year-old boy who had jerked off and unconsciously thought about someone they knew, right?

Maybe once, but definitely not twice, in less than five minutes, about the same person.

Yushi bolted out of bed, the sheets feeling too guilty against his skin. He went for a run, and then he tried to go to the gym, but as soon as he crossed the door, he saw Anton, and then Shotaro, and then Sion. Didn’t they have better things to do than torment him?

He quickly turned around, not wanting to deal with it. He went for another run; the weights could wait. As he came to the room, he went directly to have a shower. He didn’t close his eyes for a second, moving robotically, not letting his body drift off his instincts again. In less than two minutes, he was already changed and ready for another day of studying.

Riku was already up, folding some laundry. He realized he had also done some of Yushi’s.

“Thanks, you didn’t need to.”

“It’s fine, you know how much I enjoy being a househusband for you.” Yushi looked at him confusedly, unable to decipher if his friend was actually serious or not. “I’m joking, I just saw you the other day wearing the same shirt that you used for sleeping, and I thought you could use some help.”

“Thanks”

“How are the plans going?” Yushi tilted his head, wanting to know more. “Of like… all the subjects.”

“They are… coming,” Yushi said, already regretting the poor choice of words. “Coming ready!”

“Nice then!” Riku cheered on him, “So I guess you are skipping today’s Japanese Student Club.” Yushi nodded, sitting at his desk. “Bummer, I wanted you to play against Sakuya… Yesterday night, he was bragging to everyone about some kind of like arcade machine or something they are going to be installing soon… we should go when that is done.”

“Fine, but I won’t play,” Yushi admitted

“Okay, Grinch.”

Their little morning silence after that conversation only lasted an hour, interrupted by some knocks on their door. Riku went directly to get them; it was Daeyoung. He offered to wait inside because he was finishing some online mock tests. Yushi tried not to think about it, the way Daeyoung glanced curiously at his eyes through the room, occasionally stopping on Yushi, like he knew.

“Are you guys going to the Halloween party?”

“Hell no, I have three submissions next week and I didn’t even have time to buy a costume,” Riku said quickly, his accent slipping on the last words, making Daeyoung laugh. “What are you laughing about?”

“The way you said costume,” he replied cautiously, covering his smile with his hands. “So cute.”

“Whatever, Mr.Daegu.”

Yushi didn’t bother answering; his position was very clear. He thought about the possibility of joining the next party, only if Riku and Sion were too, maybe Anton, but not a Halloween one, not without Riku, and without him he was subtly scared of what he was able to do or say to Sion if he drank.

He shook off the thoughts by getting into his Mechanics test, practicing exercises, and giving the theoretical questions a last revision. A couple of hours later, his phone buzzed.

 

sion

hey

how is mechanics going

 

He locked it and threw it to the bed, letting out a frustrated groan. He looked directly at the clock on his computer, announcing only 18:23, but Yushi’s brain was already fried. He jumped out the bed to catch the phone, unlocking it and reading the messages again carefully when he accidentally clicked on the chat, actually reading them. And Sion was online.

He locked the phone again and saved it on his nightstand. After what felt like hours, Riku came back.

“We are not going to the party, but we are going to order some food. Do you mind if we eat it here?” Riku asked as soon as he opened the door slightly, only his head peeking through

“What are you going to order?”

“Whatever you want,” Riku said, and when he nodded, he opened the door completely, Daeyoung and Sion behind him. “I brought backup, and they brought rice cakes from Sion’s house!”

Yushi followed Riku’s words with his eyes, seeing first how Daeyoung and Sion were placed behind them, then to the couple of containers with very delicious-looking food, and then to Sion directly, how smiley he was, like he was genuinely so happy to be. He was always smiling, bright and effortless, like being here, in Yushi’s space, was the best part of his day. The air thickened, at least in Yushi’s mind.

Yushi sat back at his desk, slowly closing the tabs in his computer to keep himself busy. Sion sat on the floor, back resting in Yushi’s bed, and Riku sat there too after deciding they were going to get ramen. Every laugh, every shift of his body, sent Yushi’s thoughts spiraling.

Daeyoung flopped onto Riku’s, already scrolling through food options. “Do you want to get fried chicken too?”

“You always get fried chicken,” Riku groaned, stealing a rice cake from the container Sion had brought.

Sion chuckled, suddenly standing up and getting closer to Yushi. “Are you alive over there? Or did Mechanics kill you?”

Yushi stiffened at the close distance, shaking his head softly.

He knew why he was asking. He had read his message a couple of hours ago, and he hadn’t replied.

“You’re gonna ace it. You’ve been studying like a maniac.”

The realization sent a stupid, traitorous warmth through Yushi’s chest. He shook his head again, ashamed.

Riku groaned from the floor, lying down. “Ignore him. He’s been like this all weekend.”

“Like what?” Sion tilted his head, curious.

“Broody. Annoying.” Riku threw a crumpled napkin at Yushi’s head. “Extra insufferable.”

Yushi flipped him off, but Sion was still watching him, that infuriating half-smile playing on his lips.

The food arrived, warm, delicious, a distraction Yushi desperately needed, everyone sitting in a circle between the two beds. Daeyoung and Riku bickered over sauces while Sion stole a piece of chicken from Yushi’s box without asking. He looked at him, squinting his eyes, trying to understand why he had done that.

“You weren’t eating it.”

Sion just grinned, chewing slowly, eyes locked on Yushi like it was a challenge.

Yushi looked away first.

One thing was Riku talking or slipping words in Japanese; it was his mother tongue, but why did Sion do it too? Was it to confuse him? To get lost in his too-hot-to-handle accent?

The night dragged on, laughter and chatter filling the room, but Yushi stayed quiet, hyper-aware of every time Sion’s shoulder brushed his, every time their fingers almost touched, reaching for the same piece of food.

Get a fucking grip, Yushi.

“Mind if I use your bathroom?” Sion asked, already half-standing.

Yushi’s blood turned to ice.

No.

The word lodged in his throat. Last night’s shame flashed behind his eyelids, steam clinging to the tiles, his own ragged breaths, Sion’s name bitten into his fist.

He quickly shook his head, looking down.

Riku snorted. “Since when do you care?”

Tension filled the room, uncomfortable. Daeyoung finally stretched and announced, “Alright, we’re out.”

Sion lingered at the door, glancing back. “Good night guys, thanks for the food.”

Yushi nodded stiffly.

The door clicked shut.

Silence.

Riku flopped onto Yushi’s bed with a sigh. “You okay?”

Yushi’s head snapped up. “Why you ask?”

If Riku noticed it, maybe Sion did too.

“Because this is the second time I've heard you speaking, the first one being when I opened the door. If you didn’t want us to stay, you could have said so.”

“Is not that easy.”

“Didn’t mean it like that, you know that,” Riku whispered, biting his nails. “And what was the matter with the bathroom?”

“It’s messy,” Yushi lied

“And? He probably just wanted to wash his hands.”

“Okay, sorry,” he said, feeling defeated

“It’s not sorry, I just want to know if everything is okay.”

“It is,” Yushi said

He wasn’t going to tell Riku; he was going to sort it out himself.

The alarm went off aggressively. That week of chaotic afternoon classes almost made Yushi forget his usual schedule. Riku was deep asleep, which confused Yushi. Fourth week of the semester, and he still didn’t learn his friend’s schedule.

The path to the classroom was eerily silent, as if the entire campus had been abandoned after last week’s chaotic event. The emptiness suited Yushi just fine; in fact, it made his chest swell with quiet satisfaction. He couldn’t remember the last time he had walked to class with such a light step, the corners of his mouth tugging upward in an unshakable smile.

But the moment he pushed open the classroom door, that smile faltered.

Sion was already there, slumped in his usual seat, his tired eyes half-lidded but brightening the second he noticed Yushi. He lifted a hand in a lazy wave, his usual confident grin softened at the edges by something almost… shy. Yushi hesitated, his pulse stuttering in his throat, before forcing himself to move forward.

As he slid into the seat beside him, Sion wordlessly pushed a hydroflask across the desk. Yushi stared at it, uncomprehending.

“I’ve made you tea.”

Sion’s voice was casual, as if this were an everyday occurrence, but there was an unfamiliar tremor beneath the words, a crack in his usual effortless confidence. He scratched the back of his neck, avoiding Yushi’s gaze. "I thought you might be nervous for this week’s test. And… well, the other day, I noticed you didn’t finish your coffee. So I figured you might prefer tea instead."

Yushi’s breath caught.

He couldn’t believe it. He literally couldn’t believe it.

How had Sion even noticed? Yushi had never said anything, had never complained, had never even hinted that he disliked coffee. He’d just silently endured the bitter taste that morning, too slow for his liking, but he despised the flavor. He didn’t even realize he didn’t finish it.

But Sion had.

Not only had he noticed, but he’d remembered. And then he’d gone out of his way to what? Brew tea for him? Bring it to class like it was nothing? Like it was normal for him to care this much?

Yushi’s fingers tightened around the hydroflask, the warmth seeping into his skin. He didn’t trust himself to speak. If he did, he might say something stupid.

Instead, he just looked at Sion, really looked at him, taking in the faint pink dusting his cheeks, the way his grin twitched with uncharacteristic uncertainty. And for the first time in a long time, Yushi felt something dangerous and hopeful unfurl in his chest.

Something like being seen.

Sion’s lips quirked into a smirk, gaining his confidence back as he reached into his bag, pulling out a very familiar plastic bag. “And I also brought your leftover snacks,” he said, tossing them onto Yushi’s desk with a quiet thud.

Yushi’s breath hitched.

He remembered that, too?

He had honestly sent that text after being so vulnerable when they had their conversation, a subtle excuse to finally text him. And it had been nothing, just a half-empty bag of sweet potato chips, a couple of protein bars, and one jelly pouch. He hadn’t even thought about them since. But Sion had. He’d kept them. And now here they were, returned to him like some kind of offering.

Yushi’s chest tightened. He didn’t know what to do with this, with the way Sion noticed things no one else ever had, with the way he acted like it was nothing when it felt like everything.

The classroom was still quiet, the hum of early morning settling around them as nobody was yet in class. Sion didn’t say anything else, just leaned back in his seat and took a sip from his own drink, as if this were completely normal. As if he hadn’t just unraveled Yushi with two simple acts of casual, effortless kindness.

Yushi peeled one protein bar; the scent of toasted almonds was faint but familiar. And he hesitated so much before offering Sion the other one. He blinked, then grinned, taking it gracefully, his fingers brushing for the third time that morning, “Thanks.”

They ate in comfortable silence, the tea warming Yushi’s hands, the sweetness of the almonds lingering on his tongue. It was strange; he should have felt exposed, should have bristled at being so seen. But instead, all he felt was this unbearable warmth, spreading from his chest to the tips of his fingers.

Yushi wasn’t used to this. He wasn’t used to someone paying attention, someone caring enough to remember the little things, except Riku and Yuta. But Sion was neither of them.

And now that he’d tasted it, now that he’d felt the quiet thrill of being known by someone like him, he wasn’t sure he could go back. He wasn’t sure he wanted to. The realization settled over him like a weight, both terrifying and exhilarating. Because if he let himself get used to this, if he let himself rely on it, what would happen when it was gone? When the classes were over? When he had to go back to Tokyo?

But for now, with the steam of the tea curling between them and Sion’s shoulder brushing lightly against his as they ate, Yushi allowed himself one last dangerous, selfish thought.

He could get used to that.

Notes:

well so that went well... we are actually approaching my pair of fav chapters so far (don't know if you guys realized that the titles of the chapters are like matching or answering each other... but yeah... ik this chapter is lowkey a flop but a lot of things are coming (pun intended)

hope you liked this ! this slow burn is getting more burnt than slow but i am not complaining

thank you everyone really for the comments and the kudos and the bookmarks and everything like thank you thank you thank you for always letting me know your thoughts in such sweet and inspiring ways... i hope i can keep on with your expectations 😭😭 but i am having so much fun writing and also making the fic's playlist!!! i was actually wondering if you would be interested in a short explanation of why i added those songs to the playlist but yeah, just a thought! hope you had a fantastic week and you keep with the great energy this weekend!! love yall <3

Chapter 9: uneven elevations

Summary:

“Do you want to be my partner?”

Notes:

so much architecture, you might accidentally get a minor in it by the end of the chapter... like this is 90% architecture, 10% feelings (but the feelings have great structure too!)

Sion used to think everything was going to turn out nice for him, but that wasn’t entirely his fault.

He had seen since he was just a kid how his parents fought hard to raise both him and Jaehyun in such unconventional ways, but always with love. They didn’t just give them space; they gave them independence. And Sion, like his brother, learned to use it well.

His brother Jaehyun was his role model, always, even though they used to fight constantly as kids. But Sion started to see something in him that made him want to be like him so badly. He was a great student, with a real passion for literature, for books, for stories… He hated having so many books at home because he didn’t like them, didn’t like them as a kid, and wasn't going to like them as a teenager.

But that led him to research. Sion found peace in structure. Not the kind that’s bound by spines, but the kind that's in blueprints and city grids. He spent hours, days even, exploring digital rabbit holes, dissecting the frameworks of Tokyo’s skyline, the flowing curves of Gaudí’s Barcelona, and how Venetian canals weave through history like veins.

Architecture wasn’t just a subject for him; it was a language. And while Jaehyun teased him for his obsessive deep dives, Sion took pride in his precision.

“At least he had standards.” He teased, “You just read anything that is in between two hard covers.”

And it wasn’t even a lie. Jaehyun loved every single genre that existed, from manga to autobiographies, reading the last pieces of paper he could find, and as he graduated from his English Language and Literature degree, he quickly found a job in a great editing company.

"You’re just polishing other people’s words?" Sion had asked, clueless as a late teenager could be.

But Jaehyun had only shrugged, unbothered. "It’s a start."

Sion always thought it was a waste of talent to edit other people's work, but Jaehyun kept telling him he was still learning. Since he had a nine-to-five job, he spent his afternoons reading and writing his own books.

Then there was Liv. Jaehyun’s girlfriend was a whirlwind of wit and warmth, the kind of person who could make everyone laugh. When they moved in together, cats and all, Sion watched his brother slot into a life that seemed designed for him: steady job, creative outlet, love that didn’t demand martyrdom. It was enough to make Sion believe, if only for a moment, that maybe the universe had a blueprint for happiness after all.

Maybe he trusted fate too much, and when life didn’t go his way, he reacted as if someone had slapped him in the face, leaving him disoriented and sore.

The university, which once felt like a given, became a minefield of failed exams and fraying patience. His conflicts with Shotaro escalated, sharp words, sharper glares, and even a shove that Jisung had to step in between. Sion told himself to adapt, to accept the chaos like a river current. If the universe had lessons, he was determined to learn them.

And then came Yushi.

Yushi, who didn’t just disrupt his rhythm but rewired it.

It wasn’t just the silence, although that was part of it, the way Yushi communicated with glances and half-smiles, and the deliberate pressing of a pencil to paper. It was the inconsistency. One day, Sion would catch a ghost of a smirk, a flicker of eye contact that felt like a victory. The next, Yushi would look straight through him, absorbed in his sketchbook or the slow dissection of an apple. It was as maddening as it was magnetic.

Sion had never been a patient person, but for Yushi, he tried. He researched selective mutism like it was another one of his architectural obsessions, digging through case studies, forums, and medical journals. He learned about trauma, about neurology, about the way silence could be both armor and prison. And slowly, he adjusted. On bad days, he gave Yushi space, biting back questions, ignoring the ache in his chest when Yushi turned away. On good days, he rambled about stupid things, the acoustics of lecture halls, the weirdest buildings in Seoul, to keep those rare, fleeting smiles in reach.

It was his way of doing things, and for the moment, it worked.

Last week had been weird, mainly because of the kind of awkward situation in Riku and Yushi’s room, then Yushi had been kind of distant, like not replying to him that same day… and more small things that lingered more time than necessary in Sion’s mind. But he was getting through it.

That morning, Yushi was surprisingly receptive to Sion’s silly attempts to make him laugh, and the tea Sion brought him, a habit he’d started doing regularly after noticing how much it cheered him up, definitely helped. Sion had picked up on how Yushi found small comforts in food and drink, like how his shoulders relaxed just a bit when he took that first sip, and Sion was going to absolutely use that to his advantage.

Their last period that day was dedicated to presenting the semester’s major project: an urban intervention in one of Seoul’s transitional zones, blending vernacular architecture with wood as the primary material. The professor announced it would be a paired assignment, and before Sion could even process the instructions, Yushi was already looking at him, eyes silently asking the question Sion knew he had to voice.

“Do you want to be my partner?”

One of the unspoken rules of their Korean-Japanese dynamic was maintaining the façade; Sion couldn’t just switch to Korean in front of everyone. It would make Yushi look bad, and Sion would lose his credibility, and as important, his promised credits... etc. So keeping the lie was a win-win, really. Except for those moments in where Sion’s brain short circuited, usual him around Yushi, and he blurted out things like “I love to be under you” instead of “I like sitting next to you,” or the time he’d said “You look like a cute cat” when he’d meant “Looks like you like cute cats” after spotting Yushi’s notebook filled with tiny cat doodles.

This time was no different.

“My partner for the class, sorry… it looks like… I’m worse at Japanese.”

Yushi had only nodded, hiding a smile behind his hand, cheeks flushing so deeply Sion briefly wondered if he’d caught a cold.

The professor had given them a schedule for the submissions, and they had their first one in two weeks, having to present the previous analysis of the current situation, urban analysis, and the design in an early state, but needing to submit plans, no sketches whatsoever, only for the analysis. Yushi scribbled everything down like a man possessed, his notes devolving into a chaotic sprawl of green ink, margins crammed with fragmented ideas and hasty diagrams. It was such a Yushi thing to do, to overwhelm Sion academically without even trying. If Sion weren’t so insecure about his own skills, he might’ve found it attractive, the way Yushi took the lead so effortlessly. But right now, all it did was light a fire under him. He needed to prove himself.

Over the past few weeks, Sion had quietly observed just how brilliant Yushi was as an architecture student. The precision in his written critiques, the way his rough sketches somehow captured more depth than most finalized renderings, even his disciplined approach to supplementary subjects like History and Structural Physics, was mesmerizing. And Sion?

This semester was going a bit… rough. Third year was notorious for breaking students, some claiming it was worse than the thesis year. Sion would find out next year, if he survived. Submissions were piling up, deadlines blurred together, and the gnawing feeling of inadequacy had settled deep in his chest. Seeing his classmates’ work, their confidence in critiques, the boldness of their designs, only made it worse. Sion had lost his confidence.

But this project? This could be his chance to claw his way back. To channel all that frustration into something solid, something good. And more than anything, he wanted to impress Yushi.

What started as disciplined study sessions quickly spiraled into obsession.

Between classes, Sion buried himself in urban planning journals, flipping through case studies on interstitial spaces, those neglected pockets of the city caught between development zones. He scoured municipal archives for old zoning maps, cross-referencing them with recent satellite images to trace how the area had evolved. At night, he sprawled across his dorm floor, laptop balanced on his knees, scrolling through architectural forums debating the ethics of “gentlefication”, preserving vernacular elements while modernizing infrastructure.

His notes app became a graveyard of fragmented ideas:

 

wood lattice structures

traditional korean vs. japanese joinery???????????

how to integrate green spaces without displacing existing vendors?

yushi likes modular designs….maybe a flexible framework system?

GREEN PLANS IMPORTANT

indesign files??

 

By the end of Sunday, Sion's search history had become a chaotic archive of sleep-deprived curiosity and tangential obsessions. It started innocently enough, with some searches about 'how to make wood look futuristic but also traditional' that led into 'is cyber-hanok a thing??'.

He forgot to do laundry until he was down to his last clean shirt. His gym routine fell by the wayside, replaced by late-night pacing in his room and muttered monologues about questions he was too embarrassed to look up, even in incognito mode.

Practical concerns led him down equally bizarre rabbit holes. A simple query about 'best type of wood for not rotting' somehow morphed into 'can you pressure-treat pine to survive the apocalypse?' and then, inevitably, 'what did Vikings use for waterproofing??? reddit.' He wasn't even sure why he needed Viking-approved wood preservation techniques for a project in modern Seoul, but the idea was weirdly compelling.

Legal concerns also plagued him. After searching 'Seoul zoning laws loopholes,' he found himself typing 'how illegal is it to build without a permit if it's "art"?' just to test the boundaries. By one in the morning, he was deep into 'South Korea prison architecture quality,' which was definitely not a good sign.

A couple hours later, after more research spirals like 'vernacular architecture but for raccoons,' 'why do all urban planners wear glasses,' 'architectural hot takes twitter,' and 'can you 3D-print a whole neighborhood,' he finally collapsed onto his bed, Pinterest still open to a board ominously tagged 'fairy-core infrastructure.'

He called it a night, but only because he had an idea. It wasn't curated. It wasn't definitive.

But it was an idea.

And he was so excited to explain it to Yushi, as they agreed that they were going to spend Monday afternoon at the library after grabbing lunch. Sion had looked forward to it all morning, but as soon as the last class finished, Yushi started to pick up his things. Sion looked at him, not sure if he should push, but he knew Yushi wasn’t going to talk, not in that mood.

“Do you still want to… talk about… the project thing? I can show what I do.”

“Sorry… something came up.”

“Oh, okay, don’t worry,” Sion tried to sound chill, but he knew he sounded pathetic. “We can go on Wednesday if you want.”

Yushi just answered with his usual nod and left, Sion standing at the back of the class with confusion written all over his face. He tried not to dwell on it; he still needed subjects to catch up with, like Building Law and History, so he just went to his room, but cursed louder than he wanted when he saw the paper under the door.

It was Daeyoung and Sion’s way to tell each other, without being too explicit, ‘DO NOT ENTER THE ROOM’.

Sion had used that little code that they made for very different reasons. The obvious one was when he was going to have sex with someone, usually being one-night stands that left Daeyoung crashing at Shotaro’s or Wonbin’s room, but also for when he needed to rage-scream into a pillow after a failed project critique, or when he had some online classes.

Daeyoung had used it a fair number of times too, but not for those explicit reasons, usually sticking to personal phone calls or emotional moments. In one truth or dare game, Sion learnt that Daeyoung also did it when he jerked off, as he said he needed to be ‘in the mood’, whatever that meant. That remark made Wonbin wheeze into a pillow.

A couple of weeks ago, he had seen the paper under the door for the first time in months, and he was just going there to study with Yushi, but he had to cancel that same minute, not knowing what it was. He asked Daeyoung about it, and he said he needed just some time to unwind, which was valid, but he had never done that. And as he found it again, he was more intrigued. He definitely needed to ask him again.

He went to knock on Shotaro and Jisung’s room, but it was Wonbin who actually opened it.

“What are you doing here?” Sion asked as he entered the room, dropping stuff on the floor and lying down in Jisung’s bed as if it were his own. “Where are these two?”

“Jisung in class, Shotaro… eating ass”

“Jesus Wonbin,” Sions said, disgusted

“I’m joking, he just went out to one revision he had with a teacher, he should be here in no time.”

Minutes later, Shotaro stormed in, ranting in rapid Japanese, definitely to his brother, judging by the way he kept making weird faces and cursing more than he needed. He hung up instantly when he saw Sion, a grin snapping into place.

“Duuude, what brings you here?”

“You want honesty or you want friendship?”

“Friendship,” Wonbin said

“I missed you guys.”

“Honesty,” Shotaro flickered

“The paper under the door”

“No fucking way!” Wonbin said excitedly, “Is Daeyoung banging someone?”

“Not someone, Riku,” Shotaro quickly concluded, “They look like love birds all over the campus.”

Sion’s brain stopped for a second. Why hadn’t he realized that?

Daeyoung, who usually chucked his phone across the room after 10 PM, had been staying up typing with a small smile, screen tilted just out of view. When Sion once peeked over his shoulder, Daeyoung had flipped it facedown so fast he nearly threw it.

Sion had caught Daeyoung humming "Magnetic" in the shower a couple of weeks ago, a song he'd sworn he "hated" when Wonbin played it at pre-games, and later he had heard Riku humming it too, the night they had dinner together in their room.

Daeyoung had started making "quick trips" to Seoul for groceries, which was highly unnecessary to go that far away. They'd come back hours later, Daeyoung with a new jacket and Riku with a new pair of shiny earrings.

Last Thursday, Sion had walked in on them sitting shoulder-to-shoulder in the lounge, not speaking, just passing earbuds back and forth while Riku sketched in his notebook and Daeyoung annotated case studies. The domesticity of it should've been a neon sign.

"Oh," Sion said dumbly, the pieces slotting together.

Wonbin snorted. "Yeah. Oh."

“I knew! We talked about it! But… I thought he was going to wait even more.”

Shotaro scoffed, “Whatever, but Daeyoung getting laid before you this semester wasn’t on my bingo card.”

“Do you have a bingo card?” Sion asked, half-stoked, half curious

“Me, Sungchan, and Jisung”

“Great way to induce me FOMO,” Wonbin complained, making his way to the bathroom.

“Don’t think he’s fucking him though,” Sion said, not quite dropping the subject. “I think he just wants alone time with him.”

“To what? Listen to music?”

Sion instantly thought about that scenario, but Yushi was in it. Both of them were in the quiet of his room, listening to some music, and the idea made him blush.

God, what was up with him?

“Whatever, I actually need to work on something,” Sion said, sitting at Jisung’s neat desk. “Don’t get too loud back there.”

“Yes, Dad!” Shotaro mocked

Sion kept on doing more research, trying to make a summary of the hours he had spent on investigating everything, coming to a conclusion. He zeroed in on Euljiro 3-ga’s back alleys, a crumbling yet vibrant network of narrow passages squeezed between old printing shops and DIY electronics stores. It’s the perfect in-between space: too cramped for developers, too historic to demolish, but pulsing with life from elderly shop owners, young artists, and the occasional stray cat (or raccoon, as Sion had extensively researched).

He tries sketching different ideas. The first one, his "futuristic yet traditional" fixation manifests in slim, modular wood frames that slot between existing buildings, blending traditional hanok eaves with laser-cut steel latticework. The structures could be temporary but enduring, pressure-treated pine with detachable panels, allowing shops to expand or artists to reconfigure the space. It could be a “temporary art installation" that "accidentally" becomes permanent through community use.

He thinks of focusing on the biodiversity of the place, with the possibility of creating elevated walkways along the rooftops, officially for maintenance access, but secretly optimized for the neighborhood’s furry squatters.

A hundred thoughts spiraled in Sion’s mind, a relentless whirl of curses and calculations. That was why he needed to meet Yushi, to untangle the mess, to pin down the fleeting ideas before they slipped away. He hesitated before texting, thumb hovering over the screen. The last message in their chat was his, left on read for days. He shouldn’t push. But then his gaze flickered to the chaos of scribbled notes on his desk, and before he could second-guess himself, his fingers were moving.

 

sion

hey !

how is that thing that came up?

you doing good?

 

Yushi’s response came immediately.

 

yushi

yes, everything okay

 

Sion smiled, feeling relieved, not only because Yushi actually answered but because he said he was okay.

 

sion

great to hear!

im finishing a couple of ideas

if you want me to send them to you

before meeting this week

so you can prepare the feedback

 

Sion looked anxiously as Yushi’s status shifted from typing to just online every five seconds. After a couple of minutes, Yushi was permanently offline. Sion tried not to think too much about it, but he couldn’t keep on working on that; he needed to air his thoughts.

“Let’s go for a walk, to the gardens, whatever,” Sion said, stretching his arms over his head, turning around to see Shotaro and Wonbin having a nap.

Knowing they weren’t going to wake up soon, he just picked up his things and went to peek into his room, the paper far gone. He walked over there excitedly, and when he entered, Daeyoung was just getting out of the shower, getting fresh clothes with such damp hair.

“Helloooo,” Sion drawled, leaning against the doorframe. “How were classes?”

Daeyoung smiled, tossing the towel over his chair. “Boring. Survivable. You and Yushi make it to the library?”

“Not really, he told me something came up,” Sion admitted. It was useless to lie to him.

Daeyoung raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t the first submission due next week?”

“I know,” Sion groaned, flopping onto Daeyoung’s bed. “But I can’t exactly drag him there at gunpoint.”

“Bummer. Thought you’d be into  that.”

Sion squinted. “Since when do you say ‘bummer’?”

“Since always. Why?”

“No reason.” A lie. “Okay, fine. I’m just fishing for an excuse to ask about Riku.”

Daeyoung stilled. “What about him?”

“I saw the paper at the door.”

“Oh.” A slow, deliberate nod. Then, casually, like he was commenting on the weather: “We watched a movie.”

“That’s gre-”

“And we kissed.”

“WHAT?” Sion jumped out of his bed. “You and Riku?”

“I know, right? I still don’t believe it… We were watching some Evangelion thing that he wanted to show me, but I found it kind of boring and… I don’t know, I was just looking at him all the time… and it happened.”

“Congrats, bro!” Sion tapped Daeyoung’s shoulder harder than he should, eliciting a laugh out of him. “You need to tell Shotaro about it.”

“It’s in his bingo, right?”

“How the fuck do you know about the bingo?”

“Jisung told me, it’s quite interesting.”

Sion groaned. “Now I have to see it.” He flopped back, staring at the ceiling. “So? You two a thing now?”

Daeyoung’s smile turned wry. “We like each other. That’s all we’ve figured out so far. Trying not to overcomplicate it.”

“Fair enough.”

Sion admitted, realizing Yushi and he had done the whole opposite, complicating things without figuring anything out.

The conversation meandered, past flings, Sion’s habit of falling into bed with near-strangers, Daeyoung’s cautious history of drunken, fleeting kisses. Sion and Daeyoung decided to go for a walk and get some coffee. They stopped in the gardens. The air between them was easy, familiar. But beneath it all, Sion’s phone remained silent, a quiet weight in his pocket.

“Do you think you could ask Riku if something is up with Yushi?”

“I don’t want to be mean, but something is always up with him, and I’m saying this in the best way possible and from a worried friend-to-be perspective.”

“Still, I want to know for sure.”

“If it’s about the thing that came up, it was probably nothing, but I can try and ask.”

“Great,” Sion smiled at him, showing his teeth, feeling much relaxed

“How is Jaehyun?” Daeyoung changed topics

“Still at the same job, I think Liv is the only thing keeping him sane.”

“She would keep me sane, too,” Daeyoung said, quickly correcting his words, “I didn’t mean it like that! I just think she’s smart and down to earth, don’t get me wrong.”

“And she’s pretty as hell,” Sion admitted without malice

“But your brother is prettier.”

“Eww, that’s a lie.”

“Oh, Sion,” Daeyoung said, standing up from the bench and standing in front of him. “You don’t even realize because it’s your brother, but he is probably the most handsome man I have ever met, and the fact that you are his brother and look like that is just miserable.”

Sion ran towards Daeyoung to give him the friendliest smack on the head. After that, they went back to their room, his roommate cooking some miso soup and dumplings while Sion had a shower. He went to sleep very happy, his head still full of sketches and on his lips the taste of coffee.

The next two days passed in a blur of restless energy. By Wednesday, Sion’s anticipation had sharpened into a buzzing under his skin. Finally, he’d get to sit down with Yushi to untangle the knot of half-formed ideas between them. He’d bitten his tongue around him, avoiding the topic in class, but every glance at Yushi’s notebook (deliberately angled away, pages snapped shut when Sion leaned too close) felt like a taunt. Four attempts to check if Yushi was taking notes or doodling cats again. Four failures that left him wondering even more.

Their Recreation Facilities lecture was a reprieve, same campus but different professor, which meant a merciful break from the project’s weight. The instructor droned on about zoning laws while Sion’s leg bounced under the desk. To his right, Yushi’s pencil moved in precise, confident strokes. Sion caught a glimpse of his work: a fluid sketch of a pavilion, shadows rendered so deftly it made his own rushed doodles look childish. A cold knot settled in his stomach. He’s miles ahead.

“Yushi.” He pitched his voice low, nudging his foot against the other’s chair. “What time d’you wanna meet at the library? Five?”

Yushi didn’t look up. His lips pressed into a thin line, fingers tightening around his pencil. The pause stretched. Sion’s throat went dry.

“Six?” he tried again.

Finally, Yushi tilted his head, just slightly, just enough for the classroom lights to catch the curve of his cheekbone. It was infuriatingly endearing. Sion spun in his seat before the idiot grin could betray him, pretending to riffle through his bag. When he dared a glance back, Yushi was already nodding, attention locked on his work. No smile. No ‘sure, see you there’. Just the quiet click of a mechanical pencil, and the unshakable sense that Sion was an afterthought. After classes, they went to their respective dorms to have lunch, and Sion took a nap to kill some time, needing to rest, like always. His afternoon alarm woke him up at half past five, and when he unlocked his phone to turn it off, he saw a couple of texts from Yushi.

 

yushi

cant meet today

i need to help riku with something

very urgent

we can meet on friday, i promise

 

“Fuckin’ hell,” Sion groaned, turning around in his bed

“Did you say something?” Daeyoung chirped in, headphones slid down his neck. “Thought you were sleeping.”

“I was, now I am not, because I am responsible and set an alarm because I was going to meet with Yushi,” Sion said, frustrated, getting up from his bed. “But he cancelled again.”

“Seriously? Don’t you guys need to-”

“Daeyoung, trust me, I know I need to do the submission, but he can’t meet, and I am not going to make a bunch of plans so he can tear them down, especially if I need to catch up on other things.”

“Okay, sorry…” his friend apologized. “Did he at least tell you the reason? Not that it matters, but…”

“He told me he needed to help Riku with something.”

“What? That’s not possible… Today he had met with Sakuya and Ryo, they are spending the afternoon in Incheon.”

“Amazing.” Sion’s laugh was razor-edged. “Love being lied to.”

Again, his mind supplied. The word hooked into his ribs.

What the fuck was up with him?

He wasn’t going to lose more time on something that was so unproductive. He was going to lock the fuck in and finish his other tasks.

Thursday’s empty seat was a punch to the gut.

Sion stared at the vacant space beside him, fingers drumming an uneven rhythm on his textbook. It wasn’t like Yushi to skip at all. The professor’s lecture blurred into static. But it was worse on Friday, because Sion had even prepared some tea again, in case Yushi felt under the weather the day before, but his seat remained empty for the first period. Sion quickly texted him as the class was over.

 

sion

are you okay?

did i upset you?

 

 

And fuck it, Sion hated being that vulnerable, already jumping into conclusions. But Yushi had avoided him pretty much for a week, barely replied, and actively ditched him twice, for a group project they needed to present in three days. They didn’t have to finish it, but hell, the first submissions were crucial to understand the approach of the project and to get some feedback on the graphic representation. Maybe Yushi wasn’t used to working with many days ahead of the deadline, as he didn’t need to overthink his designs, but Sion wasn’t like that. He tried to be organized; he knew he needed to invest so much time if he wanted great results.

The status bar taunted him: online. A flicker of hope, then nothing. Offline.

Sion’s breath came too fast. Three days until submission.  He threw his phone in the bag, not wanting to glance at it for a second during the day. He was going to need to lock the fuck in if he didn’t want to get roasted next week. He tried to be present in class, talking with a couple of classmates, but his head was elsewhere.

He wasn’t used to feeling unnecessary.

That was the worst of it, not the missed meetings, not the empty promises, not even the lie about Riku. It was the slow, creeping realization that Yushi simply didn’t need him. Not like Sion needed Yushi.

The project should have been a collaboration. A back-and-forth. Instead, it was Sion throwing ideas into a void, waiting for a reaction that never came. Yushi’s sketches were always flawless, his concepts fully formed, no hesitation, no second-guessing. Meanwhile, Sion had rewritten his notes three times, erased entire pages, and started over. He wanted feedback, wanted to argue, wanted Yushi to push back so he could sharpen his own work against the friction. But Yushi just… didn’t. He didn’t even share what he had made, like Sion was going to claim all the effort.

Was it that? Was Yushi regretting pairing with Sion? Or was it arrogance? Indifference? No, he had been there; he knew it wasn’t that, and he hated how his thoughts circled back to that.

He hated how much it gnawed at him. He wasn’t some desperate kid begging for attention. He’d been good at this once, confident, capable. But every ignored message, every canceled plan, every time Yushi’s eyes slid past him in class like he was part of the furniture, it chipped away at him. Made him feel small.

And the worst part? Sion still wanted to impress him. He still wanted Yushi to notice him.

He should’ve been angry. Should’ve known pairing with a friend for a project was never a good idea, but were they friends?

Yushi didn’t owe him anything. That was the brutal truth.

But it still fucking hurt.

Before he realized, classes were over for the week, and Sion’s feet were moving before he knew. Music was blasting through his AirPods, as if guiding him… Not to his dorm, but to the big garden in front of him, to Yushi’s building, then to his floor, and lastly to his door.

He looked down, as if looking for a signal that he wasn’t there, or Riku was the one in, but as soon as he knocked on it and Yushi opened, he knew he was going to solve it.

Sion had always kept mental notes of a lot of things, and his latest collection was about Yushi’s clothes. Yes, his clothes. His accessories were pretty much the same always, his glasses, maybe some mask if he was going to get groceries later, his hair looked more washed out by the week, but it used to be such a shiny orange. But Yushi’s clothes were far more interesting than that.

He was a jeans guy, loyal to the core. He knew he shared the majority of his pants with Riku, but Sion just thought maybe it was convenient for them because they were abroad; he guessed they didn’t bring that much luggage. Riku’s clothes were bolder, the same pants but a hundred ways of wearing them, but whenever Yushi put them on, it was a whole different story.

He always dressed carefully, not a visible tag, a button unbuttoned, a hair never out of place. Everything in Yushi was organized. He wore black and white sneakers, maybe low brown boots, like hiking ones, and always completed the outfit with varsity jackets, dark blue hoodies. They were the usual rotation for winter clothes; nothing wrong with that.

But when Yushi opened the door, it was nothing like the Yushi he knew. He wasn’t wearing shoes, he wasn’t a psychopath at least, and only then did Sion realize he was actually much taller than him, more than he had thought. His hair was so subtly messy, just held up by his glasses, which he guessed he had just put up because the bridge of his nose was so red. He was also wearing some striped socks, like the ones that had paws on the soles, and the usual grey tracksuit pants, low-waisted, revealing the tight waistband of his black underwear around his hips. His shirt wasn’t cropped, but it wasn’t long either, probably shrunken from too many washes, as Sion could tell it had been worn one too many times.

It was like catching him in his habitat, and he wasn’t welcome there. But Yushi didn’t close the door; he looked at Sion, like he knew what he was going to tell him.

“Are you upset with me?”

Jesus, Sion, get a grip. Stand up.

“No.”

“Then why?” Sion’s voice cracked. “Do you want to ditch the project? Do it alone?”

A sharp headshake.

“Then what?” The words spilled now, frantic, mixing languages as he mixed his feelings. “You ignore me for a week, bail on meetings, skip class, was it something I-”

Yushi stepped aside and opened the door wider.

Sion took it as his chance to get to the bottom of it. Last time he hadn’t felt fully welcome there, as Riku brought him and Daeyoung as dinner company, but just because Yushi seemed so uncomfortable about them being in their room, which he could understand. But this time it felt different, because Yushi was opening the door for him to enter.

He quickly did, dropping his backpack near the door and removing his shoes, following Yushi to the middle of the room.

The space was quiet. Too quiet.

A sketchbook lay splayed on the desk, pages torn at the edges. Pencils were scattered along with markers and erasers. His computer was shut down, next to it, a half-empty mug, tea long gone cold. The bed was neatly made, like he hadn’t rested in days, but the pillow bore the faint imprint of someone who’d punched it.

He knew the crime scene too well, as if it were his own.

He’s been stuck.

Yushi turned, rifling through a notebook. His hands shook. He looked wrecked, not in a good way.

“Can you uhmm… can you sit please?”

Sion sat down in his bed in that second, not breaking eye contact.

“I… I wanted to reply but… I… I wrote something, if you want to read it.”

Sion nodded, not even knowing what Yushi was going to give him. It could be a couple of texts, some post-it notes, or a novel; he was going to read it. Back and forth if necessary.

Yushi quickly took out some handwritten paper from one of his notebooks and handed it to him, the brush of their fingers grounding him more than he would like to admit.

“I’m sorry, Sion, if you are reading this, it’s because I couldn’t do it. Not only some tasks, but also talking to you, once again. I’m sorry I can’t reply to you, I’m sorry I missed classes, I’m sorry I didn’t say anything once again, I couldn’t. I haven’t done anything, not for this project but for any. I have been trying for a week to sketch, to research, to even adapt some old designs, but nothing comes to mind. I feel like I’m wasting your time, and I wanted to have something ready. I didn’t want to see your information because I would have made it mine in the worst way possible. It’s not easy for me to write this, even if it's easier than saying it, but I am deeply sorry I let you down. I hope you can forgive me.”

Sion read that too fast, maybe he even skipped something in between his lines, and the fact that it was written half in Korean, half in Japanese helped nobody (maybe Yushi himself), but he looked at Yushi right after finishing, not even knowing what to say, but he spoke either way.

“Yushi, I’m sorry you couldn’t count on me, I don’t want to put pressure on you or something, I just-”

“You didn’t.”

“You should’ve told me.”

A clear flinch. “I couldn’t.”

“Why?”

“You would have wanted to fix it.”

Sion pressed his lips. He had been wanting to fix it even if he didn’t have the faintest idea of what was happening.

“And you can’t fix something when there’s nothing. I have nothing”

“But that’s okay,” Sion lied. They only had three days to come up with half a project, but it wasn’t fine. “I have things, too many, and even more I didn’t have the guts to write them down, we can revise them together and come up with something. But it has to be quick.” Sion concluded, and Yushi nodded, “We can crash into the library for the whole weekend.”

“Wasn’t it closed at afterno-”

“Fuckin’ public school,” Sion cursed too loudly for his liking. “Okay, we can be on Discord or-”

“You can stay here,” Yushi suggested in Japanese, as if Sion wasn’t going to catch it.

But he caught it, too well.

Why on earth was he suggesting that?

Could he refuse?

If Yushi was offering something so out of his character, it had to be something important. Maybe he really wanted to save this project. Maybe he really wanted to be around Sion. Maybe both.

“Okay”

“But we need to start now,” Sion threatened, not to Yushi alone but to themselves.

Yushi nodded eagerly, hands in small fists, looking fierce.

He was fucking back.

Notes:

next chapter is my favorite so far!!

sorry again for the densee architectural parts of the chapter i literally dont know where to stop when i need to give some context... so if you have any questions (fanfic wise or architectural ones) let me know!!!

hope you enjoyed this chapterrrr, going to upload the next one soon because i really like it! thank you soooo much for everyone that is liking this fic!! i really enjoy reading and answering the comments, always love the feedback! hope you enjoyed this one and also hope you had a great week!

Chapter 10: symmetrical floor plans

Summary:

It had never happened to Yushi before, being so utterly stuck on something simple.

Notes:

long ass chapter so get ready + switching a lot between korean and japanese bc they r bilingual kings

It had never happened to Yushi before, being so utterly stuck on something simple.

Urban design? Transitional spaces in a big city? Wood construction? He’d done variations of this a dozen times in Tokyo. It should’ve been muscle memory by now. But no, his brain was a barren wasteland. Because the problem wasn’t the project, it was the pairs.

Yushi knew he would have failed in most courses if he had to pair with someone; his inability to speak would have made anyone ditch him and do it by themselves, so when he distantly heard something about an urbanism project, he had been excited, but his heart dropped the moment he heard ‘in pairs’.

He had looked at Sion, confused, but mainly begging. He didn’t exactly know how close Sion was with his classmates; maybe he had a couple of friends whom he loved working with, and the last thing he wanted was to be paired with anyone who wasn’t Sion.

But Sion turned around, smiled at him, and asked if he wanted to be his partner.

In those exact words.

Which only made Yushi laugh in nervousness and nod eagerly. He couldn’t shift his thoughts like that; he wasn’t going to give that power to Sion.

So as classes finished, Yushi practically ran to his room, determined to wrestle inspiration onto the blank pages of his notebook. He’d always been quick, too quick, even, dissecting design briefs within days, his mind spitting out solutions like a well-oiled machine. But now? Nothing. No spark. Not even a half-formed thought about where in Seoul this project should take root, let alone how.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Research bored him. He was a doer, a hands-on chaos agent, which was laughable given how he looked, pale, perpetually exhausted, like he’d been drained of all vitality. But sketching? That was different. Pencil on paper was his thing; he discovered as he drew, refining lines until they whispered the answers he needed. Control. Clarity. Certainty.

Yet for days, his notebook stayed empty.

Sion had asked on Monday, eager to meet. Yushi invented an excuse on the spot. How could he face him without a single idea? Worse, Sion had already brainstormed something, of course he had, and the thought of sitting across from him, exposed as the only one floundering, made his stomach twist.

By Wednesday, a flicker of hope: a fleeting idea in class, a jolt of adrenaline. But the moment he stepped back into his room, it evaporated. He tried everything, pacing, reading, and even doing mindless chores. In a fit of desperation, he jerked off (thank God he changed topics, it was going to be harder to face him later if not), to get some clarity, but nothing came out except the obvious thing and a cleaning spree in his room.

So he bailed. Again. Blamed it on Riku this time.

Thursday and Friday, he skipped class entirely. His bed stayed perfectly made, his notebook untouched. He lied to Riku saying things like he had a headache or that he was feeling under the weather, this time for real, but his act crumbled when Riku caught him as he woke up and he was still sitting in his desk, in the exact same position he had been when Riku had gone to sleep, he confronted him about it.

“Yushi did you go to sleep?”

“No,” it was pointless to lie about something so evident

“May I ask why?”

“Design’s due.”

Yushi was way more talkative when he was sleep deprived, as he sought warmth in whatever he could find.

“And you think self-torment is the answer?”

“Yes,” Yushi spat, looking directly at Riku.

“Eloquent.” Riku leaned against the desk. “Is this the paired project? With Sion?” Yushi nodded, glaring at his blank screen like it had personally betrayed him. “So ask him for help.”

Yushi shook his head.

“Why? Because it’s embarrassing?”

He nodded, a hint of relief because at least Riku understood him.

“Or because you don’t want him to know you’re struggling?” Riku smirked.

Okay, Riku understood him too much. Yushi flipped him off as a response. He was a morning person, but it had been morning for him for almost two days, so he wasn’t in his best mood.

“Fine. Then write it down. Get it out of your head before your brain explodes.”

Yushi gave him a skeptical look, not quite sure of his best friend’s methods.

“Trust me you piece of shit.” Riku reinforced his idea, “I am the psychologist, you are the architect.”

“Not yet.”

“Not ever if you keep like that. Now write”

Yushi didn’t bother answering, as he ripped some paper out of a notebook and started writing. Riku smiled proudly and went to the shower.

Words came out easier than he thought, a bit painful, but also real enough to get him through.

I have been trying for a week to sketch, to research, to even adapt some old designs, but nothing comes to mind.

He felt so embarrassed just to be airing that out, but he also felt his brain getting less and less foggy.

I feel like I’m wasting your time.

Yushi finished his letter quickly before he could start crying; he felt too useless. Riku came out of the shower just in time, and Yushi picked up the letter, showing it to him, unsure of the next step.

“Now you just have to give it to him.”

“No way.”

“Yes way,” Riku snapped

“When?”

“Later, when he comes here”

“Riku did you invite him?” Yushi quickly stood up angrily

“No, chill.” Riku defended himself, turning around to change into some clothes. “But I do know how to read people, and he will come. Sion is the kind of guy who doesn’t go to sleep until his brain is at rest.”

Am I making him restless?

Yushi shook his head. He didn’t have that kind of power over Sion either.

“And what do I tell him?”

“Tell me about the project.”

Yushi pointed to his laptop, where the information sheet was open in multiple tabs. Riku sat down and read patiently over and over the file. After almost ten minutes, in which Yushi had just caught his pillow to hold it, trying to release some anxiety.

“Yushi, this looks like a fucking load of work.”

“I know.”

“And you have to submit it in like-”

“Yes”

“And you don’t have anything done.” Yushi shook his head, holding the pillow tighter. “Okay let me think.”

Riku stood up and kept on changing into some clothes, whispering things and looking at Yushi every once in a while, like a witch who was reading his future. Yushi dropped the pillow on his bed again and sat at the desk, like he belonged there.

“Ask him to stay the night.”

“Excuse me.”

“To work together. The library won’t be opening on the weekends, and you guys need to actually work together, shoulder to shoulder.”

The whole idea of brushing his shoulder against Sion’s muscular one sent a shiver down his spine.

“Riku, he lives like-”

“I know where he lives, I’ve been in his room more times than you,” Riku said, knowing it would piss Yushi off. “But God knows at what hours you are going to be finishing… and honestly, it’s just more convenient”

Yushi bit his lip, thinking. He knew Riku was partially right; they were going to get way more done if they worked together literally in the same room, but that was going to probably distract him even more, and he needed to lock in. He needed to focus in order to get the project going, and he didn’t want to disappoint Sion; that was his number one priority.

“Okay, I will suggest it.”

“Perfect!” Riku smiled

As soon as he finished getting dressed, he took one big duffel bag from his side of the closet, tuning Yushi in.

“So I’ll be staying with Daeyoung.”

“Did you have all of this prepared?”

“Not quite,” Riku smirked, “But I do know how to read people.”

It was the second time he repeated that, like he actually meant that, which drove Yushi kind of crazy because he couldn’t read a single thing out of Sion’s actions, and Riku was out there predicting the future.

His morning went surprisingly fast, considering how nervous he was. He tried to sketch one last time but gave up, and as he paced around the room one more time, he heard someone knocking on the door. It couldn’t be him. Why the fuck did Riku tell him Sion would actually come to see him?

He didn’t bother changing or even looking at the mirror to check if he actually looked like he hadn’t slept; he just opened the door. It was Sion, of course it was.

He cursed mentally at Riku, but he quickly let that thought slide, focusing on his classmate, on Sion. On the person he was supposed to do a project with. The guy who had translated classes for a month because he couldn’t speak up for himself. The guy he couldn’t stop thinking of.

“Are you upset with me?”

The question almost made Yushi step out of his room and hug Sion until he crashed him. How could he ask him that? Wasn’t it supposed to be the other way around? He hated himself for a second, thinking about how badly he had been making Sion feel.

“No.”

“Then why?” Sion’s voice cracked. “Do you want to ditch the project? Do it alone?”

He quickly shook his head. That was the last thing he wanted. Well, the actual least thing he wanted was Sion feeling this bad. Then, doing the project alone.

“Then what? You ignore me for a week, bail on meetings, skip class, was it something I-”

Yushi didn’t let him talk anymore; he couldn’t. Not in the middle of the hall, not so loud, not when he was spitting all those things Yushi didn’t want to be held accountable for. Thankfully, Sion came into the room, and Yushi only then looked at it from another perspective: it looked like a cave where a madman lived. The only thing that made it livable was the fact that Riku unrolled the blinds slightly that morning.

“Can you uhmm… can you sit please?”

Yushi couldn’t bear seeing him that close when they were both standing. Sion sat in the bed, tiredness wearing off his shoulders as he did. He looked as tense as Yushi. That wasn’t good.

“I… I wanted to reply but… I… I wrote something, if you want to read it.”

He knew it was the lack of sleep that was making him talk to him like that, but he was partially glad he could get the conversation flowing so straightforwardly. Sion nodded, so he handed him the note. It took him less than he thought it was going to take him to read it, so he guessed he wanted to get over with this soon.

“Yushi, I’m sorry you couldn’t count on me, I don’t want to put pressure on you or something, I just-”

“You didn’t.” He reassured, because it was true.

“You should’ve told me.”

“I couldn’t.” He flinched, the words hurting.

He knew he should have told him, but he physically couldn’t face him, much less explain it to him.

“Why?”

“You would have wanted to fix it.”

He didn’t even know where that came from, but Riku’s words resonated in his mind.

Sion is the kind of guy who doesn’t go to sleep until his brain is at rest.

“And you can’t fix something when there’s nothing. I have nothing.”

“But that’s okay,” Sion said too quickly, “I have things, too many, and even more I didn’t have the guts to write them down, we can revise them together and come up with something. But it has to be quick.” Sion concluded, and Yushi nodded, “We can crash into the library for the whole weekend.”

“Wasn’t it closed at afterno-” Yushi stuttered, his plan failing by mere seconds.

“Fuckin’ public school,” Sion cursed too loudly for his liking. “Okay, we can be on Discord or-”

“You can stay here,” Yushi suggested in Japanese, the words slipping out before he could second-guess them.

Maybe he was too embarrassed to say it in Korean. Maybe he tried to say it too fast, that way, if his expression shifted, Yushi could backtrack, rephrase, soften the offer into something less revealing. But Sion understood. He always did.

“Okay. But we need to start now,”

Yushi nodded, his hands curling into tight fists at his sides, nails digging into his palms, anything to stifle the sudden, overwhelming urge to cry. Relief? Panic? He wasn’t sure. His chest felt too full, his pulse too loud in his ears.

“Maybe I… I think I will go to my dorm to get some things, and we can get started.”

Another nod, too quick, too eager. He practically lunged for the door, swinging it open before Sion could change his mind. The other boy bowed slightly as he left, his footsteps fading fast down the hallway. The moment he was out of sight, Yushi darted to the window, pressing close to the glass just to watch Sion walking away to his dorm: the way his shoulders moved, the slight bounce in his step. Even from a distance, he looked unreal, like something carved from light.

Yushi’s breath hitched.

Then, the frenzy hit. He spun away from the window and paced the room, his socked feet scuffing against the floor until. Auch. A marker. A sharp yelp escaped him. Idiot. He dropped to his knees, scrambling to gather scattered pens, crumpled sketches, anything that might make the space look less like a disaster. He wiped dust from Riku’s desk; he wanted to make it comfortable because it was going to be Sion’s for the rest of the day. Maybe longer. The thought sent a jolt through him.

Should I change? He glanced down at his wrinkled shirt, but before he could overthink it, a knock came.

Too soon. Yushi nearly tripped in his haste to answer.

“I just grabbed some clothes and stuff like that,” Sion stood there, slightly breathless, as if he’d run back. “Let’s get started.”

His voice was steady, but Yushi caught the faintest tremor in it, or was that just his own pulse distorting everything?

Yushi pointed dumbly at Riku’s desk, and Sion moved like he’d always belonged there, dropping his bag beside Yushi’s bed. The sight of it, something of Sion’s, left carelessly in his space, made his stomach flip.

Sion told him about his crash-out researching things, which led him to some questionable things that got Yushi invested too. Sion seemed eager to get informed, to do his homework before starting to plan, and maybe he should have taken that route, too.

He showed him his ideas on the ‘cyber-hanok’ thing, the types of wood he wanted to use, the whole loophole about doing something for the people by the people, or something along those lines. Sion even thought of doing something related to how stray animals lived around busier blocks, and he mentioned the idea of doing a model of the area, which he later explained to Yushi where it was located. It was too much information at once, but it got Yushi hooked.

It had potential.

They started discussing what the main purpose of the intervention was, sometimes Sion taking the lead and pacing around the room, drawing in the air some incoherent lines, but they were coherent enough for Yushi, who was translating everything into his notebook. Sometimes it was Yushi who suggested things, more like he aired his questions as they were diving deeper, and they both tried to come up with a solution.

Hours bled together. The room dimmed; Yushi’s eyes burned, dry and bloodshot. He was tired, so tired, but his brain was more active than in the past two weeks, and he thought it was a waste of time to just go to sleep. Maybe he feared he was going to wake up the next day feeling half-empty again, with nothing in his brain but too much in his heart.

“Should we order something for dinner? I’m actually starving. I didn’t have lunch.”

“Me neither.”

Yushi admitted. Frankly, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a proper meal. His stomach had been a hollow, forgotten thing for days, drowned out by caffeine and the gnawing static in his head.

Sion studied him, eyes lingering a second too long. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look kind of tired. Did you sleep last night?”

Yushi shook his head, a yawn agreeing with his silent answer.

“Did you at least have a nap?” Yushi shook again, too tired to lie. “Okay, I am cooking something, and then we are going to sleep.”

Yushi pointed mutely at the small fridge, a pointless gesture, since Sion’s dorm had the exact same layout. But thinking straight required energy, and his was long gone. Sion didn’t tease him, just moved to inspect the contents with the focus of a surgeon, or a chef, he wasn’t sure.

“I am guessing you like everything here,” Sion asked, and Yushi hummed, still sitting at the desk. He knew if he sat on his bed or even the floor, he was going to fall asleep. “I am going to make some kimchi fried rice with this kind of… marinated tofu that you have here.”

“Thanks”

He turned to keep on scribbling something, to keep him awake, but he quickly felt Sion behind him, removing the pencil from his hand.

“No more working, come help instead,” Sion said, in a suggestive tone rather than commanding.

Yushi didn’t fight. It didn’t matter what he did, as long as he didn’t stop. Didn’t think. Didn’t linger on how normal this felt: Sion in his space, rummaging through his fridge, nudging him toward the counter like it was something they’d always done.

The kitchen was cramped, their elbows bumping, Sion’s shoulder pressing against his as he reached for a knife. Yushi focused on the kimchi, slicing it with exaggerated precision, while Sion stirred the rice, the sizzle of the pan filling the silence. Once, Sion’s hand brushed his wrist, just to get some oil, just a fleeting touch, just an accident, and Yushi’s breath stuttered.

Food tasted amazing, but he blamed it on his hunger, not on Sion’s cooking skills. He would have to try his food without being sleep deprived to really confirm he made an average chef. He offered to clean the dishes, and Yushi wanted to complain, but he knew it was going to be worthless, so he just went into the bathroom to wash his teeth and change into a hoodie.

They were in the middle of November, and besides the building insulation, the room became cold, because the thermostat was kind of fucked up and it only worked to heat the room to an almost boiling point, so Riku and he wore thicker clothes to sleep.

As he got out, Sion had changed too into some pajama pants, a sleeveless tank top, and black socks. The sight of him like that, casual, in his room, sent a jolt through Yushi’s chest.“Sorry, the room is cold.”

“You didn’t design it right?”

“Not yet,” Yushi said

“Then it’s not your fault.” Sion smiled. “My room’s worse.”

Silence. The kind that clung, heavy and awkward, to the space between two people who knew each other too well and not enough at all. Yushi couldn’t take it.

“You can sleep in my bed,” he said, pointing at his neatly made bed. “I’ll sleep in Riku’s.”

He didn’t wait for a response, just collapsed onto Riku’s bed, curling into the covers like a man starved for rest. His eyelids were leaden, but he caught the hesitation in Sion’s movements, the way he paused, then slowly, carefully, lowered himself onto Yushi’s mattress.

A flicker of embarrassment: The jellyfish plushie. Still tucked under his pillow, childish and exposed. But he was too far gone to care. As sleep dragged him under, one thought lingered, half-terrifying, half-thrilling: this feels right.

And maybe it was just the sleep deprivation talking. Maybe tomorrow, in the cruel light of day, this would all feel like a dream. But for now, with Sion’s quiet breaths filling the room, Yushi let himself pretend.

He thought his alarm had woken him until the unfamiliar chime registered, soft and melodic, nothing like his usual jarring buzz. He jolted upright, disoriented. Sion’s phone. The other boy was still asleep, sprawled across Yushi’s bed like he belonged there, one arm flung over his face. The sky outside was a dull, predawn gray… It was definitely too early by the way his aching head protested. He needed more sleep.

Yushi swung his legs over the edge of Riku’s bed, flinching as his bare feet hit the icy floor. He fumbled for thicker socks in his nightstand, but as the drawer creaked, Sion stirred.

Not abruptly, but slowly, like he was surfacing from deep water. His eyelids lifted, heavy with sleep, and his gaze landed on Yushi, hovering too close. Confusion flickered in his eyes, then something softer. Yushi’s throat went dry. He yanked the socks on and retreated to his desk like a man fleeing a crime scene.

“Did you just wake up?” Sion’s voice was rough, sleep-worn, ruined in a way Yushi didn’t know someone could be.

Fucking hell.

Yushi’s entire body short-circuited. He’d never heard a morning voice like that, low, a little gravelly, curling around the Japanese syllables like they were something intimate. His face burned. He nodded stiffly, spinning his chair to face his computer, as if code could save him from this.

“Come back to bed.”

Yushi’s brain flatlined.

In Japanese. In that voice. With that accent.

Come back to bed? Did he actually mean it like that? Yushi never understood whether Sion actually flirted with him, as sometimes he corrected himself, but others didn’t. He couldn’t wait to know if that was one of those times.

He bolted off his desk, got some shoes, his keys, grabbed his phone, and got out of the room.

What the fuck. What the fuck.

Was he insane?

“Yushi, where the fuck are you going?” He turned around to the whispered screams that Sion threw at him. He was half-leaning out the door, hair mussed, glasses askew, eyes wide with concern. “Are you okay?”

Yushi nodded, swallowing hard.

“Are you going to get coffee or…?”

Sion was clueless.

Another nod. At least he didn’t have to lie.

“Come back, I’ll go get it.”

Yushi shook his head and kept walking. If he went back in there now, he’d do something stupid. Something irreversible.

“Okay then, wait for me!”

He stopped in his tracks. Fucking Sion and his stupid habit of… being nice.

Sion caught up seconds later, jogging down the hall in those abominable shoes, lumpy, neon-red monstrosities that looked like they’d been salvaged from a landfill. Yushi couldn’t help it; a laugh burst out of him.

“What are you laughing at?” Sion scowled, though there was no real heat in it. Yushi pointed shamelessly at them. “Okay, whatever,” Sion grumbled, shoving his hands into the pockets of his oversized hoodie. “Let’s get breakfast.”

The walk was quiet, the cold morning air sharp in their lungs. Yushi hadn’t left his room in days, hadn’t realized how much he’d missed the weight of faint sunlight, even this weak, winterish glow. Beside him, Sion yawned, his glasses slipping down his nose.

At the café, Sion ordered for both of them, chatting easily with the waitstaff like he’d been here a hundred times. He paid before Yushi could protest.

“My treat,” he said as they stepped back outside, steam curling from their cups. “For letting me stay with you this weekend.”

Innocent words. But they lodged in Yushi’s chest like an accusation.

He should be thanking Sion for the patience, for the listening, for caring when Yushi had been a hollowed-out ghost of himself. But Sion made it all seem effortless, like kindness was as natural as breathing. It made Yushi want to shake him.

Back in the room, Yushi ate some pastries and drank some tea that Sion had brought him while he took a shower. When he got out, Yushi couldn’t help but stare at him silently as he cleaned the room while Sion was having his breakfast. Sion had changed, black tracksuit pants pooling around his ankles, that same oversized hoodie slipping off one shoulder, exposing the sharp line of his collarbone. His hair combed back for once, and his glasses sat low on his nose as he sipped his coffee. The steam curled around his lips, and Yushi had to look away.

He busied himself with straightening Riku’s bedsheets, fingers fumbling with the edges.

“Is that much coffee even good for you?” He asked, trying to shift his focus

Sion smirked into his cup. “Don’t know. Don’t think so.” He held it out. “Want to try?”

Yushi shook his head, then hesitated.

“This tastes better than the one at the library, I promise.”

Yushi doubted for a second, but then nodded and exhaled through his nose and stepped closer, taking the cup. The plastic was warm where Sion’s fingers had been. He lifted it to his lips, the same straw, and took a sip. Bitter. Sweet. Like him. Like them. He instinctively smiled.

“Told you”

Yushi turned away before his face could betray him, but not before catching the amused crinkle at the corner of Sion’s eyes. He finished cleaning for a bit, and Sion finished with all the cookies in the paper bag, so they went to it again.

This time, they all sat at their respective desks, working on different assignments each. Sion was going to conduct some final urban analysis, along with all the accompanying graphic content, and Yushi was going to work on the design. Thankfully, Yushi was now fast, trying to overcompensate for all the days he hadn’t done anything. But even if they worked at their desks, they got up to check some stuff with each other, especially Sion. He seemed confident but wanted the reinforcement anyway, which was fine by Yushi.

He tried to focus, but Sion kept coming over. Every time, a brush of warmth. A hand on his shoulder. Fingers lingering just a second too long, and Yushi’s skin burned under the touch.

By noon, he’d finished the site plans, lines crisp and precise. He called Sion over, his heart hammering when the other boy leaned in.

“Yushi.” Sion’s voice was soft, approving. “They look neat…you nailed it.”

Then, hands on his shoulders. Warm. Solid. Squeezing.

Yushi forgot how to breathe.

“Want to take a break for lunch?”

He nodded, stiff, afraid that if he turned, Sion would see the way his pulse jumped in his throat.

“Perfect. Let’s go.”

Another squeeze, gentle, grounding, before Sion pulled away.

They were such mundane actions that he had done with Riku, and he had seen Riku do it too, with classmates, with people they knew. Anton even side hugged him a couple of times, but nothing felt like that.

Yushi blinked, dazed.

“Should we cook again, or-”

Yes.

He nodded before Sion could finish, too eager, too obvious.

He didn’t want the cafeteria. Didn’t want takeout.

He wanted that, the domesticity of grocery lists and shared meals, of Sion’s laughter as he juggled ingredients, of elbows bumping in the tiny kitchen.

“Cooking it is,” Sion said, grinning. “You up for chicken and pasta?”

“Yes.”

“Nice. But we’ll need to go shopping.” He stretched, hoodie riding up, exposing a sliver of skin. “Fresh air will be good for us anyway.”

Yushi swallowed. Us.

He agreed and smiled, without really thinking about it. He ducked into the bathroom to change, emerging in jeans and a hoodie.

The walk to the store was easy, their footsteps falling into sync as they pointed out architectural details: the slope of a roofline, the way the brickwork echoed the neighborhood they were studying. Sion’s voice was warm with interest, his hands sketching shapes in the air as he talked, and Yushi found himself nodding along, sketching a hundred things in his mind.

At the supermarket, Sion grabbed a cart, his fingers curling around the handle with an easy confidence. Yushi hovered close, trailing just a step ahead like a shadow tethered to its light, until the snack aisle caught him. He lingered, turning bags of chips over in his hands, comparing flavors with a focus usually reserved for structural blueprints.

When he finally looked up, Sion was watching him from the end of the aisle, the cart already half-full.

Yushi’s cheeks warmed. How long had he been standing there?

But Sion just grinned and nudged the cart forward. “Find anything good?”

Yushi shook his head, dropping the chips back onto the shelf, only for Sion to pluck them up again and toss them into the cart.

“You were staring at these for five minutes,” he said, like it was that simple. “I might have good taste for coffee, but when it comes to snacks, you know what’s good. I trust you.”

And then he kept adding things, coffee, apples, cookies, all the snacks Yushi had eyed but hadn’t dared to take. Like he’d memorized the path of his gaze. Like he knew him. It was terrifying.

Yushi’s stomach twisted, a dizzying mix of nausea and warmth. He turned away before Sion could see the way his lips curled, helpless, into a smile.

At the register, Sion shouldered both bags before Yushi could protest.

“You can give one to me,” Yushi whispered, reaching for the heavier one.

Sion shifted it out of reach. “I know.” His voice was low, teasing. “I just don’t want to.”

Cooking the pasta and chicken felt like stepping back into last night’s warmth, but this time, Yushi was awake for it. Last night, exhaustion had dulled the edges, leaving only a hazy impression of comfort. Now, he could see it, the way Sion angled the knife handle toward him so he wouldn’t cut himself, the way he blew softly on a steaming spoonful of sauce before offering it to Yushi’s lips. 

It was unbearably tender, and his chest ached. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had treated him like something fragile, something worth it.

They ate cross-legged on the floor, cushions under them, and makeshift tables holding their plates. Sion talked between bites, stories of his first years at university, of Shotaro’s terrible dance moves, of the time Jisung set a microwave on fire trying to make ramen at three in the morning.

Yushi had no equivalent memories to share. His own university experience had been quieter, lonelier. But Sion didn’t make him feel like an outsider. He wove the tales like invitations, leaving space for Yushi to step into them, to laugh at Wonbin’s pranks as if he’d been there too.

It reminded him of Riku, how his best friend would thrust photos under his nose, narrating every detail like Yushi had to be part of it, even if he hadn’t been.

You can belong here, the stories whispered. Even if you weren’t there then, you’re here now.

After having lunch, Yushi practically bolted to the counter to clean the dishes this time. Sion tried to complain, but Yushi acted like he wasn’t listening to him. After everything was done, they got back to the project.

Yushi worked deliberatively on the ground and first floor of the main building they were doing, as he thought it was going to be easier to just work on the urban plans the next day. He designed the floor plans at the same time as the elevations, not wanting to have some uneven elevations with those symmetrical floor plans. It would have looked horrible. Around eight, he received a text from his best friend.

 

riku

hows the project going?

should i stay here another night?

 

Yushi almost forgot they only agreed on one day, but the night was all over their room now. He turned around to check on Sion, and he was yawning as he wrote a bunch of text in the panels.

“How are you doing?” he whispered, not wanting to pressure him

“Fine, but the scope area is really too big. You?” Sion answered as he turned around slowly “Everything okay?”

Yushi nodded, then continued, “Riku asked me if he should stay there tonight.”

Silence conquered the room. Sion’s face did something complicated: guilt, disappointment, a flicker of something raw, before he schooled it into careful neutrality.

They had been working nonstop and actually got much more done than they thought. They still needed to do a bunch of things, but it wasn’t like they couldn’t review it over a few texts or something. But Yushi didn’t want him to go.

“Oh, okay, I mean, if you-” Sion started blabbering.

“You can stay again.”

“Do you want me to?”

Yushi nodded, and Sion smiled.

It was a simple as that. He didn’t need to actually say yes; he could express it, and Sion was okay with that. More than okay, he seemed happy as if Yushi had handed him a gift instead of a few more hours in a cramped dorm room.

“We can order something,” Yushi said, “So we can finish… uhm… this”

“Seems fine, want me to take care of it?”

Yushi shook his head. He wanted to do something nice for Sion, to choose something yummy to eat, and to pay for it. Sion gave him a sweet smile and turned around, instantly locking in. Yushi opened the delivery app, instantly opening up his favorite restaurant to get some black bean noodles and tteokbokki. The warmth of both dishes was too mouth-watering for him to skip them. He ordered a couple of sodas and some pickled radish, the yellow one. He loved that shit. He answered Riku, too, before he could forget.

 

yushi

he's staying tonight too

still have so much to do

 

riku

try to have fun at least too

get to know him

 

yushi

shut up

 

Forty minutes later, Yushi told Sion he was getting down to get the food, but he quickly offered to do so. Yushi knew it was going to be useless to fight him, so he just pointed at his jacket, which was hanging next to he door, but Sion was already getting out of the room. He peeked over the window to see him again, walking peacefully through the gardens, when he turned around and saw Yushi staring. He just gave him a thumbs up and pointed at the plastic bag with the food, like it wasn’t creepy to follow someone through the window. Yushi quickly prepared the table they had been using to eat, placing the cushions around.

“It was so cold outside, fuckin’ hell.” Sion’s nose was pink, his fingers stiff around the bag.

“You should have taken my jacket,” Yushi muttered.

Sion shrugged. “Thought it wouldn’t fit me.” At Yushi’s confused frown, he chuckled. “I don’t know… you’re tiny.”

“I’m as-“

“Nope.” Sion popped the ‘p’, grinning. “But it’s okay.”

They ate in silence.

He didn’t know if it was a good kind of silence or a bad one, because Sion had been too chatty at lunch. Maybe Yushi bored him, only giving short answers or simply nodding. They finished quickly, and after Sion thanked him twice for the food, they got back to the desks. Yushi still had some energy left, even more after having dinner, but  Sion looked defeated. After the third consecutive yawn, Yushi went over to Riku’s desk.

“The panel looks great, go to sleep.” He offered Sion.

Every yawn the Korean boy was letting out was making him feel guilty, but of course, he was stubborn. As hell.

“I need to just finish-”

“I’ll do it, just go to sleep.”

“Let me, please, it’s only going to be five minutes.”

“Okay”

Yushi got back to his desk, working on those elevations and starting his sections, and like a clockwork, after five minutes, Sion shut down his laptop, announcing softly that he was going to wash his teeth. After ten seconds, Yushi remembered he hadn’t washed them either, jumping from his desk to the bathroom too. Sion was sitting in the toilet, legs crossed, as he washed his teeth. Yushi looked at him, the other one just gesturing for him to enter, so he quickly did the same, standing close.

Sion caught his gaze in the glass and smiled, just a small, sleepy thing, and Yushi’s traitorous lips mirrored it. Then Sion snorted, toothpaste foaming at his mouth, and spat into the sink, shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

They finished, and Yushi got out of his bathroom, letting him change. He revised more documents of previous interventions around the area while Sion got to bed, scrolling for a couple of minutes before locking the phone.

Yushi didn’t dare to look, to turn, in case Sion was looking at him, or worse, he was asleep and he was going to stare at him. A couple of minutes passed, ten, twenty, almost an hour later, the clock announcing two in the morning, Yushi decided to call it a day.

He changed in the bathroom and went right into bed. But something felt odd.

Maybe it was the room’s silence, too absolute now that the lights were off and even the street noise seemed to hush. Maybe it was the weight in his chest, pressing in even as his body melted into the mattress. Yushi lay there, eyes wide open in the dark, listening to Sion’s quiet breathing, steady and near.

It should have calmed him. But it didn’t.

Maybe it was the cold creeping inside him, maybe it was the fact that he wasn’t sleeping in his own bed because he had been too stuck to design anything that he had to drag Sion to spend a weekend with him. And he asked him to stay, and Sion had smiled. Was it pity?

Sion was here because he fell behind. Because he couldn’t pull his weight. Sion had sacrificed sleep, carried him, and for what? Yushi had nothing to give in return. He couldn’t be what Sion expected him to be. No stories. No proof he’d ever been alive before this.

And now Sion lay motionless beside him, the mattress dipping between them like a chasm.

Yushi curled into himself, throat tight.

A tear escaped. Then another.

His thoughts began spinning, the stress, the design, the way Sion had said “come back to bed” like it was nothing, the terrifying ease of the domesticity between them. His throat tightened. Why did Sion treat him like he was everything? Or worse, why did he feel like Sion treated him like that when in reality, he was only being nice to him? Was Yushi that care-starved?

He needed to leave. Just a minute. Just to breathe.

Moving as silently as he could, he slid out of bed, groping for his keys on the desk. Not there. He checked his coat pocket. Nothing. The bedside. Still nothing. The soft click of the desk drawer made him wince. He felt like the air itself would shatter if he moved too loudly.

Damn it. He couldn’t find them. The panic grew.

He opened the bathroom door and slipped inside, locking it with trembling fingers. He needed something to snap him out of his trance, and if the midnight cold air couldn’t do it, a cold water rinse would have to. But as soon as he found himself in front of the mirror, he let out a sob. Just one, at first. Then more. He sat down on the closed toilet lid, knees to his chest, trying to muffle the sound with the sleeve of his hoodie.

He tried to be rational, but he was too exhausted to do it. He couldn’t fight his thoughts.

“Yushi?”

Sion’s voice, low and rough with sleep. Concerned.

He didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

A soft knock. “Yushi, are you okay?”

Still no answer. His breath hitched.

Couldn’t he cry in peace in his own bathroom? The insistence almost made him mad, but it was just another self-sabotage, a selfish thought to add to the pile. Sion was just concerned, and Yushi felt bad; he didn’t want him to worry about him.

A longer pause. Then, gently. “Can I come in?”

Yushi finally managed to say something. Not words, just a sound, strangled and hoarse. The doorknob rattled a little. Still locked.

“You don’t have to talk,” Sion added, quieter now, almost whispering through the door. “But I’m here.”

Silence stretched.

Yushi inhaled shakily, then exhaled, barely a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

He didn’t know. For waking him. For being like this. For being unable to hold it together.

“For… everything.”

The door stayed closed, but Yushi could feel him close.

“For being a liability, for lying to you, for making you stressed, for-” the words crumbled on his lips, unable to keep on explaining

“You’re not a liability.”

Yushi swallowed, pressing his forehead against his knees.

“You think I’d be here if I didn’t want to be?”

Yes, Yushi thought. Because Sion was kind. Because he didn’t know how to say no. Because Yushi had asked, and Sion had smiled, and that was enough to twist the guilt deeper.

Yushi’s fingers dug into his sleeves. “You- you stayed. You helped. You’re here, even though I-” His voice cracked. “Even though I’m like this… I’m sorry, Sion.”

“For what, Yushi? You don’t have to be”

“For being like this”

“I like you like this.”

Yushi looked at the door like he could see through it, like he could feel Sion’s warmth as he said those words.

“You don’t,” he disagreed, his breathing feeling heavier after those words

“I do.”

Those words worked like a charm, calming him. He still felt shaky, and most importantly, guilty, but he knew Sion wasn’t going to get away from the bathroom until he came out, so he walked slowly to open the door, unlocking it without opening.

A couple of minutes passed, but none of them opened it.

“Do you want me to-”

It was Yushi who opened it. He had to.

“Hey.”

Sion’s voice was rough with sleep, his face tired but welcoming, like he was happy to see him.

“You’re only here because I messed up.” The words spilled out, brittle. “Because I couldn’t- couldn’t do it alone. And now you’re tired, and-”

“Yushi.” Sion came closer. “I chose to stay.”

“But-”

“Not for the project.” Sion’s voice dropped, raw. “For you.”

Yushi’s breath hitched.

Sion tugged him closer, until Yushi’s forehead pressed against his collarbone. “And I’d do it again.”

The tension broke.

Yushi clutched at Sion’s shirt, soft sobs muffled against his chest, while Sion held him, solid.

“You’re not a liability, Yushi, I promise. Please believe me.”

“It’s hard.”

Sion’s arms around him were warm, grounding, one hand resting at the nape of his neck, fingers brushing against the frayed ends of his hair. The touch sent a shiver through him; too gentle, too kind. Yushi wanted to pull away, to curl into himself where it was safe, where he couldn’t disappoint anyone. But the warmth was intoxicating.

“I know,” Sion murmured. “But I’m not lying to you. I won’t ever lie to you again.”

Yushi swallowed. Again. The word stung. There had been too many lies before, from others, from Sion, from himself. But his voice was steady, unwavering, sure of himself.

“Me neither,” Yushi whispered.

Sion exhaled, a quiet laugh in the dark. “Great. Let’s try to keep it like that.”

Yushi nodded against him, his cheek pressed to Sion’s shoulder. He shouldn’t be clinging like this. He shouldn’t need this. But the weight of Sion’s arms around him was the only thing keeping the guilt from crushing him completely.

“Come back to bed then?”

Yushi stiffened. Back to bed. The words sent an embarrassing flush up his neck. Did Sion realize how that sounded?

“Do you know… uhmm…” Yushi separated from him, looking at the floor while flustered, “That means…”

“Oh, it's go back to bed, right?” Yushi nodded, feeling relieved because he said it right. “Ah, well, go back to bed then.”

Yushi nodded, and as both went back to their beds, he felt calmer. The feeling of guilt was still there, of not being enough, of being too far behind, but it was easier to breathe now.

“Did my alarm wake you up today?” Sion broke the silence, the whole room dark, and Yushi hummed as a response, “I’m sorry, do you want me to set it for a bit later?”

“It’s okay, we still need to-”

“Only an hour”

“Okay”

“Nice.”

He couldn’t see Sion’s face, but he could feel the grin in his voice.

Yushi hummed again, then whispered, muffled into the covers, “Good night.”

Sion’s affection wasn’t easy to deal with. It settled under his skin, restless and warm, like something he didn’t know how to hold.

Sunday went as expected: breakfast in the room, working on the project, eating leftovers, Sion took a small nap while Yushi texted Yuta and Riku. His roommate told him he was going to come back around nine, to which Yushi just reacted to the text with a thumbs up.

As soon as Sion woke up, they went over the final details of the panels, and Sion offered to make a presentation. Yushi agreed because his part was already finished, but he needed to keep working on the plans. Around eight and a half, Sion started packing his things while Yushi was finishing the urban zooms, searching for different kinds of plant silhouettes for the elevations.

His eyes kept drifting to Sion.

He’s leaving.

The realization hit like a punch.

It was painful, so painful to see him gathering his things. His shoes were next to his at the entrance, and his hoodie hung next to his jacket. The last thing he took was the toothbrush, ironically.

Ten minutes. That was all it took. Ten minutes, and it was like Sion had never been there at all.

Yushi nodded, his throat too tight to speak. Stay. Just one more meal. Just a little longer.

“By the way, don’t mean it in a bad way, but… I could ask Jisung to dye your hair again.”

Yushi’s hand flew to his hair on instinct, fingers catching on the brittle, faded orange strands. He knew it looked awful, like dried-out straw, like something forgotten. He nodded.

“Perfect, we can arrange it for next week!” Sion grabbed his duffle bag, heading to the door.

Yushi moved before he could think, stepping forward to open it for him. His body moved on autopilot, but his mind screamed don’t go.

“Thank you for the weekend, I really enjoyed it, and I think the project looks amazing. Will send you the presentation as soon as I finish it.”

Yushi nodded, but the words couldn’t come out because he knew he would cry.

Sion stepped out, then hesitated. Two steps. A pause. Then he turned back, his expression unreadable in the dim hallway light.

“And I meant what I said yesterday night,” he paused, unsure, gulping, “I like you like this.”

He gave the weakest smile for half a second and turned around, walking away from Yushi.

The words hung in the air, heavy and confusing.

Like what?

Before Yushi could process it, Sion was gone.

His heart pounded. His hands shook.

What the hell did that mean?

He stood there, frozen, until the sound of footsteps snapped him back to reality.

Before he could dwell on it, Riku was turning around the hall with the biggest smile he had ever seen on him. It quickly sent Sion’s words to the back of his mind; he wanted to see his friend.

Riku brought dinner, some grilled pork belly Daeyoung had made for Yushi, and some ramen, which he devoured.

“So. First things first.” He leaned in, eyes gleaming. Oh no. “Daeyoung asked me out.”

Yushi froze mid-chew..

“And not just, like, some half-assed ‘wanna grab dinner?’ No. No, no, no.” Riku waved his chopsticks like a conductor’s baton. “He took me to that stupidly expensive Thai place by the river, paid for everything, and then, then, as we’re walking back, he pulls out these matching bracelets.” His voice cracked. “Yushi, I almost cried.”

Yushi grinned. “You did cry.”

“Shut up.” Riku shoved a too-large bite into his mouth, cheeks bulging. “And then we fucjds.”

“You what?”

“Fucked” He clearly said as he gulped, “We had sex.”

“Oh wow…”

“It was amazing.” He swallowed hard, his expression softening in a way Yushi had never seen before. “Like… I didn’t know it could feel like that. He’s just, ugh.” He flopped onto his back, arms spread. “He’s perfect.”

“I’m so happy for you. He seems amazing.”

Yushi was nothing but honest: he had been perceiving how sweet Daeyoung was with Riku, always dropping him at the door, picking him up, cooking for him, and how happy his best friend looked when he just came back from meeting with him. For the next twenty minutes, Yushi listened intently as Riku recounted every detail of their weekend, down to the way Daeyoung’s laugh sounded when he was tipsy. It was disgusting. It was adorable.

“I’ll stop yapping now, what about you? What about your weekend?”

Yushi told Riku slowly about his weekend. He really took his time as he chose his words, carefully telling what happened, kind of skipping how he really felt about it, but he could tell Riku was making mental notes, as he always did. They finished eating, and as Yushi cleaned the dishes, Riku quickly sent a voice note to Daeyoung thanking him for the food.

Yushi kept on explaining the whole breakdown from the previous night, which led to that day’s question.

Yushi sighed. “And then, right before he left, he said…” His fingers tightened around his chopsticks. The words echoed, taunting him. “He told me, ‘I meant what I said last night. I like you like this.’”

Riku’s chopsticks clattered onto the table.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Yushi flinched. “It might not mean anything.”

“He told you that in Korean?” Yushi answered with a nod, “Then it absolutely means something.”

Yushi tried to complain, but Riku kept on going.

“Yushi, this is Sion we’re talking about. The guy who translated every damn lecture for you, even when you didn’t ask. The guy who still brings you freshly made tea even though he is a coffee person. The guy who looks at you like-” He cut himself off, groaning. “And you’re stupidly pretty. Of course, he likes you.”

Yushi flipped him off and rolled his eyes. It was his way of deluding himself into not caring about everything that Riku said before that.

But Riku didn’t stop there. “Do you like him?”

The question hit like a bucket of ice water.

Yushi’s mouth moved before his brain could catch up.

“No.”

The lie tasted bitter. Coffee-like bitter.

Notes:

writing this took a lot out of me... i’m TIRED (not really, just eager) of the slowburn too but we’re finally getting somewhere, i promise

yushi crashout because he is stressed + emotional is me on my finals week so let him have this

this chapter was a big step for them and i hope you felt it too!! thank you so much for the bookmarks, kudos, comments… seriously, knowing you're enjoying this story keeps me going super super motivateddddddd. it means a lot <3. updates are irregular but usually quick because i’m impatient and can’t stay away too long :p hope you don’t mind! see you in… 4 days? who knows.. but soon.

Chapter 11: coffee

Summary:

God, Yushi was cute. And Sion was an idiot.

“And you told him exactly that?”

Jisung’s question was met with a groan as Sion stabbed at his spring roll.

“Word by word.” He said as he nodded, defeated.

“Could you repeat them again?”

“But act it out,” Shotaro cut in, already scrambling to his feet, grinning like a madman. “I’ll be Yushi.”

Sion rolled his eyes so hard he saw his own brain. But he stood anyway, because apparently, his dignity had abandoned him the moment he’d opened his stupid mouth in front of Yushi’s dorm room.

He mimed opening a door, Shotaro fake-standing under the imaginary frame of it, and he took two deliberate steps, then turned, just like he had. Just like Yushi had watched him do.

“And I meant what I said last night,” he repeated, pausing exactly as he had before, letting the words hang like they had in that hallway. “I like you like this.”

Before he could even finish, Wonbin and Shotaro were howling, clutching their stomachs like he’d just delivered the punchline of the century.

“Sion, don’t mind them,” Jisung tried, though his voice was barely audible over the chaos. “I think it’s great that you took the first step, especially if Yushi’s shy-”

“Can y’all shut the fuck up?” Sion snapped at Wonbin and Shotaro. “I am literally telling you I CONFESSED to Yushi, and he didn’t say a fucking thing!’

“Did you expect him to?” Wonbin asked, blinking.

Sion deflated. “Kind of? I don’t know, bro.” He slumped back into his chair. “We had such a great weekend-”

“-that you fell in love,” Jisung supplied helpfully.

Shotaro wheezed.

“Okay, okay, don’t hit me!” he yelped when Sion shot him a murderous look. “I just find it funny. The great Oh Sion, simping over one guy who can’t even acknowledge his confession.”

“It’s not funny,” Sion muttered. “It’s embarrassing.”

“It’s kind of embarrassing,” Wonbin agreed.

Sion wanted to evaporate.

By the time dinner ended, he was so close to throwing himself down the stairs. He bolted back to his dorm, desperate to bury his humiliation under his sheets, only for Daeyoung to ambush him the second he stepped inside.

“I started dating Riku.”

Sion froze.

For some reason, it felt like a punch to the gut.

He’d been this close to spilling everything, how Yushi had just stood there, how his own words had hung between them like a fucking taunt, but now? Now Daeyoung was grinning like an idiot, rambling about bracelets and Thai food.

“We had sex.”

Sion choked. “Wait, what?”

“Yeah. It was amazing.”

Sion should’ve been happy for him. And he was, really. But there was also something bitter curling in his chest, something ugly and jealous that whispered uncharitable things to him.

Why does Daeyoung get to be happy?

He forced himself to listen as Daeyoung gushed for an hour, detailing every second of his weekend with Riku. The asking out. The cooking. The sex, which, apparently, was great, despite Daeyoung’s inexperience. Good for him. Fantastic. Whatever.

Finally, Daeyoung paused. “So. How was your weekend?”

Sion’s jaw clenched.

“It was fine. We had a lot to do, but it was nice.”

Daeyoung raised a brow. “You don’t sound like it was nice.”

“Because I’m tired.”

“Okay,” Daeyoung relented, though his eyes lingered. “Then I’ll let you sleep.”

But Sion couldn’t sleep; his sheets smelled like him, like laundry detergent and the faint musk of that expensive cologne Shotaro gave him for his birthday.

But he wanted Yushi’s sheets. The ones that smelled like vanilla and cotton and something inexplicably soft. He missed the way Yushi’s pillow had a tiny jellyfish plush tucked under it, the way his blankets were always just a little too warm.

God, Yushi was cute.

And Sion was an idiot.

He’d overwhelmed him. Pushed too hard. Said too much. All because he’d been stupid enough to think what? That Yushi would say something back?

He had been doing a lot of things for Yushi before he knew because he felt something he couldn’t name for him: he thought it was compassion or maybe even wanting to understand what was happening inside his head, but after knowing more things about him, he kept on doing more consciously, not because he wanted to understand where his smiles came from but just to see him smile, or nod, or shake his head shyly.

He would do a hundred things just to see him happy. Would Yushi understand? Apparently yes.

Because the next day, as he went to class, Yushi sat next to him and slid the same hydro flask he had given him with tea. He just thought he was returning it, but as soon as he grabbed it, he knew it was full.

Sion’s spine felt like jelly, his mind foggy, his throat dry. It wasn’t only that Yushi kept on trying to reach for his tough, even though it was a much more unbelievable scenario for him; it was the fact that he made him fucking coffee.

His fingers trembled as he unscrewed the cap. It was disgusting. Overly sweet, borderline syrupy, like Yushi had dumped half a bag of sugar into it. And Sion loved it.

“I wanted uhm to… to try it too, so… I added sugar.”

Sion gave it a small sip again, fighting the way his lips wanted to twitch. But it didn’t mind; it was Yushi’s coffee.

“I love it, thank you very much.”

Yushi nodded. He looked so good when he got praised, like his eyes believed it, but his smile didn’t. Sion loved that he sat to his right, as he could see his small mark on his left side of his face, like a small hollowed-out tiny shape. He wanted to kiss it.

Sion relax. It’s eight in the morning on a Monday.

But when Yushi looked at him again with that soft nod, it made Sion absolutely furious. Not at Yushi, never at Yushi, but at himself, at this unbearable tension between them, at the way his chest constricted every time their eyes met.

The entire day passed in a series of stolen glances and accidental touches that felt anything but accidental. Each brush of fingers lasted just a second too long, their pinkies lingering like they were sharing secrets through skin alone. Sion's right hand became useless the moment Yushi's finger grazed his, he'd gladly become left-handed if it meant never breaking this fragile connection.

God, he was dramatic.

But how could he not?

As the afternoon passed, he finished the presentation for the next day, and he sent it directly to Yushi.

 

yushi

i really like it

 

sion

im glad

we are group 4 i think

so i think we need to present around eleven

 

Sion bit his lips as he anxiously saw how Yushi's status shifted between online and typing, and before he could face another round of being left on read, he typed again.

 

sion

i will present it

dont worry

 

yushi

thank you

for everything

really

 

Sion smiled like someone who just received a transfer to their bank account for the value of one million dollars. But it was just Yushi thanking him, apparently, for everything. He sent a reply so high in his happiness that he didn’t even recall what it was, focusing on nailing the presentation.

He nursed the sickeningly sweet coffee like it was holy water, taking tiny, measured sips to make it last. He didn’t want to finish it even though the flavor had turned cloying as it cooled, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Washing his teeth that night felt like sacrilege, the minty paste erasing the last traces of Yushi's thoughtfulness down the drain. He thought he was going to need that energy for the next day.

But nothing could prepare him for the next morning. They had the presentation, and Sion thought the Japanese boy was going to be okay, or at least not panicking out, but his stomach dropped when he saw Yushi's expression as the professor started announcing the names from the first pair. The color drained from his face so fast Sion could track the panic spreading through his body, the white-knuckled grip on his pen, the subtle tremor in his shoulders, the way his breathing shallowed. Then Yushi was moving, fleeing the classroom with that terrifying quiet urgency of someone trying not to make a scene while drowning.

Sion followed without hesitation. He found Yushi walking quickly towards the first exit he could approach.

“Yushi, wait.”

Yushi froze in the empty hallway where only a few professors shuffled between conference rooms, too absorbed in their own exhaustion to notice them. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting sharp shadows under Yushi's downcast eyes.

“It’s because you are nervous, right? Because of the presentation?”

A stiff nod, Yushi's gaze fixed on some invisible point near the fire extinguisher. His fingers curled and uncurled at his sides.

“I am going to be the one answering everything, explaining everything, and I am going to be by your side, okay?”

Yushi then turned around to check if what he had said was true.

“I promise, I will be right by your side. And you have seen group one already. It’s not that scary; it’s just a bit more formal than the other classes, only standing there for like five minutes. Also, our project is way better than theirs, so I am sure the feedback is going to be even less scary, okay?” Sion could see how clearly Yushi didn’t want to go back, but they didn’t have much of an option. “I know, maybe it’s nothing, but… we can grab lunch later, to celebrate.”

“How do you-”

“It's going to be fine.” Sion extended his hand toward the classroom, an invitation. “Please.”

We can’t skip class now after all we've done.

Sion kept standing with his arm pointing at the class, making a clear way for his classmate to start walking back, but Yushi surprised them both by grabbing his outstretched hand instead. His palm was cool and slightly damp, fingers slotting between Sion's with unexpected certainty. For one dizzying second, Sion forgot how to breathe. He opened the door, letting Yushi cross it first. They both went back to their places when group three was starting, so they waited patiently for their turn.

Back at their seats as Group Three droned on, Sion's hand tingled where Yushi had held it. He pressed his damp palm against his thigh, trying to steady himself, only for Yushi's fingers to begin tracing invisible patterns across his skin. Sion's head snapped up, but Yushi was the picture of concentration, eyes fixed ahead as his fingertips mapped constellations onto Sion's hand.

When Sion turned his palm up in silent offering, Yushi didn't hesitate. Their fingers interlaced properly this time, Yushi's grip just there. Sion's pulse roared in his ears, loud enough he feared the entire class could hear it.

“Group Four. Oh Sion and Tokuno Yushi.”

They sprang apart like they'd been burned. Sion's knees nearly buckled as he stood, the ghost of Yushi's touch still branding his skin.

“Hello, I am Oh Sion, and this is my classmate Tokuno Yushi. He is from Japan, currently learning Korean, so I will give the presentation for both-”

“Uhm, sorry for the interruption. You had been translating for him, right? In Japanese?”

“Yes.”

“And he is currently learning Korean?”

“I teach him when I can. He can understand some things, mainly architecture ones, but I will translate everything back to him once we are done for the day.”

The teacher just nodded and gave him a thumbs up. Their three urbanism teachers were present for today’s class: their Greenery professor, Lim Seohyuck; their Landscape Architecture one, Jeong Yunho; and their project professor for both of those theoretical subjects, Jeon Wonwoo. They were scary-looking, pale, tall men with judging glasses and detailed combed hair, but they were nice, approachable, nothing like other professors. He looked at Yushi, not expecting anything, but he gave him a silent nod, the faintest move of his head, and he had his hand clenched in a fist, encouraging him. That was all he needed.

“For our intervention, we decided to work on Euljiro 3-ga’s back alleys and its surroundings, quite closer than the rest of the approaches we have seen from our classmates, but as key as them, because despite the more central location, it is fairly forgotten.”

He kept on explaining some traits of the area, his words going along with his diagrams and sketches of the zone.

“We have decided to work on some modular architecture in wood, influenced by Japanese architecture” he continued, smiling at Yushi “We wanted to focus on one plot and the connections to our interest points, but with a structure that can adapt to closer plots, not mattering if they have such a different outline or height levels” He kept on sliding now Yushi’s urban plans and zooms “So for this plot, we have decided to make a open spaces that encourage different artist from all disciplines to work on this spaces, creating a network of a intangible coworking around the whole area of Seoul”

He realized he was speaking too fast, the adrenaline making his thoughts race. Pausing, he let their drawings speak for themselves: Yushi's clean linework, their shared color-coding system, the way their styles blended seamlessly despite their differences.

“Even though we decided to work on a more modern structure, with different panels so the space is a hundred percent reconfigurable, we wanted to integrate visually with its direct surroundings, so we made it into a… uhmm… a cyber-hanok looking”

The informal term slipped out before he could stop it, making him cringe at himself, but Yunho actually chuckled.

“Yushi and I thought this could be a great approach because of the simplicity of it, without being boring, and along its adaptability and affordability, it can work as a starting point for new proposals that can expand within themselves.”

Sion's hands trembled as he concluded. He'd definitely gone over time, but how could he not? This project, their project, was something special. He could feel it in his bones.

“That’s all,” he finished lamely, suddenly hyperaware of his sweaty palms.

Perfect, Sion, now they think you have the communication skills of a rat.

The polite applause barely registered. Sion braced for feedback, his entire body taut with anticipation.

“I like your 'intangible network' concept,” Yunho began, and something in Sion's chest unclenched.

“The structure needs refinement, but the steel latticework is impressive.” Jeon Wonwoo peered at their elevations. “Who did these?”

Sion turned to Yushi without thinking, his smile so wide it hurt his cheeks. Yushi raised his hand halfway, a tiny, defiant gesture that sent warmth flooding through Sion's veins.

“Exceptionally detailed for a first submission,” Yunho approved.

“I think we need more urban plans in general because the analysis is perfectly done. I would just added a few more of urban structure analysis and some conclusions on how that affected your design, even if it was unconsciously, we went over it during last month’s seminar and I want you, well, everyone” Lim Seohyuck turned to talk to the class directly “to add every aspect we see in those seminars. I want to see them in your work, okay?”

The class nodded, everyone writing down probably what he just said.

“Overall, it’s promising, but don’t fall behind. In two weeks, we need the structure more defined and lightning and water plans for the main urban intervention. Got it?” Jeon Wonwoo finally added.

Sion nodded it, and when he turned to check on Yushi, he nodded slowly too.

“Great job, you two,” Yunho concluded, giving a small thumbs up. “Group five? Minhyuck and Jimin?”

Sion knew they had done a great job, but oh my fucking god, he definitely did not believe they wouldn’t get the slightest bit dragged around, especially because Yushi didn’t say a single thing, and professors hated that, usually because that meant only one of them did the job. But the whole Japanese thing worked like wonders. No doubt Yushi used it as an excuse not to talk for weeks.

Sion chuckled to himself, thinking about that. His body felt relaxed now that they had presented, and as he looked at Yushi, he looked more than happy; he looked satisfied.

“You did amazing.” He broke their silence as the other group prepared the slides

“Thank you, really.”

Sion lost focus for the rest of the class as Yushi said those words, proud of him for the presentation and how he stood his ground. He had a couple of intrusive thoughts that told him just to skip the rest of the class and go to sleep, but he promised Yushi a lunch, and that was more than enough.

After the class was done, a couple of people came over to congratulate them on their work, including Jeonsul and Seolhyun, who, of course, paired for the project.

“Such a nice work you presented, bro,” he started.

“Thanks,” he said dryly, not wanting to be rude but also not giving him more than he deserved.

“Did you like ours?” She asked, batting her eyes at him curiously.

“Yeah, it was nice. Well drawn.”

“Yours was better, I swear to God.”

“I know, he’s too great, he basically did the whole thing by himself.” Sion said, praising Yushi.

“I bet he had nothing better to do,” Seoulhyun laughed between her teeth

“It was just better drawn. Don’t take it any further.”

She acted offended. “I wasn’t trying to sound rude.”

“Well, you were,” Sion said angrily as he zipped his backpack. “He just did it better because he is such a hardworking person. I don’t understand what the big deal with that-”

“Nothing, bro, don’t get like that.” Jeonsul interrupted him. “It’s just that you had never done any project like that. It was pretty clear he did it all by himself. Did you actually tell him it was in pairs?”

“Yes, he did.”

Sion almost cracked his neck as he turned around to see, to confirm what he had just heard. Yushi was talking in front of his classmates. In Korean. He looked so mad that Sion didn’t think he had ever seen him like that.

“Whatever.”

Jeonsul turned and left, Seolhyun taking a second longer but following his same path.

“You didn’t need to-”

“I wanted.” Yushi zipped his backpack too “Let’s go, you promised food.”

“Wanna go out or to my dorm?”

“Dorm.”

Sion nodded, already thinking about his afternoon.

They had lunch, some glass noodles with kimchi and stir-fried vegetables, basically a weak attempt at japchae. Sion recommended watching a TV show, which Yushi agreed on. He chose Mr. Plankton, which was highly recommended on Netflix. He went to grab some snacks, and when he came back, he noticed Yushi had some Japanese subtitles.

God, he was cute.

“I can translate for you, no need for subtitles.” Yushi seemed hesitant, but Sion insisted, “Really, I’m just going to be more focused on them. You can ask me whenever you don’t understand something, okay?”

Yushi nodded while taking a bunch of jellies into his lap.

Sion couldn’t believe his five-minute plan worked. Not only could he get Yushi to speak up more, but he was going to be actually useful to him. He didn’t need goddamn subtitles; he could translate for him whatever he needed. But Yushi ended up just asking straight-up curse words or clingy pet names, which made Sion red all over his cheeks. He also paused several times because he couldn’t read as fast whenever some text appeared on the screen, which Sion found adorable.

Evening stretched out, and Sion almost thought Yushi had fallen asleep because of how close he had been getting his head to his shoulder, until he finally dropped it. But he kept on pausing to read a couple of signs and buildings’ names, so he wasn’t sleeping. He was just resting his head on Sion’s shoulder.

He didn’t want to see, to stare, but his hair looked pretty damaged. He had offered him to dye it, and he had nodded.

“Yushi, uhm… Do you want to do the whole dye thing?” Sion's voice came out softer than intended, barely audible.

“When we finish this chapter.”

Yushi's reply was muffled around a mouthful of sweet potato stick, his eyes never leaving the screen.

Sion nodded, stealing glances at how effortlessly Yushi had made himself at home, knees drawn up, his weight leaning slightly against Sion's side, empty jelly packets scattered around them like fallen leaves. The faint scent of Yushi's shampoo, something clean and subtly strawberry-like, drifted up whenever he moved, mingling with the synthetic drama unfolding on screen. Sion tried to focus on the ridiculously handsome lead actor's monologue rather than how Yushi's hair brushed his shoulder with each quiet breath.

Forty minutes later, as the credits rolled, Yushi stretched with feline grace, the hem of his hoodie riding up just enough to reveal a sliver of skin above his jeans. Sion looked away so fast his neck cracked, scrambling off the bed to rummage through his drawers.

"You can change into this." He thrust an old t-shirt toward Yushi without making eye contact, his fingers brushing against surprisingly soft fabric. "Your clothes will get stained. I'll grab Jisung's dyes. Be right back."

“Okay.”

The hallway air felt shockingly cold after the cocoon of their shared warmth. Sion fumbled with Shotaro's spare key, his mind helpfully supplying an image of Yushi swimming in his shirt, the collar slipping to expose-

He shook his head violently, nearly upending Jisung's entire dye collection in his haste. The array of colors spun before him like a kaleidoscope. What shade would suit Yushi? Something deep, rich… something that would make his eyes look even more-

 

sion

quick question

what color do u want

 

He asked, not wanting to have anything to do with the decision.

 

yushi

uhm

whatever is fine

 

sion

sure?

they have quite a few

 

yushi

yes, whatever

maybe something dark ?

 

sion

perfect, going down now

 

Sion grabbed all the darkest colors Jisung had and ran back to his room. Back in his room, the sight punched the air from his lungs, Yushi drowning in his shirt, the fabric slipping off one shoulder, collarbones stark against the faded cotton. Sion's mouth went dry.

“Bathroom's better,” he croaked. “Less... stainable.”

Yushi nodded, and Sion opened the bathroom door for him. He thanked Daeyoung because he must have cleaned it before going, and it was pretty decent. Yushi followed silently, his reflection in the bathroom mirror watching Sion's every move with quiet intensity, arranging their supplies with exaggerated focus, gloves snapping too loudly, brushes clattering against the bowl.

“I haven't done this much,” Sion admitted, hovering behind Yushi. “But black's easy.” His voice sounded strange to his own ears.

Sion's gloved hands trembled as they first touched Yushi's hair. His head was completely unknown territory. Not only inside but outside too. He went carefully to touch his head and started to examine the hair, separating it into sections. When he accidentally brushed a fingertip against Yushi's scalp, the tiny sigh it elicited sent electricity down Sion's spine. He did it again, just once, and the way Yushi's eyelids fluttered nearly undid him. He looked like a cat when you scratched them in their favorite spot.

The process took longer than expected, but only because Sion was too careful whenever he was around Yushi. He didn’t want to stain him in any way; he tried to avoid touching his face, his forehead, sticking to the hair. He looked closer at the small birthmark he had and smiled to himself.

One hour in, with black dye streaking his own forearms and Yushi's hair thoroughly saturated, Sion realized one terrible truth: he was utterly, hopelessly gone for this boy. He wasn’t going to pour his heart out again, but he wasn’t going to try and hide it either.

“I think it’s done; you should rinse it with cold water.”

“But it’s winter,” Yushi said, nose scrunching up, scared for his life.

“It’s late Autumn, and it’s only your hair,” Sion chuckled, nudging the chair closer to the sink. “Come on, I'll help. Turn around.”

He did as he was told, turning the chair and sitting right back. Yushi just tilted his head back slightly, exposing the vulnerable line of his throat. A silent invitation, the way his Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed, it was unfairly intimate. The first splash of water made Yushi flinch, his fingers digging into the chair edges.

"Sorry," Sion murmured, cradling the back of Yushi's head with one hand while the other worked the dye out. His thumb absently stroked the damp hair at Yushi's nape, earning a tiny shiver that had nothing to do with the water temperature.

They made a mess, water droplets glittering on the tiles, dark rivulets running down the drain, Sion's sleeves soaked to the elbows. When he finally wrapped Yushi's hair in a towel, their eyes met in the steam-fogged mirror. For a heartbeat, neither looked away.

“Maybe just wait for maybe another hour.”

Sion knew he was lying, and they told each other they weren’t going to lie anymore, but he wanted him to spend more time in his room. The dye instructions clearly said thirty minutes, but the thought of Yushi leaving now was unbearable.

“I mean, you could just wait in your room, but it’s kind of cold outside-”

"I'll wait here." Yushi's voice was barely audible, his gaze fixed on the damp floor between them.

Sion's chest warmed. Maybe this was Yushi's answer. Maybe the way he'd leaned into every touch, how he'd trusted Sion with his hair, with his space, maybe these were the words he couldn't say yet. The answer to his questions, to his confessions.

They agreed on watching more episodes, but as they were almost one hour long, in the middle of their first one after the dye session, Daeyoung interrupted them. Sion thought Yushi was going to shift, as his now wrapped-up head was against his shoulder again, but he didn’t even flinch.

“Hi hi!” Daeyoung sang as he entered, hands full of bags. “I had the longest day- Wait, Yushi, did you dye your hair?”

Yushi hummed noncommittally, not budging from his spot. Sion paused the show with a sigh, feeling the loss of warmth when Yushi finally sat up, stretching like a cat in a sunbeam.

“What colour?”

“Black,” Sion said, and Yushi nodded lazily. “I did it.”

“Oh, cool! Are you staying for dinner? I can cook something for the three of us.”

Yushi shook his head, and Sion wanted to snatch him back to his shoulder, but he knew it was getting kind of late and they hadn’t done anything that afternoon. As he was picking his things up, he removed the towel and handed it to Sion, also grabbing the hem of the t-shirt after, silently asking.

“You can keep it.”

Yushi nodded shyly and smiled, putting his shoes on. At the door, he waved to them, whispering a tiny goodbye that stuck with Sion the whole night.

Sion had locked in for a while while Daeyoung cooked. He needed to catch up on his submission for Architectural Design of Service Facilities next week. He didn’t have any more things to research, and he was delaying the plans as his life depended on them.

“So, first date?” Daeyoung said as he served dinner.

“Oh shut up… The presentation went really well, and we wanted to celebrate.”

“Uhm.. I see,” his roommate said with his mouth full of grilled onion. “Hasn’t he brought up the who-”

"No. And don't you dare." Sion pointed his chopsticks in warning. “I'm not telling him a third time.”

“Fine, fine.” Daeyoung held up greasy hands in surrender. “Wanna see my Film and Material Culture submission instead?”

“Is it shorter than your jokes?”

“Twenty minutes.”

“Christ, Daeyoung, why aren't you making commercials?”

“Excuse you,” Daeyoung gasped, gesturing to the paused drama on Sion's laptop. “You're watching hour-long episodes of Mr. Plankton, but my twenty-minute masterpiece is too much? Don’t fuck with me right now.”

“But you don’t look half as great as Woo Do-hwan.”

“Fuck you- you know what? Actually, fair.” Daeyoung shoved another bite into his mouth. “But eat up. You'll need strength to appreciate my genius.”

Sion's chopsticks froze mid-air. Daeyoung's ‘genius’ usually involved questionable editing choices and at least one existential crisis.

The rest of the week went great, not as great as when Yushi almost fell asleep on his shoulder, but nice enough. They went briefly on Sunday to the Japanese Student Club because they brought some arcade games. It was supposed to be a collaboration with Pokémon or something like that, because there was a lot of merchandising at the entrance, and a lot of the prizes were simply Pokémon plushies, but they were happy enough that people didn’t seem to know fully of the existence of the club, as they were almost like the same number of people from other weekends.

The moment they entered, Riku glued himself to the claw machine, getting every single quarter out of everyone he knew to get one plushie. Daeyoung stuck to his side, encouraging him and sometimes switching places. Jisung and Wonbin went to play cards, as they were heavy Pokémon card collectors, so that left Sion with the two Japanese boys.

“Do y'all want to try the dancing machine or like-” Shotaro began, already bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Bro, no, why would you try to make us compete with you?” Sion turned to Yushi, who stayed silently by his side.

He looked ethereal, the soft neon lights in the different games hitting his face in soft angles that made his eyes shine with such small stars. His lips weren’t pressed together as he usually did in public; they were relaxed, almost pouting. He looked insanely good with dark hair, and Sion had to gulp to keep on talking.

Yushi’s shrug was barely perceptible, but the way his fingers twitched at his sides betrayed his interest.

“He studies Performing Arts; he just wants to crash us.”

Another shrug. This time, Yushi’s lips curled at the corners.  Sion smiled amused, not quite sure if Yushi was going to make a fool of himself. But he didn’t. They both did some footwork dancing to some crazy songs, and Yushi moved his like they weren’t even attached to his body.

“Dude, you are insanely good at this… Want to go another round?”

Yushi nodded, pointing at Sion.

“Yushi I am not-”

“Please.”

“Okay, let’s go.”

Shotaro wheezed at him for folding so soon. He tried to shut him with a death stare, but they both ended up cackling. In less than two minutes, the second song ended, Yushi crashing Sion’s score.

“See? Told you I was no good.”

Yushi smiled at him and nodded, accepting his words, his eyes bright with something dangerously close to fondness. They tried more games, like air hockey and foosball. They competed in a few rounds, one against the other, and they ended up tied.

“Can we play with you?”

Sion turned around to see a much confident Sakuya next to a very shy Ryo. They were so cute together, but so scary when they were away from each other.

“Yes, want to go doubles?”

“Fuck yeah,” Sakuya said enthusiastically, and the foosball table became a battleground the moment he gripped the handles. “First to five?” he challenged, already spinning his players with sharp flicks of his wrists.

Sion smirked. “You're on.”

Yushi took his place beside him, their elbows brushing as they settled into position. Across the table, Ryo adjusted his glasses nervously while Sakuya cracked his knuckles.

First Point; Sakuya scored before they even blinked.

“That,” Sion growled, “was unfair.”

Yushi's jaw tightened. He reset the ball with deliberate slowness, fingers lingering on the smooth surface. For the second point, Yushi retaliated with a brutal spin shot, the ball ricocheting off the table edge so fast Ryo yelped.

1-1.

Sion bumped their shoulders together, and Yushi’s lips twitched. The third point was chaos.

Sakuya and Ryo moved in eerie sync, their defense impenetrable. The ball became a blur, rattling between the players until Sion lunged for the handle at the same time Yushi did.

Their hands collided.

Yushi’s fingers slid over Sion’s knuckles, warm and firm, refusing to yield. For a heartbeat, they just held on, grips tangled, breaths synced. The ball sat untouched in midfield.

Sakuya whistled. “You two done flirting or-?”

Yushi jerked back. The ball rocketed into their goal.

Fourth point was straight up revenge. Sion and Yushi stopped playing nice. They didn’t fear the two freshmen anymore. Shoulders pressed together, they became a single entity, Yushi guarding defense with lethal precision, Sion attacking with calculated fury. When Sakuya tried to sneak a shot past Yushi’s goalie, Yushi’s hip knocked into Sion’s as he twisted to block it.

Sion’s pulse stuttered.

Sakuya cursed as Yushi stole the ball mid-pass. Ryo nearly toppled over trying to block Sion’s shot. The table shook with every hit, the small crowd, which was getting bigger with each point, around them cheering, which Sion didn’t realize they had until then.

Yushi’s hand clamped over Sion’s wrist, forcing his spin to stop mid-motion. "Wait," he murmured, eyes locked on the ball.

Sion froze. Yushi guided their hands together, adjusting the angle of Sion’s player with infuriating focus. His thumb brushed Sion’s pulse point.

And the shot landed.

The students cheered on them like they just won the biggest award ever, but Sion didn’t think he needed it, not when Yushi was just smiling, so happy to be there. He was more than satisfied like that.

Notes:

long ass chapter end notes incoming:

1. i uploaded a one shot yusion if u want to check it out! its called mentha

2. i recently made a twitter account to get on the whole nct twitter stan thing so like... if u wanna be mutuals or... idk im awkward but lmk! would love to make nctzen mutuals :p (my user is @ahyusshi)

3. thank you soo much for reading! will upload next chapter soon bc i am impatient lmao... i dont want to give spoilers but oh god i think yall are going to love it... thank u always always for the comments and the kudos and everything!! hope yall are having a great summer and may we get ready to nct wish summer comeback heheh

Chapter 12: tea

Summary:

Yushi had grown up in two cities, two countries, yet he belonged to neither.

Yushi had grown up in two cities, two countries, yet he belonged to neither.

His parents were always working, and as much as they tried to raise him and his brother, they were too busy.

His parents had never meant for it to be permanent. A temporary assignment, they’d said. A six-month experiment. But then his mother’s name appeared on the Seoul office’s leadership board, and his father’s pride couldn’t stomach being left behind. So they’d packed and unpacked, shuffled between apartments like playing cards, and Yushi had learned to fold himself into suitcases and silence.

He didn’t stay in the same apartment or with the same parent for more than a month, but he was always with Yuta. That usually kept him grounded, at least until his brother started gaining more fame, especially in Japan, and soon his face began appearing on small billboards, his voice spilling from local radio speakers, and suddenly he was eating alone more often than not, but his brother always found a way to watch over him.

He didn’t remember when speaking first became impossible, but once he fully realized it, he knew the challenge was too big to overcome. At his Japanese high school, they put him with a speech therapist, thinking it might help, but later they just transferred him to the school’s therapist. It took him two whole years to get diagnosed because he wouldn't say a word to him. His therapist went through a few possible diagnoses, such as social anxiety, autism, and even intellectual disability, which was quickly dismissed because he was a great student.

Then Yuta had shown up to a session, unannounced, still in his dance practice clothes, and explained to him things Yushi couldn’t say out loud, and within minutes, the therapist had sighed.

"Selective mutism," he’d said, like it was that simple.

After those long months of Yushi sitting in a weird-smelling room with a very short, serious man, his brother had to come, so the counselor finally understood him.

It fitted right away, and Yushi was only fifteen when he heard those words. It confused him, labeled him in a way he didn’t want to, because with that, he felt like he had no control over himself. He thought it was always going to be because of that, and he wasn’t going to be able to fight it. But that ended up being a lie.

It wasn’t like he made the biggest changes and now was a public speaker, giving speeches about overcoming the situation, but he had been making efforts every single day of his life.

He made them at the subway, when someone let him cross first, and he nodded, thanking them. He made them in class, when teachers asked for assistance, and he raised his hand when they called his name. He made them every single day of his life, and he was not going to stop.

Yuta kept encouraging him every day. His support came in texts at 3 AM ‘saw this cat video, thought of you’ and care packages stuffed with Japanese snacks and geometric coloring books. No pressure. No pity. Just Yuta’s quiet, stubborn belief that Yushi would find his way. His brother’s support was sometimes silent, but Yushi knew how to appreciate it better than anyone.

Meeting Riku changed his life for the better. Some days, he might think it’s for the worse, only when he wants to tease him or when he feels too miserable, like he’s living someone else’s life, but deep down, he knows it’s for the best.

He learned to reconnect more with his Japanese roots, which made him remember that being Japanese wasn’t just a passport stamp; it was the way his chest warmed when he heard the opening notes of a familiar enka song, the comfort of onigiri pressed into his hands after a long day, even if it was from a cheap convenience store, the homesickness he felt was unmatched.

And after deciding to study abroad in Seoul, he also felt more like he belonged there. It might seem silly, because Yushi had never felt like he was part of any of them until he met a Japanese boy who wanted to explore the world, and who convinced Yushi that he could be from anywhere he wanted, whenever he wanted.

And then he met Sion. Oh Sion, the guy who understood him so little that he made up a whole lie about him not knowing Korean, and just because he couldn’t talk to him. It was bold to assume that, but Yushi couldn’t put the blame on him a hundred percent. Even after that, Sion didn’t stop trying to get to know him, sometimes even deeper than Yushi had wanted him to, but it wasn’t his call and something inside of him wanted to be discovered too.

Oh Sion, who’d lied to their entire class, almost the entire university, just to give Yushi an excuse to stay quiet. Sion, who’d somehow become the exception to every rule.

He praised his abilities too much, and he felt like the greatest architect in the world when he looked at him drawing with a smile on his face. Or when he asked for his advice on the silliest material decision. Or when he simply asked about law things that didn’t exist, just to prove the extent of Yushi’s knowledge, and he tried not to disappoint him by always drawing flawlessly, choosing wise materials, and memorizing every piece of information he could learn from his Building Law class so he could always answer him. It was like a game to him to be good for Sion, because Sion was too good to him.

And Yushi liked it; he really liked the way Sion had been taking care of him since day one, how he tried to make him feel included, how he asked every single time Yushi got too distant if he was okay. Yushi liked how Sion brought him tea or picked his favorite snacks whenever they stopped at the vending machine, even though they were the most expensive ones. Yushi liked how he dyed his hair and how he gave him the t-shirt he had used. Yushi liked how Sion had slept in his bed, as he could smell his strong cologne on his pillow. He liked all of those things because he liked Sion.

But that was probably the hardest thing he had ever thought of saying out loud. The mere thought of it sent him into small breakdowns, quickly having to stand up if he was sitting, just so the air could get uninterrupted to his lungs. It was a hard-to-swallow pill. The last almond you ate that turned out to be bitter. It was like the last hundred meters of a marathon when you had your feet demolished and you couldn’t breathe.

So he couldn’t admit it to Riku when he blatantly asked him because he didn’t want to face it.

Only he knew.

And probably Sion.

Yushi knew he had been obvious.

Too obvious. Too clingy.

But how could he help it?

Sion had reciprocated every lingering glance, every accidental brush of fingers, every quiet nod of understanding. And the worst part was that he half confessed to him. Two times half a confession made up one.

The first time had been in the middle of Yushi’s breakdown, the words nearly lost in the storm of his own panic. But the second time, that one had been deliberate. Clear. Sion had looked him in the eye and said, ‘I like you like this’, as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

And Yushi had said nothing.

If their roles were reversed, Yushi would’ve assumed rejection. He would’ve packed the fuck out of his bags, boarded the next plane to Tokyo, and buried the humiliation of rejection deep enough to never resurface. But the thing was that it didn’t feel like a rejection at all.

Instead, something between them had shifted, and if Yushi noticed it, maybe Sion did too.

He tried making coffee for him after their weekend together, as if that could make up for everything Sion had done for him over the weeks. He didn’t avoid his glances as much, or the soft brushes of their fingers. In fact, he grabbed his hand the day of the presentation, in the hall, and again in class. It felt so grounding that Yushi had been thinking about it for the whole week. And to finish it off, they played some foosball together against Ryo and Sakuya, which ended up with everyone getting too competitive, and Yushi almost crashed himself into Sion. But they ended up winning.

And then it was Wednesday.

The Recreation Facilities class felt like a special kind of torture, especially after al the good things that had been happening to him.

They changed their schedule for it, which gave Yushi a couple more days to finish the first 3D sketches for his pavilion. It was supposed to be a kindergarten, but he ended up deciding on a well-being center for underprivileged youth. But for the moment, it was ugly and sprawled across his desk, the 3D sketches painstakingly detailed. He’d agonized over every decision, from the exposed steel beams to the warm concrete finishes, just because he knew Park Minji was no joke.

But Professor Park Minji barely glanced at him.

Instead, he zeroed in on Sion, who stood at the front of the class presenting Yushi’s work with quiet determination.

“The structural integrity here is reinforced by the steel lintels,” Sion explained, pointing to the perimeter beams. “It’s not just aesthetic, it’s functional.”

“And why not use traditional supports?” Parks’s lips thinned.

A loaded pause. Sion’s jaw tightened, but his voice stayed even. “Because the design prioritizes open sightlines. The beams distribute weight without obstructing-”

Yushi thought Sion was nailing it, as he shared the presentation with him last night, and he memorized every single thing Yushi wanted to convey. But the professor thought otherwise.

“I didn’t ask for a lecture,” Park cut in, flipping a page dismissively. “Next plan.”

Yushi’s fingers curled into fists under the desk. It was unfair. Sion was trying, and Park Minji was dismantling him piece by piece for no reason other than spite. When the review finally ended, Park’s feedback was curt.

“Good concept, Yushi.” His tone was flat, as if the praise pained him. “The steel beams as lintels all over the perimeter work great; it gives it much more visual stability and continuation than you think.”

Yushi bit the inside of his cheek. More than you think. As if he didn’t add them for the same fucking reason.

Sion slid back into the seat beside him, shoulders tense. Yushi wanted to reach out, to squeeze his wrist, to whisper ‘you did great’, but the classroom was too exposed. He looked around, seeing how the coffee he brought to Sion was still full.  He nudged his notebook toward him, where he’d scribbled:

thank you.

And beneath it, smaller, almost shy:

i know the coffee is terrible. i’ll make it better next time.

Sion’s laugh was quiet, just for him.

“Don’t worry, I like it… I just don’t want to finish it yet.”

After another hour of criticism and people coming out of the class crying, Minji called Sion’s name. He walked over the front of the class with shaky legs, but as soon as he started showing his slides, Yushi couldn’t understand where the lack of confidence came from.

Sion’s work was great, probably the one he had done that year. It was a very big library, complexly designed in sections rather than floor plans, and worked with wood inside and outside the building magnificently. His mouse cursor hovered over the slide arrow, his shoulders rigid under his oversized hoodie. The library plans were stunning, honey-toned cedar beams forming a lattice of light and shadow across study spaces. Even from the back row, Yushi could see the tremor in Sion's fingers as he zoomed in and out to focus on different areas of the plans.

Obviously, Park didn’t like it. Sion didn’t make it past the fourth slide before the professor was complaining.

“Wood?” he interrupted before Sion could finish explaining the structural concept. “For a public building of this scale? Are you trying to bankrupt the city with maintenance costs?”

Sion’s throat worked. “The treated-”

“Next.”

Slide three. Park scoffed at the ventilation system. Slide four earned a derisive, “Do you even understand load-bearing principles?”

By slide five, Park waved a hand as if physically wiping the project away.

“Enough. Does anyone in this class know what this project is about?”

Silence.

Yushi’s pulse roared in his ears. Twenty-three heads stayed down. Twenty-three pens pretended to take notes. Yushi's lungs burned.

Don't do it. You'll have to speak. You'll have to-

Sion stood frozen at the podium, jaw clenched so tight Yushi saw the muscle twitch from his seat. That was the fracture point, seeing Sion's Adam's apple bob as he swallowed whatever words he wanted to say.

Yushi's hand shot up before his brain caught up.

"Tokuno Yushi?" The taunt landed with the precision of a surgical knife.

Every cell in Yushi's body screamed to retreat. But Sion's eyes, wide with something between panic and gratitude, anchored him.

"The..." His voice cracked. He cleared his throat, fingers digging into the desk. "The wood is torrefied cedar. Water-resistant. The gaps..." He pointed at the section drawing with his shaky finger. "They're calculated for thermal regulation. Not... not decoration."

Park's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Fascinating. And the structural integrity? Since you're suddenly an expert."

“Yushi, you don’t need to.” Sion chirped in.

Yushi's pulse hammered in his temples.

"Steel core." He pointed at the central spine on Sion's slide. "Hidden in the... the timber-"

“In the timber cladding.” Sion managed to finish.

The classroom exhaled collectively. Park's pen tapped once, twice against his grading rubric.

"How illuminating." His voice dripped acid. "I thought you didn't speak Korean. From now on, you will present your own work.” He concluded, not looking at either of them. “Let's see if Sion can focus on actual architecture instead of playing translator."

Sion flinched.

Yushi’s stomach dropped. This wasn’t just cruelty; it was sabotage. Park Minji had weaponized Sion’s kindness, turning it into a weakness. The blow landed exactly as intended: public, humiliating, designed to fracture them. He wasn’t going to think about the next time he had to present his work because he was going to puke if not. He tried to focus on Sion.

He was closing his presentation abruptly, his face ashen, but when he met Yushi’s gaze across the room, his eyes weren’t angry. They were proud.

Sion didn’t wait for dismissal. The moment the professor called the next student, he was out of his seat, the classroom door slamming shut behind him with a sharp crack. Through the door’s narrow glass section, he caught a glimpse of him already halfway down the hall, his sharp silhouette cutting through the fluorescent lights. He turned back just long enough to motion a simple ‘I’m out of here’, and Yushi didn’t hesitate.

He scrambled to gather their things: Sion’s half-open notebook, his abandoned pencil case, the crumpled trace paper with hurried sketches, probably mixing notebooks and pencil cases in the process, but that didn’t matter as soon as he was out of the class.

The hallway was empty. So was the stairwell. The coffee cup suddenly felt too heavy in his hand.

For one heart-stopping second, Yushi thought Sion had vanished, until he pushed through the building’s heavy doors and found him outside, standing in the bitter November air like he hadn’t even noticed the cold.

Yushi hissed, tightening his scarf around his neck. His breath fogged in front of him, sharp and white.

Sion didn’t seem to care. His dark coat was stylish and thick, the kind of trendy oversized thing that looked good on models but bad on the rest of humans. It looked amazing on him. His cheeks were already flushed pink, his breath coming in quick, visible puffs.

“I know you hate the cold,” he said, voice rough. “But I needed air.”

“Cold air?”

“Fresh.”

Yushi dropped their bags onto the frost-dusted bench beside them, and then-

Sion was hugging him.

Not the careful, hesitant kind of embrace they’d shared before. This was desperate. Sion’s arms locked around him like he was afraid Yushi might disappear if he loosened his grip, his body heat seeping through the layers between them.

Yushi didn’t need an explanation. He knew.

Yushi wasn’t stupid; he knew what he had done, and it was amazing. Not only did he speak in front of his class, but he did it to defend Sion. He was proud of himself, very proud, and he understood why Sion was proud too.

He was holding him like he was something precious.

When they finally pulled apart, Sion’s hands lingered on his elbows, his grip just shy of too tight. Then, before Yushi could process it, one hand slid up to cup his face, his thumb brushing over that damn birthmark near his cheekbone, the one Yushi had always hated, the one Sion seemed weirdly fixated on at that moment.

Yushi flinched, turning his face away on instinct.

Sion froze. “Uhm, sorry, I just-”

But Yushi wasn’t pulling away because he wanted to.

He was pulling away because for one terrifying, exhilarating second, he’d thought Sion was going to kiss him.

“It’s just… uhm… your hands are cold.”

“Oh fuck, true, sorry-”

Yushi grabbed both of his hands instinctively. A part of him wanted them to be warm for his own sake; the other part wanted Sion to cup his face again and not flinch.

Sion looked at him like he was grabbing something out of this world, like Yushi’s hands were a treasure. At least that’s how he looked until he turned around, clearly laughing even if he didn’t want to admit it.

Yushi tried to retrieve his hands, but Sion grabbed them harder, already apologizing.

“Sorry… Your hands are so cute. I thought it was funny, they are so small.”

Yushi shook his head, embarrassed. He quickly dissolved the grip, getting down to gather his things, and he picked up the coffee, giving it to Sion, who thanked him again. Yushi wanted to celebrate his big improvement today; that’s why he had to ask. That and the fact that he wasn’t going to say goodbye to Sion yet; it was only noon.

“Do you… want to go, uhm… to have lunch?”

“Sounds amazing.”

“We can invite Riku.”

Yushi suggested, knowing it would be less awkward and easier to handle.

“And Daeyoung.”

Yushi blushed, almost forgetting about him. He nodded and took his phone out quickly, texting Riku.

 

yushi

want to go out for lunch today?

me you sion and daeyoung

 

riku

yeah

whats the occasion?

 

yushi

ill tell you later

any suggestions?

 

riku

hold on a minute

 

Yushi bit his lip for a second, then a notification popped up. Riku had created a group. Sion looked confused too as he checked his phone; the four of them were in it.

 

riku

so lunch today

we definitely need to try the new chinese restaurant

 

daeyoung

not really, read online it was awful

why don’t we go to an actual korean one

 

sion

yes please

 

riku

okay

what do you suggest

 

daeyoung

mm

let me think

wanna meet in an hour at the door?

 

yushi

oki

 

riku

yayyyyyy

 

“So, surprise lunch.” Sion laughed while locking his phone. “It’s usually like that with Daeyoung. He'll order something disgusting, pretend it's fine, and then we'll have to 'accidentally' swap plates. By the end, we'll be smuggling leftovers to Jisung in containers like he's some kind of trash panda.”

Yushi laughed softly, kind of picturing it. They stood there for a minute before Sion broke the silence again.

“Want to go to my dorm? We can keep on watching Mr. Plankton.”

Yushi nodded happily, already wanting to get out of his winter clothes.

Sion's dorm was a familiar chaos. They stripped off their coats, hats, shoes, and scarves, making a mess at the entrance that they would tidy up soon. Yushi cringed at the view of his own socks, curling his toes self-consciously: he had been wearing low, thick brown boots, and he needed thick socks, so he just put on his favorite ones, some cow print pajama socks, which weren’t supposed to be seen.

Sion glanced down. “Cows?”

Yushi's ears burned. 

“They're adorable,” Sion pointed out, grinning as Yushi scowled. “Let me grab my charger. Don’t think it can hold a whole episode.”

Yushi nodded, already walking towards the edge of Sion’s bed, to sit on the floor, but it was too cold. He frowned, unsure.

“What? Is it too cold?” Yushi nodded. “We can sit on my bed instead. Lucky you, I made it this morning.”

Yushi visibly hesitated for a moment, and Sion intervened again.

“I don’t mind if you don’t mind, really.”

Yushi perched carefully at the far end, back against the wall, legs dangling like he might bolt at any second.

“Do you have snacks?” Yushi whispered as soon as Sion turned around with his laptop, Netflix already opened.

“Yes, but we are going to go get lunch in an hour.”

Yushi frowned, but Sion ignored him. Kindly and with a smile, but still ignored him.

He jumped right beside him, a few centimeters between them, but they ached. He played the show, but Yushi couldn’t focus on it, not when Sion's hand rested so casually on his thigh, fingers tapping along to the show's soundtrack. Not when the space between them felt like a live wire.

He wanted to grab it, but he didn’t want to intrude.

He inched his own hand closer, palm-up, fingers twitching. Sion noticed.

Their eyes met, question in Yushi's, answer in Sion's, and then Sion's hand was sliding over his, lacing their fingers together like it was the easiest thing in the world. It made Yushi slightly mad how he was so brave to do that kind of stuff, and for him, it felt like the most impossible thing in the world, but he tried not to dwell on it, not consciously, but just because his mind could only think about how they were holding hands in Sion’s bed.

Their bubble exploded with a phone call.

“Fuck Daeyoung, Yushi, I think-” Sion picked up the call. “Yes, Daeyoung, we are getting there, we got stuck in class. Wait for us, just two minutes.”

Yushi snapped. They had lost track of time completely and tried to solve it by quickly jumping out of bed and starting to get changed. Yushi attempted to grab his backpack, but Sion was already opening the door.

“You can grab it later. Let’s go, Daeyoung hates when I’m late.”

Yushi looked at him confused, with a very characteristic look on him.

“Understandable, right?” Sion deciphered

They took the stairs two at a time, skidding around corners, Yushi's steps slipping on the polished floors. Sion's laughter echoed through the hallway, bright and unguarded, and when they finally crashed through the dorm's front doors, disheveled, breathless, Riku took one look at them and groaned.

“You guys weren’t in class.”

“We were.”

“We were not,” Yushi admitted.

“Thank you for the honesty. Now let’s go, I’m starving.” Daeyoung chirped in.

They decided to go to a really close restaurant, the kind of cramped, neon-lit hole-in-the-wall that smelled like decades of grilled meat and fermented cabbage. Steam fogged the windows, blurring the busy street outside into streaks of headlights and signs. Old men in wrinkled suits clustered around soju bottles at the back, their laughter booming over the sizzle of pork belly on hot plates.

Daeyoung ordered the food, and Sion the drinks. They sat next to each other, so Yushi and Riku ended up in front of them, and of course, Riku wanted to be in front of Daeyoung, so Yushi had to face Sion the whole meal.

He focused on the rhythmic scrape of metal tongs, the hiss of fat hitting coal, anything to avoid the weight of Sion’s gaze across the table.

But Sion was relentless.

He nudged bites of ssam across the table, lettuce wraps perfectly assembled with just the right amount of ssamjang. He pointed at Yushi’s chin with a napkin when sauce smudged it. Worst of all, he smiled, soft and private, like they were the only two people in the room.

Yushi’s chopsticks trembled.

They ended up eating too much. Riku unbuckled his belt as he got back into his seat, sighing and patting his food-belly like a pregnant woman. Yushi tried to buckle back his belt for him, feeling a bit embarrassed by his friends' actions, but both Sion and Daeyoung were laughing too loudly already, catching everyone’s attention.

“Oh, before I forgot and they kick us out, you told me this whole meal had a reason behind it?”

Yushi gulped. He had been too confident before, but at that moment, in the restaurant full of old man drinking soju shots after their meals, he wasn’t in the mood to talk anymore. He bolted a quick look at Sion, who nodded softly.

“Today Park Minji, our Recreation Facilities teacher, was extra bitchy, and he started straight up dissing my design, for some reason I still can’t comprehend.”

“I mean, he is your teacher; he should-”

“No, Daeyoung, he shouldn’t diss; he should teach. And he wasn’t teaching today; he was straight up humiliating me, as usual. I couldn’t even finish the presentation. Anyway, he turned to the class and straight up asked,” Sion shifted positions, mocking his professor. “Enough. Does anyone in this class know what this project is about?”

Riku and Daeyoung gasped audibly. Valid reaction.

“And then, obviously, no one wants to say shit, except who? This motherfucker.” Sions says, pointing at Yushi, “He starts trashing everything he had been saying for the past minutes, highlighting details he had absolutely ignored. In Korean.”

“There is actually no way.” Riku quickly says

“I am telling you. He got so mad that he told Yushi that he was going to present his own works from now on and-”

“Wait, you have been presenting for him still?”

Riku’s question, along with the fact that Sion reminded him about the whole presenting by himself thing, got him choking on air.

“Uhm yeah, I do.” Sion says

“And how do you do it? Like you just learn what he does or-”

“Uhm, well, usually I just ask him for the submissions. Luckily, he finishes them always the day before, right, Yushi?” Sion was trying to include him in the conversation, so he just nodded, the buzzing in his ears too strong to distinguish what he had said. “And I just revise them, and also I ask him for like the notes and sketches, and the next day I present it. It’s not that much of a hassle.”

Sion was lying. It was fucking hard work, but he didn’t want Yushi to feel bad.

It was late now. He got up in a second, going to the waiter to pay directly. At first, he was going to invite his friends to celebrate his accomplishment, but at the moment, it felt rather like an escape from the place where Riku was asking too many questions, Sion was answering them too easily, and Daeyoung was looking at him too unfazed.

Everything was too much.

The cold air outside hit like a slap. Yushi braced against the restaurant’s brick wall, gulping down breaths as pedestrians streamed past, office workers in long coats, students with steaming cups of coffee, a grandma dragging a wheeled grocery cart. Normal people with normal problems.

Not people who fell apart because their friend was too nice to them.

He fumbled for his phone, pressing it to his ear like he was taking a call as the other three came out. It seemed to work just fine, and a minute later, when he had calmed just the slightest, he approached them, fake hanging his fake call.

Riku went directly up to him, grabbing him slowly by his elbow to walk a few steps away from the other two.

“You okay?” Yushi nodded, visibly mad. “Can you be honest with me?”

“Your question,” Yushi whispered. “It- it felt bad.”

“Shit, I didn’t mean-” Riku ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t want to sound like that. I was genuinely curious about how Sion did it. But you’re right. I’m sorry.”

“It felt bad… I feel bad for him.” Yushi’s throat tightened.

“Talk to him about it, okay? Ask him where his head is at.” Riku said, “And Yushi, I’m so proud of you, for today. I wish I could have been there to see it.”

The words landed like a punch to the chest. Yushi ducked his head, but not fast enough to hide the flush creeping up his neck. He just muttered a soft thanks and let Riku hug him for a while, getting back to Daeyoung and Sion right after, who were waiting for them right where they left them.

“So, Daeyoung and I wanted to watch a movie.”

Riku quickly said, clearly improvising something to make Yushi talk to Sion. Daeyoung’s face was confused as Riku took him by his arm, but the corner of his lips twitched with content, his crooked teeth showing his happiness.

“Don’t know if you guys mind to… let us use one of the rooms.”

“Yeah, Yushi left his things in our room, so you can just go to yours. We can hang later.”

Riku looked at Yushi for some sort of confirmation, and Yushi just nodded, barely meeting his gaze.

“Perfect, see you later then!”

“Bye, guys! Yushi, don’t forget to split the bill! Tell us what we owe you!” Daeyoung said loudly as they were walking towards the campus.

Yushi didn’t bother answering; he just started walking in the opposite direction.

“Wait, where are you going?” Sion said, interrupting his thoughts

Yushi didn’t stop.

“You going for a walk? Yushi wait, fuck.”

Sion picked up the pace behind him, quickly stepping in front of him, forcing him to stop his rushed walk.

“I need air.”

“Cold one?” Sion mimicked his words from just some hours ago, but Yushi wasn’t up to that, and he noticed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to. Are you okay? What happened?”

“Riku’s question,” Yushi whispered, and Sion had to lower his head slightly to hear him.

“About me presenting your stuff? Yushi, I literally want to do it. I learn so much from it. I have no problem doing it.”

“It sounded like a bad thing, what you are doing for me.”

“It is not, okay? I repeat myself: I am the one who wants to do it, so please, let me.” his words were so reassuring. “It’s about the whole presenting by yourself, too, right?”

Yushi gulped loudly, nodding, feeling dizzy.

“I understand it can be overwhelming, but we are going to take it one day at a time. Uhm,... maybe, maybe you can do a small presentation for us! Like me, Riku, Daeyoung… We can even bring Shotaro if you need someone bitchy, sounds nice?”

Yushi thought about it, and maybe he could get his head around it.

He had read about it, the whole gradual exposure. It was supposed to be a key component of his therapy for selective mutism because it helped him in anxiety-provoking situations, starting from a low anxiety one, like speaking one-on-one with someone, and shifting between whispers if more people were around, and slowly getting around more people and talking in a louder voice.

Therapists said it worked like wonders, but he had never had so many people that he felt comfortable around to try it, so he nodded, thinking it could be good. He had felt so good today after his huge step; he was slightly curious to see if that feeling could grow into something bigger, to feel like he could overcome something.

Yushi finally nodded, which made Sion smile from ear to ear.

“Want to go back then, or you really wanted to walk?”

“Just a little.”

“No problem, let’s go.”

The evening air carried the crisp bite of approaching winter as they left the restaurant's warmth behind. Yushi's breath formed small clouds in the cloudy streetlights, his shoulders hunched slightly against the chill. The city pulsed around them, the rhythmic thump of bass from a passing car, the sizzle of hotteok from a vendor, the distant chime of a convenience store door opening.

Sion matched his pace effortlessly, their footsteps falling into sync as they turned down a quieter side street. The usual deafening noise of Seoul faded into something softer here, replaced by the whisper of bare branches scraping against apartment balconies.

“Cold?” Sion asked, his voice low in the quiet between them.

Yushi shook his head, though his fingers curled like they didn’t agree with him. But he wasn’t lying, because the cold wasn't the problem; it was the warmth blooming in his chest every time Sion's shoulder brushed against his as they navigated the uneven pavement.

Sion's hand bumped against Yushi's as they walked, once, twice, then their knuckles were touching, and in a swift motion, Sion’s hand stayed, fingers tangling together with a quiet certainty that made Yushi's pulse stutter. The contact sent sparks up his arm, his skin suddenly too hot despite the winter air.

Sion's thumb traced absent circles against his knuckles, the rhythm steady as a heartbeat. Neither spoke. They didn't need to. The quiet between them was comfortable, like always, filled with the unspoken understanding that had grown between them over weeks of shared glances and tentative touches.

The campus gates appeared ahead, and Yushi hesitated, slowing his steps. He wasn't ready for this walk to end, for the spell of the night to break, but they both needed to get work done.

The dorm hallway smelled faintly of cleaning solution and instant ramen, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead as they approached Sion's door. He fumbled with his keys, the metal jingling in the quiet hallway. The door swung open to reveal the familiar silent chaos, the laptop left open on the bed with their unfinished drama paused mid-scene.

The warmth of the room wrapped around them as Sion closed the door behind them, shutting out the world outside. Yushi hovered near the entrance, suddenly unsure where to put his hands now that they weren't holding Sion's anymore.

“I should probably...” Sion gestured vaguely toward his desk.

But he made no move to step away, his gaze lingering on Yushi's face with an intensity that made the air between them feel thick, filling the space between them with something thick and unspeakable.

Yushi's breath caught. The space between them seemed to shrink with each passing second, charged with all the things they hadn't said. He could see in Sion’s eyes the faint dark circles and the way his lashes cast shadows on them, as well as the slight part of his lips as he exhaled.

The moment stretched, fragile as spun glass. Yushi’s fingers twitched at his sides, aching to reach out, just to touch, to feel, to close the breath of distance between them. But he held still.

Then Sion took his hands gently, intentionally, and brought them to his face.

His pulse faltered, Sion’s skin was warm, real, but almost too much. Heat rushed across his back, crawling up his neck and clinging to the nape like a second skin.

And then, without a word, Sion’s hands were there too, steadying him. Holding him.

Yushi didn’t dare move. His palms cupped Sion’s face like it was something sacred. He didn’t want to stop touching him, so he didn’t. Instead, he traced a soft stroke along his cheekbone with his thumb. A signal. A question. Maybe even the beginning of their own secret language.

Sion’s tongue darted out, slow and subtle, wetting his lips. The light caught on the shine, on the softness.

This was it, wasn’t it? Was this the invitation?

“Yushi I-”

But the words never landed. He couldn’t bear to hear them anymore, he needed to act on them.

It wasn’t careful. It wasn’t neat. It crashed between them, stifling Sion’s voice and unspooling everything they’d held back.

Sion’s grip on the back of Yushi’s neck tightened, anchoring him, grounding him, and then he kissed back. Not hesitantly, not shyly, but like it was inevitable. Like it was the most natural thing in the world, and it almost made Yushi shed a tear. His chest lifted in surprise, then settled as warmth bloomed in his ribs, his hands still trembling slightly against Sion’s skin.

It was too much, the way Sion’s hands lowered to his waist, how he pressed his fingers so subtly, but it felt like he was holding his whole world. His lips opened, inviting Yushi to whatever he wanted.

Is that how freedom felt like?

Yushi had to know.

He deepened the kiss, already drunk on the feeling, on the heat flooding through him, on the way his body responded, but more than anything, on the way Sion’s did. Step by step, they moved together until Sion’s back met the entrance door with a soft thud. He paused there, just for a second, the hesitation catching in his throat like a hook, like an act.

But it wasn’t an act at all; it was all Yushi had ever wanted to do since he saw him.

Something in him had twisted from the beginning, from that damn smile that never quite left Sion’s face. And maybe that was why every emotion around him hit too hard. Everything Sion stirred in him was overwhelming. Too gentle. Too sharp. Too kind. Too humiliating.

Sion was too much. And Yushi didn’t want less; he couldn’t get enough of it.

Sion’s hands slid up the back of his neck again, fingertips brushing through the shorter hairs at his nape, grazing close to his scalp, his weak spot. He jerked under his touch, squirming without meaning to, heat flushing across his skin, and that was all it took.

Sion pulled back slightly, eyes wide. “Fuck sorry did I-”

“No, no, I’m okay, it’s just… fuck”

“I’m sorry, I just-”

Yushi kissed him again, cutting off the spiral before it could take hold. Not because he didn’t want to hear Sion speak, but because he already knew. This kiss was shorter. Barely a breath. When he pulled away, he brushed his thumb across his own lower lip without thinking, trying to hold onto the taste. But it was already gone, and it made something in his chest ache.

“Okay, so-”

Yushi leaned forward again, ready to silence him with another kiss. He just needed Sion to stop talking, to stop overthinking everything. But this time, he didn’t.

“I like you too, Sion.”

Notes:

a lot of things to unpack.

1. i updated... the number of chapters... to 26... is that... are we... okay we are
2. YALL i love to chat with you on twitter like its so fun and idk it makes me so happy lets move on
3. yusion kiss. how are we... did yall like it? im quite shaking by posting this so
4. tomorrow i will upload another thing... strawberry themed.. its going to be short like between 15-20k words... hope yall check it out too
5. THANK you everyone for the comments and kudos and bookmarks like... i cannnot GRASP the fact so many people is liking this, its honestly crazy for me but yeah, i hope you all keep on liking this and we can keep on sharing our thoughts on ittt
6. happy monday and great week everyone <3

Chapter 13: i want him

Summary:

Suddenly, they weren’t just classmates.

Notes:

first time i put a disclaimer?? it can be

its very silly but in this chapter i FICTIONALLY ship riize and nct members with aespa ones, which are similar in age. in this fic everyone is +20 old so like... (except sakuryo, they are 18, thats why i dont mention them often even though i love them as much as everyone here). so like if you dont like this ships im sorry but its rlly not that serious, not in a mean way but like they only two main ships in this fic are yusion and jaeri so like besides that everything can change...

with that being said, enjoy !

Kissing Yushi was the best thing Sion had ever experienced in his life.

Sion had his first kiss at fifteen with a Japanese girl named Haruka, his first official girlfriend, though she wasn’t what most people would expect from a first love.

She was a year older than he, but due to language barriers, she was held back a grade, which was how they ended up in the same class. Haruka wasn’t the sweet, clingy type, at least not in public. She was sharp-witted, fiercely independent, and pushed Sion to stop molding himself to others’ expectations. He couldn’t understand yet the importance of her words, but he was gone for her.

When summer came, Haruka had to return to Japan. She broke things off cleanly, no drawn-out goodbyes. For three months, Sion was convinced his world had ended at least until September, when he met Park Eunseo.

Eunseo was everything Haruka wasn’t: openly affectionate, disarmingly honest, and so expressive that Sion’s parents adored her within minutes. He brought her home more than once, something he’d never done with Haruka. Their relationship lasted about the same four months, but it ended messily: Eunseo overheard him laughing with a classmate, assumed the worst, and confronted the girl. When the girl didn’t deny it (just to mess with her, Sion later realized), Eunseo broke up with him on the spot. He was furious at the girl, at the misunderstanding, at how stupid it all was… but eventually, he let it go.

After that, he stopped dating entirely.

At least, until UOS.

He didn’t date in university, not seriously, anyway. But he did start… exploring. Not as much as Shotaro, his first-year roommate, who kicked him out twice a week for ‘study sessions’ with different girls. Sion was eighteen, not an idiot.

Then, one night, a guy flirted with him. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was something he’d always known but never named; either way, Sion smiled, nodded, and let it happen. They kissed.

His name was Hansol. They saw each other for a couple of months, casual but meaningful, until the guy dropped out. Sion ached afterward, not just from missing him, but from the sudden fear that he was the only not-straight guy on campus.

Turns out he wasn’t, in fact, a lot of people were queer. He had his fun after that, maybe more than he’d admit, but it all stopped when he met Yushi.

That summer, staying at Liv and Jaehyun’s, Sion wasn’t about to drag random hookups into their home. And most people his age still lived with their parents, which meant no sneaking around, no impulsive nights. So Sion had a bit of a dry summer. And then his third year came, and with that, Yushi.

At first, Sion was too busy scrambling to keep up with his Japanese studies to even notice him properly. Then he realized Yushi was effortlessly ahead, submissions polished, while Sion was barely treading water. It was as annoying as fascinating.

He started going out more, Shotaro’s invitations to parties, the Japanese Student Club, endless afternoons with his friends,… Everything to shake the tension coiling in his chest. Then he discovered Yushi knew Korean, and their whole relationship shifted.

Suddenly, they weren’t just classmates. They were talking, communicating at least, and Sion… Well.

He was done for.

It started as a simple concern. Yushi was brilliant but clueless, navigating campus life like a lost kitten. He had this quiet grace, this softness, and Sion’s traitorous brain latched onto every detail: the way Yushi’s brow furrowed when he concentrated, the faint birthmark under his left eye, the way his voice dipped into something warm whenever he said Sion’s name.

Then the thoughts spiraled.

From I want to sit beside him to I want to pull him closer. From I like his laugh to I want to kiss the corner of his mouth when he smiles. And even though they had met each other two months ago, it seemed like the whole shifting happened in brief seconds.

It was such a hard feeling to deal with, as at first, he didn’t have a clue if Yushi was first of all gay, or bi, and then, if he was into Sion. So he confessed twice, which led to nothing, at least at first, because a week and a half later, there he was.

Sion’s mind was a one-track ruin, looping the same impossible fantasy: Yushi, breathless beneath him, whispering his name like a secret.

It was mesmerizing, the way Yushi melted against him, the way his breath hitched when Sion’s fingers tangled in his hair. Sion hadn’t realized how badly he’d needed this until now, and now that he had it, he couldn’t let go. His hands moved on their own, sliding from Yushi’s waist to his back, then his scalp, pulling him closer and Yushi made a sound, a tiny, breathless noise, barely more than a whimper. And for some reason, Sion panicked.

He jerked back like he’d been burned. “Fuck, sorry, did I-”

“No, no, I’m okay,” Yushi panted, cheeks flushed. “It’s just… fuck.”

Sion’s pulse was a wild thing in his throat. “I’m sorry, I just-”

He didn’t even know what he was apologizing for, for wanting too much, for taking too much, but before he could finish, Yushi was kissing him again. It required all of his willpower to push him back a few centimeters to make sure he wasn’t overwhelmed.

“Okay, so-”

Yushi leaned in, and Sion’s eyes fluttered shut automatically, ready for him again. God, he was pathetic. But instead of lips, he felt words.

“I like you too, Sion.”

Sion kissed him like a drowning man gasping for air, like he needed Yushi for him to be alive. He couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to stop. He needed to be around him; he didn’t want to think about the moment they had to separate from each other.

Yushi seemed to be on his same wavelength, because he was responding so well to his actions. He kissed back as eagerly as Sion was: kissing back just as fiercely, fingers clutching at Sion’s shirt like he was afraid he’d vanish. They were both breathless, both burning, neither willing to pull away, not until a sharp knock shattered the moment.

They leapt apart like they’d been electrocuted, putting half the room between them in an instant. Yushi spun toward the window, hastily smoothing his mussed hair, while Sion dropped into a crouch near the closet, pretending to search for something, anything, to explain why they were both flushed and panting.

The door creaked open.

“Hello! Oh, hey again Yushi!” Daeyoung’s cheerful voice cut through the tension. “You staying for dinner? I can cook something-”

“No, he’s not. He was just leaving.”

Sion wanted to smack himself in the head. He said that out of instinct, the words tumbled out before he could stop them, a knee-jerk reaction to being caught. Instantly, he regretted it. He didn’t want Yushi to go; he didn’t want him to feel like he was being kicked out, but the Japanese boy turned around from the window with a soft smile forming in the corner of his lips and nodded slowly.

He didn’t want to stay, and Sion deep down had known.

He felt proud of himself; this whole made-up chemistry felt good.

“Sure? He looks hungry,” Daeyoung interrupted his thoughts.

It was such a Daeyoung thing to say, always offering food, always kind. But when Sion let his gaze drag over Yushi, he realized hungry wasn’t quite the word.

No, Yushi looked wrecked.

His roommate turned away, busying himself with dinner, and Sion shot Yushi a wicked grin, just to watch him flush deeper. The glare Yushi fired back should’ve been intimidating. Instead, it was adorable. Okay, maybe both.

Yushi fumbled for his shoes, nearly tripping twice in his haste to escape. Sion lingered in the doorway, breathing in the faint trace of his cologne, something clean and overly sweet, before stepping into the empty hall after him.

“Sorry for the, uh… interruption,” Sion murmured.

Yushi shook his head softly, still blushing.

“See you tomorrow in class?”

Yushi nodded.

Kiss him. 

The urge was sudden and reckless. Right here, against the wall, where anyone could see, but he held back. One earth-shattering kiss was enough for today. Maybe two. Okay, three kisses. He’d lost count. Whatever. Yushi bowed slightly and turned to leave. With every step he took, Sion’s lungs tightened, his ribs aching as if Yushi was stealing the oxygen from his blood.

By the time he turned the corner, Sion was gripping the doorframe just to stay upright. As he got into his room again, Daeyoung welcomed him with a smile. He didn’t know if he should tell him. Was he going to flip? Was he going to ask how it went? And what would Sion answer? He had some options. First one:

Yeah, we kissed, I got a semi, it was very romantic.

Second one:

He kissed me to shut me up before I could confess for the third time.

Third one, probably his favorite:

Yushi kissed me, and I don’t know how I'm going to keep on with my life. I need him.

He groaned. God, I sound like a virgin.

Daeyoung glanced up from the stove when he heard him make a noise, like he could read his thoughts. “You cool? You look lost.”

Oh, just mentally replaying the way Yushi’s lips felt against mine. No big deal.

“Nah, I’m good,” Sion lied. “Gonna take a shower.”

He cringed at himself again. Those careless words weren’t at all a representation of what he was feeling, but he couldn’t think properly. He had kissed Yushi. Well, Yushi had kissed him. Was he dreaming? Was it just a sequence from Mr. Plankton that he had imprinted in his mind so hard he thought it happened to him?

But then, his fingertips brushed his own lips, and he could feel they were different; they had a different shape, a different texture… Yushi’s name was written all over them, like he had marked them.

Sion felt himself getting hotter, so he quickly put his thoughts on something else. He started to get some songs for his shower queue when his phone chimed.

 

yushi

thank you for saving me from the dinner

 

Sion smiled to himself. He knew what that text meant. He had sent those before. Those after-the-first-kiss texts, about something stupid, just because you wanted to keep in contact.

 

sion

youre welcome

but you did look hungry

 

He was being bold, he knew.

 

yushi

not my fault

 

Was he… Was he flirting back?

 

sion

not my fault either

actually daeyoungs fault

he shouldnt have interrupted

 

yushi

did you tell him?

 

sion

no

you? did you tell riku?

 

yushi

no but

he knows something is different

 

sion

in a good way or a bad way

 

yushi

good way

 

sion

do you want to tell him? them? whoever?

 

And then, classic Yushi. His status kept shifting between typing… and online, and after a couple of minutes, offline.

Sion sighed. These things stressed him the fuck out.

He showered away his frustrations, hands clasped together in case his thoughts won over him, and as he got out, Daeyoung had prepared the best bulgogi skewers with a couple of corndogs.

“Thank you for the dinner, really. For always cooking.” He said as he smelled the meat, floating over where the plates were

“And this sudden wave of affection? Do you want a hug?”

“No thenky,” he answered, mouth full of that stretchy cheese stick, “Later meby”

“Later is it.”

Sion kept his promise and hugged Daeyoung as they finished dinner.

“Should we have a little party this Friday?” his roommate suggested while he was preparing the bag for the next day, “At Wonbin’s.”

“Yeah? Is he still roommate-less?” Sion asked, and Daeyoung hummed, “How is that possible? Like, I get his roommate dropped out, but doesn’t he need to like… relocate? Why does he get a whole room by himself?”

“Sion, the room is small, you are talking like he’s living in a palace. The concerning bit is two people living in it.”

“Don’t know why Shotaro keeps doing it, if I had half his money, I would rent an apartment.”

“He can’t stand loneliness… And he loves Jisung.” Daeyoung guessed

“I guess he does.”

“So party? This Friday?”

“Why are you suddenly so interested in drinking at Wonbin’s?” Sion asked, voice filled with tease

“I don’t know, I miss you guys. I have been too busy with a couple of subjects, and I don’t want to seem uninterested to Riku-”

“So you would rather be a useless friend to us.”

“Pretty much, yeah,” Daeyoung concluded.

“Uhm, got it.”

They kept on bickering for hours, talking about many things they had been missing for the past weeks. It was almost one in the morning when both of them agreed to go to sleep. Sion took longer than he would like to admit; he couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss, and he couldn’t talk about it with anyone. He was dying to tell at least Daeyoung.

His own thoughts soothed him to sleep, almost making him miss his alarm, but he made it to class fifteen minutes earlier, as always. Yushi was there, as always, too.

“Hey,” he said softly, sitting next to him, “You slept well?”

Yushi nodded, nibbling on a protein bar.

Should he ask? Should he bring up what happened yesterday?

“And you?” Yushi softly asked.

Sion thought he was going to shed a tear. That voice, quiet, meant only for him, threatened to unravel him completely. He swallowed.

“Yes, it took me a while but…”

Yushi looked at him with a hint of curiosity.

Should he tell him?

He thought about it briefly, but Yushi’s head was still tilted, waiting.

“I was thinking about… about it.”

A flush raced up Yushi’s neck. He shoved the rest of the protein bar into his mouth.

Classmates began trickling in, their chatter a distant buzz. Sion had almost forgotten that Yushi spoke up yesterday. Defended him. The memory hit like a sucker punch, tender and bruising. Why was he so emotional today?

“Sorry, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Yushi’s gaze flicked up. “You never do.”

Oh.

Sion’s throat closed. He was drowning in it, this feeling, this weight, until Yushi’s hand found his under the desk, fingers threading together. A silent question. How did he know?

“I’m okay, I’m just, I don’t know. I don’t know what’s… what’s going on with me today.”

Yushi didn’t reply. Instead, he leaned his head against Sion’s shoulder, grounding him. Sion focused on the rhythm of his own breathing, the heat of Yushi’s palm, the way his hair smelled like green tea and sunlight. He was so close to thanking him, but Yushi turned softly to give a small kiss.

Not on the lips, but on the fabric of his hoodie, right where Yushi’s head had rested. Quick. Secret. Sion’s skin burned beneath it like a brand. It was small, inaudible, a lingering feeling of some insignificant peck over a piece of clothing, but Sion’s skin burned underneath. He didn’t know what to do after, and he didn’t even have the time to think about it before the first professor of the morning entered the class. It was going to be a long day being so close to Yushi but not close enough.

They had Industrial Design for the rest of the morning, and their teacher, Oh Hae-Won, told them the classes were cancelled for the next day because of an impromptu assembly with Master’s students.

It was short notice because they had been getting confirmations of invites until that same morning, but no one complained; a free day was a free day. That could mean a lot of things.

It could mean one more day doing groceries, doing laundry, going to your hometown, or, in Sion’s case, to catch up. Was it catching up if he had to do it every single day? He didn’t know; he only knew that he had to do a couple of essays for Art History so badly.

“Uhm, so, I think I’ll try to lock in a bit, I need to get a lot of things done.”

Yushi nodded, but the flicker of disappointment in his eyes was a knife. Sion was weak, pathetic, really, when it came to that face.

“But we can do something on Sunday if you want.”

Yushi’s lips curved, just slightly, and Sion knew exactly what they meant.

“Or Saturday.”

A fuller smile now. Got him.

“Can’t offer Friday because I’m meeting my friends.”

And with that, Yushi nodded, finally pleased.

That tiny victory fueled Sion through hours of frantic studying, highlighter smeared across his notes like some maniac. If he finished everything now, Saturday could be theirs, uninterrupted, unhurried.

On Friday, he woke up early and kept on his duties, which consisted of studying, stopping for some laundry and a coffee, working on his Facilities plans, going to the gym, having lunch, and more studying.

Daeyoung came to their room pretty late. Sion was already finished for the day and was changing into comfortable clothes to go to his friends’ room. He hadn’t bought any alcohol; he completely forgot about it, but his friend welcomed him as he entered with the clinking noise of bottles softly crashing into each other in the plastic bag.

“Oh my- I completely forgot about the alcohol.”

“I knew.” Daeyoung shrugged off his coat, frost still clinging to his sleeves. “Shotaro texted me just in case.”

“Tell me how much I owe you.”

“Don’t worry,” He smirked, “I’m not letting you have any.”

“Fuck you,” Sion said, flipping him off.

While he waited for Daeyoung to shower, he decided to scroll dumbly on his phone, but his mind was elsewhere completely, so he just acted on it and texted Yushi.

 

sion

hey hey

how is the free day going

got much done?

 

He bit his lips waiting for his response, but he didn’t reply. He tried not to overthink as he put some lip balm on, his friend already coming out of the shower.

“Text Shotaro or Jisung we will be there in five.”

Sion sent the message mechanically, his brain still orbiting a boy who hadn’t even texted back.

sion

getting there on 5

 

jisung

nice

can u bring back the dyes

 

sion

oh shit sure

sorry

 

jisung

dw

food just came

hurry up sungchan is hungry

 

Sion wasn’t even finished reading Jisung’s text when he received another. He hoped it was Yushi’s, but it wasn’t.

 

sungchan

come on

im hungry

 

sion

ik

daeyoung is getting some clothes on

 

sungchan

why tho

tell him to come naked

😛😛😛

 

sion

next time ;p

 

“They told us to hurry up, food is there,” Sion announced quickly, getting up from his slumbering pose at his bed.

“Oh, okay,” Daeyoung said in a hurry, “It’s only eight, why did they order so early?”

“They are getting old, I think.”

“Must be it, yes.”

They ran to Shotaro and Jisung’s room after Daeyoung was done. Sungchan and Wonbin were already there too, and half of the pizza was eaten, and his friend smiled at him while lounging on the floor like smug cats.

“You animals,” Sion groaned, though his outrage died the second Jisung pointed to the desk.

He had saved his favorite one on his desk so no one would try it before him.

“Marry me,” Sion declared, kissing Jisung’s temple before swiping the box.

He hunched over it protectively, inhaling the scent of melted cheese like a man starved. One hour later, Shotaro was already preparing the drinks at the small counter.

“Need you guys to tell me who wants beer, who wants soju, and who wants both.”

Daeyoung and Jisung agreed on beer. Wonbin and Sungchan agreed on soju. Sion and Shotaro agreed on both. It had been a while since he had a drink, and honestly, he had a lot of things to drink for, not in an alcoholic way of needing something to celebrate to have a casual drink, but more in a relaxed way of having a drink just because he wanted to. Maybe also he wished some soju would quiet the part of his brain still obsessively checking his phone.

“Here, cheers.” Shotaro shoved a soju bomb into his hands, foam spilling over the rim. “Drink it quickly, you don’t want it to lose the vitamins.”

Sion rolled his eyes but downed it in one gulp, the burn searing his throat.

“Someone was thirstyyy.” Wonbin teased.

“Easy for you to say while sipping on some soju like it’s poison.” Sion defended himself.

Wonbin’s grin faded. “Wish it was, had the worst week ever.”

“C’mere,” Sungchan blabbered, patting his shoulder, “Tell us.”

“You know Kim Minjeong, right?”

Sion’s spine felt electric when he heard the name.

“Yes,” Jisung said

“Why would we?” Daeyoung muttered.

Shotaro smirked, mixing another drink. “One, she’s in that band we saw at Open Doors. Two-” He pointed at Sion. “Someone hooked up with her two years ago.”

“Oh, okay.” Daeyoung said nodding, “Is she the one who ghosted you for her ex, or the one who was the ex?”

“Neither, we literally just had one stupid night after a party because we were both very drunk. Haven’t spoken with her again.”

“Don’t lie.” Shotaro said from the kitchen, preparing another soju bomb, “You talked to her again last year, at another party.”

“Only because you dared me to? Like it’s not awkward, but it’s not ideal either.”

The memory prickled, not because it mattered, but because it didn’t. Sion was missing the guy that dropped out, and she missed her ex. Just two people using each other to forget someone else. Sion barely remembered anything but the way she’d whispered his name like a substitute. He shook his head, reaching for another drink.

“But what about them?” Sungchan dragged the conversation back, nudging Wonbin’s shoulder.

“I asked her out and said yes, but only if I can find a date for her friend too.”

“Do we know the friend too?” Sion asked, already scared of the answer

“I know the friend, she has been third wheeling us for like two whole weeks.”

“Third wheeling as in…” Jisung tried to catch up

“I mean, she drives us to every place Minjeong asks her to, but just because they share a car and Minjeong’s blind as a bat at night-”

“Get to the point, please.” Shotaro cut in, shoving another drink into Sion’s hands.

Sion downed it, the alcohol doing little to dull the creeping dread.

“She basically hangs around us, but not like literally around us, just like around the area we are in, but she’s pretty cool, she-”

“So she’s not third-wheeling,” Daeyoung interrupted, unimpressed. “She’s just your designated driver. That’s called being a good friend.”

“Right?” Sungchan chimed in. “I’m not getting the issue.”

Wonbin shrugged. “I mean, it’s Yu Jimin we’re talking about. She’s-”

“Hold the fuck up.”

Shotaro’s voice sliced through the room. Everyone froze.

Slowly, Shotaro turned to Wonbin, eyes wide. “You’ve been hanging out with Yu Jimin? For two weeks? And you’re just telling me this?”

“Dude, I told you! I specifically texted you about it. Hold on.” Wonbin quickly removed himself from Sungchan’s shoulder, searching for something in his phone. “Y’all, look.”

Sion squinted to see the text messages behind the cracked screen.

 

wonbin

im meeting again with minjeong!

her friend jimin is coming along

to give us a ride

 

osakichan

great

can u bring dinner

 

wonbin

we dont live together?

 

osakichan

auch

bring me a treat at least

 

“He did tell you,” Daeyoung concluded, scrolling through Wonbin’s phone with the detachment of a judge delivering a verdict.

“He didn’t say it was Yu Jimin!” Shotaro’s voice cracked. “Korean names are gender-neutral as hell!”

“He does have a point too, fuck.” Jisung admitted while biting his nails, his head turning from Wonbin to Shotaro like it was a tennis match.

“So she’s looking for someone.”

“Mmm, not really.” Wonbin explained, reaching for another bottle of soju, “Minjeong feels bad because Jimin’s always alone, but honestly, I think Jimin prefers it. Not gonna argue with Minjeong, though.” He knocked back half a shot. “So yeah, she asked if any of my friends were ‘single and ready to mingle.’”

“She actually said that?” Daeyoung asked, and Wonbin nodded surely.

The phrase, delivered with Wonbin’s deadpan expression, sent Sion into hysterics. The whole room erupted, even Wonbin cracked, his stoic facade crumbling as laughter bounced off the walls.

Shotaro wiped tears from his eyes, then pounced. “I’ll go with you next time.”

“You won’t.”

“Please let me.” Shotaro clasped his hands together, his desperation so palpable that Sungchan wheezed into Daeyoung’s shoulder.

Wonbin sighed. “We’ll see.”

That seemed to work.

As the conversation veered back to Minjeong, Wonbin waxing poetic about her laugh, her taste in music, the way she ties her shoelaces, Sion’s skin prickled. He needed air. Or water. Or stop drinking.

“Bathroom,” he muttered, slipping away.

In the tiny cubicle, he felt the cold hitting his face, almost making him regret his thought of peeing, but it was a must rather than a want, so he quickly went over it. As he was washing his hands, he checked the hour. 10:24 p.m. And then, the slightest notification below. His phone had been on Do Not Disturb.

He quickly unlocked it with slippery hands and checked his texts.

 

yushi

it was fine

kinda boring

head hurts bc of greenery design

 

Sion smiled at his phone. God, he was a goner. He quickly replied.

 

sion

oh again?

i can help you out tomorrow

 

He waited for a reply, only this time, it came.

 

yushi

thank you but

id rather watch mr plankton

 

sion

i see

want to hang in my room then?

 

yushi

if u dont mind

 

Sion was typing furiously fast; he didn’t want any miscommunication.

 

sion

would lve t o

 

Back in the room, they kept drinking, gossiping, and drinking again. They talked about their friends, Jaemin and Jeno, Jisung’s band and upcoming songs, people they no longer saw at UOS, and Anton, whom Shotaro and Wonbin have been getting closer to lately. They switched from people whom Sion had heard about to people he didn’t know at all.

“I swear to God he has an insane dick game,” Shotaro said drunkenly

“Excuse me, what?” Sion coughed, not expecting to skip from Anton’s gym routine to whatever Shotaro wanted to talk about.

“I heard that too.” Jisung added, covering his mouth, “Jiwoo told me-”

“Your Jiwoo?” Sungchan whispered, eyes half closed

“She’s not mine, but yeah, my Jiwoo,” Jisung said, embarrassed, “Like one of her closest friends knew him from high school and-”

“But who are we even talking about?” Daeyoung asked curiously

“Enough about other people’s dicks” Wonbin exclaimed, “Let’s play never have I ever.”

“Wonbin, no.” Sungchan woke up from his slumber. “I’m already half passed out and-”

“You can skip the half thing,” Sion added, “But I’m up.”

“Of course you are, you twink.” Shotaro said, “But I’m up too. I’ll start.”

He poured another round of drinks for everyone. This time was easier; everyone was taking straight-up soju shots, no more room for beer.

“Okay, so… Never have I ever fucked someone on a plane.”

Sungchan emptied his shot.

“Great for you,” Wonbin nodded, “Next.”

They kept the seating orders. Jisung was next.

“Never have I ever done a threesome.”

Shotaro drank the whole shot. Wonbin drank half of it.

“Excuse me? We do know the Shotaro one, but where is your half shot coming from? Was it like a person and a half or-” Sungchan asked

“How does that even work, you stupid idiot?” Wonbin defended himself, “It was with a girl, but like… God, this is so embarrassing… Like his girlfriend just like… stared at us… she was lesbian so she didn’t want-”

“She didn’t want your dick, it’s okay, I don’t blame her.” Daeyoung resumed, “My turn… Never have I ever…bottomed. With a guy, if you know what I mean.”

“Having a dick up-” Shotaro tried to explain, but as Sion drank his shot, his words stopped. “Really, dude?”

“No! No Japanese, please, I’m too drunk to get it.” Daeyoung pleaded.

“Sorry, sorry,” Shotaro quickly said, “I was just… Wow.”

“I mean, not every single day, but yeah, I’ve tried.”

When Sion had started exploring his sexuality freely, he had tried to do different stuff so he could understand himself and his sexuality better. With Hansol, he tried the majority of those things, and he figured out more or like what he liked, and later he tried them with boys and girls in his one-night adventures.

It was nothing too out of this world for him, especially when he was openly into guys. Maybe he didn’t look like it.

“Good for you, dude, they say you have your spot-” Sungchan’s words were stopped by a loud smack from Jisung’s hand. “Auch!”

“My turn!” Wonbin said animatedly, “Never have I ever had sex at uni, outside my room.” Everyone drank. “Okay, that was no fun.”

They all laughed at Wonbin’s failed try to get some spicy scene out of someone, and at his lack of sexual experience outside the comfort of his bed. They made some stupid ass moan noises, and Sion thought he was going to pee himself from laughing too much.

“Jesus Wonbin, you are the funniest person I’ve ever met, I swear to God…” Sion said, grabbing his stomach, “Uhm… never have I ever… heard anyone in this room fucking.”

Everyone drank.

“Wow, really?” Sungchan asked

“I mean… walls are not made out of paper…” Shotaro said

“You were literally in the shower, Shotaro,” Sion groaned. “The fuck did I know?”

“My turn!” Sungchan half yelled, “And after that, I’m out of here. I need to head home like right now.”

“Dude, I always forgot you live with your parents,” Daeyoung said, half-complaining, half-laughing at him.

“Well, some of us are city boys, my bad.” He teased back, and Daeyoung flipped him off with a blown kiss, “Never have I ever… been walked in while at it.”

Jisun and Wonbin did their last shots.

“Tell me it wasn’t on each other.” Sion pleaded, but none of them responded.

They laughed some more about some bullshit Sungchan was saying while leaving, and they decided to call it a night. Sion checked the hour, 1:46 a.m. Not too late, not too soon either. Also, Yushi had texted him back.

 

yushi

are you okey?

 

Sion felt flustered. He read back the last text.

 

would lve t o

 

He looked like he was having a stroke. Luckily, he didn’t text you ‘i love you’. He typed back.

 

sion

yeah

just slightly drunk

dae and i r heding back to our rum

 

They did as he told Yushi. He gave Jisung a good night kiss as he was already half passed out in his bed, placing his legs on the mattress as they were floating around. As he walked down the stairs, Daeyoung turned around on their floor, but his drunk brain told him to keep on going down.

“Where are you going, bro?” Daeyoug whispered, drunk as hell.

“Gonna take some airrrrrrrr,” Sion sing-songed, trying to whisper but failing miserably.

“You okay?” Sion nodded as an answer, “Wait here a second.”

He sat on the stairs, waiting for his roommate, who appeared a few seconds later with a thick ass jacket. It was very ugly.

“Here, take this, it’s freezing cold outside.”

“I ain’t wearin’ that,” he refused, shaking his head

“Then you are not going out.”

Sion complained, but straightened his arms so Daeyoung could place the coat on him. He hung his lanyard with the keys over his head. Sion cringed at the sight of it: it was some shoelace with star-shaped beads all over it, looking like children's jewelry.

“This is also very ugly, too,” Sion complained

“You are being a pain in the ass. Go before I regret it.”

Sion ran down the stairs, almost tripping. Once at the door, he wished that he had annoyed Daeyoung more so that the other one would stop him from going out. The glass door was full of condensation, and as he opened it, the air that he wished for hit him in his face, hardly. But he was drunk, and he needed to get slightly sober before going to sleep, so he stepped out, hands in his pockets, and with unsteady feet. Amid the silence of the night, his phone chimed.

 

yushi

so did you get back to your room okey?

 

Was he… was he worried? Because of him?

sion

actuall no

i went utsid

tohav a ir

 

His hands were freezing cold while texting, but he loved messaging Yushi. It was a different way of communicating with him.

 

yushi

right now?

are you insane?

 

Sion’s thumb hovered, heart pounding loud enough to drown out the rustling trees. 

‘you make me insane’. That’s what he wanted to type.

The words sat heavy on his fingers, bitter and sweet all at once, but his drunk brain saved him, deleting them before they could spill. The screen blurred. He blinked, swaying slightly as he squinted at the glowing rectangle in his hand.

 

sion

no

jst wanted som air

 

A lie. Or maybe not. He didn’t know anymore. The night air was crisp, but it wasn’t the air he wanted; it was the way Yushi’s voice curled around his name, the way his texts felt like they were making him drunker, pulling him closer even when they were only a few meters apart.

 

yushi

where you at?

 

Sion’s breath hitched. His fingers moved clumsily, the letters jumbling as he fought to form words.

 

sion

grnds

 

yushi

??

 

sion

g ard ens

 

He looked up, the world tilting dangerously as his gaze dragged toward Yushi’s window. And there, light. A soft glow spilled through the glass, cutting through the dark like a beacon.

Sion’s pulse stuttered. No fucking way.

He was drunk, sure, but not that drunk. His feet moved before his brain could catch up, carrying him forward like gravity had shifted, pulling him toward that light, toward Yushi. The grass squelched under his shoes, wet and slippery, but he barely noticed. His chest ached, a stupid, hopeful thing, because Yushi was there, awake, texting him, and he was standing in the cold, staring up like some lovesick idiot, heart hammering against his ribs.

His phone buzzed again.

Sion didn’t dare look away from the window, as if the light might disappear if he blinked.

But the light stayed for a long minute, and his phone blinked again.

 

yushi

getting down

where u at?

 

Sion shifted his gaze, realizing that another light was on. The door at the entrance of Yushi’s building, and underneath that, him.

The moment Yushi stepped into view, the tilting world stilled for a second.

Sion almost slipped as he was walking over, the soju making his steps heavier than the ones he usually had, but it was all worth it because as soon as Yushi saw him getting closer, he smiled like a cat. He stood there, wrapped in that ridiculous jacket and scarf, snow boots planted firmly like he’d known Sion would come to him. Sion’s breath caught, the haze of alcohol and restless energy softening at the edges.

The rain misted between them, but Yushi’s gaze was steady, warm. Grounding. As if the earth itself had tilted just to bring them closer, and Sion was helpless to resist its pull.

And then, that smile. Small, knowing, curling at the corners like a secret just for him.

Sion’s chest tightened.

Yushi reached out, fingers brushing his sleeve, guiding him up the steps. Sion stumbled, but it didn’t matter; Yushi’s grip was sure, anchoring him. They were face to face after that, close enough that Sion could see the faint flutter of Yushi’s lashes, the way his breath fogged between them in little clouds.

“Hey,” Sion mumbled, voice thick, fully aware that he sounded stupid.

He had been two whole days thinking of him, and now that he had it right in front of him, he didn’t know what to say. What would someone say to Tokuno Yushi on a night like that?

You look brighter than the stars?

I don’t want to have free days because that means I don’t get to see you?

I want to kiss you again?

“Hello,” Yushi whispered, a small cloud coming out of his mouth, “You smell like alcohol.”

Just that, just his voice, low and feather-soft, and something in Sion’s ribcage unlocked.

“Had some,” Sion admitted, “Some beer, some soju…”

“You are not funny when you are drunk,” Yushi admitted, his eyes bright, teasing.

He was talking so softly that Sion almost couldn’t hear him over the buzzing in his ears.

“So I’m funny when I’m sober,”

“Didn’t say that.”

“Implied so,” He leaned in, just a fraction, testing. Yushi didn’t pull away.

The space between them hummed, charged. Sion’s pulse thundered in his ears, louder than the drizzle, louder than his own thoughts.

“Maybe I did,” Yushi admitted.

“Too drunk of Japanese,”

Yushi’s lips twitched. “Of Japanese?” he echoed, voice dipping lower. He was so close now that Sion could feel the warmth of his breath. “You drunk of Japanese?”

Sion’s stomach flipped.

“Drunk of you,” Boldness surged out of him, reckless and bright.

Yushi didn’t flinch. Didn’t laugh. His gaze flickered down to Sion’s mouth, then back up, slow. Deliberate.

“You didn’t have any of me today,”  Yushi said, quietly.

“Yet.”

The word slipped out before Sion could stop it, raw and wanting. Yushi’s breath hitched. Just once. Just enough so Sion couldn’t take it anymore. His hands found Yushi’s waist, gripping the thick fabric of his jacket, pulling him in, and he let him.

“Want me to change it?” Sion’s throat burned as he said those words.

Yushi nodded slowly, and Sion kissed him.

The kiss was soft at first, a brush of lips, tentative. But the second Sion felt Yushi sigh into it, felt his fingers curl into his sleeves like he never wanted to let go, something inside him clicked.

This was it. This is what he had been aching for.

This time, it felt like relief, like he could rely on him for the rest of his life. His hands tightened, and Yushi got his hands out of his pockets to hold him by his arms, asserting some kind of control over him, but not quite, because the next second he was parting his lips so Sion could kiss him however he wanted to.

Every kiss that he had with him felt different.

Yushi’s mouth was warm, yielding, perfect. Sion kissed him deeper, drunk on the way Yushi melted against him, the way his hands slid up to grip his biceps, not to push him away, but to hold on.

Every kiss with Yushi was different, but this one tasted like coming home.

Notes:

see... it wasnt that serious!

a lot to unpack here also!
1. the last scene where sion is half drunk was kind of inspired in that scene of young royals in the soccer court... iykyk
2. now the playlist is uploading at the same time as the fic! adding 3 songs each chapter hehe
3. thats all ?? anyways THANK U so much really for the support, i feel like i always say the same shit but i always feel so happy about the feedback so ill say it anyways!! thank u very very much for the kudos and recs and bookmarks and comments... i love hearing everyone's thoughts and im so grateful you share it with me like... rlly rlly thank u !!

Chapter 14: to be yours

Summary:

Because not needing Sion meant he wanted him close for completely different reasons.

Notes:

sorry if this is a flop i am really insecure about this one but i promise you the next four are actually great

“The fuck were you doing outside?”

Riku’s voice sliced through the dark, and Yushi’s stomach dropped like he’d missed a step on the stairs. His skin prickled with the sudden awareness of being caught, not just in the act of sneaking out, but in something far more dangerous. Something that he didn't even know what it was.

“Nothing.”

“Uh-huh, don’t nothing me.”

Riku went directly to turn on the light. He let out a breathy laugh as he saw Yushi’s outfit, half ready for a sleepover, half ready for a snowy hiking trip. He didn’t have a way out of this. It was clear evidence, and Riku snorted at it.

“It was just, Sion was going to his room and-”

He trailed off, hoping Riku would jump in with a joke, a dismissal, anything to spare him from having to explain. But Riku just crossed his arms, one eyebrow arched, waiting. Silence stretched painfully. Yushi turned away, busying himself with hanging up his coat, fingers fumbling over the hook.

“The other day we, we talked and…” Yushi turned around to hang his coat, whispering, “We kissed.”

“You what?! And you didn’t tell me?” Riku’s voice pitched higher. “When was this?”

“The day we went out.”

“Oh wow… But like… I’m lost.” He sat in his bed, legs crossed, with a curious face. “Didn’t you tell me you didn’t like him? Like a week ago?”

Yushi’s chest tightened. He did say that.

“I didn’t.”

“You didn’t tell me or you didn’t like him?”

“Like him.”

“But now you do.” It wasn’t quite a question.

Yushi opened his mouth, unsure of what he wanted to say. How could he explain when he didn’t even know? It wasn’t that simple. It wasn’t like he could jump from dislike to like, it wasn’t like nothing to something.  Sion had just… happened. But it didn’t happen in a day; it had happened like a slow creep of warmth, a quiet shift in the way Yushi’s pulse jumped when Sion smiled at him, when their hands brushed, when Sion looked at him like he was something precious.

But was that liking him? Or was it just the thrill of being wanted?

What if he was just mistaking gratitude for something more? Sion was kind to him, patient… was that all this was?

It couldn’t be. They had kissed. More than once.

And precisely because of that, because he knew the way Sion had kissed him, like he was trying to memorize the shape of Yushi’s mouth,  and the way Yushi’s stomach flipped when Sion’s fingers curled into his jacket, pulling him closer. He knew what he felt.

“Do you want to share with me what you are thinking?” Riku asked, softer now.

“I don’t know.”

And he didn’t. His thoughts were a tangled mess, knotted up between want and fear. Between wanting it too much and not being enough.

“We can talk about it tomorrow morning, sounds great?”

Yushi nodded, his body feeling relieved after Riku turned off the lights again.

“Goodnight Yushi, I love you.”

Yushi hummed in response, his thoughts too cramped to make sense out of words. He checked his phone to re-read Sion’s last text, but he saw he had texted him again a couple of minutes ago.

 

sion

thank u

 

Yushi smiled and pressed his fingers tighter against his phone, muffling a squeak in his pillow. He was pathetic.

 

yushi

you got to your room okay?

 

sion

yes, daeyoungg ws waitin

 

yushi

riku too

he asked me

 

sion

uu tld hi,m?

 

yushi

i had to

 

sion

thnk goddddd

ialso did

 

yushi

what did he say?

 

sion

hes stilldrun k k but

he said

abouttime

 

yushi

about time?

what does that mean?

 

sion

lik e

finnaly

 

yushi

finally?

why did he say that?

 

sion

probably bc he kno ws how mch iwanted it

 

Yushi can clearly decipher that Sion was drunk, but he didn’t expect those words, or attempts at them, from him. How much had he wanted to?

 

sion

fell sleep for a secnd

see u tormow?

 

yushi

maybe

 

sion

ican do maybe

goodnight ushi

 

Yushi smiled at the nickname. Maybe it was because he was drunk, but he was delusional enough to think it was a hundred percent intentional.

 

yushi

goodnight sion

 

Yushi knew he had to do something before going to sleep: write.

He knew the next morning he was going to have a long ass conversation with Riku, and because he wanted to be as clear as possible, he needed to start getting some of his thoughts organized to understand them. Last time it had helped to communicate with Sion, so maybe this time it could work with the one who suggested him to do it. He was too exhausted to reach for a notebook, so he thumbed open his phone’s notes app and typed

After almost what felt like an hour, his eyes were bloodshot red, and Riku was so close to starting sleep-talking, so he went to bed, with a hundred things on his mind but with some reassurance that it was going to be okay.

Maybe he hoped for too much, because he woke up to the beautiful sound of the fire alarm. The feeling was similar to when he woke up to Sion’s alarm, but this time the other boy wasn’t peacefully sleeping in Yushi’s bed; he was probably still sleeping and too hungover to wake up, at least for several hours more. This time, it was Riku who was in the room with him, suddenly letting out a hundred curse words per second.

Yushi bolted out of the bed, and for a second, he wondered why the room didn’t feel as cold, considering it was early December, but it didn’t mind when his gaze snapped to the counter. A bowl of lumpy dough. A mixer. Flames.

Since when did they own a mixer?

“Yushi, get out! We’re gonna die!” Riku screeched.

His brain worked as fast as it usually did; he was a man of action. He ran to the bathroom and caught a towel, wet it, and ran back to the small counter, throwing it on top of the burning mixer. The sizzling sound was uncomfortable, but nothing compared to the almost rotten smell of it. Riku opened the door quickly to let all the smoke come out, and a couple of people peeked while crossing. Some floor mates Riku knew asked him if they were okay, but Yushi didn’t go outside. He just removed the towel as the mixer wasn’t burning anymore and threw it in the trash directly.

He opened the windows, and when he was about to check what the fuck Riku was trying to cook, two men in uniform stepped inside, and Yushi’s lungs forgot how to work. Security guards.

Both tall. Both broad-shouldered. One with a sharp jawline and a voice that cut through the haze.

“We got the alarm signal. What happened? Is everyone okay?”

Yushi’s Korean failed him. He caught glimpses of their tags, Kim Mingyu and Choi San, but the letters swam. The room was too hot, even though it wasn’t in flames anymore. The one not speaking shrugged off his jacket, fanning the air, and Yushi’s knees nearly buckled.

Yushi was going to faint. Who the hell were these people? And why were they so… hot?

“Hello, my name is Kim Mingyu.” The taller one introduced himself. “We work for the University Security and Insurance company. We received the alarm signal a couple of minutes ago and came here right away. Is everything okay? What happened?”

He was explaining the same thing because Yushi didn’t answer him, and even if he sounded calmer, he was still talking too fast for his liking; half of the words he used were so technical that Yushi struggled to understand them, and maybe because the room was so hot, his brain got a bit dizzy.

“Hello? Are you hurt anywhere?”

The guard, Mingyu, came close to Yushi, but he stumbled back, his heel catching on nothing and the floor rushed up to meet him.

“Oh, sorry, come here, I’m sorry.”

A hand grabbed his arm, hauling him upright like he weighed nothing. Yushi gulped, not being able to look him in the eyes.

“Hi! Hi, I’m Riku, sorry I just…”

“Is everything okay? Do you know if he’s injured?”

“No, it’s just… He doesn’t know Korean, we’re from Japan, you know, we have been-”

“Sorry, could you explain what happened?” the second guard, San, interrupted him.

“Yes, officer!” Riku said, stiffening his body. Yushi wanted to hide in the closet.

“We are not officers.”

“Sorry, I just… Okay so like I was trying to make pancakes and like the dough was so dense I couldn’t mix them by hand so I took that mixer over there” Riku said, pointing at the charcoal-looking-like appliance “And like I left it there mixing and I went to wash my face and when I came back it was burning and-”

“Wasn’t the alarm sounding?”

“Yes, but I think after a few seconds, because uhm… like when I stepped out of the bathroom, I didn’t hear it, but I saw fire. God, it was scary.”

“Do you want to sit down?” Choi San offered.

Riku nodded, hand in his chest. He sat in his bed, the security guard sitting with him.

“I guess the fire wasn’t that big to like…”

“To trigger it?” Mingyu suggested

“Yes, I think so. But everything is great now. He did the whole wet towel over fire drill, and it died.”

Riku explained nonchalantly. Yushi couldn’t decipher if he was more affected by the fire or by these two men instead.

“It was only in the kitchen?” San asked.

“If you can call that a kitchen, then yes, only there, officer.”

“We are not- Thank you, we will check it,” Mingyu concluded.

Both guards checked the area, taking a few pictures. A third arrived with portable stairs to investigate the alarm and other components in the small electrical panel by the room entrance and the large one in the hallway. Riku stayed seated, glued to his phone, while Yushi inspected everything around his bed and desk. Riku couldn’t be trusted.

“So, everything is okay. The alarm went off a few seconds later because the plug short-circuited, but it’s fine now. You might want to check the voltage of old appliances before plugging them in and-”

“I’m really sorry,” Riku nodded frantically.

“It’s okay, luckily neither of you was injured. Keep the windows open for as much as you can.”

“But it’s winter-” Yushi’s mind slipped, getting weird looks from the guards.

“We will be okay.” Riku saved the situation. “Thank you very much.”

Riku walked them out, coughing slightly as he crossed through the hall. He closed the door quickly, still fanning some air towards the windows.

“Jesus Fucking Christ, Yushi, who were they?”

“Riku, what were you doing?”

“You heard me, pancakes. I wanted to have breakfast with you and-”

“But you don’t know how to cook.”

“I think everyone on our floor knows that, don’t you? I still wanted to try because-”

A knock on the door. This morning was getting worse by the minute. Riku hurried up and opened it. Of course, it was Daeyoung. And of course-

Why was Sion next to him? Couldn’t these two be apart from each other? Were they literally tied by some ancient magic?

Yushi straightened in his place, gulping, and he was tense until he saw Sion look back at him. He had some hint of worry in his eye, clearly hungover, with messily combed hair and, of course, those ugly shoes. He didn’t even register him entering the room first, getting close to Yushi. He thought he was going to faint again.

“Are you okay? Riku told Daeyoung about the fire.”

 Yushi nodded, and Sion grabbed his wrist and opened his arms, extending them. He was visibly scanning Yushi, and he couldn’t understand why.

“Are you not hurt?” Yushi shook confusedly, “Okay, okay, that’s great.” Sion dropped carefully, Yushi’s arms beside him, and they turned to see Riku and Daeyoung looking at them, smirking.

“What?” Sion said, defensively

“Nothing, nothing. Yushi, look, Daeyoung brought French toast. And tea!”

“I made the tea,” Sion muttered, half annoyed, half uninterested.

Yushi looked at him and smiled when he realized Sion was frowning.

“Riku told me you were going to grab breakfast but… yeah-”

“Are you implying it’s my fault?”

“I would never,” Daeyoung admitted, almost bowing.

“Thought so.” Riku kissed him on the cheek

“So we are leaving, we just wanted to check on you guys.”

Yushi wanted to punch Daeyoung. He didn’t need them to go, especially Sion, but he knew he had to talk to Riku.

They said goodbye quickly, Riku kissed Daeyoung once again, and Yushi and Sion looked at each other, embarrassed, but had to turn around because they couldn’t hold each other’s gaze for long.

Once the door was shut, Riku pointed at the floor, and Yushi nodded. They gathered some chopsticks and plates to eat Daeyoung’s breakfast, and some glasses to drink Sion’s tea.

“So, first of all, good morning.”

“I think we are past that.”

“Can’t lose manners.” Riku said while eating a huge piece of the toast, “Fuckin’ hell, this is incredible.”

“Edible?”

“Incr-edible.”

“Ah,” Yushi nodded, agreeing as soon as he took a bite.

They kept on having breakfast in silence. Yushi drank more than half of the tea, and Riku ate more than half of the toast. They were so obvious it was almost painful to see.

“About last night… Want to talk about it?”

The question that he didn’t want to hear came, and he swallowed hard before nodding slowly. He unlocked the phone as he explained to Riku.

“I wrote… last night, I wrote this.”

Yushi handed the phone to Riku, the other one just smiling and grabbing it carefully. Yushi didn’t need him to read it out loud; he had memorized every word he had written.

 

so i am writing this because i don’t think i can explain everything that i feel, not only for sion but everything. these past months have been a lot, but i think i’m doing good. there are things that i don’t comprehend still, but i want to move forward. and that means opening up. i know you have had a hard time with me, you and yuta, because you were the only two people i could rely on, but i want to change that. i don’t want to be a liability; i want both of us to live our lives. and i’m so grateful you decided to come to seoul.

thanks to you, i met sion. and daeyoung, and anton, … many more people than would have thought, and it's thanks to you. i feel too happy right now, and i am trying to handle it.

i had never felt this comfortable with someone that wasn’t you or yuta, and it's scary. i don’t know if it's because i do believe him or it’s because he’s the first one that he tried, but i like him. i like how he tries to know me, how he remembers me, how he thinks about me, how he looks at me. being with him is easy and peaceful, and i want to keep on feeling like this.

i lied when you asked me because i didn’t know any better. but i realized some things now.  i like sion. i like seoul. and i love being your friend. so thank you.

 

“Yushi, you are going to make me sob at ten in the morning, what the actual fuck dude,” Riku stands up, softly sobbing, “Didn’t know it was going to be like this.”

Yushi kept seated, wanting to give Riku his space.

“Okay, so- God wait,” Riku said, running to the bathroom to grab something to blow his nose with. “So you like him, and you like Seoul.”

Yushi nodded, sure of the words.

“Yushi, I love you so fucking much you have no idea.”

Riku threw himself on top of Yushi, telling him how proud he was of him. That instantly reminded him of the whole Park Minji situation. God, he was going to present in front of the class. He pushed Riku away, feeling a bit hot and overwhelmed.

“Sorry, you okay?”

“It’s just… we can talk about it later.”

Riku nodded, sushing him with his hands. Yushi just nodded back and sat down at his desk.

He tried to get most of the work done for his Facilities class. Around lunch, Riku told Yushi he was going to head out with Ryo and Sakuya. He just nodded, barely registering. A text snapped him out of his trance.

 

sion

good morning again

fell asleep when we came here again

how r u doing?

 

He giggled. Just because he texted him.

 

yushi

mm busy

doing facilities

 

sion

oh

and its going great?

i should get it done too

 

yushi

its fine

but i don’t know

 

sion

do you want to come over?

we can both work on it

daeyoung is with wonbin recording something

 

yushi

you sure?

i dont want to bother

 

sion

i could totally use your company

 

Yushi bolted from his desk, grabbing everything at once: his laptop, his notes, his favorite pencils. He changed into some loose jeans, a dark gray sweater, and his low black boots. He almost forgot his glasses on the way out, but he made it safely to Sion’s dorm. He knocked a couple of times before Sion opened the door. He really looked like he just woke up again, with messier hair than before, a hoodie over some insultingly short shorts, and the cutest sleepiest face he had ever seen.

And even though he was just standing like that, he was smiling from ear to ear and instantly giggling. Yushi looked at him, confused, trying to focus on his small laughing sounds rather than on Sion’s thighs.

“Sorry, I just-” Sion covered his mouth. “I don’t know, I don’t know, come in please.”

Yushi did as Sion told him, removing his boots and winter clothes at the entrance. Sion pointed at Daeyoung’s desk, neat as always, and Yushi nodded, getting ready.

“Do you want to show me what you have for next class?”

Sion asked him as he was getting his things out. Yushi shook his head, closing his notebook. He wasn’t ready to think about it.

“Oh, okay, sorry, I just- It’s okay! I don’t have mine finished either!”

Yushi bit his lip. He did have it finished; he was just working on his presentation. He wanted to present it to him when he was ready. He nodded, kind of dismissing Sion, and he got back to work.

But he couldn’t concentrate.

He turned around a couple of times just to check Sion out. He was sitting with one leg up on the chair, the shorts he was wearing revealing far too much skin for Yushi’s liking.

He gulped and turned around, trying to get more words out of his panicking brain, but he couldn’t.

He turned again.

“Sion, can you uhm…”

He rolled his chair to get closer to Yushi in an instant. Both his legs were now in the chair, bare, the faintest line of muscles as he pressed his feet against the floor to get even closer.

“Tell me.”

“Just like…”

Yushi looked at him, and even though Sion was looking at Yushi’s laptop at first, he turned around to meet his gaze as soon as Yushi stopped talking. He was weak; he was so weak for him.

“I just-”

Fuck.

How could he talk when the only thing he wanted on his lips was Sion’s?

Yushi blinked, and he saw it. Again.

Sion sticking his tongue out, wetting his lips.

Yushi didn’t think twice before he stood up and kissed him. Sion was still sitting, but he instantly straightened his back so Yushi could reach better. His hands went directly under Yushi’s sweater, under his shirt, under all the layers Yushi used to wear in front of him until he was touching his skin.

His fingers were glued to his waist, his thumbs tracing small circles in his abdomen. Yushi cupped Sion’s face with such fierce, he was sure of it. He only broke the contact to remove both of their glasses as it was getting uncomfortable, but as soon as Yushi got their lips together again, Sion pushed him closer, so he ended up straddling him in the chair.

The closeness was warm, the contact was all he needed. Sion’s hands were in the small of his back, pressing their bodies together, and Yushi kissed Sion like it was his lifeline, like his whole sanity depended on it. Maybe it did.

Sion moved his hands to Yushi’s thighs, but only for a second before he stood up, lifting both of them. Yushi stiffened, breaking the kiss, but before he could complain, Sion was placing him in his bed.

Yushi rested his elbows on it, seeing how close Sion was getting again, crawling into the bed like a cat, and they kissed again. It was intense, deep, wet, something out of a movie. They were desperate for each other, and the sounds they were making were only proving them right.

Sion’s body felt heavy on top of it, but only because he was so hot, he couldn’t stop touching him. Yushi wanted to undress him, to take everything out and just be with him, but his thoughts were shut down when Sion pressed just a bit against his lower stomach, and he realized how hard they both were. Yushi let out a moan that only made Sion kiss him harder, moving his lips to his neck, pressing small pecks that turned into deep kisses in mere seconds.

Everything was too much, but Yushi didn’t want less.

“Fuck Yushi, you make me insane,” Sion said silently, lips brushing against his jawline.

Yushi whimpered, like a silent cry. He needed to hear Sion.

“Say it again.” He whispered

“You make me insane, Yushi, I promise,” Sion repeated, slower, “I just, I think I’m losing my mind fuck.”

Yushi cupped his face to kiss him again, drunk on his words. He could hear him talk all day, all week, all his life. He needed Sion’s words.

“I need you, Yushi, I really do.”

Yushi nodded, not really knowing what he was agreeing to. Sion backed up, removing his hoodie, when they heard some keys dangling.

This couldn’t be happening.

“Fuck, fuck just,” Sion panicked, getting up quickly, “fake sleep.”

Yushi frowned at him, but before the person who was trying to open the door entered it, Yushi quickly turned around to face the wall and closed his eyes.

“Hello, hello!”

“Shh,” Sion whispered, “Yushi is here sleeping.”

“Oh, okay, sorry.”

Yushi recognized the voice in a second. Of course it was Daeyoung.

“I just- I needed to grab a couple of things to keep with the shooting,” he whispered to Sion “Is he okay?”

“Yeah, he just- he came to study, but he was feeling unwell, so I just told him to rest for a while.”

“Ah, nice, well, I brought the tea that you asked me to buy, the expensive one.”

Yushi had to bite his tongue not to laugh.

The whole situation was surreal. He was faking sleeping in Sion’s bed, half-hard because they were just making out, hearing about how Sion made Daeyoung buy some expensive tea.

“Yeah! Okay, nice, I will just-”

“Seriously though, like this shit it’s more than half-”

“Whatever, Daeyoung! I’ll pay you back, just-” Yushi could hear the strain in Sion’s voice.

“Okay, okay, don’t kill me, please. I’ll be back in an hour or so. Text me if you need anything more.” 

“Will do! Bye bye.”

As soon as the door was closed, Sion ran back to the bed, sitting next to Yushi. He turned around quickly, smiling at him.

“I’m so sorry, I just- We usually have like a code, but-”

“It’s okay.”

“Do you want to… keep on?” Sion asked tentatively.

Yushi considered folding, only because Sion looked incredibly flustered and he was caressing his cheek as he asked, but he had to decline.

“I need you to look at the presentation.”

“Oh fuck true, the presentation, let’s go.”

Sion stood up quickly, but Yushi took longer than a minute to fully calm down and sit down at the desk with Sion again, this time each in their respective seats.

“The project is amazing, you know it, and he knows.”

“I’ve changed what he told me, but- The whole presentation-”

“Do you want to explain it to me? And you can practice it.”

“It’s not finished,” Yushi excused himself.

It was practically finished, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He didn’t know what to add, what to say.

“It’s okay, let me help you.”

Sion’s voice slid into his head effortlessly, so Yushi nodded. Sion rolled the chair back and stared at Yushi.

“You can just start with whatever you have, and then we can continue together, okay?”

Yushi nodded.

He took out the notebook he was making notes on and started speaking slowly, almost whispering. He knew the words by heart; he had repeated them one by one during the day. Sion didn’t interrupt him; he just nodded at him, smiling. Yushi almost had to pause to laugh because Sion was too invested in him, but he had just finished the presentation on the last slide, unsure of his finishing words.

Sion clapped eagerly as Yushi finished. He thought that maybe it was the largest number of words he had said to him since they had known each other. Yushi smiled, nodding, proud.

“That was great! You did better than me, honestly.”

“Don’t lie…”

“I’m not! You really know how to use your words, Yushi, I’m telling you.” Sion got closer to the computer, getting to one slide in the middle of the presentation “Here I would add the importance of the surrounding constructions, and...uhm.. here” he said, skipping more slides until he reached one of the latest ones “I would just make the section bigger and I would take a bit more time explaining it. It has a lot of detail, so why hide it?”

Yushi shrugged, but wrote down what Sion said.

“I think you have it. Want to go again?”

Yushi nodded, and he presented to Sion once again. Then twice. After the fifth time, Yushi could see how Sion’s lips curved to mouth the words he was about to say.

“I think you have it already, Yushi. Want to go again?”

Sion was restless; each time he asked, he had more energy than the one before, but Yushi’s head was starting to hurt.

“Maybe tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow it is! I think I’ll move on to my project then, if you don’t mind.”

“Please, uhm… do you need help?”

“Not really, but if you want to check it, I would love it.”

Yushi nodded, both rolling back to Sion’s desk.

He glanced at Sion’s files, sleep getting through him as he was just sitting over there, staring at a low-brightness screen while Sion mumbled things. He rested his head on his shoulder, trying his best to keep up with whatever he was saying, but he was feeling too tired after speaking too much about the same topic over and over again, so he just dozed off for a while.

He woke up almost half an hour later, Sion still working on his plans, only using the arm that Yushi wasn’t using to sleep. He smiled as he saw, quickly straightening his back and yawning.

“I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t know I was that boring.”

Yushi frowned, and as he was about to complain, Sion pressed a small kiss on his forehead.

“I’m joking. You were too cute sleeping, I couldn’t wake you up.”

Yushi blushed, quickly standing up to pick up his things. It was late, and he needed to shower, have dinner, and go to sleep early before his mind drifted to the anxiety of the presentation.

“Want me to walk you back?”

Yushi shook his head slowly, closing the zipper of his backpack.

“Sure?”

“You are in pajamas.”

“And? Let me change.”

Sion jolted to the bathroom, grabbed some clothes he had on the floor, and came out of the bathroom dressed.

Yushi thought he could throw on a trash bag, and he would still look breathtaking.

They both walked slowly through the gardens, Sion’s touch grounding him, making his headache go away. He cursed internally because everything was just so easy with him; he wished he had met him since forever, but he knew he wouldn’t have been able to talk to him.

He was glad things turned out as they did, because nothing could beat the way Sion hugged him at his room door, kissing his forehead. Yushi tiptoed to kiss him on the cheek, which made Sion giggle.

“You are so giggly today.” Yushi pointed out, taking his keys out.

“You make me so happy.”

Yushi wanted to punch him in the face, but instead he kissed him one last time and entered his room, closing the door behind him, as if the tension would be gone as easily. He waited for five seconds, for ten, twenty. Then he opened the door slightly, but Sion wasn’t there. He opened it more, praying that no one would see him at the moment, he would sure look like a stray cat, but as soon as he peeked his head out of the door, Sion was there, pressed against the wall. He shifted quickly and cupped Yushi’s face, giving him a long kiss, long enough that Yushi felt how his shoulders relaxed completely.

“Thank you for today,” Sion whispered against his nose as he separated.

“For what?”

“For not dying in the fire, and for showing me your work.” Sion explained, “Also for letting me walk you here.”

Yushi blushed, shaking his head. Sion just waved at him, walking slowly backwards through the hall. He smiled, like an absolute fool, until he bumped shoulders with someone. He apologized and waved one more time until he started walking down the stairs.

Yushi got into his room with heavy feet, not really knowing if he could handle the overwhelming feeling of his heart bumping in his chest every single day. He was used to feeling anger, tightness, pressure, anxiety, but not this overwhelming… love.

Before he could kneel and cry over it, Riku came out of the shower, fully dressed in some clothes he had never seen, which he guessed were from Daeyoung.

“Oh, hello, where were you?”

“Sion’s.”

“You guys are unbearable.” He teased, “Are you up for dinner? Need to ask you about something.”

Yushi’s stomach tightened. He didn’t want dinner; he had to learn his presentation. He gulped.

“Uhm, I… I don’t know I-”

“It’s okay, we can talk tomorrow if you want. It had been a long day.” Riku said, approaching the kitchen, but Yushi bolted and covered the counter with both his arms.

Riku snorted, threatening him to step away or he could take a picture of him. Yushi did, but he grabbed Riku by his elbow, threatening him with his gaze.

“God, leave me alone.” Riku yanked him off. “I’m going to take some leftovers. On the microwave.”

“I’ll get them. Just stay away.”

Riku cursed at him but accepted anyway, going to sit on his desk. Yushi warmed up some noodles and paired them with some marinated tuna he had done days ago. When he dropped them at Riku’s desk, he grabbed him by the hip and kissed his arm.

“I love you, I want you to know that.”

“I know.” Yushi looked away. “I love you too.” He whispered.

When he looked back at Riku, he was smiling from ear to ear. That put him in a better mood for the rest of the night.

He went to sleep late, tired of his own project as he was revising it over and over, and prayed for the best.

He woke up an hour before his alarm, and like a programmed robot, he glued himself to the chair. He went over his own notes five times before he hopped in the shower, quickly only to go back to his presentation. He lost track of time, and he got late for class. Not late enough to alert Sion, but late enough to not have time to mentally prepare for the struggle that it was going to be that morning. The moment he saw the Korean boy, his mind eased. Sion, who had saved his seat, who’d left him a note and tea in a Hydroflask, the steam still curling lazily from the spout.

 

ur gonna crash it

<3

 

Yushi blinked at the word crash, fingers hovering over the paper. Before he could ask, Sion was already scribbling again, pen scratching hurriedly.

 

ur gonna crash it do amazing

<3 <3

 

The correction shouldn’t have made his chest tighten. But it did.

He nodded and smiled at him, then he tried the tea. It was something floral, definitely expensive, maybe it was Sion’s favorite. He’d tease him about it later. Maybe press him against a wall between kisses and murmur, just for him to-

“Tokuno Yushi,” Park Minji’s voice sliced through the fantasy.

The feeling didn't ease. It didn’t matter if he had already said his name or if he had already seen his work; this time, it was going to be him who presented it. When Yushi stood, it wasn’t just his own pulse roaring in his ears; it was the collective hitch of his classmates’ breaths, their surprise palpable. They’d forgotten he was doing this alone now. He wished he could have forgotten, too.

His hands shook as he plugged in the flash drive.

“Don’t need to explain everything,” Minji said, like he was bored. “Just whatever you changed for this class.”

Yushi’s chest relaxed a bit more, already cutting through the middle of his explanation if he didn’t need to explain the whole thing again. He exhaled, glancing down at his notebook, Korean on the left, Japanese on the right, both blurring under his nervous gaze.

He closed it; he didn’t need the notebook; he knew it word by word. He looked up, glanced at Minji, but he wasn’t even looking at him; he was dumbly scrolling on his phone, so he directed his gaze towards Sion, who was staring directly at him.

Yushi counted to ten in his head and started talking, not breaking the contact with Sion. He was mouthing exactly the words as Yushi said them, which steadied him in ways he didn’t know it could be possible. His voice was barely above a whisper, but it didn’t matter. The room was silent, listening. For once, he was the one holding their attention, and it was terrifying.

As the final words left his lips, relief rushed through him, not just the fleeting kind that comes from surviving something difficult, but something deeper, more permanent.

He had done it.

This was his work, his thoughts, his voice. No pauses for Sion to bridge the gaps. No panicked glances begging for rescue. For the first time, the pride he felt wasn’t borrowed. It was his own.

A quiet realization settled in his chest… He didn’t need Sion to do it.

The thought should have been freeing. And it was, mostly, but tangled in the triumph was something else, something he couldn’t name yet. Because not needing Sion meant he wanted him close for completely different reasons.

He looked at Park Minji as soon as he was done spiraling, and he was staring at him deeply. Yushi started sweating, feeling his throat tighten and his legs failing.

“It’s great, it just needs more work. Well done.” He flipped a couple of pages, “Song Junseo, next.”

Yushi blinked twice, then looked at Sion, who was already grinning, wild and proud, motioning some ‘hurry up, hurry back’. Yushi fumbled with his things, fingers clumsy, heart pounding. Back at his seat, before he could think about anything else, a girl turned around and offered a sweet smile.

“I really liked it, Yushi,” she said, whispering, offering both thumbs up

Yushi nodded, flustered.

“He nailed it right?” Sion crowed, louder than necessary.

“Totally! I think you could get into the Dean’s List!” he said cheerfully

“I don’t think so, Yunah,” Sion said, but he was still beaming. “Most abroad students can’t-”

“Can you all please be quiet?” Minji’s voice cracked like a whip. “Junseo is presenting.”

Yushi flinched, quite forgetting everything he had heard since he had sat down. Yunah muttered a sorry and turned around again, focusing on his classmate, but Sion didn’t; he turned around to see Yushi, to see him in the eyes, and a smile slipped.

He couldn’t stop smiling when he was around him; he didn’t know what else to do.

How was he supposed to stay still when Sion looked at him like he was the only person that mattered in the whole world? Like, he could stare at him forever? He wanted to reciprocate everything that he made him feel; he wanted him to feel the same. He had to; he owed him at least that.

“You great?”

Yushi nodded, for the first time feeling absolutely fearless.

Notes:

so that was it... i literally dont know what to say just like really thank u for all the support ONCE AGAIN i cannot shut my mouth about it, not only for this fic but for mentha and strawberry season too!!! also thank u for reaching me out in twitter!! love to read ur feedback there too ehhehe

hope ur having a great summer and i everyone enjoy surf!!

Chapter 15: touchdown

Summary:

For the first time in weeks, Sion’s mind was quiet.

Notes:

oh god sorry to be writing this so late but... kind of mr. plankton spoiler... not rlly bc it's what happens literally in the first frame of the show but like... just in case

Sion woke up feeling drained. He unlocked his phone, vision blurry as he wasn’t wearing his glasses.

Thursday, 9 December. 07:28 a.m.

Only two minutes before the alarm, only eleven more days to winter break.

He hadn’t thought about winter break in forever, which was unusual for him. He loved spending Christmas in Mokpo and New Year’s in Seoul, with Jaehyun and Liv. He had been doing it for two years, and he hoped this year wasn’t going to be different.

 

sion

winter plans?

 

jaehyun

good morning to you too

can i call you?

 

Sion called him, not bothering anymore to text him.

“Good morning.”

“Someone sounds awake,” Jaehyun teased. “Why are you asking me now about winter break?”

Sion rubbed his temple, already regretting the call. “Because I have ten days to finish half my submissions and study the other half, and I don’t even want to think about it.”

“Got it,” Jaehyun’s tone shifted, pragmatic. “So I was thinking the usual, we go to Mokpo… uhmm… let me check-”

“Can’t be earlier than Monday twenty”

“Then Monday it is, better for me, the roads will be emptier.” 

Sion rolled his eyes. Jaehyun sounded like his dad when he said shit like that.

“And we come back around next week, maybe?” His brother added.

“Fine. Is Liv coming with us to Mokpo this year?”

“She says he has to sort a couple of things out, but I think she can make it.” Jaehyun’s voice brightened instantly.

“Nice,”

“Need anything more?”

Sion’s grip tightened on the phone. He could tell him. Right now. 

Hey, so I’ve been kissing this guy, and I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.

But he quickly went through different scenarios, from questioning him until he fell asleep again to switching the whole call into a FaceTime session. His body shivered, maybe not in the phone. Ten more days wouldn’t kill him.

“Not really,”

“Sure?”

“Sure, Jaehyun, now leave me, I have to shower.”

“Okay, don’t act like you’re not the one who called-”

Sion hung him up. He wasn’t having it.

He quietly went to grab his laptop and his glasses, which were splattered across de desk, sitting right back in the bed, trying not to wake Daeyoung up. He opened his schedule and the calendar, dividing the screen to get a glimpse of both.

Christ.

He had already done a couple of submissions and essays, but he still needed to complete the five most important. He checked the dates.

art history 2 - friday december 10

architectural design of service facilities - monday december 13

mechanics 3 – wednesday december 15

physics – thrusday december 16

greenery design – friday december 17

Okay great.

Great.

He covered his mouth and let out a silent scream. 

God, he was fucked.

He closed his laptop and went for that much-needed shower. While waiting for the water to get warm, he texted Yushi. 

 

sion

good morning

 

yushi 

good morning!

 

Sion smiled to himself.

 

sion

you in a good mood today?

 

yushi

like im usually in a bad one?

 

sion

my bad 

i just thought u sounded cheerful 

god forbid a guy who cares about you

 

yushi

i am in a good mood

i talked w my brother

hes going to be home for christmas

 

sion

oh thats great

 

Sion was about to ask another silly thing until his brain clicked. Home. Yushi’s home.

 

sion

you going to japan for the break?

 

yushi

yes, why?

want to come with me? haha

 

Sion’s right eye started twitching. He hadn't thought about Yushi leaving for Japan, at least not until- He didn’t want to even think about when the academic year ended. Why hadn’t he thought that Yushi was probably going to go back to Japan?

 

sion

i cant haha

when r u leaving anyway?

 

Sion sent those almost with tears in his eyes.

 

yushi

next sunday

i forgot the day 

 

The shower water finally turned warm, but Sion stood frozen, phone clutched in his hand. Yushi's last message glowed mockingly bright. The realization hit like a sucker punch. His thumb hovered over the keyboard, suddenly clumsy. He typed out three different responses before settling on the blandest possible.

 

sion

19 

 

yushi

yes

how are you doing with history?

need any help?

 

Sion locked his phone and almost slammed it into the wall. Enough internet for the day. The water suffocated his thoughts, scalded his skin, and almost burned his chapped lips, but he stepped in anyway. It was better than thinking about how the hell he was supposed to focus on finals now.

He scrubbed at his hair hard enough to hurt.

Stupid.

So stupid not to have seen this coming. Of course Yushi would go home. Of course he’d want to see his family. That’s what normal people did during breaks; that’s what he was going to do during his break, but it was only going to be for a week and then come back. He didn’t want to be in Seoul without him.

The water ran cold. Sion didn’t notice.

He didn’t spend a second longer choosing clothes, just some light gray sweats, some black sneakers, a black hoodie, and the usual jacket-scarf-hat-gloves combo. 

He got to the class first; lately, he had been winning Yushi over that, but it felt emptier. Maybe it was the winter, already knocking on the door, or the fresh smell of that cleaning product he really liked. Maybe it was that in ten days, he wasn’t going to be able to see Yushi for three weeks. 

As he sat down, last row, usual spot, feeling the chair colder against the stretchy material. Maybe he should have worn something thicker. Maybe he should have thought about-

“Sion?”

He looked up, Yushi almost towering over him.

“ Hi, ” He quickly said.

“ Hi, ” Yushi answered, sitting next to him.

“You look great.”

Yushi looked better than just great. He wore a knitted navy sweater over a white shirt, dark jeans, white sneakers, and had parted hair. Sion looked like some straight guy next to him, which made him cringe at himself.

“You look great too.”

“ Don’t lie. ” Sion frowned.

“I’m not, you do look great, but you sound sad.”

Sion flinched at Yushi’s words.

“I just… I’m a bit stressed about tomorrow’s exams. I’m happy this is our last class of the semester, honestly.” His mouth moved faster than his brain. 

Was he happy about it, really?

“Do you want to study together?” Yushi suggested softly.

“I don’t know, I’m pretty far behind,” Sion admitted. 

He should have said, ‘Not really, I haven’t really started, and I don’t want to drag you with me to the abyss,’ but he didn’t. 

“It’s okay,” Yushi whispered while nodding.

“I’ll let you know, okay?”

Sion brushed Yushi’s cheek, his mark almost sizzling under his thumb. God, he was pretty.

Yushi was pretty and logical. And Sion wasn’t ugly, but he wasn’t logical either. He didn’t want to see Yushi. He knew the more he saw him before he was going to go, the more he was going to miss him. But the decision was taken. He would focus on his exams and submissions, go to Mokpo through winter break, then Seoul, and then, when he came back, they could be together again.

But he couldn’t get attached right now.

Not if he was going to go, if not permanently now, in six months.

Sion only thought about that during their last semester class. The months shortened in his imagination, the weeks shrinking. He knew the second semester was always shorter than the first one. How was he going to make it? 

Yushi tried to steady him during physics, resting a hand on his thigh, the brush of shoulders as they leaned over notes… every act left phantom imprints on Sion’s skin. He found himself memorizing the exact curve of Yushi’s lashes when he looked down at his notebook, the way his lips parted slightly when concentrating. Stockpiling memories like he wasn’t going to get them anymore.

In other circumstances, Sion would have folded and kissed him on the spot, but he didn’t want to think about anything like that, not when his touch burned against his skin.

Professor Wooyoung was explaining something about thermodynamics and heat transfer. Sion honestly had lost track of when in the semester Professor Jung had switched from thermal expansion to earthquake-resistant principles, and then to thermal insulation again. All he could focus on was the cruel irony, learning about heat transfer while desperately trying to stop the warmth between them from seeping deeper into his bones.

He didn’t have the strength to keep on with the class, and Yushi seemed to know, because when it finished, the clock announcing three p.m., he slid his notebook into his backpack.

“What are you doing?”

“The exam is next week,” Yushi said, and Sion nodded, “You can give it back then.”

Sion agreed silently, closing the zipper of the bag. He caressed Yushi’s cheek one more time when everyone had left the class.

“I think I’ll be busy these days, trying to, like… save the whole semester in a week.”

Yushi laughed softly and nodded, clueless. He didn’t understand, couldn’t see the countdown ticking behind Sion’s eyes.

“I’ll text you if I need something. See you tomorrow?”

Yushi nodded, both of them walking out of the class. When they waved at the door, each of them went to their respective rooms. Sion’s lockdown began with the click of his door latch echoing like a prison gate. He needed to lock the fuck in for real this time if he wanted to pass the classes at least; he wasn’t even aiming for an A this time. But this time it wasn’t just for exams anymore. It was for survival. 

If he started missing him now, he wouldn’t miss him when he was gone… if he let himself miss Yushi now, in these small stolen moments between flashcards and caffeine crashes, maybe the real goodbye wouldn’t wreck him.

The procedure was simple: wake up early, coffee, breakfast if he had any, study, eat lunch if Daeyoung had prepared any, coffee, study, leftovers, sleep. He worked like a robot, only acting like a human when he stole moments of grounding in the shower, under scalding water, late at night when his body demanded release. Even then, his thoughts betrayed him, flashes of Yushi’s parted lips, Yushi’s laugh.

Daeyoung hated it when Sion got into this mode, and he had tried to explain to him that it wasn’t because he was unorganized; it was just that he simply didn’t have enough time to make everything that they had asked for. Daeyoung didn’t believe him, and Sion didn’t try to be petty about it. At the end of the day, he was cooking and doing his laundry; he could say whatever he wanted to.

He did poorly in his first exam, already regretting not asking Yushi for help when the Japanese boy extended his exam sheet with a faint smile on his face. He was going to nail it, and everyone knew. The teacher could probably just grade it without looking at it.

He didn’t dwell on it; he just went to his room before Yushi could spot him biting his nails in the hall.

Back at it, he spotted Daeyoung pacing around the room, memorizing something Sion couldn’t even understand. He clocked in again, and when he was about to get his AirPods out, his roommate interrupted his thoughts.

“How did the exam go?”

“Badly.”

“Okay, want to tell me why?”

“Because I didn’t study enough.” Sion looked at him angrily

“Okay, when is the next one?”

“Monday,” Sion whispered, already feeling tired.

“And you were leaving next Monday, right? Want to do something on Sunday?”

“Friday please.”

Sion needed it, not only because he would be done with exams but because he needed to think about another thing that wasn’t Yushi leaving.

“Perfect.”

“What are you going to do for winter break?”

He only hoped Daeyoung would share his misery so he had someone to finally open up himself about it, but that wasn’t the case.

“Oh my god, I didn’t tell you?” Daeyoung’s voice lifted with that particular glee reserved for happy news. “Riku is coming with me to Daegu. He was going to stay here for the break anyway, so I offered for him to come with me. Not the whole break, but like half of it.”

Sion bit his lower lip and nodded, trying to find the words for it.

“Congratulations.”

“Sorry?” Daeyoung asked with a laugh, confused

“I mean, great for you. I’m so happy about it. So happy.”

“Oh, okay, thanks? I guess?” Daeyoung squinted his eyes at him, focused, “Are you okay, bro?”

“Tired, very tired.”

“Well, just try to eat a bit more and drink less coffee.”

“You sound like Jaehyun when he tries to sound like my dad, it’s quite nightmarish,” Sion said, faking a shiver.

Daeyoung just flipped him off and went on with his study session, Sion locking in with his earphones.

The weekend went as he had planned, barely surviving, studying, and trying not to text Yushi. He needed to make it through their finals at least.

The Facilities Design submission uploaded with an anticlimactic click. Relief should have flooded him, one less weight crushing his chest, but it just left room for the other anxieties to expand. As he sent it, Yushi sent him his.

 

yushi

[attachment]

this is my final submission

in case you wanted to check it

 

sion

thank you

i honestly wanted to see the final version

 

Sion’s fingers moved before his brain caught up, downloading the files with the reverence of a scholar unearthing sacred texts, in this case, seeing thoroughly every panel, every drawing. It was flawless, out of a professional architecture portfolio, detailed, thoughtful. And then, a text that hit him like a punch.

 

yushi

can i see yours too?

 

The question punched through him. Polite. Curious. Devastating. He hit send before he could think better of it, then physically recoiled from his laptop like it had burned him and put his phone in DND. He went for a run, and as he returned, he grabbed a quick shower, and when he was out, Daeyoung was in the room again.

“Why are you here?” He asked, startling Sion.

“Here as in my room you say?”

“Our room,” He corrected, “but yeah. Are you not going to the library with Yushi? Riku told me they were going to spend the afternoon there. I might join them later.”

“Well, I’m not going, I need to concentrate.”

“Are you okay?” Daeyoung asked, concerned.

“Just very busy, very, very busy.”

“But you just went for a run.”

“God forbid a guy wants to stay fit.”

Sion answered ironically because he knew what Daeyoung meant by that.

“You never go for runs when you are academically stressed, you always go when you are feelings-stressed.”

“Riku’s turning you into a damn therapist.”

“You could say that,” Daeyoung said proudly. “Are you going to tell me or…?”

“I don’t want to see Yushi because he’s going away for the winter break, and I know when I’m back from Mokpo, I’m going to miss him like crazy so-”

“So you think it’s a great idea to start missing him now when you need him the most.”

Need him the most.

What an odd thing to say, Sion thought. He didn’t need Yushi, especially not now.

“I don’t-”

“Him, and us, and everyone. Sion, you are very stressed and you could use some-”

“I could use some silence, actually, to get things done.”

Sion plugged the AirPods so deeply in his ears that he flinched, but he still blasted some loud music and kept on with his plan. He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to think about the words Daeyoung said, how they resonated, how he almost agree-

No.

He didn’t need anyone. Especially not now, when his entire academic future was collapsing. He hated this. All of it. The endless calculations, the stretched-out nights, the way his hands shook holding a fucking flash drive. 

Was this really what he wanted? Or had he just been too stubborn to admit defeat?

He spent the next day studying Mechanics, feeling miserable. Every bad decision he had made over the past day, months, years, everything was coming back at him. He felt the pressure in his chest too tight, like he was letting out thoughts he didn’t even think he had, but he definitely didn’t want them. He was spiraling, and he couldn’t stop.

So you think it’s a great idea to start missing him now when you need him the most.

Sion sighed, Daeyoung’s words echoing in his skull like a stuck record . As if he hadn’t been mentally screaming those words on loop since they were spoken.

He knew he was miserable. Knew he was insufferable. How could he possibly let Yushi close when he couldn’t even stand his own company?

The thoughts went too fast in his brain, his hands shook with anxiety, and not a single equation went through his mind.

But the next day, as he sat down and saw the exam sheet, he knew he was going to do good. His pencil flew across the page with a confidence he hadn’t felt in weeks. Only the sight of Yushi submitting early gave him pause, because he saw Yushi submitting the exam sooner than anyone and he thought that maybe he didn’t do good, but that couldn’t be, it was probably that he found it too easy. 

When Sion finally submitted his own paper, stepping into the hallway felt like surfacing from deep water. And there Yushi stood, holding coffee and pastries like a peace offering. Like Yushi had something to do with his isolation and wanted to fix it.

Sion folded.

Daeyoung was right.

Maybe he did-

Yushi simply handed him the offerings and turned to leave, but Sion was already moving, pulled by some invisible tether between them. Maybe they were more connected than he had thought.

“Yushi wait.”

The way Yushi turned, first surprise, then that radiant smile that lit up his whole face, his perfectly aligned teeth on full display, it punched the air from Sion’s lungs. Why did he have so many teeth? The absurd thought bubbled up, and Sion giggled, the sound foreign even to his own ears.

“I’m sorry I have been distant, I’m just stressed.”

“It’s okay, I just wanted to give you that.”

Yushi whispered, pointing at the bag. 

“Did you do well, on the test?” Yushi nodded, eyes crinkling, then tilted his head in question. “I’m glad, me too, I think,” Sion admitted, the words fragile.

The hallway was filling with students, their chatter swelling around them. Yushi tensed visibly, his shoulders creeping toward his ears. Without thinking, Sion grabbed his hand and went up the stairs to the third floor, which was absolutely empty. Sion didn’t want to talk; he didn’t want to explain, he just wanted to hold him, to exhaust himself in his arms.

He slowly put down the coffee and bag on the stairs and did as he wanted, hugging Yuhshi tightly. Students’ murmurs could faintly reach the third floor, the screech of chairs, the doors opening and closing, laughs… all the sounds tried to get into Sion’s mind, but the only thing he could focus on was Yushi. Yushi’s warmth, his soft hands wrapping around him, his gentle scent, his cheek mark, his eyes…

When they finally pulled apart, Sion couldn’t resist pressing a kiss to Yushi’s cheek mark, his thumb brushing over it afterward. Yushi melted into the touch, his eyes fluttering closed, and Sion was lost.

“ I missed you, ” he blurted, the words raw. “Damn, I missed you, and I’m going to miss you so much, Yushi.” His brain was spilling over now, all the fears he’d been choking back. “I’ve been thinking about it, I hadn’t thought about it before - about you leaving, and-”

“Only three weeks.”

“I know, but after that-” Sion pulled away entirely, pacing like a caged animal, fingers raking through his hair. “I don’t want to think about it, but my brain won’t stop-”

“Calm down.” Yushi approached him and grabbed his hands, “Breathe.”

Sion tried. He really did. But his chest felt like a vise, each inhale sharp with unshed tears. Then Yushi started absently playing with his fingers as a distraction, and something in Sion’s ribs unlocked. He exhaled long and shuddering.

“I don’t want to be like this in this fucking week, we have so much to do and-”

“Let’s finish them first, and then we can talk.”

Sion nodded, the motion automatic. It wasn't until he was halfway back to his dorm that the words detonated in his skull like a time-delayed bomb. He had been too focused on his stupid, perfect face and adorable eyes.

Let’s finish them first, and then we can talk.

Was he…

Oh god.

Oh. Yushi was going to break up with him, and they weren’t even dating.

Oh, that was humbling.

 

sion

if someone says to you

then we can talk

 

shotaro 

they r breaking up w you

whos the lucky hoe

 

Sion's breath hitched.

 

sion

yushi

not a hoe

 

shotaro

????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????

 

sion

but maybe he means

 

shotaro

??????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????

 

sion

shotaro im being dead serious

im about to pass the fuck out 

where are you? 

can i go to your room?

 

shotaro

im about to go into my music performance exam

but we can meet later

 

sion

cant later

i do need to study

 

shotaro

and now you dont ????

 

Sion locked his phone with a sharp click, silently cursing Shotaro for being right. The walls of his dorm room felt like they were closing in; he couldn’t face anyone right now, least of all the friend he’d just confessed his messy, undefined thing with Yushi to.

What even was this thing between them?

They hung out. A lot. They texted frequently. They kissed like they were trying to memorize each other’s mouths. Sion wanted all of him with a hunger that sometimes scared him.

But Yushi-

No. Yushi had said it too. I like you.

Sion forced a breath in. Then another.

Twenty minutes later, he mechanically opened his physics textbook, burying himself in equations until his vision blurred. Miraculously, by next morning, he’d scraped together enough focus to stumble through the exam. He didn’t dare glance at Yushi once. The moment he finished, he bolted.

He intended for his afternoon to be productive, but something in his chest was growing. He felt anxious all the rest of the day, almost unable to sleep, but he knew he had to do great on his last exam. 

Friday arrived. Sion moved through the motions like a ghost, shower, coffee, notes reviewed in a numb haze. Greenery Design had been his strongest subject all semester. He knew this; he had confidence in himself. But that same confidence might have vanished the moment he saw Yushi standing at the door, waiting for the class to open. 

The exam started. Sion’s mouse moved on autopilot, but his gaze kept slipping, just for a second, just to check, towards Yushi. The way his brow furrowed slightly when he read a question. The way he tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear.

Sion finished first again.

When he stepped into the hallway, the weight of the semester finally slid off his shoulders.

Semester was done. Fucking finally. He texted everyone.

 

sion

finished exams!!!

 

jaehyun

did they go okay??

 

sion

half and half i think

i will get the results in two weeks so 

we can celebrate/cry together

 

jaehyun

perfect

im so proud of you sion

 

Sion rolled his eyes, switching from his brother’s texts to his friends.

 

sion

just finished exams fuckers

who wants to meet today

 

shotaro

mememmemememee

me……

but i have one this afternoon

i finish at eight

 

daeyoung

same 

 

jisung

same

 

wonbin

same 

 

sion

????????

okay

 

“Hey”

Yushi’s voice was so soft it barely disturbed the air, yet it shattered Sion’s fragile composure. He turned, half-convinced he’d hallucinated it, another side effect of six days running on caffeine and panic. But he wasn’t dreaming; it was Yushi.

Black-haired, glasses perched on his nose (exam fatigue, probably), smiling at him like Sion was something precious. That smile threatened to unravel everything Sion had painstakingly bottled up.

All of the feelings he had been bottling up over the past days were threatening to go out, and once they started, Sion knew it was going to get ugly. 

“Do you want to… maybe go to my room and talk?”

Yushi nodded, and Sion felt relief.

The walk to the dorm was agony. No touching. No glances. Just the deafening silence of everything unsaid between them. Sion hated himself for making the situation so unbearable, but he didn’t know how to handle it. The stairs felt heavy under his feet, his keys were colder than he thought, sharper even. As they got inside the room, he instantly texted Daeyoung.

 

sion

yushi is in the room

we are going to be talking

but please don’t enter

cant bother looking for the goddam paper right now

 

He didn’t even wait for a reply, just locked it and put it on the small kitchen counter. 

Their moves mimicked each other, removing all the heavy winter clothes in such care, as if shedding too much too fast would expose things neither was ready to name. Sion moved slowly, his feet dragged across the floor like he couldn’t hold his weight, and sat down in his bed. Yushi mimicked him once again, but with much more elegance. It was always like that.

“This might not make sense,” as if shedding too much too fast would expose things neither was ready to name.

Sion felt his mouth dry, like his body didn’t want to speak out loud what he had been torturing himself over, but he tried anyway. He’d carve himself open for him.

“I guess I didn’t think about the whole concept of you leaving. And I am not only talking about this winter break, I mean like, in June, when we finish third year, so I guess reading those texts, reading that you were leaving, they felt like a sick joke, you know?” Sion half laughed, “It’s ridiculous Yushi, I have been three years here, in  Seoul, and
suddenly I can’t imagine this without you. Maybe it’s not that I can’t, maybe is that I don’t want to, which is worse.”

The tears came then, hot and shameful. Words spilled faster, trying to avoid his feelings.

“I feel selfish, I feel like I don’t belong, I don’t even want to be an architect, and yet here I am, submitting fucking childish attempts at projects I don’t even know how to explain. I feel lost, and I don’t know what to do, and you are the only thing that’s anchoring me to the present, to what really matters, and I can’t let you go, Yushi.”

Yushi’s sweater sleeve brushed his cheek, catching tears. The touch was gentle. Devastating. It was always like that with him.

“I want to be close to you,” Sion whispered. “But if I have to say goodbye in six months, I’d rather never see you again. Because missing you? Forever? I can’t,” he finally admitted, “I haven’t lived it and I already know that I can’t.”

Sion ended up with a final sob, Yushi holding onto him like he meant everything to him. He let himself believe it, delude himself into thinking Yushi needed him as much as he did. The thought soothed him for a slight second before he heard Yushi’s throat gulping.

“I- I asked to be transferred here.”

Sion stood up from the bed so quickly that he had to sit in Daeyoung’s one.

“Tell me you are joking.”

“Would you prefer to be a joke?”

“Obviously no! Did you- Did you really apply?”

Yushi nodded. “Riku and me.”

The relief was instantaneous, dizzying, a narcotic rush to the head. Sion clung to it like his life depended on it.

“Did they tell you if…”

He asked, testing. Yushi shook his head. 

“Okay, so- Wow. Okay.”

“Okay. So-” Sion exhaled sharply. “Wow. Okay .” He returned to Yushi’s side, dazed. “This is crazy.”

“I know.” 

Yushi’s words weren’t crazy. He looked composed, like he had known. They spent a couple of minutes in utter silence, Sion trying to calm his thoughts before venting them, not quite sure of what he was about to ask.

“Why?” Sion begged. “Why did you do it?”

He looked at Yushi, pleading for an answer. It didn’t matter at the moment if it was a great one, a pathetic one; Sion knew he wasn't going to be able to sleep if he didn’t know.

Yushi just kissed him. And just like that, his brain stopped.

He leaned in and kissed him.

No more spirals. No more catastrophes. Just Yushi’s lips, warm and sure, the faint press of his glasses against Sion’s cheekbone, the way his fingers curled into Sion’s shirt like he was afraid he’d vanish.

For the first time in weeks, Sion’s mind was quiet. 

He needed more of that.

He leaned in further, Yushi surrendering to his touch, lying down in his bed. Sion kissed him deeply, perhaps to make up for being such a foolish idiot. He had gone days without any contact, and now, just as suddenly, the Japanese boy was about to disappear for three whole weeks. Sion couldn’t let him go without having him.

Yushi parted his lips, and Sion tasted him whole, his hands a nervous wreck. His left hand sought stability by resting on Yushi’s hip, while his right hand roamed uncertainly, brushing Yushi’s neck, then his ear, then his scalp, circling around the nape. Just like the first time they kissed, Yushi let out a soft moan. The sound was almost too much for Sion, so he clasped Yushi’s nape, pulling their bodies closer, savoring the way Yushi moaned harder.

He was starting to get delirious, having him under his touch and kisses, at his mercy. He thought he was in control until Yushi unexpectedly moved his hips against Sion’s, forcing a groan from him.

“Fuck Yushi.”

He whispered low against his ear and rutted right into him, his throat dry and desperate with need. He moved his lips to Yushi’s infatuous cheekbone and kissed his mark, then traced a path to his jawline and neck, leaving a trail of gentle pecks that quickly turned into something wet and disheveled; something raw and real. Sion pulled back to remove his hoodie, and Yushi tugged the edge of his shirt, asking without words.

Sion removed it too, shirtless, approaching a Yushi who seemed just as reckless. He fidgeted with the neck of Yushi’s sweater, trying to reach his collarbones, but it was annoyingly snug.

“Can I take this off?” he asked, the question hanging in the air, awkward yet charged.

Yushi looked at him eagerly and nodded, helping him. He removed his shirt too, and Sion had to stop and stare. He was the most beautiful boy he had ever seen. From the way his hair dropped on his forehead, the flushed skin of his neck, his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath. Sion let his hands all over him, feeling everything underneath. 

Yushi was tiny under his hands, all sharp angles and trembling limbs, pale skin flushing pink where Sion's fingers pressed too hard. He leaned down, missing Yushi's mouth on the attempt, their noses bumping before finding his lips again. His hand traveled from waist to hip in what he hoped was a smooth motion, then lower, hesitating at the edge of fabric.

“Can I-”

“Yes, please,” Yushi whimpered.

It was desperate and awkward and so perfectly Yushi that Sion couldn't help but comply. He fumbled beneath layers, knuckles catching on a loose button, until finally skin met skin. His wrist bent at an impossible angle against the constraint of jeans until Yushi, with shaking fingers, unbuttoned his own pants, lifting his hips in a jerky motion to push them down.

“I’m going to- to spit on my hand.”

Yushi nodded, his cheeks burning, his eyes full with desire. Sion spat heavily on his hand, getting back to what he had wanted to do for a long time. His movements started tentative, unpracticed, while Yushi's hips bucked impatiently, seeking more pressure, more anything, but Sion knew better than to enjoy the moment. He went slow, teasing, every twist was mindful, and every moan that Yushi let out confirmed it.

Then he shiftedstomach muscles tightening, head pressing back into the mattress as if seeking escape from himself. His eyes squeezed shut, lips parted on a silent plea, and Sion recognized the signs, increasing his pace just slightly, his thumb going places, and he let Yushi reach what he had been wanting to get for long minutes. His teeth sank into his lower lip, poorly muffling a sound that shot straight through Sion, who found himself rutting helplessly against Yushi's thigh, the friction of fabric against his arousal almost unbearable.

He couldn't control the desperate movements of his hips, couldn't focus through the sensation of damp cotton clinging to him, couldn't process how Yushi's thigh was now shyly pressing upward, giving him something to grind against. The greed consumed him, was not able to stop himself.

“Fuck Yushi I- I’m going to come if- fuck.”

Yushi hesitantly reached his hand towards it, and Sion, breath hitching, allowed it, pausing the friction momentarily. He gently slid his hand under Sion's pants, but not beneath the underwear, cupping his length over the thin fabric, causing Sion to whimper, a raw need in his voice.

His hand seemed to be everywhere and nowhere, each deliberate twitch of his fingers heightening the sensation. Sion surrendered to the touch, riding the wave to its conclusion. He released a moan that was muffled by Yushi’s chest as he buried his head there, their sweat mingling on their skin.

Sion sat between his parted legs, looking at a shirtless Yushi, his torso full of himself.

“I’m sorry I- fuck I couldn’t stop.”

Yushi smiled, a hint of satisfaction playing on his lips. Sion wanted to lie down and sleep, but he had to take care of some stuff first. He quickly went to grab some paper to clean Yushi and then went for a quick shower. He let him borrow another shirt to get, his previous one clearly stained. 

After the shower, they both sat in the bed again. Sion had made it while he was showering.

“I’m sorry for the meltdown.” he murmured, fingers picking at a loose thread in the duvet. “I guess I just needed... this.”

Yushi seemed flustered about Sion’s confession, but he nodded, acknowledging his words.

“ Did you like it? ” he gently asked.

Yushi nodded.

“Had you ever-”

“No.”

Sion felt guilty all of a sudden.

The first sexual experience Yushi ever had was Sion coming on his thigh like some overeager teenager. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Yushi was faster.

“But I’m happy it was with you.”

Yushi’s voice was so quiet that Sion almost missed it. The words settled deep in his ribcage, warming him from the inside out. He’d carry them with him all afternoon, long after they’d said their reluctant goodbyes. He wasn’t as sad as he thought he was going to be because he knew he was going to meet with his friends.

They went to a club, and Sion drank too much, laughed too loud, and let Shotaro drag them onto the dance floor, where they made absolute fools of themselves except him. Sungchan tried to make a move on a barista, but she ended up charging him double for the last rounds of shots, which made everyone laugh endlessly. 

On the stumbling walk home, they detoured to a convenience store to get something to eat. The fluorescent lights burned Sion’s alcohol-fogged eyes as he browsed the aisles. At the counter, Sion saw the cutest axolotl keychain, which totally reminded him of Yushi. He bought it secretly, knowing Wonbin was going to tease him to death.

As he was lying down in his bed, tucked properly but still cold as fuck, he texted him.

 

sion 

jus t gotbac

wanto do someth tomr 
?

u leavin on sunddday right?????

 

It was four in the morning, and he knew Yushi wasn’t going to answer, so he just locked his phone and went to sleep, waking up almost ten hours later. His throat was dry, his stomach felt like a pit, but overall, he felt nice. He checked his phone involuntarily, smiling right after.

 

yushi

yes

i asked riku to stay with daeyoung

you can come over for the night 

if you want to

 

sion

of course

what time should i be there?

 

Sion’s fingers moved along the keyboard faster than he expected. But luckily for him, Yushi answered in a second.

 

yushi

you just woke up?

you can come whenever you want to

 

sion

yeah

okay

im going to have lunch and then

shower and like

ill be there in an hour and a half

 

yushi

perfect

 

Before he knew it, he was standing in Yushi’s door, nervous as hell, with a backpack with an overnight fit and some snacks he had bought at the convenience store before going there. He saw his reflection in his selfie camera, his thick glasses worn with necessity, his lips glowing with lip balm, his eyes tired. It didn’t matter; he was going to have a sleepover. With Yushi. And he was excited as fuck.

He knocked once, and the Japanese boy quickly opened the door for him: mismatched socks, worn-out pajama pants, Sion’s shirt (the one he gave him when he dyed his hair), and glasses too, worn with grace. The sight punched the air from Sion’s lungs.

Yushi smiled and let him inside, like he was an undercover. But maybe he was, because as soon as the door closed, they were tangled in each other’s arms. Kisses in the face, growing heavier by the second, and Sion felt lightheaded as he was still hungover, but he couldn’t stop kissing him. 

When he tickled Yushi’s ribs mid-kiss, the resulting laughter was so bright Sion chased it, fingers skimming over sensitive spots until Yushi gasped through tears, squirming beneath him. They decided to see the rest of Mr. Plankton, bed full of snacks they had both bought for the occasion, until Sion’s stomach was aching. 

Not just from the absurd volume of jelly candies he’d inhaled, but from the open suitcase lurking in his peripheral vision. A silent countdown. Every time Yushi paused the show to read something on the show, Sion’s gaze betrayed him, flickering to that gaping bag like it might swallow them whole.

They both locked in the last chapter; Jae Ho picking up the four-leaf clover and screaming at Jae Min to show he just found one.

I’m going to die now.

Every night I imagined what it'd be like to die.

Would it be exhilarating like when you're jumping over a high hurdle?

Or would it feel as freeing as throwing off wet clothes?

Or maybe, it might feel mundane, like walking from one subway car to the next, for example.

Sion’s breath hitched. A tear slipped free before he could blink it back.

Oh god. Sion knew he was going to die; it was literally the first frame of the show, but what the hell?

No.

That’s not it.

It's not like that at all now that I’m facing it.

I want to hold you in my arms.

I want to love you more, for longer than this.

Sion let out an ugly sob, looking away from the screen. Yushi didn’t move, and when the show ended, neither of them stopped it, the credits rolling endlessly. Before the streaming platform would play other shows, Yushi closed the laptop softly, turning around.

Sion saw his face, full of tears, lip trembling, and he hugged him quickly.

“Oh my god, that was so sad? What the fuck?”

Yushi nodded in his chest, and Sion wanted to hold him forever. After some minutes, they both lay down in the bed, slowly shifting positions until Yushi had his face on top of Sion’s head, and he was combing his hair.

“ Have you thought about what you are going to do in Japan?”

Yushi shook his head.

“ Your brother is going to be there, right? ”

“ Yes, ” He said excitedly

“Are your parents going to be there too?”

Yushi shrugged, and Sion felt a twitch in his heart. 

“Would you like to do some FaceTime? Or like calls or…?”

Yushi nodded, turning to kiss Sion’s jawline. Sion cupped his face and brought it up to kiss him properly on his lips, then his nose, and then his forehead, Yushi resting his head minutes later again in his chest.

Night unfolded softly, stolen kisses while cooking instant ramen, Yushi’s lips brushing Sion’s shoulder blade as he stirred the pot, Sion turning to catch his mouth properly. The domesticity of it all carved a hollow in Sion’s chest. His heart felt at ease with him, not at the dorm, not at the city, but this: Yushi’s soft acts, the way he fit against Sion’s body like he’d been designed for it.

At night, they both slid under Yushi’s covers, Sion finally catching those hints of vanilla and cotton and something inexplicably soft, which he just realized was Yushi all by himself. He fell asleep under Sion’s soft brushes in his nape, and Sion behind him, an arm over him, pressing him tight against him.

The next morning felt like a blur.

Alarms, zipped suitcases, taxis… Next thing he knew, he was standing in the security door, Yushi’s hand fixing with the dorm keychain hung around his neck. Sion gently grabbed it and took the axolotl keychain that he had brought, placing it right next to it.

“It’s nothing, but I wanted to give you one thing that, like… made you excited to come back. ”

Yushi’s lips pressed and tiptoed, reaching Sion’s ear.

“I already have one.”

Sion pulled him in a tight embrace, kissing his forehead as they separated. He waved at him until he was out of reach, his small frame going around hundreds of people, rolling his suitcase slowly, unsure. Yushi turned one last time and smiled at Sion, waving back. 

Sion mimicked him and got out of the airport with a knot in his throat, stiff neck, and heavy heart.

I already have one.

He was going to cling to it like a lifeline.

They were his now. His to keep. His to believe in.

Notes:

what do yall think about this chat
sorry if it feels rushed i just cant make 10k chapters everytime but
i think it turned out great!
next chapter is super fun too i think.. hope yall like it

 

THANK U really for tthe support and the kudos and the bookmarks and the comments.... really love to hear your thoughts on everything and yap about it!!! gonna drop my twt here again in case... my dms are open ! @ahyusshi

Chapter 16: peanut butter

Summary:

Kim Daeyoung had tried so hard to be a good son, a good friend, a good person.

Notes:

y'all weren't expecting this one and i hope it's okay

Daeyoung was very aware of the person he had become over the past years.

He had tried so hard to be a good son, a good friend, a good person.

He lived for the praise, for his parents’ good words, to make a great impression on his friends. He wanted to be there for everyone.

His parents raised them diligently but full of love, so when he started being his own little person, he only wanted to reciprocate that love. He was a giver, a people pleaser, but not in a way that he did it out of worry, thinking they wouldn’t like him anymore if he weren’t like that. He liked to please people because he could share the happiness they felt. He loved being surrounded by great people and loved to provide for them.

That’s why he documented everything: snapping photos of casual moments, filling scrapbooks with ticket stubs and polaroids, journaling about small daily wonders… everything that could be something tangible, which he could later rely on.

When his parents encouraged him to leave Daegu for Seoul to pursue filmmaking, he hesitated. But their faith in him, their certainty that he would thrive, gave him strength.. He wanted to create, to be able to tell his story, his perception of life, his view of the world.

Meeting Sion was an out-of-body experience, to say the least. The boy had so much energy, so much personality. Daeyoung was taken aback every single day by him. He was mesmerizing in every great way possible. The way he talked with his hands, laughed too loudly at his own jokes, and dragged Daeyoung into adventures; it was exhilarating. And when Sion introduced him to the others, Daeyoung found more people to care for.

Shotaro was a certified mess, a Japanese boy who had more money than he could spend but with a heart Daeyoung will always cherish. He loved filming with him; he had this aura around him that he needed to immortalize as much as he could, but he had a soft spot for when his entire face lit up as he laughed.

Jisung was unique, a sly mix between shy but loud, spreading his limbs wherever they sat down but never speaking his mind until someone asked him to. Daeyoung always made sure to ask him for his opinions on highly controversial topics.

Wonbin was unreadable at first, then he became too transparent for his own good. He was smart, witty, funny, and Daeyoung couldn’t get enough of him, always reminded him how great of a friend he was.

Sungchan wasn’t around that much because he lived with his parents, but Daeyoung always found comfort whenever he slept over, catching up on stupid things until three in the morning.

University became an extension of home.

Instead of helping his father cook, he spent his weekends cooking for him and Sion, usually the rest of the group tagging along because Daeyoung’s homemade food tasted was unmatched, at least that’s what they said.

Instead of helping his mother around by rearranging furniture every single weekend, he went and fixed every single thing that broke in Wonbin’s room.

Instead of sharing his homework with his best friend back at home, he showed Shotaro every submission he did, even if it was a 1-minute freeze frame in black and white with no background music, and he always gave him the most reliable feedback.

Instead of hearing his father’s antics whenever he got back from home, he sat down with Jisung every time he needed someone to talk to, to vent about the latest uncalled-for drama in his life.

Daeyoung thought he didn’t need anything else than his friends and family’s happiness until he found Riku.

What an odd thing to feel, he thought to himself as he saw him.

It happened in a crowded hallway. It was magnetic, his smile, his hair, his eyes, his nose, the way he turned around softly to let Daeyoung go through he tight room, saying softly, “I’m sorry” with the cutest accent he had heard.

He knew he had to be Japanese; he recognized the musical lilt from Shotaro’s speech, but where his friend’s voice was bright, Riku’s was straight-up honey.

“It’s okay.” He heard himself say, already craving to hear that voice again.

“I know, I was just being polite.” Riku teased and laughed softly.

Daeyoung was infatuated, visibly frozen by his actions and words.

“I’m Riku,” he said, bowing softly.

“Daeyoung,” he said, feeling so high up in the clouds he thought he missed his own name.

They orbited each other all night, not really talking, just kind of lingering around, like neither of them wanted to let the other go. Daeyoung introduced him to Sion as they were waiting for the bathroom, and that same night, he shared a cab with him and Wonbin back to the dorms.

He was in the middle of them both, head hanging loosely on Daeyoung’s shoulder, and Riku was side eyeing him, biting his lips, threatening to break a laugh.

“He’s just… He’s just drunk.” Daeyoung awkwardly said.

He couldn't keep his mouth shut, but for a reason: he needed to hear Riku’s, and he just laughed softly at him and nodded. Riku bit his lip, eyes crinkling shut as he shook with silent mirth. That image haunted Daeyoun’s dreams for a week.

Daeyoung met him a couple of times around the campus, and he always came close just to say ‘hi’. And Riku always said it back, with a smile on his face and both his eyes closing fondly.

The next week, they met at another party. Daeyoung didn’t drink this time; he wanted to remember everything about it, and thank god he did. Riku was stunning, his dark hair past his ears, curling slightly at his nape because of the sweat glistening in his skin, soft eyeshadow, long lashes, and glossy lipstick.

In that moment, Daeyoung understood he hadn’t known what beauty was until then.

And every step Riku took toward him, he felt even more breathless.

“Hi,” Daeyoung spurted out

“Why do I feel like I see you everywhere? Not that I’m complaining.”

Daeyoung's throat clicked audibly when he swallowed. Even in chunky sneakers that added unnecessary height, Riku towered over him in ways that had nothing to do with physical stature.

“We go to the same uni.”

“Mm, that could be it.” He got closer to whisper something, almost inaudible because of the loud music, “Want to go out to take some air?”

He just arrived at the party, but Daeyoung nodded like an eager puppy either way. Riku greeted some people on their way out, mostly Jaemin and his friends. Daeyoung didn’t have time to register all of the people; he just followed Riku until they were in the backyard. It was quieter, the autumn air crisp against threatened against his skin, but he still felt too hot as the Japanese boy removed his leather jacket.

“It was… how do you say it? When it’s full of people?”

“Crowded?”

“Yeah, it was crooked,”  Riku repeated, the word curling deliciously around his accent.

“Crowded,” Daeyoung said this time, slower

“That’s what I said.” Riku got closer. “Can you say it again?”

“Crowded.”

Daeyoung repeated for the third time like some glitched robot.

“Ah, crowded, yes.” Riku smiled and took a couple of steps back.

That night, Daeyoung realized two things.

Firstly, he loved Riku’s accent. Secondly, he was catastrophically into him.

They decided to go to the Japanese Student Club the next day, and he agreed, without him knowing that it should’ve been lowkey illegal: watching Riku switch fluidly between languages, his gestures becoming more animated as he chatted with Sion and Shotaro, it was like seeing color for the first time. Daeyoung stored each laugh, each exaggerated expression in the museum of his mind.

They later went to have dinner in Seoul: Shotaro, Sion, Riku, and he. But they ended up by themselves, getting on the last subway back as Shotaro was their ride. And even if it was slightly packed and he was tired, being so close to Riku changed everything.

Their hands getting closer and closer in the handles, their bodies loosely comfortable around each other, Riku’s playful hits on his shoulder as he said something in his dialect, and his soft blushes as Daeyoung manhandled him away from the crowded corridors whenever someone was walking hurriedly close next to him.

They only started getting closer after that.

Sometimes it was Riku’s crazy texts at eight in the morning complaining that he didnt have a matching set of earrings for his outfit, which ended up in both of them going to downtown to buy some earrings and some snacks for the way back, where they shared headphones and Riku played the latest pop song he was hooked on and Daeyoung pretended to hate but when he got home he secretly playlisted them all.

Other times, it was both of them walking to the cafeteria, but turning around as they saw how the food looked, both of them going to Daeyoung’s room so he could cook for both of them.

Each moment stacked upon the last, building something terrifyingly precious. And for him, who'd built his life on loving others, was learning what it meant to be loved in return.

Before Daeyoung realized,  they were both trapped in an Evangelion binge watch. Don’t get him wrong, he liked anime, he thought it was a visual masterpiece, but after three hours, he was getting bored. Not bored, just… his focus was elsewhere.

It was in the way Riku smiled at the screen, how he turned to check Daeyoung was still watching, and flustered when he realized how close they were.

He was focused on his hair, how it got much longer than the first time he had seen him, some thin ends brushing up his nape, and how it rested in Daeyoung’s arm.

When Riku turned for the nth check-in, Daeyoung's hand moved on instinct, pausing the show mid-frame. Neon light from the frozen screen painted Riku's face in shifting blues and pinks.

And if Daeyoung loved something about Riku, it had to be how quick-witted he was, how fast he caught up with things; it didn’t matter what the situation was about, Riku seemed to be prepared for it all. He smiled and got closer, some soft hair strands from his bangs brushing Daeyoung’s cheeks, and he blinked a couple of times.

“Can I?”

Daeyoung had to ask; he needed to know if both of them were ready for whatever that led.

Riku whispered a tiny yes that didn’t make it to the end, Daeyoung pressing his lips together as soon as he heard the first letter.

The kiss was short. Electric. Enough to make his vision blur at the edges. Yet he couldn’t stop, he wouldn’t stop, chasing that impossible softness again and again until his mouth went numb with it.

It wasn’t the first time he had kissed someone, but he couldn’t remember a single thing from them at that moment. He felt like nobody deserved Riku’s lips, and he thanked whoever was in charge of his life for allowing him to worship him. It was everything he had wanted to do for some time, and he wasn’t going to stop doing it. Ever.

A couple of days later, Riku texted him in the middle of his Film Criticism class.

 

rikkuri

sion is going to spend the night at yushis

they need to work on a project

mind if we switch places then?

 

Daeyoung quickly replied.

 

daeyoung

yeah!

 

rikkuri

perfect! can i come by to drop my bag?

 

Daeyoung typed quickly as he was picking up his things.

 

daeyoung

yeah yeah

ill be waiting!

 

Daeyoung practically sprinted from class, his backpack bouncing wildly as he took the dorm stairs two at a time. He skidded to a stop at the sight awaiting him, Riku leaning against his doorframe like some fashionably disheveled guardian angel. Black slacks hugging his legs, shirt half-tucked beneath a loosely knotted tie, silver necklaces glinting against his collarbones. His hair curled slightly at the ends, as if even his strands couldn’t resist bending toward perfection.

Daeyoung suddenly became hyperaware of his own wrinkled t-shirt and grass-stained sneakers, but it wasn’t his fault entirely; Riku was just too pretty.

The moment he saw Daeyoung rushing through the hall, he laughed at him fondly.

“Where were you?” He asked between his cackles

“In class,” Daeyoung said as he opened the door for both of them

“Oh fuck sorry!” Riku clapped a hand over his mouth, “I don’t have classes today, my cognitive psychology teacher is sick… so I kind of forgot the rest of the world has classes,” he adds, leaving his duffle bag next to Daeyoung’s bed. “Yushi is skipping classes too, so I forgot normal people have schedules.”

Daeyoung's heart did a traitorous flip at ‘normal people’, as if Riku existed on some higher plane of existence. Maybe he did.

“Well, I actually need to get back, but you can stay here if you want,” he admitted reluctantly. “But you can stay. Make yourself at home.”

“Okay! I have an online revision, so that would be perfect. See you at lunch?”

Daeyoung nodded, feeling lost in his eyes.  Leaving felt physically painful; he didn’t want to leave his sight; he didn’t want Riku to leave his. He went to class, thinking about him being in his room and how comfortable that felt.

If he liked him like that, they had kissed…would it be too soon to ask him out?

He didn’t want to bother Sion with that; he knew if he was going to spend the night at Yushi’s, it was because they had finally talked it out and they needed to work on it. But if he was sure, why couldn't he just do it?

During his break, he made reservations at that absurdly expensive Thai place near the river, the one with the lantern-lit patio he’d always thought looked romantic. His wallet whimpered in protest. His heart overruled it. He knew it was a great place, and it didn't hurt to pay for good food. It helped if that food was going to be shared with Riku.

As he went back to his dorm, he prepared food for both of them, and as they finished, Doyoung casually suggested dinner while he was doing dishes.

“Would you want to go for dinner tonight?” Casual. Normal. Not at all life-altering.

“Oh, okay!” Riku said and nodded eagerly, “Do you have anything in mind?”

“I actually do, I made a reservation.”

“Oh…”

Riku’s tone was surprised, amused. Daeyoung smiled to himself, feeling like a winner.

They spent half of the afternoon doing some uni work and the other half watching more Evangelion, but Daeyoung couldn’t concentrate at all. His heart was pounding; he didn’t know if maybe this was rushed, if it was a stupid idea, but Riku’s head felt just right on his shoulder. They took turns for showering, and when Riku was in, Daeyoung searched in his drawers for something he had bought some weeks ago: a pair of matching bracelets.

The memory flashed bright: Riku’s fingers lingering over them weeks ago in that tiny boutique, his quiet ‘they're pretty’ slipping out before he'd walked away. Daeyoung had returned to downtown the next day with Sungchan to get some dinner together, so he had bought them. It was just a thin thread with a couple of colorful beads, a lot of colors that he had never seen Riku wear, but it was what he wanted.

On their way to the place, Riku kept making excuses to hold Daeyoung’s hand, but he refused. He could almost feel sweat droplets down his fingers. He tried changing topics every five minutes, not letting the conversation die. Once at the restaurant, Riku elbowed him while waiting to be seated.

“You didn’t tell me it was a Michelin Star restaurant.”

“Because it’s not,” Daeyoung said, smiling.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Noted.” He smiled.

Dinner went great, Riku enjoyed every bite they ordered, laughing hysterically whenever Daeyoung slipped something in his accent, but shutting up whenever he approached his chopsticks to his lips when he wanted to try something.

Daeyoung snapped pictures the whole night, but as soon as they got closer to the river, he put his phone in his pocket, the feeling of the soft pouch with the bracelets in it.

“Do you want to sit over here?” Riku suggested, “My shoes are killing me tonight.”  He said, wiggling his feet in the impractical dress shoes that he adored.

Daeyoung nodded without a doubt, thinking that could be his moment.

“I actually wanted to talk to you about something.” He started, voice trembling, looking across the river rather than to Riku’s eyes, “I-I don’t know where to start.”

“You can start by looking at me,” Riku suggested in his lovely voice.

Daeyoung turned around and saw him, his tanned skin, his curious eyes, his teeth showing through the smile. He needed him to be his.

“I like you so much. I look forward to every day, hoping that I will see you around. I dread whenever we have to say goodbye. You make me so happy and- I want to make you happy too.”

“You already make me happy.”

“But I want to make you happy for a long time.” Daeyoung gulped, “What I'm asking is if… if you wanted to be my boyfriend.”

Daeyoung had been practicing that stupid phrase in his mind for what felt like an eternity, and after saying it, he felt accomplished.

“I would love to.”

Riku’s words stayed forever in his brain.

Their first kiss as something official tasted of shared mango sticky rice and infinite possibility.

They kissed under the soft street lights, too busy with each other to care about everything else. Daeyoung only separated from him to give him the bracelet, and when Riku saw it, he almost cried. The walk back to the dorms was warm, comfortable, and far easier than the earlier one; Riku paused every few steps to admire his bracelet under streetlights, and Daeyoung's phone captured it all, snapping pictures of him every five minutes, which made the other giggle. Riku’s hand felt perfect underneath his, and he couldn’t be happier.

As they got to his room, the night unraveled.

Daeyoung hadn’t done anything with anyone, never. He hadn’t come out to his parents when he left his hometown, nor had he shared his truth with anyone from Daegu. At university, he’d never found anyone who seemed worth more than a few fleeting kisses. He wasn’t usually this forward, but he knew Riku was worth everything.

He seemed more experienced, evident in the way he moved, how he kissed Daeyoung, and how he gently yet firmly pinned him against the wall. Daeyoung awkwardly lifted him, hands pressing against his thighs, feeling clumsy yet urgent. He hadn’t realized how much he had longed for this until it was happening, and he wasn’t about to let another moment slip by.

They tasted each other before getting to bed, too busy to care, too mindblowing to stop. Once on the mattress, Riku took matters into his own hands, quite literally, guiding Daeyoung through each uncertain step. He felt a strange mix of calm and impatience as he prepared Riku, everything feeling new, yet his hands discovered a natural familiarity over Riku’s tanned skin.

When they connected, Daeyoung was on the brink of losing himself to his unrefined instincts, but Riku's seeming fragility beneath him brought him back to reality. They discovered a shared rhythm between his raw, impulsive need and Riku’s gentle, deliberate movements to take whatever they wanted from each other.

Daeyoung couldn’t help but press his fingers into Riku’s flesh, kneading his legs, leaving his imprint on Riku's waist, while Riku clung to his arms as if they were a lifeline, nails nearly piercing his skin. It was hot, needy, both reaching whatever they wanted whenever they wanted. By the end, Riku’s body shuddered with a cry, and Daeyoung instinctively reached out to comfort him, only to find himself finishing too, all too quickly, all too intimately.

Daeyoung lay in the bed, feeling drained, breathless, his heart racing faster than ever. Riku gazed at him, smiling, with a playful hint in his eyes, making everything feel both awkward and perfect in a way only Riku knew how to.

“Say it.”

“How do you know I want to say something?” Riku complained, high-pitched.

“Because you always want to say something.”

“I had so much fun.”

“Really?”

Riku nodded, reassuring Daeyoung, and he kissed him back. Their foreheads were sweaty and their lips worn out, but they still had time for each other.

They showered each other in kisses and brushes, in compliments and silly jokes.

Daeyoung couldn’t get enough of him, of his outrageous bursts of laughter that could startle a whole room, of his insane fashion trends even he thought were too much (but only for him, Riku could pull a trash bag if he wanted to). He couldn’t get enough of his psychoanalysis of a random character they saw in a movie, and he always asked him to do the MBTI test, but he always refused.

“You already know too much about me,” Daeyoung said one afternoon, as they were getting coffee.

“Like what?”

“You tell me.”

And then Riku kept saying facts about him for two hours. Daeyoung nodded every time he was right, tilted his head when he was partially wrong, and laughed his ass off when he started making things up.

Daeyoung lived for these moments, the quiet intimacy of Riku’s voice wrapping around his ears, notebooks and tea cups forming a protective circle around them, shielding against the world outside. He hung on every word, whether it was Riku explaining some obscure psychological theory or patiently correcting his Japanese for the tenth time that evening.

“So if I want to say ‘I’d rather drink this’… it would be….”

“Think in Korean first,” Riku advised, tapping Daeyoung’s notebook where he’d scribbled the incorrect phrase. His finger lingered just a second too long against the paper. “Then translate. Your brain works better that way.”

“Mmm so like…” Daeyoung frowned, translating word by word, “I would rather drink that.”

“This,” Riku corrected.

“Right.”

He wrote it down in his notebook, already running out of pages. Riku was staying late because Sion was at Sungchan’s.

“I know I asked you a hundred times, but seriously, how on earth did you learnt Korean so fast?”

The question bubbled up again, as it often did when Daeyoung watched Riku effortlessly switch between languages. He was amazed by his boyfriend’s ability to do whatever the fuck he put his head on and did it flawlessly. Fashion? Psychology degree? Korean? Getting his psychology degree in his second language while serving every single day? Cooking?

Maybe not cooking, definitely not, but Riku was a talented boy, and Daeyoung admired him.

“It was all Yushi, I told you.” Riku said, shifting positions in the floor, already lying down, tired “It was imposible to talk to him at first. Imagine I get to my dorm and the guy only said his name, and I kept yapping about being late, I still remember it clearly” his voice echoed softly in Daeyoung’s ears “We went to have dinner and he did not say a thing, only pointing at what he wanted, nodding when I spoke to him. I realized he knew Korean, I think around the first week, softly singing along to some EXO’s songs and stuff like that.”

Daeyoung chuckled, though he’d heard this story countless times. There was something magical about the way Riku told it, the lilt of his voice, the way his hands animated the air between them.

“When I tell you he was... not a closed book, Dae, a sealed one. Then I told him, well, lied to him by saying I wanted to learn Korean, but I didn’t have any money, and he told me he could help me out. He started talking slowly, only in Korean, and I thought he was too much of a K-pop fan, you know, but I think he used Korean only because I couldn’t understand him, just like he spoke Japanese here, thinking nobody could understand.”

Riku shifted again, sipping on some lukewarm tea.

“And because I desperately wanted to understand him,” He continued, “I started going to Korean lessons, paid ones, mind you. I picked it up so fast because of both the classes and Yushi’s lessons. We spoke Korean in Tokyo; now we speak Japanese in Seoul. Still can’t believe how that worked out.”

Daeyoung nodded, thinking about it.

“Do you think he feels out of place here?”

“Truly? Yes, but the worst thing isn't that. The worst thing is that I think he’s the most brilliant boy I've ever met, and he could thrive wherever he wanted to, but he doesn’t see it.”

“And what about Sion? What do you think about him?” Daeyoung asked curiously.

“I am not going to analyze your friends for you… at least for free.”

Daeyoung smirked, getting dangerously close to him.

“What’s your rate then?” He joked, the intentions of getting to know his thoughts on Sion already vanished.

“Oh, you can’t afford me.” His fingers caught in the collar of Daeyoung’s shirt, pulling him down. "But I’ll give you a friends-and-family discount."

Daeyoung hovered over him, tangling themselves over their notes splattered across the floor.

A couple of days later, Riku surprised him with a text.

 

rikkuri <3

should i

transfer here?

 

Daeyoung choked on his meal, looking around as if it were a prank.

 

daeyoung

what?

like forever?

 

rikkuri <3

no dumbass

i hope i can finish it next year

 

daeyoung

ok freud

but are you for real?

 

rikkuri <3

yes

imma talk yushi into it

if he says no i probably wont

 

Daeyoung rolled his eyes, annoyed. He understood Riku; he knew how important Yushi was to him… He cared so much about Yushi too, even though he thought the other one hated him, but the seed in his brain was already there, and now he needed to make it happen. He didn’t ask a single time, not wanting to sound annoyed, not wanting to pressure him into anything.

Next week, as he was getting out of the shower, another text came.

 

rikkuri <3

okay so were on

but you cant tell sion

yushi doesnt want him to know yet

 

Daeyoung nearly dropped his towel. Water dripped from his hair onto the phone screen as he deciphered Riku’s texts through the droplets.

 

daeyoung

okay… but you will have to dive deeper into that

 

rikkuri <3

i will when he sorts it out

you noisy brat

also i think ill stay here for winter break

to do the whole paperwork

 

daeyoung

you have to stay in seoul to do it?

 

rikkuri <3

i mean not really, but it can help

i already told my family so

 

daeyoung

oh okay

 

He knew he shouldn’t, but he did. He went through his contacts and called him, sitting nervously at his desk as the call went through instantly.

“Dad? Hello, how are you doing?” he greeted politely. “Is Mom over there? Can you put the phone on speaker mode so I can talk to you both?”

“Hello son, yes, she’s over here, wait a second.” Daeyoung heard something rustling in his ear, making him cringe. “Hello, son! How are you? Did you eat?”

He smiled at his mom’s voice.

“Hi Mom, yes, I just ate. Can you put the phone on speaker mode so I can talk to you both?”

“Yes, darling, wait,” a loud beep. “Can you hear me?”

“Yes, can you both hear me?”

“Yes!” They said in unison.

“Great, thanks, Mom. I want to ask you something, if you would be okay with it. I have one Japanese friend, whom I met this year, because he’s studying abroad, and he’s going to spend the winter break here at the dorms. Could I invite him over?”

“Yes! It’s Sionnie?”

“No, Mom,” Daeyoung laughed, “I told you he’s Japanese.”

“Ahhhh okay okay,” his mother quickly recoiled, “Why is he staying for the break?”

“The tickets are too expensive,” he lied

“Poor boy,” his father added, “Is he a good friend?”

“Yes, dad, I lik-” Daeyoung almost slipped. “Yeah, he’s really nice. He can stay in my room, in the convertible bed.”

“Okay son. What is his name?”

“Maeda Riku.” He carefully said, not wanting to misspronounce

“Great, son, what day are you coming?”

“In less than two weeks, Mom. I will be there around the twenty-first.”

“Okayy.” His mom answered, stretching the last ‘y’

He chit-chatted cordially for two more minutes and hung up.

His chest felt heavy. He didn’t like lying to his parents, but he wasn’t going to tell them directly that he had been dating this boy, and he was going to stay over for Christmas, right? He had brought friends to his house, like Sion and Wonbin, so his parents were used to their closeness; they weren't going to figure it out.

He was so nervous about it, he almost forgot to tell Riku about it.

 

daeyoung

couldn’t you do it in daegu?

 

rikkuri <3

i just need a city with a town hall

 

daeyoung

we have that

do you want to spend the winter break with me?

in daegu?

 

rikkuri <3

wait seriously?

 

daeyoung

yes

 

rikkuri <3

and your parents?

 

daeyoung

can i come over?

 

rikkuri <3

lets grab coffee instead

 

Daeyoung tore through his wardrobe like a man possessed, abandoning his usual sweats for something that wouldn’t make Riku’s inevitable fashion superiority too glaring. He should’ve known better. When he spotted Riku waiting for him, he knew he was right.

He was wearing some cargo pants artfully rumpled, a hoodie hugging his frame just right, those ridiculous headphones perched like a crown, which made him laugh because he probably wasn’t listening to anything, but he had a smile on his face that could be spotted from miles away.

He showered him in kisses and went to a close café, not wasting a second before spilling out everything as soon as they sat down with their order.

“So like… okay, my parents are not homophobic.”

Riku opened his eyes too much. “Wow, great way to start.”

“I’m being serious.” Daeyoung’s fingers drummed against his cup. “It’s just that… I never told them I’m gay.”

“Oh… okay. Fuck I- I never asked, I just-” Riku stuttered “I just assumed-”

“It’s okay, it’s not a drama, it’s just… I never told them. And I asked if you could come over and-”

“You told them I was your friend.”

Riku’s words felt like a punch in his conscience, making him instantly guilty. He nodded, unsure. He simply reached across the table, his thumb brushing Daeyoung’s knuckles, comforting.

“I understand, it’s okay.”

“Really?” Daeyoung asked, not quite believing

“Would you understand if it were the other way around?”

Daeyoung hadn’t thought about it, but after he asked, he did. For a few seconds, because the answer was obvious, of course, he would.

He knew the whole coming out was a hard thing; each person had a different view and different feelings towards it, so he obviously would understand. He nodded, this time sure.

“Exactly, it’s okay, Dae.” The relief when Riku squeezed his hand was so profound it ached. “I’m already so excited to go to Daegu. I can sleep on the couch, too, I really can sleep anywhere.”

“I do have a convertible bed in my room, so don’t worry, but yeah,” Daeyoung let out a sigh of relief, “Okay, that was easier than I thought. Thank you.”

“Thank you for inviting me,” Riku smiled back.

He slid next to him in the small café shop and hugged him, not letting him go until they were back at the campus.

A couple of weeks later, after finals and saying goodbye to his friends, he found himself in the train station, maneuvering through the crowd, one hand on his suitcase, the other entwined with Riku’s. The station was crowded, people getting off the trains to visit Seoul during Christmas. He had never seen the city during these days, but Sion sent him pictures whenever it snowed, which always made him a little bit jealous, but this time, he wasn’t jealous at all; not with Riku’s shoulder pressed against his, not with the way Riku’s eyes lit up at every passing snack cart.

Daeyoung prepared both tickets, some snacks, and water bottles for the train, setting them aside in a separate bag. Once seated, he stowed that bag under their seats and pulled up Riku’s and his suitcases over it.

“That was hot,” Riku whispered to him

“What was hot?”

“The way you handled those suitcases.”

“They weighed nothing.” Daeyoung half lied.

They weren’t heavy, but he had a harder time lifting Riku’s than his.

“I know how many clothes I brought… I know it’s heavy,” he snuggled in his shoulder, satisfied.

Daeyoung melted in those acts of love, of those lingering touches, in those soft-spoken words that he meant only for him.

The train ride passed in a blur of shared earbuds and Riku’s fingers tracing idle patterns on Daeyoung’s knee. It still felt heavy, the train stopped too much and for too long, but they reached the destination okay, which was more than he had hoped for. They rode the bus to his house; he didn’t want his parents taking the car, far less considering it was almost midnight.

Riku looked around excitedly, like it was a whole different country, and Daeyoung explained to him different places through the window, things like ‘I fell over there with the bike once’ or like ‘I had a tummy ache because I ate too much ice cream from that place… would do it again though.’

Riku’s giggles filled the silent bus, endearing Daeyoung.

Once they got off the bus, he felt nervous. Maybe he had been overfilling his head with the trip, the silly tasks in the room, the cooking-too-much-only-to-freeze-it spree, but he realized how nervous he was when he was standing outside the fence, the air of the cold night hitting his face, and he started feeling feverish.

He couldn’t hold Riku’s hand; he couldn’t risk it, but the Japanese boy got slightly close and whispered something that kicked the air out of him.

“You know that no matter what happens, I love you.”

Notes:

unpackin

1. this made me want to write fluff jaeri so fucking bad
2. hope u liked jaehees lore + pov
3. this fic its going to be finished a 100% before october so... hold tight
4. if u have any suggestion, idea, plot, song.... u can let me know and ill see if i can add it to the next chapters! (even if its like a show they r watching or a song they listen together idc)
5. repeating myself like a crazy person but im really so grateful about a lot of people reading this... the feedback is so encouraging and im just so happy we can enjoy this silly wish au college universe... hope you have a fantastic week ahead of you and a lot of great things happen to everyone <3

Chapter 17: and a lot of jellies

Summary:

Maeda Riku had only known love since he was born.

Maeda Riku had only known love since he was born.

He was raised between countless women’s kindness, aunties with laugh lines, grandmothers whose hands smelled of ginger and soil, and sisters who were both shields and accomplices. Love was not a quiet, careful thing in his home; it was loud, it was messy, but it was his; theirs.

He was never a problematic child, but he had a big mouth, speaking his mind the second someone asked him (or not). He usually got involved in small fights, always doing something out of passion, out of beliefs. He lived his truth, unapologetically and at full volume, because he had never known another way to be.

Until he met Tokuno Yushi.

The silence that followed him into their shared dorm room was a presence in itself. Riku took exactly one week to start figuring him out, but only because he tried really hard to. At first, he tried to act nonchalant about his roommate being Tokuno Yutas’s brother, because soon he realized Yushi was way more than that.

He didn’t speak at all. The only word he heard for weeks was his own name, uttered softly on that very first day. After that, their communication was a ballet of hums, nods, and the occasional devastatingly efficient thumbs-up. It was frustrating for Riku, but he tried to imagine how frustrating it must have felt for Yushi himself, so he started sorting things out to make him talk, at his own pace.

He found out he knew Korean, so he made up a stupid lie, saying he wanted to learn the language but was broke. Riku swore he saw something in Yushi shift, a spark of purpose in his gaze.

It started small. A word corrected here. A phrase repeated there. Riku leaned into the role of the bumbling student, mangling pronunciations with ease, because each mistake was an invitation for Yushi to speak.

Riku guessed he felt comfortable talking in Korean because it was a language he couldn’t handle well, so he made twice the effort to learn it. Within a year, he was near-fluent, not just in the language, but in the quiet, nuanced dialect of Yushi, which was even harder than the foreign language. 

That made the communication flow between them easily, switching slowly from Korean to Japanese until Yushi felt a hundred percent comfortable speaking their mother tongue around him. He also thought about the possibility of them going abroad to study, because Riku thought it could be a huge step for their relationship, academically wise, but mainly, for Yushi’s self-growth. A place where he could rebuild himself, on his own terms.

They got accepted, and while he thought it was going to be a challenging but rewarding ride, he just hadn’t realized they’d be sharing a car on this particular rollercoaster with two Korean boys who were about to tilt their entire world off its axis.

The first week went as usual, except it didn’t.

They shared a cramped room, attended classes late until they figured out the campus layout, poorly cooked lunch, went to parties… that was the usual part, and it was comforting, it was like starting university all over again, which, partially, it was.

Then Yushi lied to his assigned student about knowing Korean, and Riku fell in love with that student’s roommate… that was the unusual part.

For weeks, he battled between the two sides of the same story: Yushi being unable to tell Sion that he knew Korean, and the other one doing everything he could so Yushi could feel included in the classes; and getting to know Daeyoung, the sweetest person he had ever met, while having to focus on his degree.

It was too much; he felt like a juggler. By day, he was an accomplice to Yushi’s secret, watching the agonizingly slow dance between his best friend and Sion. He saw the longing in Yushi’s eyes, the frustration in Sion’s, and felt like the keeper of a secret that was too big for just one person.

By night, and in the stolen moments between, his world narrowed to the sweet, grounding presence of Daeyoung. He was a sanctuary amidst the chaos, unable to keep his thoughts at bay.

He couldn’t put a name on it, couldn’t quite decipher what it was. 

Was it admiration?

He knew how hardworking he was, how lovely and caring he was, how he literally couldn’t stand someone being uncomfortable next to him, always making his best to bring out a smile on anyone’s face.

Was it curiosity?

Riku couldn’t stop thinking about him, his face, his hands, his voice… everything about him intrigued him so much, always needing more conversation, more contact. But curiosity didn’t explain the way his stomach flipped when Daeyoung laughed, or how the memory of his hands, capable and gentle.

About a month and a half in, standing in a crowded hallway watching Daeyoung patiently help a flustered freshman, the realization hit Riku with the force of a physical blow. It wasn't admiration or curiosity.

He realized he liked him.

It wasn’t as scary as he thought it would, but just because Daeyoung was a sweetheart.

Every time reassuring him, not making him feel too hyped up about anything, always asking for more, giving him his space when he needed to, not really having to ask… It could be overwhelming for some, he knew, but he had grown up surrounded by love, and right when he was away from it and most needed it, he was there, for him.

Their days began to weave together, stretching between them, afternoons watching some shows, until one day, they kissed.

It was gentle, electric, everything that he wanted it to be, because Daeyoung just let him. He effortlessly ceded control to Riku in things like that, always choosing what snacks to buy, what movie to watch, what restaurant to go try… except for once, the time he asked Riku out properly.

He had chosen a place, had bought matching bracelets, everything that he thought Riku loved. And he was right, he was always right, because Daeyoung knew him like nobody could.

They fit like a puzzle; it was as simple and as complex as that. Theirs was a playful, constant tug-of-war where Riku would gleefully pull them into some new scheme, and Daeyoung would follow with a fond roll of his eyes and a hand held tightly in his. They discovered so much about each other, getting to know themselves as well as how to grow together. 

Riku made the bold decision to apply for a permanent transfer for various reasons.

Firstly, he only had one year left academically, and  Seoul National University had opened doors he never knew existed. He’d stumbled into optional seminars and subjects not offered in his original program in Tokyo, so he wanted to get more knowledge from them, already tiptoeing around the main topic of his thesis.

Secondly, because of his family situation.

His sisters were getting older, and they were leaving the house to go live with their boyfriends. He was equally happy for them as sad because they were moving out, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to miss their laughter and late-night gossip sessions in the garden, and how he hated that it was going to be replaced by the quiet of their empty rooms. The thought of returning to a half-empty house, to a silence he’d never known, filled him with a profound sense of loss. 

Thirdly, because of Yushi.

Thanks to Anton, so half thanks to him, because he introduced them to each other, Yushi started to talk Korean with someone. Finally. The thing Riku didn’t expect was for Sion to catch them talking in that said language. Thankfully, neither of them had a crashout, even if Riku could tell in the way Sion frowned every time he mentioned Anton, that he was slightly jealous of him. But he wasn’t going to dwell on it, because he found it funny, and because they avoided a huge crisis of Yushi packing his things back to Tokyo. Riku’s place was where Yushi was. He couldn’t leave him to navigate this delicate new world alone.

Fourthly, and it hurt to admit it, for Daeyoung.

This reason was a secret he kept even from himself most days. How could he admit, even in the privacy of his own mind, that a significant part of his desire to reshape his entire future was for a boy? How on earth could someone want to transfer to another country just for a man? Well, if the man was Kim Daeyoung,  Riku was sure a lot of people would understand, so he didn't beat himself up too much. Being near him felt like a new kind of warmth, and he wasn’t ready to give it up.

So he and Yushi applied for it, and the moment he clicked on the form, he started preparing everything around it.

For Yushi was easier; he had double nationality for all the time he had been in Seoul; he needed it to change schools easily, so he had all the paperwork sorted out, but he didn’t. He asked his sisters about it, and they recommended that he stay there and start working on it as soon as possible.

So, Riku, the boy of passion and impulse, became a man of action and organization, something he never thought he would have to be. His chaotic energy was now laser-focused on a single, simple, and utterly complex goal: getting all the paperwork done.

The thing was that… he had too many obstacles.

Firstly, his finals.

Riku’s fingers ached with a dull, persistent throb, a physical testament to the endless essays and dissertations of old fuckass philosophers. Except Descartes. Descartes was nice.

He’d typed so fervently that two keycaps stopped working, presenting the casualties to Daeyoung with a look of utter betrayal. He obviously had tried to fix it, but he couldn’t. Without much drama, he’d simply smiled and offered a spare from his closet, a little worn, but perfectly functional. The keyboard problem was solved, but the mountain of work remained.

Secondly, the ongoing drama between Sion and Yushi.

Riku was right when he started noticing how Yushi shifted whenever he was around the Korean boy, and after what felt like years, Yushi explained to him what was happening. Riku imagined it must have been a hell of a ride for his best friend to understand his feelings, but he was proud he did it anyway. He was also too invested in it. Same with Sion.

He never thought he was going to be the usual cringey friend who takes too much care of his best friend’s partners, but Yushi was different. Riku thought about the possibility of Sion messing up, already imagining the worst outcome for Yushi, so he tried to always be aware of Sion’s doings, with Daeyoung as his reluctant but loyal assistant.

And, lastly, the boy himself, Kim Daeyoung.

The invitation to Daegu for winter break was a gift Riku had accepted with uncharacteristic quiet gratitude. It wasn’t just a trip; it was an invitation into Daeyoung’s world, a place Riku was desperate to know, only for him to tell him that his parents didn’t know they were together.

It wasn’t like Riku didn’t mind; it just wasn’t his place to be. He had always known what he was, and he wasn’t scared of expressing it, but only because he was raised in a family full of love and kind words, where they told each other everything. 

But Daeyoung wasn’t like that, and he didn’t want to change it. He was quieter, more cautious, and he wanted him to do his own things at his own time, and the fact that he invited him over anyway, knowing what it could mean, just so Riku didn’t spend Christmas alone, made him shiver.

Shiver in the way you do when someone buys you a present, something that you didn’t ask for.

Shiver in the same way when someone crossed your mind at night, and it made you smile.

Shiver of being truly, deeply seen and chosen.

Shiver in the way someone in love would.

Riku was someone with a lot of good traits, thoughtful, cheerful… but his main flaw was his inability to shut his mouth, so right there, in front of Daeyoung’s house, in his hometown, in the streets he had learnt how to walk… he really saw him.  The worry he always hid so well was right there in his wide eyes, in the slight part of his lips. This was the real Daeyoung, the one beneath the easygoing smile, vulnerable and scared and breathtakingly real.

“You know that no matter what happens, I love you.”

The words weren’t premeditated, but they were the truest thing he knew.

Daeyoung turned quickly, nervous, a mess.

“Me too.”

Riku gave him a nod, a reassuring and soft nod, and his boyfriend’s smile lit up the whole street. It was like time stopped there for them, to appreciate and worship each other, along with the unshakable, terrifying, wonderful belief that their orbit was, and always would be, unbreakable. At least that’s what they thought.

The moment they knocked on the house and Daeyoung opened the door, Riku felt like a rift grew in between them, the vibe unknown, uncomfortable.  The warm, easy camaraderie they’d shared on the street evaporated, replaced by a stiff, formal atmosphere that felt as foreign to Riku as the landscape outside. The air in the Kim household was thick with unspoken rules, and a quiet Riku didn’t know how to navigate.

His dad sat them both on the floor quickly around the dining table, his mother instantly preparing the leftovers. Riku glanced at her a couple of times, wanting to help, but his father quickly grabbed his attention, showing him something on the TV. Daeyoung just nodded along, and Riku understood.  This was not his kitchen. These were not his rules.

“Thanks, Mom, this looks amazing,” Daeyoung said, his voice softer, more formal than Riku had ever heard it.

“Thank you very much, Ms. Kim,” he echoed, the honorific feeling stiff and overly polite on his tongue.

He half waited for her to correct him, an invitation for something more familiar, but it never came.

She nodded, and they ate silently. Riku wanted to ask, to know about them, about the house, he was dying to ask about Daeyoung’s child stories, when he started making those incredible scrapbooks, if they had pictures,… but it wasn’t like that. It was a tranquil dinner, nothing too personal, nothing half as intimate as Riku had wished for.

“I’m going to go to sleep, tomorrow we are going to see your aunts and uncles.”

“Great,” Daeyoung said, with a genuine hint of excitement

His father just let out a grunt when he stood up, both leaving the room silently.

Riku didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to seem rude, didn’t want to intrude, and Daeyoung knew, because as soon as they were alone, he brushed his hand with his pinky, a fleeting, secret touch, such an uninterested-looking gesture that held a hundred meanings between them. They finished the leftovers silently, and Riku started tidying up, Daeyoung following him.

The vibe changed the moment they went to Daeyoung’s room, like stepping back into their dimension. Riku couldn’t stop scanning every single piece of furniture around it, filled with toys, pictures, children's books, music CDs,… Meanwhile, Daeyoung prepared his bed and the convertible one with ease.

“Are you finished analyzing every corner of my room?” Daeyoung asked, his voice regaining a sliver of its usual warmth

“Not quite,” Riku teased, whispering.

Then Daeyoung was there, burying his face in Riku’s shoulder, his voice muffled and thick with guilt.

“I’m sorry for earlier, I-I didn’t know it was going to be that… cold.”

Riku knew that tone of his, the guilty one. He knew he was feeling bad about bringing him here, considering his parents didn’t seem to be too happy about it, but Riku just wanted to be around him. He turned around and cupped his face, giving him a small and quick peck.

“I dragged you here and now-”

“Daeyoung,” Riku interrupted, his voice low but absolute. “I want to be where you are. End of story.”

His boyfriend nodded, trying to believe the words.

Riku knew he sounded too straightforward, but Daeyoung was an overthinker, and he wasn’t going to let him dwell on some circling thoughts that weren’t even true. They took turns to shower and prepare for bed; the final, quiet heartbreak came when he came back to the room, smelling of soap and warmth, and walked straight past Riku’s waiting form to slide, alone, into the single bed on the other side of the room. He knew how things were supposed to go.

Just in case.

The next morning, Riku and Daeyoung woke up because his dad came into his room to fix something in the window.

Instinctively, Riku yanked the sheets up to his chin, a hot flush of embarrassment and confusion washing over him, not understanding the lack of privacy, but Daeyoung just greeted him.

“Morning, Dad.”

He offered Riku a faint smile. The message was clear. He took a deep, steadying breath and followed him out to breakfast, eaten in near silence.

The first week happened painfully slowly.

They went to visit Daeyoung’s family, some of whom were even worse than his parents, but others, a particular aunt with Daeyoung’s same crinkled-eye smile and a group of loud, noisy cousins, welcomed him with open arms. They filled him with food and questions, and Riku, in his element, thrived under the attention. He chattered happily about Fukui, about the chaotic, loving symphony of his sisters, about Yushi and their university adventures.

They finally told him stories of Daeyoung as a kid, how he loved bothering everyone, snapping pictures of everything, taking care of his cousins, how he liked growing vegetables around his house, always waking up early to water them before going to school. Riku clung to these stories, making sure he wasn’t going to ever forget them.

He learnt a lot of Daegu dialect from them, and he tried to remember everything to tease Daeyoung later.

But that later never came, because once they got to his house, the room felt somber, food felt bland, boring. It was like that every single day, no laughs, no silly comments about something that happened earlier, not even Daeyoung tried to soothe the way back. They usually walked to his relatives’ houses, going rather quickly, wanting to meet with everyone, but the way back felt heavy in his shoes, making him want to stay out in the middle of the street forever, but he knew Daeyoung was getting into his house, and he would follow him to the end of the world.

They tried to shift activities during the day: a couple of mornings they went to the town hall to work on some documents the university had sent Riku, others they just went for an early run, but they felt like obligations more than actual couple of fun activities, a performance of normalcy, which he hated just like he hated the emptiness he felt in his heart as soon as they got to his house, not because of the situation, but because his boyfriend.

Daeyoung was off, his smile was missing, at least his real one, the one he could see his crooked teeth in between his parted lips, not the one it ached to see, the one where he pressed his lips and tried to be. His eyes didn’t look like his; it was like they were hidden behind some kind of guilt. His gaze, usually so warm and expressive, was shadowed, clouded by a guilt Riku couldn’t understand and a sadness he felt powerless to heal. The hollow in Riku’s chest wasn’t for himself only; it was ricocheting between both of them.

Dinner times were the worst, because as the house was filled with heartwarming smells and the cold of the winter didn’t seem that threatening with the steam coming from the stews, the silence was even more suffocating. One night, the tension was so thick Riku’s appetite vanished entirely. He pushed the food around his plate, his gaze fixed on the grains of rice, afraid that looking up would invite a scrutiny he couldn’t bear, but it came anyway.

“Eat something, you are too skinny.”

The words, from Daeyoung’s father, were not gentle concern; they were a clinical, disapproving observation that landed like a slap.

“Dad,” Daeyoung whispered.

“It’s true, he looks too skinny. And your hair looks too long, too, you look like a wo-”

“Dad, please.” His boyfriend raised his voice for the first time in days.

The resulting silence was more deafening than anything else. His father’s face darkened before he shoved his chair back, the legs screeching against the floor, and stormed off to his room without another word.

“I’m so sorry, Riku, he’s just tired.” His mother excused him

“It’s okay, Ms. Kim, I understand.”

But he didn’t. He didn’t understand how his father could say things like that to someone who wasn’t even his son? What would he say to Daeyoung if he weren’t there? Maybe nothing because Daeyoung looked strong and masculine, whatever the fuck that meant. He shook those thoughts as soon as they landed in his brain.

They finished dinner quickly, too, and Riku went directly to help her clean the dishes. She tried to send them to the room, saying it wasn’t necessary, but Daeyoung just side hugged her, and Riku smiled, getting his hands covered in gloves that were too big for him. Once back in the room, the weight of the evening crashed down, and Riku wasn’t in the mood to do anything but text Yushi and sleep.

“Kuri.”

The nickname was a tiny whisper, but it filled the entire dark room. It was Daeyoung’s voice, stripped bare.

“I’m sorry.” He continued.

“It’s okay, Daeyoung, I don’t want to talk about it now.” Riku’s voice was flat, the exhaustion winning.

“But I don’t want to go to sleep knowing that you are mad.”

“How do you even know that I’m mad?”

“Because you have your foot hanging out of the bed.”

Riku scoffed.

Fucking Daeyoung. Of course he knew.

“What does that even mean?” Riku teased, knowing exactly what it meant.

He heard the creak of the bed, followed by footsteps. Daeyoung approached him, lifting the covers only to sink himself next to him, molding his body against Riku’s back, his arms wrapping around him in a tight, almost desperate embrace.

“You’re too hot and you don’t want to cover yourself up completely,” he explained, whispering, “But it’s cold anyway, so you just stick a foot out, like a cat sunbathing, seeking light.”

Riku turned around to face him.

Daeyoung was incredibly handsome.

He didn’t portray himself as such, hiding behind ugly tracksuits and easygoing smiles, trying to show other sides of himself that he was more comfortable with. Still, Riku had noticed from the first day that he was the most handsome boy he had ever seen: the eyes, those puppy eyes that Riku couldn’t say no to, his soft features along with his defined jaw, his soft nose, his cute lips that were always curved, smiling, revealing everything. He was utterly, completely gone for him, and Daeyoung only reciprocated.

“You don’t have to be sorry, Dae, I know it’s not your fault.” He addressed the situation

“I just don’t want to disappoint them, that’s all.” He answered in a broken shaky voice

“I know, trust me, I know, and I know it’s not my place to say this, but,” Riku took a deep breath, aware of how the situation was going to shift after continuing, “you’re the first person you need to stand up for, you need to be proud of yourself. Who cares if someone thinks you’re not it? If someone thinks you are not… not what? I can’t even think of something you are not.”

“That’s just-”

“You are not what? Hardworking? Talented? Thoughtful? Brave? Smart? Handsome? A good person? A good friend? A good-”

Riku stopped the moment Daeyoung let out a sob, a desperate, raw, and silent sob, a sound of such profound relief and pain that it stole his breath. He instantly gathered him closer, tucking Daeyoung’s head under his chin, holding him as his shoulders shook. This was the breakdown he’d been waiting for, the poison finally leaving the wound. And he was infinitely grateful it was happening here, in the safety of their dark cocoon, and not at that sterile dinner table.

“I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere, I promise, I promise you, okay?” Riku said, his lips on his boyfriend’s head, “I love you, Daeyoung, and I know you love me too. You’re good, I’m good, we’re good.”

He repeated the words like a mantra, a spell against the darkness, willing them to be absorbed, to become truth.

Daeyoung fell asleep there, in his arms, and for the first time in all the break, Riku felt a sense of peace so profound he followed him into a deep sleep next to him. That peace was shattered the next morning.

New Year’s Eve and his father came into the room early in the room to look for something Riku never knew, but they both heard the door slam he did as he went out.

Daeyoung jolted awake. “Fuck, what am I-” he mumbled, disoriented, before the reality of the slammed door crashed into him. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck-”

He scrambled out of bed like it was on fire, his face pale with a panic Riku had never seen. He rushed out of the room, leaving Riku frozen in the sheets, his own heart hammering against his ribs. He felt ashamed, like a criminal, deeply regretting his whole self.

Fuck they didn’t-

He didn’t elaborate on his thoughts before he heard Daeyoung’s father screaming. He quickly got out of bed, opening the door, listening to it closely.

“We sent you to Seoul only to come back with a boy? Who do you think you are to bring something into my house! What fucking perversion is this?”

Riku flinched, the words landing like punches. What the fuck. His father kept on yelling nonsense, but he couldn’t hear Daeyoung.

“And what is he? He looks like a girl!  Is he one of those?”

He had had enough. He stumbled out of the hall, but waited for the moment he heard his boyfriend speaking.

“I’m not going to let you disrespect him like that.”

“Disrespect him?!” his father roared. “This is my house! You bring your… your friend here and you disrespect me! You spit on everything under my roof with this… this…”

“You can’t even say it, can you?” Daeyoung scoffed, “I wanted him to meet you because he’s important to me, but it seems I was wrong. We will just leave if you both think I am disrespecting you. I don’t want to be an inconvenience.”

“You are not disrespecting us, Daeyoung, you are not going anywhere.” His mother spoke up, “He’s a good boy.”

The correction was subtle but monumental. She hadn’t said “a good friend.” She’d said “a good boy.”, and Riku felt seen.

“He’s a boy, honey! A boy! And our son is another boy! Or have you lost your mind, too?” his father insisted.

“We will leave.” Daeyoung insisted.

Riku wished he could peek over the wall to see how the scene was unfolding, but it seemed like they were having the first real conversation in a long time, so he didn’t want to intrude, not when finally both his boyfriend and his mother were speaking up for themselves.

Riku heard a grunt of disgust, the sound of heavy footsteps, the front door slamming shut. And then the room was quiet again, something shifting, and Riku ran back to the room. He didn’t hear anything for a while, until someone knocked on the door.

“Yes?” He asked, unsure.

“It’s me.” Daeyoung’s voice surprised him. “Can I come in?”

He was asking for permission to enter his own room. Riku didn’t know if he found it caring or sad, but it definitely hurt like the second option. He rushed to the door to open it for him.

“Yeah, of course,” he whispered.

He couldn’t quite decipher his face, but thankfully, his boyfriend was all about speaking his mind to him. He loved that about him.

“Well, I guess you heard, I’m so sorry about it-”

“Dae, please, it’s okay, I know-”

“No fuck Riku, it’s not okay. I didn’t even say anything, we didn’t even do anything, I don’t understand him.” Daeyoung sputtered, “I offered to leave, but he did it first. I don’t know where he went, probably to his brother’s, but I couldn’t care less right now. I’m so fucking mad.”

Riku wanted to empathize with his emotions, to make him heard, but he knew he didn’t need it. He didn’t need the usual ‘Your feelings are valid and I’m here to listen to them’. He probably didn’t even need to talk about it at the moment, so he decided to distract him, something to shift his mood.

“Want to go grab breakfast?” Riku asked, his tone deliberately light. “We can ask your mom to come.”

“Don’t think she’ll be up to come,” Daeyoung muttered, running a hand through his hair.

“Doesn’t hurt to ask, right?”

Daeyoung shrugged, and Riku nodded, encouraging him. They got dressed quickly and went to the living room, Daeyoung’s mother folding some clothes.

“Mom,” Daeyoung said, his voice softer now. “We’re going to get some breakfast. Do you want to come?”

“No, I- I have things to do here,” she said, not looking up.

“We can help you later, Ms. Kim!” Riku chimed in, injecting a cheerfulness he didn’t quite feel into the heavy air.

“Yeah, just come with us, Mom, we can go grab egg tarts,” Daeyoung added in a more serious tone.

His mother nodded, the softest smile coming out of his tired face.

And that night they celebrated New Year’s the three of them, trying to be positive about it, trying not to think about how fucking weird it was that his father wasn’t there, but they didn’t mention it. A makeshift family.

They walked to a nearby temple, did some prayers, and went back, Daeyoung’s mother guiding them through different streets while his boyfriend explained to Riku some buildings and corners. In one swift motion, Daeyoung’s fingers laced through Riku’s. His mother’s step faltered for just a second; she glanced back, her eyes registering their joined hands. She didn’t smile, but she didn’t look away in disgust either. She simply turned forward and kept walking. Riku’s heart swelled. He squeezed Daeyoung’s hand tighter.

Riku took it as a personal win, holding his hand tighter in return.

The following days were weird, like hollowed out.

Daeyoung woke up earlier than Riku. He wasn’t around when he opened his eyes, and he always found him in the small garden next to the house, pulling weeds with his mother or methodically cleaning the same already-clean surfaces. Riku knew not to intervene; he needed this, to vent, to bond with his mother. Riku gave them their space, his heart aching for the boy who felt he had to earn his place in his own home.

He went to sleep later than him too, shifting in bed relentlessly. Riku lay awake, desperately wanting to cross the space between their beds and pull him into an embrace, but the memory of the slammed door held him back, rightfully so.

A couple of days before their departure, Daeyoung’s dad returned. It was in the middle of lunch, the three of them softly laughing at some silly TV show. The door opened, shutting the three of them at once. Daeyoung’s mother, like under a spell, stood up and served him a dish of leftover stew and rice, the same as they were having, and he sat right next to them.

The weight of his presence was pressing down on them, and he began to eat as if nothing had happened. The meal continued in a suffocating silence, the only sound the clink of utensils. Riku’s jaw tightened. He wanted to demand an apology, or even for him to address the situation, but he knew once again it wasn’t his place. Daeyoung seemed tense, but his mother looked at him, smiling the whole lunch, grounding him.

As soon as they finished eating, Daeyoung quickly did the dishes, and Riku helped him to finish even faster, and they went outside in a shared quiet agreement. They walked around Daegu, and for the first time, Riku didn’t care that his borrowed clothes were unfashionable. All that mattered was the solid, reassuring warmth of Daeyoung’s hand in his.

He snapped a hundred pictures of him, in poses that were borderline ridiculous, but it almost made both of them snort the matcha they ordered out of their noses.

During the next day, they packed. It didn’t need to take too long, but Riku had packed way too much, and the suitcase felt smaller. Every time he went out to grab something out of the bathroom, he found his suitcase filled with more things Daeyoung had folded for him.

The last day happened in a rush. Daeyoung’s dad left early in the morning, his mother said he needed to take care of something in a nearby town, but neither of them believed her. They finished packing, having to grab an extra backpack to take every container Daeyoung’s mom had given them, filled with kimchi, fresh radishes, pickled vegetables, and fresh fruit… his mother’s armor against the world, prepared with love.

Once in the door, his mother approached both, Riku first. He shifted in his place, unsure; it was the closest they had been physically, and he didn’t know if he was sure of what was about to happen, but he instantly melted under her touch. He tucked one of Riku’s long hair strands and tucked it behind his left ear, her thumb brushing his cheek.

“You are very pretty, Riku,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “Take care of my Daeyoungie.”

Riku nodded, understanding.

He switched to his son and hugged him tightly, “Take care of each other.”

She knew. She had always known. And in that moment, she was choosing them.

Daeyoung hugged him, a silent ‘thank you’ coming out of his mouth as he broke the embrace, ready to go back to Seoul.

The train was uncomfortable, not physically but mentally. The rhythmic clatter of the tracks did little to soothe the spiraling thoughts in Riku’s head. He tried to lose himself in daydreams of Daegu’s sunlit streets, but the memories were now tinged with a bittersweet ache, which quickly made him fall asleep.

In his sleep, he had a dream.

It had been too long since Riku had a dream. He knew he used to sleep talk, and he always asked Yushi what he said, because he didn’t remember anything from the moment he woke up, his brain too stimulated as soon as he opened his eyes, but this time he felt it so vividly that ever forget it.

He was in Daegu, again, in that first bus they took to get to Daeyoung’s house, but he was by himself, and the bus didn’t stop. It started drifting slowly, and Riku grabbed the cold metal handrail, his knuckles white, trying to find some balance, but the bus kept drifting faster and stopping suddenly. He didn’t want to be on the bus anymore, so he yelled, trying to stop it, but the bus kept on accelerating, going downhill, and when it was about to crash, he woke up, covered in sweat, his shoulders feeling small under Daeyoung’s tight grip.

“Riku, Riku, are you okay?”

The world snapped back into focus: the hum of the train, the passing scenery.

“What?” Riku blinked, the remnants of the dream clinging to him.

“You were crying out. A bad dream?”

“Oh, yes, I think so.” Riku breathed, the word shaky, still too concerned to switch into Korean.

“Do you want to… to talk to me?” Daeyoung asked, concerned.

“Just tired,” Riku shook his head softly.

“Then sleep, I’ll wake you up when we get home.”

Riku side hugged Daeyoung, his chest already humming in satisfaction after hearing those words. He leaned forward and, without overthinking it, pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. It was the first in days, and it tasted like a forgotten language his mouth was thrilled to remember.

A quiet understanding between them. Riku raised his head and kissed him once more, a silent seal on the promise. Then he settled back, nuzzling against the familiar warmth of Daeyoung’s shoulder, the lingering tingle on his lips as they went back home.

Notes:

breakin down some thoughts

1. this was mid i know and im sorry but the next one is great (why do i feel like i always say this...... anyway, this time it's true)
2. tried to set a couple new tags but as always, if you think something is missing please kindly let me know!
3. this is now officially over 100k im sorry yall...
4. if u still dont follow me on twt and want to reach out for whatever (im nice i promise) you can do it @ahyusshi
5. i also had so much fun picking the songs for riku and daeyoung chapters (which r the last 6 in the playlist, 3 for each, in order) so i would be super happy if you checked it outtttt
6. thank u rlly for the support and feedback and comments and dms and everything rlly yall make me so happy and so decided to keep on writting yusion so thank u<3

Chapter 18: wishful winter

Summary:

Home wasn’t necessarily your house.

Yushi didn’t like airports. 

Not just the obvious things, like having his backpack searched as if he were some dealer, getting through the scan felt like they could see right through him. The boarding gate rituals of families getting food, water, those cute neck pillows… It was all too domestic for him, displayed like it meant nothing.

And before that, he didn’t really mind at all the whole way to the airport, even though it was tiring, but he didn’t imagine this time was going to be as devastating as it was. Sion woke at dawn to help him pack. Sion’s fingers brushed his as they zipped the suitcase. Sion, standing at the security line, looking wrecked but trying to smile, that ridiculous axolotl keychain swaying from Yushi’s dorm key lanyard like a tiny pink guardian.

In his seat, he clung to his new keychain, tears streaming down his face, silent and relentless. Did he want to go back? It was too late to ask the pilot to turn around? 

The flight was short but not enough to stop feeling Sion’s fingers on his nape, to keep reminiscing about his hands cupping his face. As he landed, he unlocked his phone, getting more texts than he had imagined. It was long enough to wonder if he’d made a mistake.

Before he could get a headache from overthinking, he was landing in his hometown, the first half of the world feeling like an imposed lie.

 

anton

hey hey 

shotaro told me you were leaving for the break

im leaving for boston too

have fun!

we can meet up when were both here again

 

Yushi smiled. It had been a while since he had seen him, but his texts always made him feel better.

 

yushi

yeah

ill let you know when im back

happy christmas !

 

He cringed at the exclamation point, definitely too cheery for what he was actually feeling, not really minding that it was not even Christmas yet. He shifted to the next one like he was answering emails.

 

riku 

text me when u get

actually no

i can see when this gets received

but send me a pic anyways

 

yushi 

[attachment]

just got here

ill call you when i get to my house

 

He moved quickly out of the plane, getting into the bus to get to the airport. The way was long, the airport was too big for his own liking, moving through Narita’s labyrinthine corridors on autopilot, the axolotl bouncing against his chest with each step, grounding him, but as soon as he was out, he smiled. 

Outside, winter air slapped his cheeks. Tokyo smelled exactly like he remembered, like exhaust and stale cigarette smoke, an oddly comforting combination. Without thinking, he veered into the smoking area, inhaling the acrid tang like it could steady him. Only there he felt courageous enough to open Sion’s chat, like the fogginess of the room could hide his visible excitement.

 

sionnie

hey 

i hope you get there safely

send me a lot of pictures

of tokyo

and you

specially you

 

Yushi smiled like a fool, flustered.

 

yushi

hi

just landed

i will get the bus home 

 

Sion’s reply came within seconds.

 

sionnie

perfect

call you later?

when you are not jetlagged

 

yushi

?

from seoul to tokyo?

 

sionnie

it was a joke 

 

yushi 

i see

well

 

sionnie

you are literally no fun 

 

yushi 

i know

 

The texts were friendly, slightly awkward, warm but careful, like they were both tiptoeing around the ache of separation, not addressing it but not forgetting it either. Yushi loved the effort but hated the distance it highlighted.

 He was about to get out of the smoking room when his phone vibrated with Yuta’s call.

“Change of plans,” his brother’s voice crackled through the receiver. “I’m flying in tonight. I sent a car, look for someone holding your name.”

“Okay.”

“Okay, see you in a bit.”

Yuta hung up, and Yushi rushed inside. For the longest time, he couldn’t see anyone looking for him. The whole place was crowded, but close to the door, he saw a bored-looking man clutching a crumpled sign, and relief came tinged with irritation. 

He sighed, already tired of his brother’s ways of doing things, and went towards him. It was awkward, the encounter, the silent walk to the car, and the drive to downtown, but he would rather do that than have a meaningless conversation with someone he wasn’t going to ever see again.

The walk up the house was cold, not to mention the moment Yushi opened the door.

That house wasn’t home.

Void, empty rooms, humidity sticking to the walls, like nobody had been there in years. He knew the drill too well, plugging in the fridge, flicking light switches, wrestling stubborn windows open... Half of the plants were dead, and the other ones were made out of plastic, and Yushi didn’t know which was sadder.

He looked through the window, the idea of getting out tempting, but the streets were too crowded, and the noise was already overwhelming his ears. He decided to call Riku, rather than hearing him talking about Daegu and Daeyoung’s family, than him explaining the absence of his. The call was familiar, their overlapping voices filling the hollow spaces, and Yushi wished for a second that he had gone with them.

After the first hour, Riku switched the call to FaceTime to show him Daeyoung’s room.

“No hairdresser in Daegu?” Yushi teased as Riku switched the camera, sitting close to the window

“Now that’s mean…” Riku said as he scratched his nape, hair getting longer by the day, “I like it like this.”

The call was long enough for Yuta to arrive, startling Yushi, who quickly hung up on his best friend. His brother looked tired, travel-worn, but overall, familiar. His body moved before his brain caught up, trying not to look too excited but failing as he crossed the room in quick strides, arms wrapping around his brother just a fraction too tight. He buried his face in Yuta’s jacket, inhaling the scent of his horrible cologne, refusing to ask the question burning his tongue.

“Jesus Christ, why are you this tall?” Yuta quickly said, Yushi, excited to hear his voice in real life, “And buff? What have you been eating?”

“Bricks,” Yushi humored him.

“No joke, I can tell.” Yuta was kneading his shoulders hard, making Yushi squirm in soft pain. “Was the flight okay?” Yushi nodded. “Are you hungry? Have you eaten?”

“No.”

“Want to order something?”

In just five minutes, they came back to their usual shenanigans: Yuta acting carelessly around the house, like he wanted to be in it, to leave his scent, his life, and Yushi scolding him for leaving shoes around and glass without coasters, like he wanted the house to stay soulless.

Afternoon stretched, both getting to the big terrace to see the sunset painted over Tokyo’s skyline. Yuta told him about soccer, of course, the training, the teammates, and the coach. Yushi thrived in his words, he loved soccer, he enjoyed listening to his brother's anecdotes, but as usual, he shifted when the older asked about him.

“And what about you, are you going to be the next Renzo Piano?”

“More or less,”  Yushi shrugged, aiming for nonchalance.

“All by yourself? If you are going to be that successful, you are going to need some company…” He wiggled his eyebrows. “If you know what I mean.”

Heat crawled up Yushi’s neck. He turned away, but Yuta’s gasp was theatrical.

“Hold the fuck up, you banged someone.”

“Not banged,” Yushi quickly said, “We just kissed.”

“Just kissed! Who is she?”

“Him.”

“Okay, so you didn't bang a girl, but you kissed a boy. Can you actually tell me more? I feel like im dragging the words out of your gut.”

“His name is Sion, he’s Korean, also studying architecture-”

“Of course,” Yuta complained, gesturing something with his arms

“What do you mean by of course?”

“Architects only make out with architects, they think the rest of us are less…”

“Smart?” Yushi smirked. “I think that's just you.”

Yuta almost smacked him on the head, but Yushi was seconds faster. He slowly explained the whole Sion thing, his brother interrupting him every two words to ask him things he was going to clarify later, but he let him anyway. Yushi even showed him a couple of pictures, and he nodded in approval. 

Yuta clung to him like a shadow, trailing behind as Yushi moved through the too-quiet apartment. Even when Yushi just went to grab water or check his phone, Yuta would materialize, leaning against the counter with that expectant look, like he was trying to memorize him.

It made Yushi’s chest twist because it was exactly how Yuta had behaved around him since he was born, always watching over, always taking care.

“And when were you going back?” Yuta asked him.

The question he didn’t want to ask, much less answer. Not because he was unsure about what to do, but because he feared what his brother might.

“I guess after New Year’s, why?”

“Shit, really? I thought it was going to be sooner. I’m leaving next week.”

Yushi nodded, frustrated. It was exactly what he expected and still hurt like hell.

“Where are Mom and Dad?” his voice came out weaker than before

“Don’t know, don’t care.” Yuta shrugged, popping a grape into his mouth.

“Then why am I here?” he asked out loud

“What do you mean? I thought you wanted to see me.”

“I do,” Yushi said quickly, “but I thought they were going to be here too. Am I supposed to stay here for two weeks by myself after you’re gone?”

“Would you rather be in Seoul by yourself?” his brother ricocheted his question.

He didn’t answer, couldn’t.

What would he prefer?

It wasn’t even about being in Seoul with Sion; it was about belonging somewhere. He knew Riku and Daeyoung were going to be in Daegu until the end of the break, he knew Sion would be in Mokpo for another week, and yet, the thought of being in his dorm by himself felt more reassuring than being in that apartment.

“We can change the tickets,” Yuta offered softly. “Would you like that?”

Yushi’s body answered before his mind could process it, nodding along. They broke down the details of the flight, changing it to the 29th of December. For some reason, something in his chest loosened. Like he’d sidestepped an abyss.

The nine days he spent with his brother were total chaos, like they were reminiscing about their childhood, like they were borrowing time from each other. They turned the living room into a nest of blankets and takeout containers, the big mattress dragged center-stage like they were kids again. Yuta cooked ridiculous meals, over-salted ramen, suspiciously charred pancakes, while Yushi sneakily restocked the fridge with their ordered groceries between his brother's dramatic monologues about soccer tactics.

Living in Tokyo with his brother was a hard-to-swallow pill, because he was getting more famous by the year, and even if only die-hard fans recognized Yushi, especially young people, his brother needed to call actual security guards and two cars whenever he wanted to get out of the house. Yushi laughed at himself when he thought about people fangirling over his brother, his stupid, too-stubborn, and usually way too noisy brother.

They binge-watched childhood shows, howling with laughter at the cringeworthy dialogue. Yuta forced him to watch his recent interviews, and Yushi nearly choked when his brother attempted a British accent for an English reporter.

“You sound like a drunk aristocrat,” Yushi wheezed.

“Don’t know much about the aristocrat bit, but I was definitely drunk,” Yuta shot back.

One night, Yuta invited friends over. The sudden burst of laughter and clinking bottles sent Yushi retreating to his old room. He flicked the light on and froze. There was a reason he hadn’t opened the door since he had arrived there; the sight was frightening.

The space was sterile. A hotel room impersonating a childhood. No posters, no forgotten sweaters, not even a dent in the dust-covered carpet where his desk chair used to sit. Like he’d never existed here at all.

He sat down on the floor and pulled out his phone, already knowing where his thumbs were moving to.

He had tried to stay away from his phone during these days, but mainly because Yuta teased him to death every time he caught him smiling at his phone first thing in the morning, but how could he not? There wasn’t a single day that Sion didn't wake him up with a good morning text, and if Yushi went to sleep too soon, he saw the goodnight one too.

They shared pictures, even short voice notes, but that night, Yushi missed him more than he would like to admit, so he just called him. It was late, almost midnight, and he doubted for a second when the call went through, but after two loud beeps, Sion answered.

“Hey,” he greeted him, his voice thick but sweet, “Is everything okay?”

Yushi hummed, almost melting into the way Sion cared so much about him. The Korean felt nice in his ears, the accent making its way into Yushi’s brain, soothing him.

“Did you have dinner?”

“Some pork miso soup, and some choco-mint ice cream.” Yushi smiled softly, the minty taste still lingering in his mouth refusing to go. “And you?”

“I went outside with some childhood friends, we had barbecue, it was nice, but it’s way too cold to be in the street.” He said sweetly, like he didn’t want him for Yushi to be outside, “You in your house?”

“Yes, with Yuta.”

“That’s nice, you were excited to see him, right?” Yushi hummed against his phone, “That’s great, I’m sure he was excited to see you again.”

The conversation shifted from Sion’s slightly chaotic Christmas dinner to Liv’s midnight rants about whether the word ‘color’ should be spelled the American way or the British one. Yushi heard him talk for a few hours, his voice getting thicker and lower, trying not to wake his family, Yushi’s eyes slowly closing as the night presented.

“Sorry, am I boring you?” Sion stopped mid-rant, waking a half-sleep Yushi

“No,” Yushi mumbled

“I miss you.”

Those words woke him up completely, stiffening his back against his bed. He hadn’t realized, but his butt hurt from sitting on the floor for too long. He got up and lay down on the dusty mattress, too tired to care if it was dirty enough to be a health hazard.

“I miss you too,” he admitted

“When were you coming back?”

“The 29th”

“I see…” Sion’s humming stretched, “Want to call tomorrow too?” 

Yushi hummed, sleepy, needy.

Sion didn’t sound too excited to see him; maybe he had other things in mind.

“I think uhm- I have to hang up… It’s pretty late…”

Yushi hummed again, his brain foggy.

He checked his phone quickly, almost four in the morning.

Why has he been getting bothered all of a sudden? Was it because Sion’s voice sounded like heaven on earth? It was because the last time he had seen him, he had made him feel incredibly good? Was he because he missed his touch?

“Yushi? Are you there?”

“Yes, sorry.”

“Okay, I’m going to hang up, okay? I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, Sion.”

“Goodnight, Yushi.”

The call ended, leaving silence thick enough to choke on. Yushi’s fingers twitched against the phone, half-tempted to redial, to hear Sion's sleep-rough voice just once more. Instead, his hands moved with a will of their own, slipping beneath the waistband of his pajamas.

His hand closed quickly around himself, his hips buckling around nothing, making him incredibly needy. He made the embrace tighter, greedier, only stopping to spit heavily on his hand, rutting against it right again. He caressed his chest with his other hand, eyes closed, his brain in a frenzy state.

Yushi had to bite his lip, the feeling of his length being too much under his touch, his throat dry, gasping for air. In less than a minute, he aimed victoriously for his much-needed orgasm, releasing all over himself, still palming through it until it ached.

It was over too fast.

The clarity came right after, making him shed a tear. The sensation was so different from last time that it made Yushi’s chest ache; still feeling unsatisfied. The aftertaste was horrible, the bed felt emptier, dirtier. Sion wasn’t there to clean him, to kiss him, to give him his clothes, and then he remembered.

He removed his shirt carefully, cringing when he used it to clean himself, the fabric scratching uncomfortably. He pulled his pants right after, practically rushing to the bathroom. He threw everything in the washing machine, ashamed, and quickly showered. Under the shower’s scalding spray, he scrubbed until his skin burned pink, as if he could wash away the loneliness clinging to him like a second skin.

With a towel wrapped around his waist, he rushed downstairs, almost falling on the stairs. Yuta and his friends were on the terrace, so Yushi just grabbed some clothes and went upstairs again to get changed.

His hands burned, eagerly closing the lock behind him as he went into the bathroom again.

Sion’s shirt stretched in between his fingers, worn out, pattern unrecognizable; it was the first thing Yushi had packed in the suitcase. He put it on, like it was a costume, but the way the collar fell against his collarbones, the hem of it brushing his thighs, it was reassuring, grounding. He got dressed and got down again, quickly falling asleep in between Yuta’s laughter drifting in from the terrace and Sion’s scent clinging to the shirt pressed against his nose.

The next three days felt rushed, like a countdown, and Yushi didn’t know if he liked it, the feeling of time being stolen out of him. He wanted to stay attached to Yuta’s hip, following each other around the house like cats, not letting each other breathe, not even when they were close to hitting each other.

But every time he unlocked his phone and he saw the time, the day, anything… he thought about Sion. He forgot to ask if he was still in Mokpo, and honestly, he was too embarrassed to ask him; he didn’t remember if he had told him in their last phone call. Sion had asked him to call again, but Yushi didn’t want to lose time with his brother, and he was honest about it.

 

sionnie

its okay!

just tell me when ur free!

and dont forget about the pics hehe

 

They said goodbye inside the building; the street was filled with fans that somehow knew about his unofficial schedules, but Yushi preferred that to a dramatic goodbye at the airport.

“Stop eating bricks or you will get leaner than me,” his brother said tenderly as he hugged him tightly.

“Stop getting drunk for interviews,” Yushi joked, Yuta almost choking the air out of him in revenge.

The apartment didn’t just feel empty after Yuta left; it felt erased.

Yushi didn’t cry when he closed the door, but the moment he sat down on the floor to eat some leftover soup, he felt his tears welling up. Suddenly, he was ten years old again.

Ten, and eating alone at this same spot, metal silverware clicking against ceramic as the clock ticked past midnight. Ten, and pretending not to hear the front door’s whisper at three in the morning, the quiet footsteps of parents who’d rather not be seen. Ten, and learning to fold himself smaller, quieter, less.

A tear plopped into the soup. Then another.

The mattress on the floor wasn’t cool anymore; it was cringey. The food wasn’t tasty; it was bland, boring, making him want to puke. The shows weren’t funny, they were stupid. He was fed up.

He barely slept, shifting on the sofa, his body felt too hot against the cold air of the room; the street felt so shiny and loud against the quiet and dark living room. It was soulless, once again. Yushi couldn’t make his house into a home by himself.

This was never his home.

The ride to the airport felt the same as the route he had done days ago: same driver, same car, same weather, same roads. The boarding gate vibe still felt too domestic, the families cheering about spending New Year’s in Seoul, taking pictures together. Yushi ignored his toxic thoughts, his anger, and his empty feeling. Seeing Yuta for nine days was worth it.

The small suitcase felt heavier against Seoul’s airport floor, but it wasn’t just a feeling; it was the truth.

Yushi had been buying hundreds of snacks to bring back to Sion to try them, and he had stuffed his luggage with them. Yes, he was wearing three shirts, two boxers, and his pockets filled with socks. This could be his top five humblest moments if it wasn’t because his brother had bought them the new ticket, incredibly expensive because it was in the middle of Christmas and only a week and a half before.

The taxi to the dorm felt uncomfortable, he driver only talked to himself, and he missed Sion. He missed Sion’s hands. Missed how they’d laced together at the backseat, silent and sure; missed the way Sion’s thumb would trace absent circles over his knuckles, as if memorizing him.

The only thing that comforted him during the whole day was his small axolotl keyring in his lanyard, in between his closed jacket and his stacked shirts. It gave him a sense of control over the situation that he couldn’t name; he couldn’t digest. It burned his chest, only slightly, like a campfire in the middle of a forest, the one that made you get close, but if you went too close, you would burn alive.

The amazing thing was that Yushi felt exactly like that, like he was burning alive as soon as he saw the university, a smile on his face without him wanting to. He was drawn to it, his face stuck to the backseat window as the taxi rounded the familiar curve of the road, the dormitory building rising before them with its chipped paint and lopsided bicycle racks. Three months. That’s all it had been. Yet his body recognized this place with bone-deep certainty, how his pulse stuttered at the particular crack in the sidewalk where he’d tripped that first week.

It was weird to be that attached to a place you had only been for three months, but Yushi couldn’t explain it.

When the taxi finally stopped, Yushi nearly tripped over his own luggage in his haste. The winter air smelled different here, less like exhaust and more like a chance.

He rushed to his room, the axolotl in his hand burning, and when he opened the door to reveal his home, finally understanding it.

Home wasn’t necessarily your house.

Home could mean a small room in which Riku had forgotten to make his bed. It could be the small counter, the wall still darkened in some areas due to the fire incident. It could be the tiny bathroom, filled with humidity, the door slightly opened, revealing the perpetually damp towels they never hung properly.

Home was where he could thrive, and nothing made him happier than being there, in Seoul, in his room. He quickly texted Riku, in a rush, happiness sliding through his fingers.

 

yushi

just got back

 

riku

so so glad

i think i left it kind of….. messy

 dont bother changing my sheets

really

i will do it

 

Yushi cringed at it, looking at the unmade bed now with a little bit more discomfort on his face, hurrying to open the windows. Then he texted his brother, but he didn’t answer. He sent a couple of pictures of the small kitchen, wanting to prove how real the small fire was.

He also texted Anton, letting him know he was already in the city. The reply came fast, telling him he was still in Boston, showing a short video of some snowflakes hitting his room window.

Then he texted Sion. His thumbs fumbled on the screen, not knowing what exactly to say. He opted to keep it friendly, approachable.

 

yushi

heyhey

just got back

how are you?

any cool plans for the day?

 

He slapped himself mentally at those last words. He was in his hometown, with his family, childhood friends… of course, he was going to have cool plans. He instantly locked his phone and went to have a shower, to tidy up his room, anything to clear his mind. After an hour, he went to check his phone to play some music, but quickly got alarmed as he saw five missed calls from Sion and a lot of incoherent texts along with them.

 

sionnie

wydm

u got back

back as in

as in what?

yushi??

im calling u

back where??

 

Before he could go on scrolling through Sion’s ranting, his name popped up on the screen, calling him again.

“Yes?” Yushi asked, confused, like he had done something wrong.

“What do you mean you just got back? What do you mean?” Sion’s words tumbled out in a breathless rush.

“I told you...” Yushi muttered, unsure of his words

“Didn’t you say the 9^th?” Sion seemed rushed, “The 9^th?” He repeated in Japanese.

Oh.

So that happened.

Yushi let out a soft laugh, like he couldn’t believe what was happening.

“Why are you laughing? Where are you?”

“Because I said the 29^th.” Yushi said between giggles, “As in the 29^th,” he repeated in Korean

The silence stretched for one delicious second before Sion’s incredulous shriek nearly blew out his eardrum. “Are you actually kidding me?”

Now they were both laughing, the kind that made Yushi’s ribs ache. It was always like that between them.

“Well, thank lord because I’m here too. I asked Jaehyun to drive me here.” Sion continued after he caught his breath.

“From Mokpo?”

“No,” Sion giggled innocently, “I’m staying at his place for the rest of the break.” He said, “And I’m pretty sure I’m failing history, so I wanted to grab my notes.”

“Oh,” Yushi’s sotmach twisted.

He suddenly remembered that the grades hadn’t come out yet, but he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to fail.

“So like, are you back like in your room?” Sion hurriedly said, and Yushi hummed contentedly, “Can I come over?”

The question hung between them, sweet and simple. The fact that Sion would still ask even though he knew he was more than welcome was endearing.

“Of course.”

Yushi counted the minutes on his trembling fingers, five exact, agonizing minutes perched on the edge of his freshly made bed. His knees bounced uncontrollably, palms damp against the taut fabric of his sweatpants.  As soon as he heard some footsteps in the hall, he rushed. He had just been a couple of hours in the dorms, but he could see how empty they were, people fleeing away. It was only normal, but that only made Yushi sure about those steps being from Sion.

Why was he so nervous?

It had been barely ten days without him, without seeing him… and yet, his whole body was shaking as he twisted the knob, revealing him, his face filled with a smile only he could bear, like he was the sun himself.

He had darker hair, like the burgundy had faded out, and some loose jeans on. Before he could dwell on how breathtaking he was, Sion’s arms were around him, lifting him clear off the ground in a hug so tight it compressed the air from Yushi’s lungs.  He made his way inside the room, messily closing the door behind him, and when he set him down, their lips crashed together with an urgency never seen in either of them. Yushi clung to him, to the worn fabric of his hoodie, to the solid warmth of his forearms, like he would cry if he got away.

Sion steadied him in ways he couldn’t wrap his head around, always making his thoughts circle around him.

His hands cradled Yushi’s face with unbearable gentleness, thumbs tracing the arches of his cheekbones as if committing them to memory. Each kiss softened, deepened, until they were breathing each other in more than kissing, foreheads pressed together between languid brushes of lips.

“This is so embarrassing, but I’ve missed you so much, Yushi.” He said, mumbling against his lips.

“Me too,” he whispered, whimpering in between the kisses.

They were moving slowly around the room, kissing each other’s faces with such devotion, their feet making them gravitate towards Yushi’s bed, clumsily removing Sion’s jacket. The mattress was hard against his back, creaking as they sank into it, the sheets feeling rough, but just because Sion touched him so gently, his fingertips brushing his jawline like he was trying to memorize it, moving them gently to the dip of his throat.

It was too comfortable to be like that, with Sion hovering on top of him, kissing the air out of him. Everywhere their skin connected sparked with a quiet electricity, not the frantic buzz of lust, but something deeper, more terrifying in its intensity. He couldn’t let go of Sion now that he had him there.

Yushi’s hips arched involuntarily, the denim of his jeans suddenly unbearable. His fingers fumbled at Sion’s belt before he even realized what he was doing.

“Fuck Yushi,” Sion gasped against his mouth, “I’ve missed you,”

“Sion,” The word tore from Yushi’s throat, raw and needy. “I need you.”

They both froze at those words.

Sion pulled back just far enough to search Yushi’s face, eyes wide, lips parted in desperation. This was new, because Yushi had never been the one to ask, to initiate, to voice his desires so plainly. The realization hung between them, fragile as a soap bubble: something had shifted.

Yushi’s pulse thundered in his ears, but he didn’t look away. Didn’t retract the words. Let them linger in the scant space between their bodies like an offering.

Sion’s answering smile was softer than anything, lowering himself to bury his soft lips in Yushi’s.

“I need you too, so bad.” He said seconds after “Do you have here-”

Yushi’s head shook with shyness, already knowing what he was about to ask. The quiet between them thickened with understanding.

“Okay, want me to go to my room and-”

A nod. Yushi’s throat clicked as he swallowed, pulse fluttering visibly at his neck.

Sion got to it quickly, bolting out of bed, getting his shoes, and practically running down the hall. Yushi stood in his usual spot, Riku’s window, as he saw Sion running to his dorm, only for him to run back a couple of minutes later. He opened the door for him again, his face flustered, his jeans this time lower, revealing his black underwear, and he lost it loudly as Sion pinned him against that said door, hands framing Yushi’s face with trembling intensity, making him melt underneath them.

“Fuck sorry, let’s do this right.”

The shift was tectonic. Where moments ago had been frantic energy now unfolded as slow reverence, Sion’s palm warm at the small of Yushi’s back, guiding him toward the bed with deliberate care. He realized what was about to happen, and it made his body shiver. He had been waiting for it for days now, and unconsciously, he had wanted it since he saw him.

He’d played this moment in his head a hundred times since that first kiss, but nothing compared to the weight of Sion’s gaze, dark and hungry and so focused it made his skin prickle. His thoughts only reassured him when they lay down again, same position, Sion looking over Yushi like he wanted to eat him alive.

But his presence as he kissed him wasn’t overwhelming; it was grounding, inviting. Yushi clung to his lips like a lifeline, not wanting to be away from his touch for a second.

“So you haven’t done-”

“No.” Yushi whispered, ashamed, “But I know how- how it works…”

“Okay, that’s great.” Sion’s lips trailed wet, clumsy kisses along his jaw. “And had you ever tried to-”

“Yes,” Yushi squirmed under his words whispered over his neck.

Yushi had never done anything with anyone, but he had done plenty of things with himself. He knew which touches made his breath catch, which rhythms worked best, and he guessed that if he liked it when he was doing it, poorly and unskilled, Sion’s touch must feel heavenly against his skin.

But he couldn’t say it, too ashamed of it, like someone had discovered his secrets. Sion caught it, the way Yushi was grinding softly against his leg, and he pressed his lips against Yushi’s ear.

“So you’ve… by yourself?” Sion murmured, his nose knocking against Yushi’s temple as he adjusted.

A whine. A nod.

“That’s so fucking hot, damn.”

The half-praise shouldn’t have made Yushi’s stomach flip, but it did, just as Sion’s hips stuttered forward, their bodies aligning imperfectly at first. Yushi gasped when their clothed lengths finally pressed together properly, the friction sending sparks up his spine.

In a motion, Sion unbuckled his belt, removing his jeans clumsily, and Yushi did the same with his pants, kicking them off the bed. The grinding was more intense, the filmsy material between them doing nothing to prevent Yushi from trying to get more friction over it. Sion slid his hands under Yushi’s hoodie and shirt, which made him squirm.

“Sorry, they are too cold.”

Yushi blushed, nodding. He could feel how perky his chest felt underneath his fingers, and how truly cold his brushes were against them, but it only made him needier. He closed his legs around Sion’s hips, seeking closeness, and he flipped him over.

Yushi had never been on top of Sion like that, and heat flooded his face as he realized that, but Sion just grinned up at him, hair mussed and lips kiss-swollen. 

He felt too hot all over, so he removed his hoodie, but it wasn’t enough, so he removed his shirt too. Sion mimicked him, with much less grace because he was lying down, but it didn’t matter, because what he revealed was worth the clumsy movements.

Yushi glued his hands to his torso, unable to believe it was real if he wasn’t touching it. Sion’s body was sculpted, from what he knew, by himself. It was lean, broad shoulders, a thinner waist, and firm skin wrapping everything up.

“You can- yeah,” he encouraged him.

Sion let out with ease, moving like he knew exactly what to do, and that made Yushi delirious.

His hand didn’t stop either, moving them to Yushi’s hips, guiding some movements over him, then to his hips, like he couldn’t decide between reverence and desperation. In a quick buzz, he moved his hands lower, cupping his length over his underwear.

“Can I?”

Yushi nodded, arching back with a quiet gasp. His hands slid behind him to brace against the mattress, offering himself completely, an unspoken surrender that made Sion's breath catch. When he finally palmed Yushi through his underwear, the touch was almost clinical at first, experimental. Then Sion slid his length out, and Yushi bucked into it with a broken noise, and any remaining hesitation shattered.

The sounds Yushi made were muffled but devastating, each bitten-off whine vibrating against his own knuckles where he’d pressed them to his mouth. His head fell back, throat bared, as Sion explored him with trembling reverence. The slide of his thumb came easier now, finding Yushi’s already slick tip. Every drag drew another fractured noise, Yushi’s hips stuttering up into the touch like he couldn’t help himself.

“You want me to stop?”

Yushi didn’t answer, but he guided Sion’s liking to his liking. He was grabbing his wrist up and down, and Sion just looked at him, amazed. The feeling of having his fingers around him at his own pace felt delirious.

“Mhhh Sion, I’m-”

He didn’t answer with words; he just closed his hand firmly, but Yushi finally removed, gasping for air. He couldn’t bring himself to orgasm just on top of Sion; he needed him.

“Yushi, you are too damn hot-”

Sion straightened his back, hugging Yushi only to bring him down, kissing him intensely. Yushi was a moaning mess, caressing Sion all over, his hands figeting with both their underwear, intentions clear but unsaid. They switched positions again, getting the last piece of clothing finally away from them.

“Turn around,” Sion breathed against his mouth, nudging gently.

Yushi went willingly, shuddering as Sion’s lips found the sensitive nape of his neck. The new position left him exposed in a way that should have been terrifying but instead sent liquid heat pooling low in his belly. Sion’s hands mapped his back in slow, worshipful strokes, pausing at each vertebra like he was memorizing them.

“Just like this,” Sion murmured, the words vibrating against his skin.

Even in that position, Yushi turned his head slightly around to see what Sion was doing, especially when he got out of his bed to grab the things he brought to the room. Yushi was nervous, and the other could tell by the way his hands were brushing against the back of his thighs, as if trying to relax him, soothing circles in them.

“Whenever you want to stop, just let me know, okay?” He asked with devotion, “We’ve got this.”

“Yes”

Yushi cringed at the sound of his own voice, too high-pitched, too needy, but Sion’s hands reassured him. He could sneak glances at his movements, and he knew exactly what to do. Yushi knew it too, but the anticipation was overwhelming.

The sound of the small plastic bottle, how cold it felt against him, Sion was trying to shush him while kissing his lower back as he was making his way in. It was one digit, but his hands were big, bigger than Yushi's anyway, so the discomfort was there, reminiscent of what they were doing.

The sensations switched to something too comfortable in seconds, and Sion tried with another one, repeating the process, this time taking a bit more time. Sion’s lips pressed apologetic kisses along each knob of his spine as he worked the digit deeper with torturous patience.

Yushi found it difficult to restrict his moans with every small thrust, especially when Sion was reaching deeper by the second. Then another digit came, and Yushi clenched so hard, biting his lips.

“Are you okay?” Sion stilled completely, his voice frayed with concern. “Do you want me to stop?”

“Just a second.” Yushi panted.

He felt Sion lower himself, chest pressing flush against Yushi’s back, not retreating but not advancing either, just there, solid and waiting. The intimacy of it prickled behind Yushi's eyelids more than the stretch had.

“Really, we can stop.”

“I know,” Yushi whispered. He turned his face into the pillow, hiding his expression as he shook his head. “Don’t want to,”

They stayed suspended like that, Sion’s fingers motionless inside him, his other hand carding through Yushi’s hair with hypnotic rhythm. The lube grew tacky, the pause stretching until Yushi surprised them both by rolling his hips back experimentally.

Sion’s choked groan was all the encouragement he needed.

Yushi was moving with shaky confidence, chasing the delicious friction each time Sion crooked his fingers just so. The praises fell from Sion’s lips in a messy mix of Korean and not-that-broken-anymore Japanese, ‘so good for me’, ‘beautiful’, ‘you’re doing so well’, each one stoking the heat coiling low in Yushi’s belly.

“Want me to keep on?” he finally asked him.

Yushi nodded, eager, like he physically couldn’t hold the wait anymore. Sion thrusted a bit more before slowly pulling out. He gulped, knowing the next move. He gripped the sheets that pooled next to his hips, trying to find some balance even though he was completely pressed against the mattress.

Sion’s length found him in the next moments. He had been preparing it, getting some protection and dripping even more lube, so when he started making his way in this time for real, Yushi didn’t feel pain. It was nothing like he’d prepared for, hotter, thicker, more in ways that had his toes curling. It was a relentless fullness that stole his breath as Sion sank inch by inch, his own restraint evident in the quake of his thighs bracketing Yushi’s.

“Good?” Sion rasped, hips flush against Yushi’s backside.

He nodded, overwhelmed by the reality of it; the way their bodies fit, the sweat-slick slide of skin on skin, the quiet ‘oh’ Sion let out when Yushi clenched around him reflexively.

This was really happening.

Drool pooled in Yushi’s partially open mouth, smearing the pillowcase as muffled moans escaped. Behind him, Sion moved with perfect precision, his broad frame caging Yushi in, hands planted beside his shoulders for leverage. Then, a shift.

Sion lowered himself, his chest pressing flush against Yushi’s back, the new angle making his breath stutter. Sion kissed his left cheek, his small mark, hot and insistent, then Yushi turned a bit more so he could latch his lips completely. Their lips crashed together, Sion’s tongue sweeping in to soothe the last remnants of tension as Yushi arched back into him, hips canting up desperately.

“You can touch yourself, Yushi.”

The permission shattered something in him. It was something he had never thought of doing, but as soon as he heard those words, his right hand traveled all the way down, making his way between the mattress and his length, the dual stimulation sending sparks to his spine.

The room dissolved into a symphony of sounds: Sion’s guttural moans, Yushi’s name falling from his lips like a prayer, the slick slap of skin on skin. Yushi’s own noises were swallowed by Sion’s mouth, each gasp and whimper muffled against his lips.

“You feel- God, you feel insane,”

Sion panted, his thrusts growing erratic, losing their careful rhythm. Yushi matched his abandon, stroking himself faster, chasing the coil of pleasure tightening low in his gut.

“I want to have you forever,”

Those words that seared deeper than any touch.

“Please do.”

Yushi’s reply tipped them both over the edge. Sion’s movements turned frantic, his hips stuttering as he buried himself to the hilt.

“I’m going to- Fuck Yushi I- I’m going- Fuck fuck fuck-”

Yushi’s hand went faster; he rocked his hips without any rhythm, trying to find his sweet release. Their release.

Sion came first with a broken cry, his body locking around Yushi’s. The sensation, the way Sion pulsed inside him, dragged Yushi over right after, his release painting the sheets beneath them as a silent scream tore from his throat. Tears pricked at his eyes, spilling over as the aftershocks wracked his body.

“Oh fuck Yushi, God, did you-”

Yushi hummed, unable to speak. He felt tired, worn out, his mind slipping to known places. He thought he was high in the clouds; his chest against the mattress felt damp, slightly uncomfortable, but none of it registered beyond the devastating emptiness when Sion finally pulled out.

It was raw, making both complain, Sion with a groan and Yushi with a whimper. It unlocked something in him, making him turn around, his throat too dry to swallow.

“We should get to the shower.”

Yushi cringed at the thought of standing up, not really knowing why until he stood up and felt an unknown bolt of discomfort through his spine. The shower steam curled around them, thick with unspoken words. Yushi stood rigid under the spray, the tile wall cool against his palms as Sion’s soapy hands moved methodically over his shoulders, then kissed them before wrapping them in a towel.

They dressed up close to each other, soft brushes, Sion’s pinky hooked briefly with his as they passed the same shirt between them. Yushi’s sweatpants got caught around his ankles; Sion steadied him with a palm flat against his bare stomach.

The bed was a crime scene they addressed wordlessly, stripping soiled sheets with shared grimaces, their elbows bumping as they stretched fresh ones over the mattress. When they collapsed onto it at last, Sion’s question floated between them.

“Did you like it?”

Yushi nodded, getting closer.

“Are you okay?”

Yushi’s hum vibrated through Sion’s chest. He couldn’t shape words yet, not when his skin still thrummed with the aftershocks of vulnerability, too overwhelmed to even make sense of his thoughts. Instead, he curled his fingers into Sion’s shirt, nose pressed to the hollow of his throat where his pulse beat steady.

Sion didn’t press. His hands spoke instead, tucking the blanket around Yushi’s shoulders, combing through his soft hair, staying silently next to him until they both fell asleep.

They woke tangled, Yushi’s knee wedged between Sion’s thighs, Sion’s arm gone numb under his weight. Neither moved for an hour but unpacked a lot of things that happened the previous day, were they had both been too busy to check messages, emails… the world had still worked around them and they needed to catch up,

Firstly, Sion told him about a yearly trip he always took with his friends at the end of the first semester.

“It will be Sungchan, Shotaro, Jisung, Wonbin, Daeyoung, probably Riku, me… And if you want to come, you” Sion murmured, thumb scrolling through names. “It would make me so happy if you came, really.”

Yushi nodded, acknowledging it. He took Sion’s phone out of his hands and added his name to the list he was making of people, a silent acceptance of his sweet invitation. Sion’s smile was a sunrise. He kissed the worry from Yushi’s brow before he could delete it.

“Yushi I-” Sion said after a few minutes after writing his name, “Can I ask you something?”

Yushi nodded. Sion waited for a second, looking at him. His gaze felt weird, anxious, like he was waiting for Yushi to say something, but quickly dismissed it.

“It’s okay, it’s nothing.”

Yushi tried to let go, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it until grades loaded next.

Yushi’s perfect row of As glared beside Sion’s chaotic alphabet soup, the big F in History stabbing both their gazes.

“I fucking knew it,” he sighs, visibly mad.

His anger dissolved when Yushi slid from bed. The coffee ritual that followed was its own language: Yushi’s quiet clattering of mugs, Sion’s appreciative hum at the first overly sweet sip, the way Yushi’s shoulders relaxed when Sion’s forehead kiss said what he couldn’t voice yet.

They orbited the room in comfortable silence, Sion’s study notes abandoned halfway to pull Yushi onto the floor beside him, their afternoon nap a tangle of limbs and shared body heat.

When words failed Yushi, Sion spoke in touches instead: asking to sit with him at the desk, a squeeze to his wrist when passing the laptop, a playful toe nudge underneath it, the way his palm settled heavy and warm between Yushi’s shoulder blades whenever he paused too long at the window.

By evening, Yushi found his voice again, whispering into the space between Sion’s collarbones as they lay in bed.

“Thank you.”

Sion’s arms tightened around him. No reply needed.

They spent their winter break like that. In Yushi’s room, sharing heavy meals, studying for Sion’s retake, tangling his limbs as they slept, untangling them when they needed to get closer.

It was warm, it was intimate, it was domestic… it was everything Yushi had needed it.

It was their wishful winter.

Notes:

so how did we like this chat

thank u so much for the feedback the kudos the bookmarks the comments de dms everything... it makes me so happy seeing that you are liking this! hope you liked this chapter too and hope to see you around... the end his kinda close

Chapter 19: along with the new year,

Summary:

And I don’t think my heart could take your silence.

Notes:

lets all collectively imagine jeju is actually kind of warm in late january

Christmas break unfolded a series of… unexpected events.

Mokpo was expected, going later to Jaehyun’s was too, but then Yushi came back, and their world shifted.

Sion couldn’t believe why and how Yushi came back so soon, a silly miscommunication between them, slipping the dates. If Sion had been in Mokpo when Yushi got to Seoul, he would have been mad at his own linguistic failure, completely unable to count in Japanese, but luckily, he was just close enough, orbiting around him without noticing.

It was effervescent, mind-numbing. It was everything Sion had hoped for. The intimacy of a first time was more than physical; it was the profound sensation of belonging to someone, of a closeness that sank into his very bones. Since when had he become such a yearner, so desperate for connection? He wasn’t really sure, but he loved how Yushi made him feel excited.

The encounter was unexpected. How it unraveled into what Sion had wanted to do since he saw Yushi let out a shy smile after a stupid comment, or how he had laughed with one of Shotaro’s jokes, he had been wanting to take care of him, and finally, he did.

A flicker of worry came the next day as Yushi seemed to have circled back to his state of not speaking, but he communicated with him, at his own pace, and that washed away all his worries. They spent the rest of the two break weeks in their little bubble, in between the well-known four walls, tangled in between sheets and limbs, stealing kisses in the half-light until they fell into a deep, sated sleep.

Sion had to face his retake as soon as the Christmas break ended, which, thanks to Yushi, he nailed. In between those, they had to complete the actual semester, attend some seminars, work on lab projects, and finish some rendering courses. His friends had similar classes: Shotaro attended an intensive week on dance performances, Daeyoung had a film festival, and Riku participated in some intense sessions of drama-psychology, which he didn’t really understand. Jisung was doing things outside of Sion’s understanding, and Wonbin was too tired after his study sessions to bother explaining what he was doing.

It was the UOS’s peculiar method: a final, didactic sprint followed by the gift of three weeks of true holiday. They all endured the grind, powered by the collective promise of what came next. They were the real holidays, as the winter break was only half one, because some of them still had submissions after it; people like Sion had to take retakes. However, the weeks in between semesters were their thing.

In their first year of university, as they were getting to know themselves and trying to impress each other, Shotaro offered to go to his beach house on Jeju Island. For Sion, it was such a weird thing to offer, but Shotaro really dismissed it, saying his parents had bought it a while ago because they spent their honeymoon there and they wanted to capture the feeling forever. The sentiment was so genuinely sweet that it disarmed any objection, something that Shotaro usually did.

Long story short, they ended up having two of the best weeks of their lives, at least for Sion. They’d packed with the reckless optimism of idiots, arriving in Jeju to find their single change of clothes laughably inadequate for the salty sea air and impromptu hikes, but it didn’t matter. Daeyoung cooked every day for them, and Jisung was relentlessly bathing them in sunscreen with the solemn declaration that the winter sun on the island was deceptively traitorous. It was late January, but they all believed him.

Wonbin napped all day around the different spots in the beach house, and Shotaro and Sungchan flirted too much with girls who were probably too old for them, but everyone had such a blast. It was perfect; a chaotic, sun-drenched symphony of friendship.

They repeated the drill for next year. The new variable was a rental car, secured thanks to Sungchan’s driver’s license (Sion already had one, but nobody trusted him to drive due to the small incident involving a mailbox). They got a car in Jeju, visiting the island more than in the first year, only for them to end up using the car as their hookup spot. They’d return it at the end of the trip with sandy floor mats and the windows rolled down in a futile attempt to air out the distinct, guilty scent of sunscreen, sweat, and secrets. They didn’t get the deposit back.

This year wasn’t going to be any different. They had already talked about it during the semester, especially during their room parties, but the details came early in their winter break.

 

shotaro

so jeju again this year right

 

sungchan

why u even ask

did your parents finally cut off

 

shotaro

imma finally cut off your dick

i was just asking

 

daeyoung

for me its perfect

 

shotaro

u can bring riku

 

jisung

can i bring jiwoo

 

wonbin

no

 

jisung

why

 

shotaro

first of all its my house so i choose

but no

you cant

 

jisung

why

i ask again

 

shotaro

only bois

 

wonbin

iktr

 

sungchan

dont act wise wonbin

we know ur not brave enough to ask minjeong

 

sion

i mean i wouldnt either

she would bring jimin and

shotaro would fold

shotaro is no fun when hes down bad

 

shotaro

and you are???

mr i need to learn japanese in a weekend so i can fuck a japanese twink

 

sungchan

jesus shotaro

 

shotaro

i can say those things

im japanese and half a twink

 

sion

ur literally not?

 

wonbin

but he is japanese

 

daeyoung

i think he meant the twink bit

 

sungchan

you guys havent seen his higshcool pics

 

shotaro

for a reason

so rikus in

what about yushi

 

wonbin

sion is not brave enough to ask him either

 

Sion had rolled his eyes at his friend’s comeback. It was playful, but partially true. Not because he wasn’t brave enough, but because he knew Yushi. He understood the subtle tension that coiled in his shoulders in crowded rooms, the way too much noise could make him retreat into a silent shell. He would never, ever put him in a position where he felt pressured or overwhelmed.

But the next morning, after seeing him again, he told him about the plan, going into the details slowly: the chaos of seven other boys, the promised freedom of Jeju… Yushi didn’t say anything; he just grabbed his phone and added his name to the list. That made Sion’s heart flip over and over again; he couldn’t stop looking at it. Every time he unlocked his phone, his eyes would drift to that list, his breath catching all over again.

 

taro

bin

sungchan

jisung

daeyoung

riku

sion

yushi

 

They kept on deciding logistics, the cars, the food, the dates. The group chat was a mess. Sion had his phone constantly in DND, trying to focus on his retake but falling into Yushi’s lips.

Thankfully, they agreed to enough things to make the trip work, and just like that, their mid-year holiday started, not with a bang, but with the quiet, seismic shift of Yushi’s name on a list, and the boundless promise it held.

He woke up early, but of course, Daeyoung was already up and dressed, a testament to the restless energy that had plagued him since Daegu. They’d talked late into the night, Daeyoung finally unraveling the entire strained Christmas break. Sion had scolded him for not sharing sooner, but the truth was, they’d both been buried under a mountain of university seminars and mind-numbing TED talks.

“Good morning,” Sion groaned, “I’m starting to think it doesn’t matter how early I set my alarm, you’re just going to be up before dawn.”

“And you would be right,” Daeyoung half-joked.

Sion’s heart ached, seeing his best friend kind of down, but it was only understandable; he needed these days to free his mind, to enjoy himself to the fullest.

The group chat went crazy again, asking a hundred questions about where to meet and when. They had discussed the instructions clearly enough: meeting at the entrance of the university at 9 am, except for Sungchan, who they were going to meet at the airport directly. Preparation went smoothly, and they were the first ones to get to the door.

Daeyoung was wearing some Converse, some jeans, a hoodie, and a denim jacket over it. Sion went for some low-rise baggy jeans, a big sweater over them, and his glasses; the contacts were safely saved in his suitcase.

Then the chaos arrived in the form of Wonbin, Jisung, and Shotaro. They looked like they’d fought each other to bring the most aggressively ugly fit to the function. Wonbin was a paradox in thick sneakers, strangely fitted jeans, and a puffy snow jacket despite the destination. Shotaro and Jisung wore matching gray sweatpants, but the Japanese boy had layered on a riot of tank tops, shirts, and clinking jewelry, while Jisung stubbornly clung to his signature red checkered shirt.

“Good morning, people,” Shotaro greeted, his voice hungover

“He hasn’t slept,” Jisung added flatly.

“I figured it.” Sion sighed.

As Wonbin and Shotaro launched into a rambling explanation of their crazy night, Sion’s attention was completely dismissed by two approaching figures.

Riku looked effortlessly fashionable. He thought the outfit was going to be too uncomfortable for the plane ride, but he couldn’t be bothered by the thought for another second before switching to Yushi again.

He knew it had only been some hours since they saw each other, as they had eaten together the day before, but every time their eyes met, Sion had to look away, a smile so clear in his face it threatened to break into a loud laugh.

He was wearing his usual light jeans, brown boots, and a soccer hoodie over them. Sion recognized it; it was from his brother, but he had to admit it looked a hundred times better on him. As they got close, Daeyoung helped Riku carry his suitcase, giving him a quick, soft kiss.

Sion half panicked. What was he supposed to do? He wanted to help, too, but Yushi wasn’t wearing a suitcase, just a large duffel bag held tightly over his shoulder, a clear declaration of independence.

So, no taking his luggage, but should he kiss him?

His feet moved before his brain could overthink it. He approached him, and Yushi smiled, flustered.

“Good morning,” Sion said, his voice softer than intended. “Are you ready?”

Yushi nodded, and Sion approached his delicate face, kissing his cheek. He almost stumbled on his feet as he put his lips on his face, a gesture that always unraveled into something more, but for now, in the crisp morning air surrounded by their chaotic friends, it was everything.

It was enough.

“Cab is on the way,” Wonbin interrupted his thoughts, “Ordered the big one.”

“Great, we should make a group chat to get everything done there.” Shotaro added, “Also, for the expenses, and so, to keep adding them to the split.”

As they made the group chat, which Jisung pragmatically called ‘jeju trip’, the cab came, and everyone got inside. The ride to the airport was a blur of laughter and last-minute coordination, culminating in finding Sungchan at the gate, looking absurdly cool and entirely too pleased with himself in his dad’s old sunglasses, already on his hair.

They got random seats, except that Jisung and Yushi got next to each other. Sion asked Jisung five times if he minded changing it, but Jisung kept on saying that he indeed wanted to have the window seat. He then offered bribes of snacks and future favors, and Jisung finally accepted.

He orbited constantly around Yushi, not wanting to lose sight of his excited face. He was almost jumping in his seat when they got to the plane, which made Sion giggle so much that he earned a curious gaze from the Japanese himself.

“You just look so cute,” he tried to say between soft laughs

Yushi just smiled, ashamed. He caressed his cheek, and he visibly melted under his touch. Sion placed his hand on his thigh, unsure where to put it, not to break the warm tension between them, and Yushi’s own hand settled on top, his fingers lacing tentatively with Sion’s. It was more than a hold; it was an acknowledgment.

He might have pressed it harder when they were taking off, along with Sion digging a bit too hard into his leg, but the rest of the hour-long flight went smoothly. Sion read a magazine he had downloaded, an architecture and urban Japanese magazine called a + u, wanting to improve both his knowledge and his Japanese vocabulary, but he found himself tapping Yushi’s shoulder again and again, pointing at kanji he didn’t know, until Yushi simply pulled off his headphones and leaned in, their heads close together as they read the same page, and the magazine was forgotten.

The landing was nice too, but Yushi and Sion still held hands, unconsciously, like they had been doing for the past twenty minutes.  They got off the plane and met everyone inside the airport again, Daeyoung counting heads like he was a teacher, everyone walking past him with a smile on their face.

“God yes,” Shotaro groaned as the airport doors opened, stretching his arms out. “This is it, this is the life.”

Yushi looked at Sion, confused, and he explained, “He’s talking about the weather. How can this be nicer than in Seoul?”

“Considering this is a fucking island, you know,… pretty possible.” Sunghcan chirped in, “Let’s sort out the cars before we start slumbering here under the sun.”

“I can drive,” Riku offered

“Me too,” Sion offered, already receiving four side eyes, “Okay, I can’t.”

Shotaro nodded happily, closing his eyes to keep on enjoying the breeze.

Sion knew Yushi didn’t have a driver’s license, nor did Jisung or Wonbin.

“I can drive too,” Daeyoung added, “Riku and I can drive now, and the other two can drive back.”

“Seems fair,” Riku concluded.

They ended up dividing themselves casually into Japanese and non-Japanese. Sion got invited to the Japanese car, which consisted of Riku, obviously, Shotaro as copilot (no passenger princess, he defended that he was going to comply with his passenger duties), and Yushi. He didn’t mind if Shotaro guided them back to Seoul as long as he could sit in the back with him; all that mattered was the prospect of a low-key long drive sitting next to Yushi, their shoulders brushing on every turn, the promise of whispered conversations lost under the road noise, and the thrilling, terrifying, beautiful idea of them being together.

The other car had Wonbin, Sungchan, Daeyoung, and Jisung, which seemed like a solid combination too. They decided to stop by the supermarket to get groceries, at least for the first days.

The drive was long, at least two and a half, and while Sion thought it was going to be a chill one, Riku and Shotaro yapped like childhood friends who hadn’t seen each other in years.

“When I tell you… I’m so tired of her! Like she always gives discounts to other clients but not to me?” Riku complained, gesturing with one hand off the wheel.

“Do you compliment her?” Shotaro shot back, twisting in his passenger seat. “You always need to compliment women, Riku, always, especially if they are going to be responsible for your fashion sense.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Sion asked,  feeling a bit like an outsider between his two friends.

“The thrift shop next to the library, the one across from the National Museum,” Shotaro explained. “Do you know it, Yushi?” Yushi gave a quiet nod. “Well, we think the owner has a thing for Anton.”

“You think that! I think she just doesn’t like me.” Riku said after letting out a big laugh.

“But would you be surprised if she did?” Shotaro pressed, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“I mean, not really, Anton’s pretty nice.”

“And he’s so attractive,” Shotaro added, almost as a challenge.

Sion gripped his seatbelt harder than he should have.

“He’s okay,” Sion muttered, side eyeing Yushi.

He knew they were just friends, but the thought of singing Anton’s praises in front of Yushi sent an irrational, possessive prickling down his spine. What if he agreed with them?

“Who’s the bisexual here?” Shotaro scoffed, turning to fully face the backseat. “I’m over here glazing the fuck out of my friend, and you can’t even admit he’s attractive?”

“He’s just not my type.” Sion defended, his voice tighter than he intended.

“Well, thank god,” Shotaro scoffed at him, “Because if he were, you’d have to fight half the campus for him.”

Riku let out another laugh, and Sion opened his mouth to retort, but the words died on his lips. Yushi, perhaps sensing the tension or simply seeking comfort, let his head fall gently onto Sion’s shoulder. The effect was instantaneous. The petty jealousy, the need to defend his position, all melted away, replaced by a warm, grounding weight.

“Are you doing okay? Do you feel carsick or something?” he whispered to him.

Yushi shook his head softly, his hair brushing against Sion’s neck, making him smile.

“If you need anything, will you let me know?”

He nodded. Sion pressed a kiss to his scalp, and Yushi giggled. It was his weak spot after all, and even if Sion sometimes kissed him there out of habit, he always reacted in some kind of way, which only made Sion want to kiss him again.

Riku’s painfully cautious driving and Shotaro messing with the directions, even though it was his own house, led them to arrive even later than the other car, which stopped to do grocery shopping. 

Sion was always fascinated every time he came to the house. It was entirely made out of wood, a big square with a huge patio inside, filled with a pool and an outside counter, which they used for their night parties. At the entrance, there was an open space with a couple of small sofas and hangers. To the left, there were the rooms, all aligned, sewn by a narrow corridor; to the left, the big open living room, which ended in a huge dining area and the kitchen, of course. The air inside was warm and smelled of sun-baked wood and salt, and Sion understood why Shotaro’s parents wanted to encapsulate the feeling forever.

That’s where they found the rest of the group, already changed into swim shorts and loose shirts, unpacking groceries. It wasn’t super hot, of course, it was still winter, but the house was at the top of a hill, always receiving sunlight, and the glass walls around the patio made the whole thing like a sauna.

“Are we going to go down to the beach to surf?” Riku asked as soon as they were finished with the groceries

“Do you even know how to surf?” Sion asked

“Uhm… no? Do you?”

“No,” he laughed, “We usually hang by the pool or go hiking and then to the beach.”

“He, Jisung, and Dae go hiking, the rest of us-” Shotaro explained

“Meaning you and Sungchan.” Riku interrupted

“The rest of us,” Shotaro continued playfully, “are too hungover to move until noon.”

Yushi cracked a soft laugh.

“Enough about what to do later, we need to sort out the beds,” Wonbin suggested.

Sion turned around to check on Yushi once again. He seemed unfazed, listening to the conversation, nodding to Wonbin’s words.

“I don’t want to wake up next to Mister Dry Humper,” Shotaro said, a shiver clearly running down his spine.

“And who is-” Riku

“The one and only Oh Sion,” Daeyoung explained.

Sion sank his head between his arms, resting on the dining table, already ashamed.

He knew he wasn’t the best person to share a bed with, but them exposing him in front of Yushi was something he never thought he had to face. He raised his head slightly to check on him, but he was just flustered, softly smiling.

“Then…” Jisung asked, scratching his head

“Riku and Daeyoung in the first one, Sungchan and me in the second one, you and Wonbin in the third one, and Yushi and Sion in the last one, if it’s okay with everyone.”

Shotaro’s declaration was met with a chorus of agreements. Yushi’s quiet nod felt to Sion like the sealing of a contract, far more significant than just a sleeping arrangement.

They moved their things to their rooms, the sight already too familiar to Sion, but entering with him was another thing completely. He had slept countless times there, sometimes with Daeyoung, others with Wonbin; even one time, Shotaro wanted to bang a girl, but she brought a friend, and they didn’t want to let the other one alone, so Sion ended up sleeping in the same bed as her while her friend was banging Shotaro in the rental car. Those memories felt like they belonged to another person, even if it was exactly one year ago.

None of it mattered when Yushi was next to him. He examined the room with such care, the big room in the middle of it like a rift emerging in between. Sion took out some of his clothes while Yushi examined the room with a careful, almost reverent attention, his gaze tracing the lines of the wooden beams. Sion slowly sat on the bed and removed his shoes, cringing at himself for not removing them before.

He was about to change his jeans too when he saw Yushi approaching him slowly, getting closer, and then, slowly and purposefully, climbing onto Sion’s lap, straddling him. He wrapped his arms around Sion’s neck and rested his forehead against Sion’s, his eyes closing. The intimacy of it was so raw, so trusting, that it stole the air from Sion’s lungs. He felt his throat tighten with emotion, his hands coming up to circle Yushi’s waist, trying to supply that comfort Yushi was seeking.

“Everything okay?”

Yushi nodded softly, “Just wanted to hug.”

The simple admission undid him.

Sion pressed him closer, not letting the smallest bit of air in between them. They heard them getting out of the rooms and started preparing dinner, but it all faded into a distant hum. He held Yushi until he was the one to break the embrace reluctantly.

Sion silently changed into some swimming shorts and a tank top, Yushi changing into similar clothes but a long-sleeved shirt.

Under the soft light beams crossing the tall window, he saw again that pink mark on his inner thigh. He had seen some weeks ago, the first time they had sex, and he had caressed it while he was preparing him. The thoughts filled his mind dangerously, trying to internally change topics.

The sound of Jisung declaring he would cook mercifully broke the tension.

“Want to get out and help them cook?”

Sion’s question was gentle, but Yushi was always softer, and he nodded back at him with the sweetest smile.

The whole day stretched endlessly.

Daeyoung and Riku made food, thank god, while Wonbin and Jisung played some Switch, and Sungchan and Shotaro made a show of “cleaning” the pool. Sion and Yushi hung around Daeyoung and Riku, helping them set the table, a continuous, quiet conversation without words. They made grilled meat and different kinds of salads.  

After that, Sungchan offered to make a coffee run, as there was a coffee shop just behind the house, and Sion joined him. When he was about to leave, he saw Yushi hurriedly pulling on his shoes, a determined look on his face. A warm, fond smile spread across Sion’s face.

It was better to have more hands to carry the cups, right?

Later, they slumbered around the pool, warm enough to welcome them almost until the sun set. They talked about everything, flowing from topic to topic: the injustice of new cafeteria prices, the surreal chaos of the Open Door event, speculation about Jisung’s next musical release, and the long-standing mystery of how Jaehyun and Taeyong had first met. They all talked a lot, even Riku, who mostly asked questions to get all the information from when he wasn’t there, and Yushi nodded next to him, like he was cherishing equally the news.

Dinner was a simple, satisfying affair of stir-fry and ramen. As they finished, Shotaro surprised everyone by suggesting they skip the usual first-night party.

“Are you sick? Does your head still hurt?” Sungchan asked, his voice laced with a cloying, dramatic concern. “He hit his head on the bathroom door earlier.”

Everyone burst into laughter, making Shotaro visibly done with them.

“I’m just saying because I’m tired… Y’all didn’t clean the pool, and it shows.”

“Whatever you want to do, baby, it’s your house,” Wonbin teased, side hugging him. “Jisung and I are going for a walk. Anyone want to come?”

Sion’s eyes immediately flicked to Yushi, who gave the slightest, almost imperceptible shake of his head.

“Not me, I’m also tired.”

“From what?” Sungchan asked, a teasing hint in his question.

“You don’t want to know.”

Sion winked at him, clearly joking, and went to his room; he didn’t need to look back to know Yushi was following him, his footsteps a quick, quiet rhythm behind his own. They changed into some loose clothes, washed their teeth, and got directly into bed. The breeze was chilly enough for them to cover with a thick blanket while leaving the window open, something Sion always found endearing.

The second they found their position on the mattress, Yushi got even closer.

Sion realized he had been like that the whole day: orbiting around him when they were helping his friends out, brushing their fingers with every plate they put on the table, sitting so close their legs were pressed together from hip to knee, going for coffee while they holded hands, swimming closely by the pool, always finding each other under water with a soft feet touch, making Sion giggle and Yushi turn around, embarrassed.

Yushi was clingier when he was quieter, and Sion was beginning to understand it wasn’t just affection; it was his primary language. A way of speaking volumes without uttering a single word. Sion reciprocated, extending one arm to pull him closer.

“Did you have fun today?”

“Yes,” Yushi’s voice was a soft sigh against his collarbone. “A lot.”

“I’m so glad.” A wave of relief and happiness washed over him. “This is usually how it goes. We just wake up, make a big breakfast…”

He launched into a detailed explanation of their Jeju rituals: the specific beaches they loved for walks, the best spots for sunset, and the chaotic tradition of their final night in Jeju City.  Sion was about to ask Yushi if he had ever been in Jeju when he heard it: a soft, heavy exhale against his skin, and he understood he had fallen asleep. He hugged him tightly and closed his eyes, nuzzling on his sweet scent until he was deep asleep too.

When he woke up, he didn’t know what hour it was, but he could tell it was early as the light was still pale and gray, and Yushi wasn’t next to him. He snatched his phone, reluctant to the idea of getting out of bed.

 

sion

were u at

 

yushi

just in the garden

i was stretching

 

sion

didnt sleep good?

 

yushi

too good

thats why i needed the stretch

 

sion

glad to hear that

want me to go outside with you?

 

yushi

yeah

 

sion

going to grab a shower and ill be out

 

He jumped out of the bed, not wanting to waste another second without Yushi. Just as he moved toward the shower, a soft knock echoed in the quiet room.

“Come in.”

It was Yushi, bright and smiley Yushi.

“Hihi,” Sion greeted softly, “How’s the weather today?”

“Refreshing somehow, but the sun is starting to be awake.”

Sion didn’t know if he worded it like that because he didn’t know how to say it in Korean or if it was Yushi’s poetic way of saying things. Either way, he got the message.

“Perfect, I’ll be out of the shower in a second.”

And then he saw it, Yushi’s gaze. A swift motion from Sion’s pile of fresh clothes, then to the bathroom door, and then to Sion himself. The question hung in the air, unspoken but deafening.

“Do you want to join me in the shower?”

Yushi nodded shily, and Sion felt like a winner.

The motion of undressing was soft, deliberate, like they had done this all their lives. They had been coexisting in Yushi’s room during the break, sometimes showering together, most of the time changing clothes in front of each other, but there were some times in which Sion felt different. He felt something coiling in his stomach, something he couldn’t name. It wasn’t butterflies; it was something deeper, something that emptied him, a yearning that hollowed him out, a desperate need to be as close as two people could possibly be

The shower was big enough for them to shower together, but still, Yushi always found a way to be close to him. Sion wrapped himself around him from behind, resting his head on his shoulder,  his hands mapping the familiar territory of his arms before settling on his hips, his thumbs drawing slow, hypnotic circles on the delicate skin.

Yushi shifted.

A small twist in his body, the slightest involuntary motion. Sion glanced down and saw the evidence of his effect, a silent plea that shot straight to his own heart. He kissed his neck, pressing his nose in the nape of his head, moving his right hand to his bellybutton, and then a bit lower, his intention a silent question.

“You don’t need to, Sion.”

“But I want to,” Sion murmured against his skin, his voice thick with desire. “Do you want me to?”

The answer was a soft, surrendering nod, Yushi’s head lolling back against Sion’s chest. Sion’s hand moved with a practiced ease, his grip firm yet reverent. The water made every slide effortless, a slick, sensual glide. Yushi melted into him, his hands scrambling for purchase, gripping Sion’s arms, then bracing against the tiled wall, as if he were being swept away by a current only they could feel. Sion’s pace was agonizingly slow and deliberate, a worshipful act that had Yushi clenching, his stomach tightening until he bent forward with a silent, shuddering release.

It took him a long moment to turn around. He was completely spent, drenched and flushed, his skin marked with the faint, pink evidence of Sion’s touch, his fingertips marked on his waist. His eyes were dark, heavy-lidded, and they drifted downward, not with shame, but with a focused awareness. He saw Sion, still hard and aching for him.

He sank to his knees and kissed him on his thighs, and Sion thought he was going to lose it.

When Yushi took initiative like this, hyper-aware and acting on pure instinct, it unraveled Sion completely. He cupped Yushi’s head, his fingers threading through the damp black hair, not guiding, just feeling, anchoring himself to the breathtaking reality of this moment.

The Japanese boy opened his mouth, ready to take him, and started a slow, sinful slide that had Sion seeing stars. He could feel every drop of water, every flick of Yushi’s inexperienced tongue, every soft hum of satisfaction, like he was discovering himself, too. It was an intimacy so profound it made his knees weak.

Sion felt like releasing quicker than ever, trying to think about anything else to postpone it, but Yushi’s eyes fixated on his were making him lose his nonexistent patience.

“Yushi… I’m going to- I’m going to finish,” he gasped, the warning a strained plea.

Yushi nodded, understanding, and Sion folded inside him, gripping the tiled wall with his free hand, muffling a groan, biting his lower lip. After a few seconds, Yushi stood up and kissed, Sion being able to taste everything: the steam, the lingering minty taste of yesterday’s night toothpaste, and the uniquely intimate flavor of themselves mingled together.

They finished showering, stealing guilty glances as they were dressing up. Once they were out, Sion peeked at the hour, not even half past eight.

“Do you want a coffee?” Yushi said, pointing at the counter.

He had brought coffee for everyone, along with some pastries and cookies. Sion’s eyes opened, a smirk drawn on his face.

“Thank you so much, Ushi.”

The nickname slipped out, a term of endearment born from affection and the early morning haze. Yushi didn’t flinch; he simply nodded, a quiet satisfaction in his eyes at having taken care of them all.

They dipped in the pool, lounging around while Sion kept on telling him about the times he had come to Jeju. People started waking up during the morning, Shotaro being the last one to step into the living room, which meant it was his turn to cook. To Sion’s surprise, Yushi immediately offered to help. He watched from the pool, his arms resting on the edge, chin propped on his hands, as a beautiful, chaotic ballet unfolded in the kitchen.

He moved with a quiet efficiency, chopping vegetables and stirring noodles, a serene island in the storm of Shotaro’s loud, good-natured ranting about Sungchan’s snoring all night, that’s why he woke up late, and that it was unfair that he was the one cooking.

At first, he was hesitant about why Yushi felt drawn to Shotaro, given that they were totally opposite, but after watching them, he understood. Yushi thrived in the balance. He didn’t need to match Shotaro’s energy; he simply coexisted with it, and Shotaro, to his credit, never asked him to be anything other than himself.

That night, the promised little party by the pool materialized. Daeyoung and Jisung returned with a small arsenal of alcohol, and Shotaro immediately ascended to his rightful place as mad scientist bartender, pouring dangerously loaded shots. Music pulsed from a portable speaker as they clustered around the outdoor counter, a comfortable, buzzing hive of energy.

“Truth or dare, now!” Wonbin exclaimed

“Yes!” Riku joined cheerfully

“Never Have I Ever it’s better, we never do the dares,” Sungchan admitted

“Okay, true. Never Have I Ever it is,” Daeyoung conceded.

“Last time we unfolded some… interesting things,” Shotaro said, his eyes glinting mischievously as they all migrated to the cushioned chill-out area. “Who wants to start?”

“Me, I’ll start,” Riku declared, pouring himself another shot for courage. “Never have I ever… peed in the shower.”

Everyone except Riku, Yushi, and Shotaro drank, which made them three frown visibly.

“That’s so fucking gross, guys,” Riku cried, looking genuinely appalled.

“You had never peed in the shower?” Daeyoung asked his boyfriend again, not quite believing it

“It’s so gross!”

“I’m with you on this one, Riku.” Shotaro high-fived him, “Never have I ever…”

The game continued for nearly an hour, the questions growing progressively more revealing and ridiculous. Whenever it was Yushi’s turn, the group fell into a respectful, attentive silence, hanging on his every soft-spoken word. Even when his ‘Never Have I Evers’ were for things most of them had done, they played along without teasing, drinking with solemn nods. Sion, feeling the warm buzz of alcohol spreading through his veins, found himself shifting closer and closer to Yushi on the couch, their shoulders pressed together.

Around two in the morning, Yushi and Daeyoung went inside to prepare some snacks and grab some hoodies for Sion and Riku, who were starting to shiver in their tank tops. The moment they stepped out of the courtyard, Sungchan directed his gaze to him.

“Are you guys dating? Officially?”

“No,” Sion said, half finishing his shot, the taste now bitter.

“But you guys had fucked.” Wonbin stated.

“Yes.”

“And what are you waiting for?” Riku whispered, a hint of annoyance on his face.

“I don’t know…” Sion mumbled, suddenly feeling defensive and exposed. “Why do I need to ask him out? We’re great like this. It’s good.”

He knew it wasn’t, but he wasn’t going to discuss it.

“God, I hate boys.” Riku scoffed

“You are dating one,” Jisung said

“Daeyoung is a man,” Riku retorted, standing up with finality. “Not a boy. Ya’ll can’t seem to get two and two together.” He strode toward the kitchen, leaving the charged question hanging in the air.

“What did I do now?” Sion complained, clearly drunk

“I mean, you guys are pretty much like dating… I don’t know why you don’t ask him.”

“And why do I have to be the one who asks?” Sion’s question came out whinier than he intended.

The silence filled the air. It was dark outside, the crickets chirping, the breeze a bit too cold to Sion’s liking.

The question slipped, just like everything he had said for the past our, but deep inside he knew exactly what he meant.

Why was he the one who needed to ask him out?

Didn’t Yushi want to be with him, too?

Was it a selfish thought to have?

He felt like choking in the air whenever the thoughts came to his mind, so he tried to shift them, but he could feel the hot prickle of tears threatening to spill, and he quickly stood, turning away from the group.

“Going to get some air,” he rushedly said

“We’re already outside,” Wonbin called after him, but he didn’t look back.

He pushed through the gate, half-kicking it in frustration.

Of course, he had thought about asking him out. Who did people think he was?

He had thought of asking him out when he bought the axolotl keyring, when they were saying goodbye at the airport, when they saw each other for the first time again in Yushi’s room, when he passed the History retake.. He even thought about it when they did the phone call when Yushi was in Tokyo, he got so flustered about talking to him so late in the night, Yushi’s replies so soft spoken… he had jerked off to the thought of Yushi saying something indecent on the phone for God’s sake, of course he wanted him.

His thoughts always circled back to those moments, and he beat himself up mentally for not having the courage to ask him out, but what would he say? How could he word it?

I like you so much it scares me. 

You make my life better just by existing?

I had never seen a prettier person, and I need you to be mine?

I’ve never wanted someone the way I want you?

I don't have words to describe what I feel for you so I actually need to ask you out so I know you will be with me as long as you want to?

Christ. Sion wasn’t like that.

He showed love through action, through presence. But deep down, he knew it wasn’t about finding the right words. It was about the silence that might follow. The fear that Yushi would just… nod. That he’d agree, but not say it back. Not share the wanting.

He had been trying to understand Yushi since day one, and once he knew what it was, he had been nothing but patient, but Sion was only a human, and sometimes he needed some verbal reassurance.

It didn’t matter to him that Yushi switched from verbal communication to a more physical one, not when they were in their little bubble and nothing else mattered, but would he be okay if he asked him out and he simply nodded? Wouldn’t it feel like he was just agreeing instead of sharing his want, too?

He kept on circling around the block, if he could even call four houses surrounded by a poorly made street in between vast expansions of carrots, cabbage, and white radish crops a block. After the fifth time, his thoughts circled back in his head, and the gate creaked open again, this time with a gentle click. He turned. He walked back over his steps until he saw Yushi, standing with one of the hoodies he packed perfectly folded in his arms, a clear still point in the chaos of Sion’s world.

He started walking towards him, and Sion wanted to run, but he was star-struck. Yushi’s face lit up under the moonlight, and it was impossible to look away.

“Are you okay?” Yushi’s voice was a soft murmur, barely louder than the wind.

Sion wanted to lie, to nod and brush it off. But the evidence was on his face, the tracks of frustrated tears, the raw emotion he couldn’t hide. He took the offered hoodie, his movements clumsy. As he pulled it over his head, the fabric caught on his hair and glasses. For a moment, he was trapped, tangled in his own anxiety.

Then, Yushi’s hands were there. His slender fingers worked with a patient, gentle precision, untangling the mess of fabric and hair, carefully freeing his glasses. He guided the hoodie down until it settled around Sion’s neck. The gesture was so tender, so intimate, that a different kind of warmth spread through his chest.

Yushi was just waiting in front of him, unsure if he should say something else. Sion could know all that just by looking at him, and for a second, he thought that meant something. The complicity between them, so known for them, so used to knowing what he was thinking without Yushi even looking at him.

“I’m okay, I just-”

He took a deep breath.

His drunk ass made him look at him deeply, and Yushi didn’t move, he didn’t flinch, but Sion swore how his face made the smallest gesture, an imperceptible smile and a crinkle in his eyes that he didn’t even mean, but it was there.

That silent understanding, that ability to communicate without words, suddenly felt less like a barrier and more like a bridge. And maybe it was a sign, maybe it was destiny, that wanted both of them in Jeju that night, to speak his mind once and for all.

“You know I have been wanting to ask you out?”

Yushi shifted in his place, breathless. “When?”

Sion celebrated silently that Yushi answered, because his reply was immediate, his gaze unwavering, like he was excited.

“A hundred times for the past two months.”

“That’s a lot of times,” he whispered, looking at Sion. “Why didn’t you?”

“Because I’m not sure.”

The words felt heavy, almost like he was building a wall in between them that neither of them would be able to climb if he missed this.

“I wasn’t sure about what you were going to say.”

Sion’s chest felt constricted, unsure of his words, like saying the wrong thing could break everything they had been working on for almost five months.

“I wasn’t sure if you were going to say something.”

And I don’t think my heart could take your silence.

He felt exposed, raw, his heart hammering against his ribs like it wanted to escape. He was certain he’d ruined everything. Then Yushi spoke, his voice impossibly soft yet steady.

“You can try now.”

It was the permission Sion didn’t know he needed. The encouragement, coming from Yushi, was a lifeline. He had to trust it.

“I want to know,” Sion began, his voice low and earnest, his eyes locked on Yushi’s, where he could see a thousand reflected stars. “I want to know if you want to go out with me. I want to know if you want to be my boyfriend.”

His heart seemed to stop, his head ceased its throbbing, his lips were dry, and his whole body was about to shake, but Yushi held his hand, grounding him so much that he quickly grabbed it with both of his own, seeking closure like he had never done before.

“I do,” he whispered, smiling, lighting up his entire face. “I would love to.”

The relief was so profound it was physical. Sion surged forward, wrapping Yushi in a crushing embrace so tight it forced a squeak out of him. Sion didn’t care, not when tears streamed down his face, and he tasted their salt as he pressed frantic, joyful kisses to Yushi’s cheek, to his scar, and finally, fucking finally, to his lips.

This kiss didn’t feel like any that had come before. It was not stolen or questioned.

This kiss felt like their beginning.

Notes:

too tired to be writing something here except thanking everyone who is reading this, or bookmarked it, kudoed ??? or commented. doesn't matter. thank u so much really. it means the whole world to be sharing this and knowing people like this. <3

Chapter 20: comes you

Summary:

Dear Mr. Tokuno,

Yushi, who had never kissed anyone, who had never taken a trip beyond the familiar sprawl of Tokyo or Seoul, who had never had more than one friend, who had never had a boyfriend.

This was not the same Yushi who had cried the night before leaving for the University of Seoul, terrified of the unknown.

It was the same Yushi who had tentatively opened up slightly to Anton, who had found the words to Riku about what he was feeling, who presented his work in front of his class.  

It was the same Yushi who, two and a half months ago, had looked Sion in the eye and said, ‘I like you too, Sion’.

It was the same Yushi who was standing in front of his now boyfriend, in the middle of a forgotten street in Jeju, because they had come here for two weeks, with friends, to celebrate that the first semester was over. Yushi, who had offered to help Shotaro cook, moving in a comfortable, silent synchrony. It was understanding that some people, like Sion, were receptive, patient, incredible human beings, and learned, along with him, that there were a hundred ways of communicating with people.

His boyfriend.

A part of him, the old, fearful part, whispered that this was all a dream.

Maybe he would wake up in a couple of minutes, his school alarm would snap him out of the most vivid dream he ever had in his entire life, only for him to continue his life in Tokyo, surrounded by people who didn’t care about him, who didn’t see him.

If that was the case, he wanted to make the most out of it for the remaining two minutes.

Yushi clung to that kiss like it was his everything, because in a sense, it was.

It was Sion whom he was kissing, the boy who had been by his side, along with Riku, since the beginning of this trip, and now he didn’t want to let him go.

“I really like you, Yushi,” Sion mumbled against his lips, the words a warm vibration that seeped straight into Yushi’s bones, making him shiver.

“Me too, Sion,” he breathed back, the confession feeling more natural each time.

The taller boy cupped his face, making Yushi to tip toeing for a second before his lips separated, Sion stepping back, not separating his thumb from his scar, that cherished spot he always kissed first.

“We should go back… in case they think someone kidnapped us.”

“Here?” Yushi asked, a soft laugh in his voice at the absurdity.

“You never know, Ushi.”

The nickname sent a fresh wave of warmth through his chest. As they walked back, his hand was perfectly melting into Sion’s.

To their surprise, when they got back, everyone was peacefully sleeping. Sungchan and Wonbin had passed out in the coach, the rest of the doors closed except Shotaro’s, who had told Yushi while cooking that he usually liked to sleep with his door open for ‘air circulation and skin benefits’. Sion half-closed it slightly as they were walking through the hall, making their way to their room, fully closing theirs again as they got inside.

The weight of the emotionally charged day settled on them both. They quickly fell into bed. Yushi cuddled next to him, his face pressed against his steadying chest, his heartbeat tingling his brain. His lips travelled lazily to his collarbones, then his neck, and when he was about to suck softly, Sion let out a small chuckle, pushing Yushi back softly.

“You are insatiable, Yushi,” he whispered, his voice full of fond amusement, before leaning in for a playful kiss.

Yushi answered by climbing on top of him, a silent offer, letting Sion take the lead. He ended up pressed into the cool mattress, muffling his soft, breathy moans into the pillow that smelled like Sion, completely and utterly his.

The next morning, they were the ones who woke up last as a testament to their shared night, so they had to get the kitchen duties. Sion made ramen, again, knowing it was Yushi’s favorite. Wonbin complained, saying he needed more protein, but Daeyoung just placed a couple of boiled eggs in front of him with the stern efficiency of an annoyed father, effectively ending the debate. Yushi just smiled, stirring his noodles, content in his new, wonderful reality.

The first week dissolved in a sun-drenched, blissful haze.

Yushi found himself in a state of constant, quiet wonder, his orbit permanently fixed around Sion. He was captivated by him, by the easy, loud way he laughed with his friends, by the playful glint in his eye when he’d sneak away to make the bed, a futile gesture they’d undo in a tangled, breathless mess later at night. Each of these small, ordinary things felt extraordinary to Yushi, and he’d often find himself smiling so widely his cheeks ached.

They went hiking a couple of afternoons, driving their rented cars to a nearby town, trying to reach the beach, but failing due to the heavy wind. That day culminated in Shotaro’s usual dare for a skinny dip. Jisung’s polite refusal was clearly ignored, and Wonbin and an evil Shotaro dragged him into the frigid water. The consequence was a cascade of sniffles and sneezes the next morning at breakfast while they were discussing what to do.

“We can stay by the pool today,” Daeyoung suggested, sipping on his orange juice. “We can try to make the grill work and make a barbecue.”

“Dinner or lunch?” Sion asked from beside him, his shoulder a warm, constant point of contact.

“Whatever you guys want. I think it's better dinner, since we’re already having breakfast so late.”

“Seems nice to me,” Riku joined, “Maybe we can watch a movie or something in the afternoon.”

“I downloaded one about Stalin’s death for the flight but never watched it,” Wonbin offered.

“Stalin’s death?” Shotaro croaked from his nest of blankets and used tissues. “Didn’t he just lose the last elections?”

A beat of stunned silence was broken by Wonbin’s dry retort. “He died in 1953, but it’s okay. We can watch anything else.”

The teasing was gentle, and even a miserable Shotaro, surrounded by dirty tissues, managed a weak groan.

“Would much appreciate it,” he whispered, groaning when Sungchan pressed a fizzing glass of medicinal water into his hands.

The day unfolded in a lazy rhythm of pool floats, sunbathing, and naps. Yushi and Riku eventually broke away to kick around a soccer ball they’d bought at a beachside kiosk.

“Having fun?” his best friend said, passing the ball with a soft kick.

Yushi nodded, controlling it with the inside of his foot.

“You look like you are treating this like your honeymoon,” he ricocheted the ball a little harder.

“Why?” Yushi asked, flustered, feeling a flush creeping up his neck.

“The way you smile and the hickey on your collarbone.”

Yushi yanked the collar of Sion’s borrowed shirt up to his ear, a futile attempt that only made him more flustered.

“It’s okay,” Riku laughed. “I’m just glad he finally asked you out.”

“Shut up,” Yushi retorted, the embarrassment making him kick the ball back with far more force than intended. It sailed through the air and connected with Riku’s face with a sickening thump.

A sharp yelp echoed across the yard. Yushi’s stomach dropped. He rushed forward as Riku crumpled, hands pressed to his nose. Within seconds, the entire group had descended upon them, drawn by the noise and the commotion. Yushi felt bad, embarrassed. He thought they were going to laugh at him, but Riku quickly dismissed them, saying he only needed a little bit of ice.

Shotaro half complained, saying the ice was only for the drinks, but Sion was already moving, knocking Shotaro playfully on the head as he steered a wincing Riku toward the house. The moment of potential humiliation passed, replaced by a wave of gratitude for his friends, for Riku’s quick cover, for Sion’s immediate action

After that, they curled up on the big couch, Jisung and Wonbin taking the floor to watch Saltburn. Obviously, Daeyoung was the one who recommended it, praising it for the scenery and how well filmed it was, and a whole other bunch of things that he didn’t understand.

Yushi tried to make himself small, to curl into the corner of the couch and not intrude on the space, but Sion would have none of it. With a gentle hand, he guided Yushi down until his head was pillowed in Sion’s lap. Yushi let himself relax, curling into the warmth and the familiar scent of him,

The film began with debates over the lead actor’s appeal, but Yushi was less interested in Jacob Elordi’s charm and more captivated by the unsettling, eerie aura of the other lead actor. Yet, as the plot descended into a confusing spiral of something he didn’t understand, the combination of a full stomach, warm room, and Sion’s fingers idly carding through his hair proved too powerful. He drifted off, the low murmur of the movie became a soothing hum, and the nonsensical dialogue faded into a distant dream.

He woke up to the sound of the aggressive sizzle of pork belly on the grill, the clatter of plates, and the rich, savory aroma that made his mouth water. His throat was parched from his long nap, and for a moment, he just lay there, disoriented and cozy. He saw everyone moving in a coordinated dance to set the outdoor table. Almost on instinct, Yushi slipped from the couch and padded into the kitchen, his hands automatically finding stacks of cutlery and containers of packed rice to carry outside.

The evening air was cool and smelled of charcoal and something spicy enough to make his nose frown. He moved around the table, exchanging soft, smiley looks and silent nods with each of his new friends. When his eyes met Sion’s, it was like a physical touch. Sion quickly crossed to his side, taking some of the load from his arms.

“Good morning,” he whispered low enough for only both of them to hear

“Good night,” Yushi teased back, a small, sleepy smile touching his lips.

“You seemed tired. I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Thanks, my head ached.”

“Maybe because of the sun,” Sion concluded, his fingers brushing Yushi’s chin as he arranged napkins on the table. “Next time you play ball, I'll let you wear my cap.”

The offer was so simple, so thoughtful, that Yushi’s heart did a little flip. He just nodded, utterly endeared. Was there anything about this boy not to like?

“Meat is done!” Daeyoung exclaimed with a note of pride and affection that was uniquely his.

“Let’s eat then!” Sungchan continued.

Yushi ate too much, a contented bloatedness settling in his stomach. They laughed and ate and drank with a joyful, reckless abandon, as if it were their last night on earth. Platter after platter of grilled meat disappeared, followed by bowls of steaming ramen, until they all slumped in their chairs in a collective, food-induced coma. However, Jisung, ever the hero, brought their nth round of canned beer outside, and they drank peacefully while Wonbin and he discussed their girlfriends-to-be.

He had always thought that it was kind of useless to label the whole thing, to establish what he thought he was, a constricted bond, something he thought he wasn’t going to be able to manage. He was content with the slow, anxious thrill of getting to know Sion, the butterflies that erupted every time he was about to see him, the quiet happiness of their days together.

He told himself he could handle something casual, not out of a fear of commitment, but from a deeper, unnamed place: a protective instinct that urged him to flee from anything that felt too precious, too potentially painful to hold onto.

And then he saw Riku and Daeyoung.

When they first met, Yushi had pegged him as the epitome of a non-relationship person: too vibrant, too self-assured, too fiercely independent, and even if he wasn’t wrong in that, he knew the whole concept of being single because you were ‘too much to handle’ wasn’t really a thing.

Except, perhaps, for himself. 

Who would want to be with someone who couldn’t even talk?

Riku proved him wrong, not leaving his side for a day, spending countless weekends at his apartment during the summer, drinking on his balcony with his brother, weaving himself into the fabric of Yushi’s life with a persistence that felt like home.

 Sion had done the same, but differently. He didn’t just stay; he drew closer, day by day, until there was no space left between them. Until last night, under the Jeju stars, he had asked the question.

Yushi, ever the calculated, had been too afraid to even form in his own mind, even if deep down he had been expecting it.

Sion.

Oh Sion.

Oh Sion wanted him.

Oh Sion wanted him to be his.

Oh Sion wanted him to be his boyfriend.

That night, that exact moment after he said yes and he kissed his face with soft tears running down his face, he understood the thrill of it. The pressure in his chest wasn’t anxiety; it was the profound, terrifying, and exhilarating sensation of bonding with another soul.

They were tied together now by something deeper than convenience or attraction. And the most astonishing part was that Yushi wasn’t scared. He was euphoric.

Not because of the label itself, and not because Sion treated him any differently, it had, after all, barely been twenty-four hours. It was because the past few months of his life suddenly snapped into perfect, crystalline focus. Every moment made sense. He didn’t feel foolish anymore for his involuntary crashouts in front of Sion, for the instinctive way he made him coffee, for the overwhelming urge to be near him, under his skin constantly.

Most importantly, he could finally forgive himself for the lie.

Half-lie, hidden half-truth.

How could he have spoken to Sion normally when every brush of their knees in class, every shared study session, sent his heart into a frantic, silent panic? How could he have formed coherent sentences when his every instinct was screaming to just be with him, in the simplest, most profound way?

It was a relief, a weight off his shoulders. He could finally name this thing between them. It was his person. Sion was his person.

Later that night, Yushi was restless in bed, his feet kicking off constantly while he scrolled on his phone, waiting for Sion to get out of the bathroom. He still felt guilty for hitting Riku, but he only had his face slightly swollen, which everyone claimed made him look adorable.

Sion came out of the bathroom quicker than Yushi expected to, snapping him from his thoughts, and he practically jumped over him, his damp hair wetting Yushi’s face, but it helped him to calm down, cooling him enough to not feel his chest tight, especially after Sion kissed him until his lips ached, pouting and pointing at them, complaining.

“Look at these, they are swollen, and it’s your fault.”

“It’s not,” Yushi protested between breathless giggles as Sion’s tickling fingers found his sides.

“It is!”

“It’s not, they are always like that,” Yushi said, his own finger tracing his lower lip. “And I’m not making you kiss me,”

“First of all,” Sion declared, sitting up with mock indignation, “they are not always like this.” He leaned in again, his voice dropping to a whisper, all playfulness gone for a moment, replaced with pure wonder. “And second of all… how can I not kiss you when you look like this?”

He hovered over Yushi, his gaze so full of adoration it made Yushi’s breath catch. He cupped his cheek, his thumb stroking the skin there, and kissed him again, softer this time, but no less deep. They fell asleep like that, wrapped in each other’s arms.

Everyone agreed on spending their last two days in Jeju city, to get close to the airport and to visit the city, since they had been mainly around Shotaro’s parents’ house and the villages nearby.

Yushi had been hesitant. The idea of trading the quiet, sun-drenched afternoons by the pool for urban streets felt like a jarring step backward. But Sion, sensing his reluctance, had scrolled through his phone, showing him pictures from trips past: vibrant markets, stunning coastal walks, and cafes perched over the water. 

“It’s not like Seoul,” he’d promised. “It’s something in between. You’ll see.” 

He thought about it, thinking he was maybe right, but still packing reluctantly, only for him to regret not going sooner.

He ended up loving Jeju.

It was a different kind of beauty. The air was a constant, gentle mix of sea salt and the sweet scent of tangerines from the countless stalls selling pastries and fresh juice. The rhythm of the city was set by the sound of waves crashing against the seawall just steps away from the main streets. He didn’t think he was going to enjoy as much as he did.  

It was just the perfect amount of people in the street, a huge percentage of them being locals, a small amount of tourists, maybe because it wasn’t the perfect time to visit Jeju, but Yushi didn’t mind;  he thought that if he visited with Sion and their friends, it was going to be perfect anyway.

They spent the day in a chill, meandering exploration. They visited every architectural site Sion and Yushi had pointed out on the map, ate at every hole-in-the-wall restaurant Daeyoung had bookmarked, and stopped at every charming cafe Shotaro and Riku insisted was “essential” for photos.

Dinner was a glorious, messy affair in a sprawling outdoor food market. They crammed around low plastic tables, the air thick with the potent, briny smell of grilling seafood.

“I’m not even going to say it,” Wonbin stated, looking at a glistening abalone with unsure eyes.

“Then don’t,” Jisung said, happily eating one of them, helping the bite with some beer. “This is incredible.”

“We should make these at the dorm,” Sion suggested, already dreaming of replicating the taste.

“As we in you mean me, right?” Daeyoung elbowed him. “They cost a fucking fortune in Seoul.”

“I’ll buy them if you can make them taste like this,” Shotaro declared after swallowing his own bite, his voice full of conviction.

Food was delicious, beer was crisp in his tongue, and the laughter soothed him into a warm night.

“What time are we leaving tomorrow?” Sungchan asked, “Need to buy at least a magnet for my parents.”

“I think around nine,” Wonbin offered. “We can take a walk now, see if you find anything.”

“If y’all don’t mind,”

Everyone agreed a walk was what they needed, everyone falling into the excuse to get one last round of tangerine ice cream. They all tried to stretch the walk back home, not wanting to get back and get on with the showering and packing drill, but they ended up at the apartment building with tired eyes and a profound need to get a night of great sleep before going back to Seoul.

Sion and Yushi had their own room, a small echo of their privacy at Shotaro’s house. The moment they stepped in, Sion closed the door, sighing.

“I’m so tired, Ushi,” Sion groaned, the words muffled by the mattress as he face-planted onto the bed. “Need to change quickly before I pass out.”

Yushi had other plans in mind.

He turned slowly, a new kind of resolve settling in his limbs. He approached the bed and crawled onto it, moving with a deliberate slowness until he was straddling Sion’s hips. Sion let out a soft, surprised scoff, but his hands were already moving, finding their familiar place on Yushi’s thighs, his thumbs pressing possessive circles into the muscle.

“You’re not tired?” Sion asked, his voice a low rumble.

Yushi shook his head, lowering himself until he was capturing Sion’s lips in a kiss that was anything but sleepy. He felt calmer, releasing the tension he had been holding in his shoulders all day, as his touch fell upon him. Yushi’s movement was needy, slightly clumsy, but just because he was nervous, so nervous.

Since the first time, Yushi had been more than satisfied to lose himself in Sion’s experience, in his confident hands and knowing touches. But tonight, he wanted to try something different; he didn’t just want to be loved by Sion; he wanted to love Sion his way.

“I’m not,” he whispered against Sion’s mouth, the confession warm and shared between them.  “I want you.”

“I’m a bit tired, but fuck-” Sion’s sentence ended in a sharp gasp as he bucked his hips upward, dragging a squirm out of Yushi. “We can try to make it work.”

Yushi got too invested in his mouth again, parting his lips, tasting Sion entirely, mind too blurry even to register his boyfriend’s words.

“Let me get this off-”

He tried to stand up, but Yushi stopped him, his hands holding his wrists.

“Let me,” Yushi whispered.

Sion shut, eyes opened with desire, looking utterly captivated, like he was about to agree with whatever Yushi suggested. He took it as his cue to remove his sweater, hopping off the bed to shuck his pants as well. He stood before Sion, who looked up at him with a question in his gaze. At Yushi’s nod, Sion almost ripped his own hoodie off, taking his shirt with it in a frantic, eager motion.

Sion’s fingers trembled as he unbuckled his belt, like all the confidence from weeks ago was gone, and something pooled in Yushi’s lower stomach. Excitement. He didn’t know if he was the first one that was going to be on top of him, taking him like that, but he was about to discover it. He helped him remove his pants, and Sion lay down again, eager, his fingers tapping at an anxious rhythm against his own torso. Yushi sat again on his lap, his head lolling back instinctively as he could feel the solid reality of his boyfriend underneath.

Everything felt like a dream once again: Sion’s hands on his thighs, brushing over his pinky mark, guiding him to get more contact between them, and then one final grunt from him that had Yushi moaning, unable to keep still.

He maneuvered his underwear out of him and rolled down Sion’s until they were caging his ankles. He sat this time with more gentleness, a bit higher, their bodies aligning in a different, electrifying way. The brush of skin on skin was filled with a raw, aching need.

“Fuck, Yushi,” Sion breathed, his voice ragged. “I can’t believe I get to have you like this.”

The words made Yushi weak. He smiled, feeling a power and a vulnerability he’d never known.

“I want to-” he began, pausing to steady his breath. “I want you to have me like this.”

Sion gulped, his face a mystery of awe and want, his hands softly brushing circles in his knees. He nodded, both getting ready for yet another moment of intimacy. He reached for the small travel bag on the nightstand, but Yushi’s hand was there first. He took it. He wanted this, to be the one to prepare them, to take care of Sion.

He repeated the moves he’d watched Sion perform with such easy confidence, his own hands learning the ritual. Sion’s hands barely guided him, only helping Yushi when his eyes asked him to, until he felt a surge of bravery. He let his body descend, the pace nerve-wracking and exquisite. Sion’s eyes didn’t stop meeting his, inviting him, and as he felt like the moment was eating him alive, he let his thighs descend, pace nerve-wrecking, Sion’s hands shifting from his length to Yushi’s waist, steadying him.

It was much more uncomfortable than the previous times.

Different, more intense, more vulnerable, but it was more fulfilling, having him like that. It was everything.

Sion didn’t say a word, only biting his lips and rolling his head further into the mattress, surrendering completely. Yushi moved however he wanted, as deep as he reached, as fast as he pleased, and it was making him delirious, the control over the situation almost overwhelming if not because of Sion’s hands, his fingertips grounding him to the core.

He felt relentless, his thighs burning, but unwilling to stop himself. Sion’s torso tightened, and he looked at him, eyes heavy-lidded, pouting, breaking the gaze in seconds, lips suddenly parting in a silent cry. Yushi went on, wanting to wreck him.

It was such an unknown feeling that had him moving like that, but he enjoyed every second of it.

Sion finally broke, folding into him with a shuddering gasp, and Yushi over him, grasping for his shoulders as he did, shivering, way too overstimulated. The kisses that preceded that were soft, full of love and attention. The sneaking out to the shared bathroom was filled with giddy laughter, Sion modestly wrapped in a towel that probably needed washing, but it didn’t matter.

Once back in bed, trying to sort out how to sleep as they avoided the sweaty areas in the thin sheets, Sion let him place his head on his chest again once they found a clean spot. It was too much for Yushi, almost thinking he was deep asleep, if not because of the musky scent of the room and Sion’s slender finger tracing endless soothing lines on his arm.

Turns out Yushi wasn’t going to wake up from a dream, not in the next few minutes, not ever.

This was his life, and it couldn’t get better.

Going back to Seoul was a reality check that drained the life out of everyone except Jisung and Wonbin, who were highly excited to see Jiwoo and Minjeong, explaining to them in the cab that they had a double date that exact night. Yushi felt tired just by listening to them.

The walk to their dorm felt heavier on his foot than the one he had taken two weeks ago, just in the opposite direction. He wanted to turn around, to get on the cab again, to see Sion try to tan on the pool and Riku splashing water on him, making him angry because ‘he had just styled his hair’, to wake up to the smell of sea salt and bitter coffee-

“Are you going to open the door already or-”

Riku snapped him out of his thoughts, looking at him like he had missed the whole point of a conversation he didn’t even remember having. He quickly took out his keys, his thumb brushing the axolotl as he opened the door for them. The room felt extremely narrow, the windows too small, the humidity too present, but it all went away as soon as he lay down in Riku’s bed, next to him, both too tired to unpack.

“I missed this,” Riku said, side hugging him, “being just us, in our room.” Riku held him tighter. “Don’t get me wrong, I love Daeyoung and I really like Sion and their friends, but god, they are intense.”

Yushi tried not to drift off the conversation after hearing Riku say he loved Daeyoung.

“I had so much fun though,” he continued, unconciously helping Yushi to stay focused, “They are lowkey insane.”

“Lowkey? They had all pissed in the shower before,” he reminded him

“Ugh,” his friend complained loudly, “Can’t trust straight people anymore.”

“Daeyoung and Sion also-”

“Don’t.” Riku stopped him. “What do you want for dinner? We can order something and watch Evang-”

“No, not Evangelion.” Yushi huffed, feeling sleepy in that position

“Okay, but if I don’t get to pick the movie, I won’t pay either.”

“Evangelion it is,” he joked.

Yushi napped for a bit in Riku’s bed while he went to the gym. He didn’t understand how and why his friend had energy left after the two weeks that they had just had, but he didn’t fight the thought, drifting off quickly as he went out of the room. He woke up when he came back, the shower ringing in his ears.

Cold and disoriented, he checked his phone. 3^rd of February, 14:34.

Under that, Sion’s messages.

 

sionnie <3

hey hey

saw riku at the gym

 

Perfect, Sion also went to the gym. Why didn’t he have any willpower left? He kept reading.

 

sionnie <3

told me you were napping

great for you honestly, you seemed tired on the way back

how r u

any plans for these last days before going back to classes?

 

Only when Yushi read about those words did he remember.

3^rd February.

Tomorrow.

The air left his lungs in a sudden, silent rush. Tomorrow, the university will decide his future. The transfer application would either be accepted or crumble into nothing.

A cold dread, sharp and immediate, washed over him. His heart began to hammer against his ribs, a frantic drumbeat of panic. He scrambled for his phone, his fingers clumsy as he pulled up the application mail for the hundredth time, desperately scanning each uploaded document.

The application form, both his passports, his ID cards, the transcripts from the Tokyo University, the course descriptions, his previous academic qualifications, the certificate of enrollment, the personal letter,… Everything seemed to be perfect, but something wasn’t feeling right in his chest, his pulse getting higher by the second. The walls of the room seemed to be pressing inwards.

When Riku came out of the shower, freshly cleaned, he instantly noticed Yushi looked pale, rigid, staring unseeingly at the screen, and his relaxed posture vanished. He didn’t rush; his approach was calm and steady, an anchor in Yushi’s sudden storm.

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

Yushi could only shake his head, the words trapped behind the tightness in his throat. It was always like this when the panic hit, a total system shutdown, leaving him mute and paralyzed.

“Did you just wake up? A nightmare?” Riku tried again, lowering himself to sit on the edge of his own bed, facing Yushi.

Yushi shook his head again, hopeless, and sat in his bed, trying to steady his breath. He still had his phone in his hand, and in an instant, he turned around to show it to Riku. His best friend caught it firmly, scrolling down quickly, his face glistening with understanding.

“Are you worried about this? It’s tomorrow, right?”

Yushi nodded. Riku catching his worry made him finally breathe.

“Are you worried about getting in,” Riku asked, his head tilting slightly, “or not?”

Yushi’s world crashed.

The question didn’t just land; it detonated. It shattered him into a thousand confused pieces.

What did he want?

He blinked, his vision blurring as he looked directly at Riku, truly bewildered.

“You don’t know Yushi?” Riku asked without judgment.

Yushi shook his head, and a tear fell down his face. He didn’t recall starting to cry, didn’t remember lying down, but suddenly he was on his side, curled into himself on the mattress. Riku was there instantly, caressing his arms and brushing his scalp.

He didn’t understand what was happening. Why was he so out of control? He wanted to scream, but the more he fought it, the tighter the shock gripped him. He could only cry, and Riku held him tighter.

Eventually, the storm passed, leaving him exhausted and hollowed, as usual. His chest still felt hard under his clothes, his knees slowly getting pressed against it. Riku guides them softly back to the original position, which helps Yushi breathe more easily.

And then, his best friend was moving on command, which made Yushi feel miserable.

He fetched a painkiller for the impending headache, a small bottle of water, and a cereal bar, placing them on Yushi’s nightstand for when he was ready. He didn’t press; he just came back and began talking softly about his latest psychology dissertation on Freud and the significance of dreams, sharing his own bizarre nightmares as if they were simple anecdotes.

Yushi nodded along to Riku’s words, his voice pulling him back to the real world. For Riku, it was easy to take care of Yushi like that, and for him, he felt comforted in ways he couldn’t name but definitely needed.

Night came in deep, and Yushi started feeling more than himself, his embarrassment hiding behind his face. He sat in the bed, back against the wall. Riku smiled like nothing had happened, but also encouraged him to communicate.

Yushi gulped, “I don’t know what I want. If I want to stay or to go.”

“What is making you doubt?”

“I don’t want to… don’t want to go to an empty house,” Yushi admitted, the thought heavier in his throat than he imagined. “But what if… what if this turns into-” he couldn’t finish the words, looking away from Riku, shedding another tear.

“This is not going to turn into an empty house, Yushi, I promise you.” He reassured, holding his hands, “And if I don’t get in, we will find a way, okay?”

He understood why he was saying that.

Frankly, Riku had it harder to get in, not only because he didn’t have a Korean citizenship, but also because his grades were worse than Yushi’s, and there were far more people who wanted to transfer to Psychology, so the chances were lower, much lower.

And Yushi couldn’t do Seoul without Riku.

As much as he couldn’t do Seoul without Sion.

“We will find a way, but we can’t jump to conclusions, not without actually knowing what’s going to happen, okay?” Riku reassured him once again, “I know this does sound like psychology 101, but it is exactly like that.”

After a few seconds of quiet deliberation, Yushi nodded, trusting his best friend once again. He knew he very much needed logical and simple explanations rather than being thrown hypotheses about why he was worried.

Late at night, he realized he knew the answer. He wanted to stay; he wanted both him and Riku to stay in Seoul, at least for another year, until both of them were finished with their degrees. After that, they could sort it out.

He slept badly, constantly sweating, next to Riku, who had fallen asleep next to him. In the middle of the night, unable to fall asleep again, he reached for his phone on the nightstand, trying not to bother himself with his mind constantly running around, so he just scrolled stupidly until he remembered he hadn’t replied to Sion.

 

yushi

hey sorry

nothing much really

tomorrow its the transfer thing

 

Yushi kept scrolling, trying to distract his mind, until one message popped up. It was almost four in the morning, and he hadn’t really thought about replying so late, but he really didn’t realize how late it was until he saw the hour next to Sion’s contact name.

 

sionnie <3

why r u up so late

are you nervous

for the transfer?

 

yushi

yes

very much

why are you up so late?

 

sionnie <3

idk

didnt feel like sleeping

what hour do we know if

you got accepted

 

Yushi’s lips twitched in a smile as soon as he read ‘we’. Sion always knew how to say. He reopened the mail, the one he had been reading in his mind for the past hours, in case the hour had suddenly changed. But it didn’t.

 

yushi

3 pm

 

sionnie <3

do you want to look at it together

the four of us

or are you guys going to handle it

 

 

yushi

i would rather you be here

 

sionnie <3

done deal

ill bring food

 

yushi

thank you sion

really

 

sionnie <3

lets get to sleep now okay?

 

 

yushi

ill try

if you try too

 

sionnie <3

perfect

goodnight then ushi

 

yushi

goognight sionnie

 

Yushi locked the phone before he could see Sion’s reactions to the nickname, then proceeded to close his eyes, not even knowing what hour he finally fell asleep, but judging by waking up past noon the next morning, he guessed it ended up being pretty late.

Riku was out of his bed, and for what it seemed, out of the room as well. Yushi stood up quickly, running to the shower, setting it rather hot to ease his muscles from last afternoon’s breakdown. He grabbed his phone as soon as he got out of the shower, and after dumbly checking the email and not seeing any update, he texted Riku.

 

yushi

where are you?

 

riku

laundry

i was running out of panties

how r you

you woke up better?

 

yushi

kind of

just showered

sion said he was going to bring food

 

riku

i know

dae told me

 

yushi

im going to have a walk 

see you in here

 

He didn’t wait for a reply; he just needed to move. He got on some gym clothes and went outside, feeling the breeze against his skin. Instinctively, he ran around the campus, checking the places he used to go with Anton, the convenience store where Sion caught him speaking Korean, the memory now laced with a fond ache instead of panic. Then he shifted his way, going through streets he had visited with Riku, closer to the Han River, remembering those early, overwhelming days and their futile searches for affordable appliances, only for them to bond over rough towels and battered pans.

Lastly, he jogged around all the places he had been with Sion.

The grocery shop they liked to visit to get expensive dupes of Japanese snacks, the different cafes Sion liked to tour Yushi around, only for him to get an americano and to steal everything about Yushi’s actual breakfast. He ran around the cheap restaurants they had gone to together with friends, and Yushi realized that he hadn't had a proper date with him yet. The thought was a spark of hope. He’d plan one if he got in.

He quickly checked his phone and almost choked on his own spit.

02: 38 pm.

His heart seized.

He opened the mail, instinctively, and nothing appeared. He cursed, panicked all over his body, again. His muscles remembered the previous day’s strain, already aching Yushi enough to make him sit, except he didn’t need to rest; he couldn’t stop. He needed to go back to the dorm.

He ran as if chased, a blur through the campus gardens. He fumbled his ID card at the dorm door, took the stairs two and three at a time, and burst into his room.

Inside, a scene he had already seen before, but couldn’t quite name until he saw the food container.

Riku, Daeyoung, and Sion were sitting on the floor in a familiar constellation, a fortress of open fried chicken boxes between them. An open laptop glowed beside them. The sight, the specific bright purple of the chicken box, was a déjà vu so strong it transported him instantly to the first night Sion and Daeyoung had ever eaten in their room.

The known scene quickly vanished, the tree of them standing up quickly and approaching him. He thought he must look like he was about to faint, feeling his chest too tight, his sweat running down his forehead, the anxiety of the missing email hanging around too close.

“Yushi, are you okay? Take some water, here-”

With his eyes closed and his head looking down, he could know it was Riku who was talking, his sweet accent ricocheting in his ears as he said the words, but the hand that was suddenly placed in his lower back was Sion’s.

He opened his eyes softly, only to check his other hand offering a glass of water.

“What hour is it?” Yushi gasped, his hands trembling so violently the water sloshed in the glass.

Daeyoung checked his watch quickly. “Still 3 pm, but-”

A chime. A soft chime that deafened Yushi’s brain. It was the loudest silence Yushi had ever heard.

The laptop screen lit up, and Riku moved first, his knees hitting the floor with a thud as he scrambled to the computer. Yushi’s phone was in his hand in an instant, his thumb unlocking it, the mail app already open, his heart a frantic drum against his ribs.

There it was. A new email.

From the International Programs Coordinator.

From Lee Taeyong.

He opened it, Sion’s hand in his back, giving him all the strength he needed.

 

Subject: Transfer to University of Seoul

From: International Programs Office
To: Oh Sion [ [email protected] ]
Date: February 4^th, 03:00 p.m.

Dear Mr. Tokuno,

On behalf of the Office of International and Exchange Programs, it is my great pleasure to inform you that your application for a permanent transfer to the University of Seoul (UOS) has been formally accepted.

After reviewing your impressive academic qualifications, your demonstrated dedication to your studies, and the strength of your application materials, the admissions committee is confident in your ability to excel as part of our academic community. Your achievements thus far, both in and outside the classroom, reflect the qualities we seek in our student body.

We are delighted to officially welcome you to the College of Architecture as a local student beginning in the upcoming academic year. You will soon receive additional information regarding orientation if needed, course registration, and student services to help ensure a smooth transition to UOS.

Should you have any questions, please do not hesitate to contact our office. We are here to assist you and look forward to supporting your academic journey.

Once again, congratulations on your acceptance. We warmly welcome you to the University of Seoul and look forward to your contributions to our campus community.

Best regards, 

Lee Taeyong

International Programs Coordinator

 

He couldn’t breathe.

He looked up at  Riku, who turned around quickly and gave him the softest smile and a rushed nod.

They did it.

Notes:

sorry if this was all over the place im really trying to wrap things up

were really only fucking 6 chapters left and its really scaring the shit out of me bc theres still so many things i want to say but i also want to finish it in good terms so like....... i just hope you guys keep liking this!!!!!

THANK YOU endlessly really for all the comments the kudos the bookmarks the dms the tweets i really feel so glad and moved seeing you are really liking it, thank you for saving the playlist and for the people who comments on all the chapters they want just letting me know ur thoughts! its really great to be able to do something like this and im so happy that this is turning into something so sweet for me, so yeah, thank you a lot for that, really.

Chapter 21: surprise!

Summary:

He had a plan. Well, he had fragments of one.

Being close to Yushi had become as natural to Sion as breathing. The ease of it was almost disorienting; it felt less like he’d met him six months ago and more like he was rediscovering a part of himself he’d always known was missing.

And it was just one month ago that he had asked him to be his boyfriend.

Before that, it had been only five months since they had known each other.

Six months ago, they were perfect strangers, and the mere thought of sitting next to Yushi had sent a nervous, electric jolt down Sion’s spine.

These days, he still got shivers. But the reason had changed entirely. Knowing Sion and Yushi, it could be perfectly because of his habit of not being able to let go of each other, but recently, it was mainly because it was Yushi’s birthday, and he was freaking out.

He had written it down one day, back in November, during one of their tentative conversations where every shared fact felt like a precious secret, and Yushi said something about his brother gifting him a soccer jersey with a 45 on his back, his birthday date. Sion’s brain had short-circuited, trying to figure out which month had forty-five days before he got down from cloud nine and realized it was the 5^th of April. The date had been sitting in his calendar for too long, and finally, he could do something about it.

He had a plan. Well, he had fragments of one. Some details were crystal clear in his mind; others were a terrifying, blank void.

The birthday itself was on Monday, which was kind of a bummer, but he thought about doing something for the weekend and celebrating properly on Sunday, waiting romantically for midnight to kiss him happy birthday. But he couldn’t do it, he couldn’t have all Yushi for himself, not when these two months they have been hanging out with his friends four days a week, but he found he didn’t actually mind. It didn’t matter if it was for a simple coffee with Wonbin, some library time with Jisung… God, Sion had also met up with him and Anton once in one of his hangouts because Shotaro was joining them, too. Sion still didn’t think Anton was as nice and interesting as they pointed out, but Yushi never said anything; he just smirked softly, like he knew.

So having a birthday party for only both of them was kind of... selfish. Or crazy. Or maybe both.

He’d settled on a compromise: having some dinner on Saturday and an actual party on Sunday. That worked for everyone as the semester wasn’t pressuring them too hard, granting them a precious window of freedom before the inevitable storm of finals descended, trapping them in the library with more coffee than blood in their veins. That grim future was coming, but it wasn’t here yet. For now, there was sunlight, and laughter, and a birthday to plan.

Sion asked Riku for suggestions for the dinner place over text, which was as helpful as mortifying.

 

sion

i want to take yushi to dinner

 

riku

didnt you guys go like last week

to that spanish place

 

sion

i mean for his birthday

 

riku

its not for another month ??

are you already planning it???

 

sion

kinda

 

riku

god

okay uhm so

 

sion

what?

 

riku

nothing

i just didnt picture you as a

birthday planner

one month before the actual birthday

 

sion

i didnt either

but here we are

 

riku

cute

okay so

rather than a fancy place and stuff

i know he likes food markets, a lot

so maybe you guys can go to some kind of

food market?

 

sion

okay noted

anything more

 

riku

dont do big places

 

sion

wasnt planning to

 

riku

perfect

this is going to sound so gross

and ill probably delete this after but

i think he will be happy with just you around

doesnt matter where you bring him

im logging off rn

 

Sion smiled to himself, trying to believe Riku’s words. He thought the same thing, about how he didn’t really mind going anywhere if Yushi was there too, so he tried to have that in mind.

Sion fell down one of his rabbit holes of Seoul’s event calendars, desperately searching for something great, a food market, a themed festival… He briefly, deliriously, considered if anyone had ever combined Korean-Japanese fusion cuisine with a cat theme before dismissing the idea, moving into the present thing, which was something he had been trying to avoid.

He wasn’t really good at making presents. He never got them right; it was always too cheap, too impersonal, too expensive, giving them too late or too soon, not quite catching the whole thing. It wasn’t like he minded presents on his birthday, so he didn’t get the whole drill correctly, ever. But he wanted to be different for Yushi; he wanted to be better, so he also asked Daeyoung for advice in the middle of their quiet dinner.

“What did you give Riku for his birthday?” Sion asked, trying to sound casual as he poked at his bibimbap.

“It hasn’t been yet, don’t you think you would have been invited?” he asked back.

“True…” Sion deflated slightly.

“Why do you ask?”

“Yushi’s birthday is in… two weeks and a half.”

“And you don’t have a present yet?”

Sion let out a scoff that was half embarrassment, half incredulous laughter. The differences between him and Riku were so stark it was funny. They were really meant to be.

“Why are you laughing?” Daeyoung pointed at him with the chopsticks, low-key threatening him, “I already know what I’m going to give Riku for his birthday.”

“And what is that?” Sion asked with faux annoyance

“Can’t tell you, or you’ll copy me,” Daeyoung retorted, a smirk playing on his lips. He deftly changed the subject. “By the way, I had the pictures from Jeju developed. Do you want to look at them?”

Sion nodded quickly, mouthful of spring rolls and kimchi pancakes.

They finished their dinner so Daeyoung could pull all the pictures off the bed to show him.

Sion knew his friend liked photography, movies,… he was studying film after all, but he always got incredibly surprised when he saw his friends and he in his works. Spread before them were nearly two hundred prints, each one a frozen moment that told its own complete story.

Sion got close to examine each of them, even the one Daeyoung took of Shotaro, half flashing his ass to Sungchan, but luckily, the view was covered by Jisung’s hand, worriedly looking at both of them like they were committing a crime.

Then there were the photos of Riku. They were breathtaking and utterly intimate. Daeyoung saw a version of Riku invisible to everyone else: the delicate mole on his collarbone, the faint tan lines on his shoulders from his tank tops, the way different pieces of jewelry caught the light. Sion realized he’d been sharing a trip with Riku but had missed half of these beautiful, tiny details.

But the ones that caught his attention were Yushi’s and his. There wasn’t a single picture where they weren’t together: dozing in a patch of sun-bleached grass, their shoulders touching as they set the table, clinking glasses by the pool, Sion could almost hear Yushi’s breathy laugh after he’d sloshed his drink all over his own lap.

“You can take them,” Daeyoung said softly, “I have them on a flash drive anyway.”

Daeyoung had captured them in a state of unselfconscious togetherness, completely unaware of the camera, yet radiating a quiet joy that made Sion’s chest ache. He nodded to his friend’s proposition, his words half-trapped in his throat. It was a rare thing to see your own happiness reflected back at you from a third-person perspective. It was the story of their trip, yes, but it was also undeniable proof of what he was, a man completely in love. And seeing Yushi by his side in every one, it was clear he felt the same. The photos weren’t just memories; they were a revelation.

Fuck.

He quickly grabbed their pics, taking a couple more of his best friends, and placed them in his desk. There, he found an open notebook from that morning’s classes. His memory flashed to the session, a terrible one by the way, but while Professor Kim Doyoung droned on about load-bearing walls, Yushi had been quietly teaching him new kanji in the margins. Sion, of course, had been far more focused on Yushi’s slender fingers guiding the pen than on structural integrity. His brain froze for a second when Yushi, while looking at the board, started doodling a cat. It was a simple cat, just sitting, with pointy ears, big eyes, and a small mouth. Just like Yushi.

When it was time to switch classes, Yushi just picked up his things like nothing had happened, and when Sion got to his dorm, he had opened the notebook to check the doodle. He needed to frame it soon.

Maybe he could do something like that, a doodle, frame it… the only problem was that he didn’t know how to draw. Not cat doodles anyway. He loved drawing skylines, buildings, floor plans, plants, trees, silhouettes… but he wasn’t necessarily an artsy person. He preferred the clean, curated pages of architecture journals to messy, glitter-filled scrapbooks.

And then it hit him.

He turned to Daeyoung, who was still meticulously arranging his photos on the bed as if they were rare idol photocards.

“Are you going to make a Jeju journal? Like the one from last year?” he asked, half-desperate.

“That’s my plan, why?”

“Could we make one for Yushi?” Sion asked politely, “For his birthday.”

“Oh, okay! We can totally do that.” Daeyoung nodded along, visibly excited

“We could ask Riku to join us,” he suggested, “he probably has a lot of pictures of them from their first weeks.”

“Yeah, we can ask him.”

“Can we get started this weekend? I’ll go tomorrow and buy everything we need,” Sion said, already feeling the press of time.

“Saturday?”  Daeyoung confirmed in his own way.

Sion nodded, already racing, turned around, and opened his laptop. He spent hours falling down yet another Pinterest rabbit hole of journaling inspo, each photo looking more intimidating than the previous one. Every notebook was insanely decorated, with a hundred stickers, two hundred Starbucks receipts, and way too much glitter. It was too girly for Sion, but he didn’t quite understand that, especially since Daeyoung’s journals were always simpler, more elegant, and deeply touching. He finally gave up, deciding to just buy things he liked, and went to shower.

He sent his usual goodnight text to Yushi, a fresh wave of excitement washing over him at the thought of seeing him in class the next day.

Their routine was set. They always sat together, and that semester the Japanese boy had been wanting to sit closer to the board, so they usually sat in between the front and last row, a quiet sign of his growing confidence. Sion could tell Yushi was starting to feel more comfortable around certain classmates, like Yunah and Haewon. He had his own small study meet-ups with the two of them, and even if Yushi told him several times he was invited, Sion let him have his own space, his own friendships. He knew he had also been joining Riku whenever he met with Sakuya and Ryo, which he loved because he wanted to get close to them, too.

“Do you want to go shopping later?” Sion offered Yushi as they were picking up his things, “Maybe we can grab a bite on the way.”

Yushi nodded, smiling. Sion tucked a hair behind his ear and kissed his cheek scar. He wasn’t all about kissing publicly, Yushi on his lips, but a kiss on his cheek never hurt anyone; it was their language.

They did as planned. Yushi wanted to try a new sandwich place that had Japanese egg salad that Shotaro had shared with him in a reel. Sion checked it out, and it looked so great, and luckily for him, it was close to a couple of stationary shops and an actual mall.

The sandwich place was great, really great, and Sion let Yushi pay because he was about to lose half his monthly allowance on notebooks and washi tape. After eating way too much for their poor stomachs, they spent almost three hours walking around a lot of stores.

Sion wasn’t going to buy anything just yet; he wanted to check if Yushi liked something of what they saw, but the only thing his boyfriend had his hand on was some impossibly soft cat plushies, and Sion’s own hand whenever they were walking from one store to the other.

And in the soft spring light, Yushi looked breathtaking. His dark hair was beginning to curl slightly at the ends, framing his face and glasses perfectly. The faint tan from Jeju had faded from his nose and cheeks, taking the adorable smattering of freckles with it, leaving his skin pale, ready to be sun-kissed again.

The walk back was nice, quiet, and comfortable,  the fresh early spring air getting to their tousled bangs, making the street chillier than earlier in the day. They instinctively walked closer, shoulders brushing, until they reached Yushi’s door. Their goodbye was a proper, lingering kiss that left Sion’s heart thumping pleasantly.

Then he practically ran to his room, opening all the website pages from the stores they had been on today and adding everything he liked to the cart, especially those baby blue notebooks and the cat stickers. He was about to somehow get his debit card on red numbers when Daeyoung got into the room, carrying a couple of pizzas. Sion swore he owed his life to him.

They ate together, and he told him about the things he had been seeing, what he wanted to buy, and the ideas he had. Daeyoung, in turn, brought out his own treasure trove of scrapbooking supplies, specialty papers, stamps, and a curated collection of stickers. When he told Sion to take whatever he wanted, Sion’s eyes widened at the amount of money he’d just saved. He thanked him endlessly before finally placing his much affordable order.

For the next two weeks, Sion felt like he was all over the place but nowhere at once. He tries to focus on class, but the subjects that semester were really project-oriented, nothing that he could put his research drive into. He started going more frequently to the gym too, because whenever he went, Anton was there, and for some unknown reason, his presence sparked an irrational, low-grade irritation that Sion channeled into lifting heavier weights.

Amidst it all, his constant was Yushi. They saw each other daily, their lives seamlessly intertwined, from shared classes to mundane trips to the laundromat.

And Riku, who had been spending some nights in the room putting together their present.

What started as a simple scrapbook idea in Sion’s head turned into almost like a cult book for Yushi. He wasn’t complaining, but he should have known it was kind of impossible not to turn into that if he was going to have his best friend help, who had been making these kinds of things as a hobby for years, and Riku, his boyfriend’s best friend and his best friend’s boyfriend, which pretty much summarized everything.

Riku brought a lot of pictures taken during the whole first semester: their late night snacks, their jogging sessions, the whole Japanese Student Club,… majority of them were selfies together but Riku also brought pictures he had taken of Yushi when he wasn’t aware of it, such as him working at his desk, making some ramen, and even napping in Riku’s bed because his was filled with notebooks and freshly folded laundry. They also had shared receipts, some stickers from the Open Door event, and a collection of Yushi’s own doodles on sticky notes.

Sion thought the whole Yushi album was very much self-indulgent because he knew he was going to be checking it every single day, but he didn’t comment on it.

“Now it’s time to write,” Daeyoung announced as they glued the last of the Jeju photos into place. He handed Sion a sleek, black pen. “Here, have this.”

“Write what?” Sion asked confusedly, suddenly feeling unprepared.

“Well, first of all, the dates of the pics, and then maybe some doodling around too, short explanations of the events of the pics too,” Daeyoung said. “I have different markers, too, if you want to use colors.”

“We also should name it right? Like a book,” Riku suggested

“Actually, yes, that could be a great idea,” his roommate answered. “I usually stick with simple words and dates, but this is much more meaningful. We should think of a name for it.”

For a fleeting moment, Sion felt a pang of something like possessiveness. This was his gift, his idea, and now they were adding layers he hadn’t anticipated. But as he looked down at the beautiful, collaborative artifact spread before them, far more heartfelt than anything he could have created alone, the feeling melted away. He had to trust them. This was better.

He looked around for his phone to get the dates of the pictures they selected, when he realized Yushi had texted him.

 

ushi <3

is riku over there?

 

sion

yes hes here

is everything okay?

 

ushi <3

can i go to?

 

sion

ofc u can

he was just helping out daeyoung

wait

would you rather have me go over there?

 

ushi <3

yes

if u dont mind

 

sion

not at all

ill be there in ten

 

“Yushi just invited me over, so maybe…” Sion said pointing at the messy floor, “Maybe you guys can start writing your things, and I’ll catch up with it tomorrow?”

Daeyoung and Riku nodded, already grabbing different sharpies and pens. Surrounded by candid snapshots of Yushi and mementos of his interests, they did look like detectives piecing together the story of a fascinating subject. Sion’s own contributions were there too, neatly drawn maps of their favorite Seoul spots and the Jeju coastline, adding a personal, architectural touch to the vibrant collage.

He left them there and rushed to meet his boyfriend to spend the night there. The next day, they stopped by his room to change clothes and went on with their rather boring day. That same afternoon, he created a group for Yushi’s birthday party. Before adding them all, he checked the invite list one last time.

 

riku

daeyoung

yunah

haewon

jisung

wonbin

shotaro

sungchan

sakuya

ryo

anton

 

He took a final look at the list, ensuring no one was missing from Yushi’s new, cherished world, before finally adding them all. The plan was now in motion. He pressed the ‘create group’ button before he regretted anything else.

 

sion

hi! this is a group for yushis birthday

 

ryo

oh hi

great!

 

sungchan

why is yushi not here

 

shotaro

wait ill add him

 

sion

ITS A SURPRISE

 

haewon

omg cute

 

wonbin

should have started there

 

Sion cracked his neck and counted to ten before continuing, already feeling done with this whole group chat.

 

sion

whatever

i was thinking of doing some kind of

outside picnic

 

yunah

what about presents

should we bring our own or are we thinking group one?

 

riku

sion dae and i made one

so i think individual its better

 

shotaro

ofc the poly gang

gotcha

 

jisung

this feels out of place but

when and where

 

daeyoung

in the group description

 

sungchan

lmao clocked

(thank u for asking jisung ily)

 

With the party details settled, he locked his phone, indirectly passing the chaos to a now very busy Daeyoung. Sion finally turned his full attention to the journal. The scrapbook. Yushi’s diaries.

Whatever it was, his birthday was next week, and he needed to finish it by then. He started adding the dates of the pics he took, adding some doodles around whatever Riku and Daeyoung wrote, trying to get inspiration, and then he got on with his part.

He added the usual ‘you looked super cute here’ along with ‘this was when…’, and once he started, he couldn’t stop. He had details for every pic, every flash had a behind-the-scenes story, and Sion remembered every single one of them. He remembered the exact joke that made Yushi laugh in that cafe photo, the reason his brow was furrowed in concentration in the library shot, the song that was playing on the speakers when the Jeju pool picture was taken. He wrote until his wrist ached, pausing only to carefully place stickers before diving back in.

When the clock announced almost midnight, he looked at it proudly. The book, once sleek and new, was now wonderfully thick and heavy, its pages swollen with glued-in treasures and layered with ink. It felt substantial, like a real chronicle of their time together.

As he closed it, he saw the blank cover. It had Riku and Daeyoung’s names, so Sion wrote his next to them, like they were the ‘Three horsemen of the apocalypse’, only Yushi’s name was left.

He thought about a title, something that had a mix of his boyfriend’s name, cats, his favorite things, the color blue,… He went to bed with it on his mind, and the answer came to him with the clarity of morning light. He sat at his desk before even brushing his teeth, grabbed a fine-tipped marker, and wrote it neatly across the cover. It might look crooked later with his glasses on, but in that moment, it was perfect.

The next days went agonizingly slow, crawling by Sion. He could feel the stares of everyone in the group whenever he was around Yushi. Yunah and Haewon looked at him in class like he was hiding the most hideous secret ever, like he was harboring a fugitive rather than planning a party. Anton smiled at him from across the halls with a satisfied smirk. Worst of all was Riku, who had started actively avoiding them, terrified he’d blurt everything out the moment he saw Yushi’s face.

Then, on Friday, just two days before the surprise, Sion was hit with a bolt of pure panic in the middle of a lecture. He had completely forgotten to plan their actual Saturday date.

Fuck him.

He practically fled to the bathroom, frantically searching his phone for ideas. Then he remembered: Yushi had once mentioned, with a hint of wistfulness, that he’d never been to Incheon when Riku went with Sakuya and Ryo. In a flurry of taps, he booked early morning and late-night train tickets, crafting a full-day trip out of thin air. He knew he had to ask Jaehyun for food recommendations, and while doing that, also telling him about Yushi. Casual conversation was very much needed for him in order to not have a crashout about it.

 

sion

hey so

i have been dating yushi for two months

could you give me some food recs in incheon

im taking him for his birthday

 

Sion typed those with shaky fingers. He didn’t expect to come out to his brother in one of his university bathroom stalls, but he was in dire need of a sealed plan. Jaehyun’s answer came in a money transfer with the caption ‘Treat him to something nice. You’ll explain next week. I love you.’

He thanked his brother for knowing when he needed time to think, and he felt so emotional about it, but he quickly swatted away his nervousness, knowing he was going to have to deal with it in more depth next week. He quickly washed his face, and after a couple of minutes trying to compose himself, he went back to class as if everything inside him was at ease.

At night, they tried to make homemade fried chicken, which ended in baked chicken with breading on the side, but they ate it up anyway. As Sion looked across at Yushi, happily eating the slightly bizarre meal, he thought that with enough seaweed and rice, you could truly enjoy anything. Especially when you were with the person you loved.

Enough.

“So I have a surprise for tomorrow,” Sion said casually as they were cleaning the kitchen, trying to shut his heart.

“Oh?” Yushi replied, a cute, curious lilt to his voice. “What is it?”

“It’s a surprise, dummy, but I can give you hints.” Yushi nodded, smiling, “Okay, so first hint… we’re taking a train tomorrow.”

“Are we going to Incheon for the day?” Yushi guessed instantly, his accuracy wiping the proud grin right off Sion’s face.

“How did you know?”

“You left your laptop open in class,” Yushi admitted softly, a faint blush coloring his cheeks as if confessing a crime. “When you were in the bathroom, a confirmation email popped up.”

“Well, breaking news! You are dating an idiot,” Sion tried to cheer him up

“Those are not news,” Yushi teased back

Sion kissed him softly on the forehead, and they finished cleaning in a comfortable silence, heading to bed early to catch their morning train. Due to the early spring vibes, they ended up falling asleep later than intended after a shared shower that steamed up the bathroom enough to leave every window open for the rest of the night.

The alarm went off, and they went right to make some kind of shared bag for the day, which they filled with some snacks and phone chargers. Yushi was visibly tensed up at the station, but Sion quickly guided him towards their train, making their way inside to sit in their seats, not really minding if the train was going to stay there for another forty minutes.

He seemed just slightly calmer, and Sion squeezed him into his shoulder playfully, only to show him the places Jaehyun had recommended him to go for lunch.

“He gave me eighty thousand wons to pay for today’s meal,” Sion confessed after locking the phone. “I’m saying because if I pay, don’t feel bad, it’s literally not my money. Also, he says he wants to meet you.”

Yushi was staring intently out the window. When he didn’t turn, Sion was about to repeat himself, but then he saw it: Yushi’s hand was clenched into a white-knuckled fist on his knee. The sight sent a jolt of concern through him.

“It’s okay,” Sion backpedaled quickly, his voice softening. “We don’t need to meet him tomorrow, or ever, if you don’t want. I was just saying. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Yushi nodded, letting the tight fist go a bit. Sion put his hand over it, gently stroking his knuckles until, minutes later, the grip loosened completely. To his surprise, Yushi turned to face him. Sion looked at him, pouring all his care into his gaze.

“I want to meet him too, just…” Yushi stuttered, struggling to find the right words.

“It can be in days, weeks, months, whatever you like, I promise,” Sion reassured him, his thumb making slow circles on the back of Yushi’s hand.

Yushi nodded again, and he let his head drop into Sion’s shoulder as he looked lazily through the window.

The train was short, and they arrived in Incheon with all the weekend energy. They hopped between coffee shops for breakfast, collecting drinks from one and pastries from another, eventually eating them on a quiet park bench. They started talking about random things, and as they switched to talk about the buildings that surrounded the park, they ended up talking about the University and classes. Sion tried to open up about his thoughts as they were walking down Yesul Street.

“Lately, the projects have been boring me so much,” he admitted, his gaze fixed ahead. “I keep thinking about the research I did last semester, and the years before… it felt different.”

“Our project research?” Yushi asked happily, holding hands with Sion’s

“Yes, and urbanism ones too. I don’t know, I feel I’m not the best at… I don’t know, I just, I like seeing things, perceiving them, not… you know…”

Yushi nodded, and he encouraged him to keep talking.

“I just like knowing things, not always… You know, designing them.” He swallowed, the confession making his throat dry. “I know it’s a usual mid-degree panic, but sometimes I wonder if I chose poorly. I don’t know if I want to be an architect. It’s a scary thought.”

“We have different subjects next semester.”

Yushi’s words were simple but reassuring. The whole ‘we’ sent shivers down Sion’s spine, already melting at the idea of spending yet another year next to him. But he was also right. It was their last year, and the few subjects they had besides their thesis were so different from what they had been doing, such as film and landscape in architecture, magazine edition, or even restoration and conservation courses. The idea felt more thrilling than he thought.

“You already know what you want to do your thesis about?” Sion tried

“Not really,” Yushi admitted softly. “And you?”

“Not at all,” Sion laughed back.

They spent the rest of the day weaving through the streets, ticking off sights they’d discussed on the train, and they went to eat at Jaehyun’s recommendations. It was a centric local market, full of food from a lot of different asian countries. They stopped in each of them, trying sample bites, sharing dishes, and laughing at Sion’s hopeless struggle with his chopsticks.

Yushi made one last, valiant attempt to teach him, positioning his hand over Sion’s to guide his grip. The touch was so focused and tender that Sion had to turn his head and kiss Yushi, right there in the middle of the crowded market, pouring all his gratitude and affection into it. When they broke apart, Yushi was beautifully flustered, and for a few minutes afterward, neither of them could manage their chopsticks with any skill.

The afternoon passed in the blink of an eye. It was their usual trips to coffee shops. Yushi found a book on contemporary Japanese design he loved; Sion bought a thick novel mostly to look intellectual in front of him. They both cracked them open on the train ride home, the shared backpack that Sion had been carrying on full of cute postcards with nerdy architectural design, a couple of magnets for each of their fridges, and a keychain that Yushi bought for Riku, with two black and white cats hanging from it.

As soon as Yushi got into the shower, he unlocked his phone, jumping over the three hundred text messages to try to keep on organizing the next day's important event.

 

sion

didnt quite read anything from today but

tomorrows plan

i will ask him to go to the grocery shop with me

and we meet there

 

sungchan

okay

when and where

 

sakuya

seriously again

 

sungchan

tell me where is it if u know it

 

yunah

its on the description, guys!

next to the physics building

at eight

 

shotaro

thanks, yunah ur the best

 

sion

i probably wont be able to check messages but

if anythings wrong

just call me

 

He locked the phone quickly and started working on the dinner, which Yushi continued as it was his time to shower.  They ate in a comfortable, exhausted silence, the day’s adventures weighing heavily on their eyelids. Sion nearly fell asleep in his bowl of instant ramen, but Yushi was there to gently take it from him, tidy up, and guide him to bed, both falling into what Sion hoped to be a shared dream too quickly.

By the next morning, he discovered it wasn’t a shared dream because Yushi had dreamt about a giant green virus invading campus, which they fought off with baseball bats alongside Riku, Daeyoung, Ryo, and Sakuya. Sion listened, asking for a hundred details before sharing his own far more peaceful dream of running a stall at a Christmas market with the exact same group of friends. It was a great contrast of stories.

They had an early lunch as they prepared some heavily seasoned cucumber salad along with some rice, and Yushi went to his laptop to work on some plans they had to submit in a few days. Sion stayed in his bed, reading some articles about Seoul’s urban grid expansion. As he switched from one article to the other, he quickly texted Daeyoung to bring the scrapbook-journal, whatever the fuck that was, from his desk, and when it was already time to go, he cleared his throat, and then again, words slightly strangled from excitement.

“Hey, I need to go to the convini store real quick. Want to go with me?”

The moment the words left his mouth, he cringed internally.

What the fuck are you talking about?

Convini?

Who says that?

But Yushi looked at him excitedly and nodded. He quickly changed his clothes into his usual jeans and another soccer jersey, this one light blue with a black collar. He looked incredible, as always. He walked with jelly legs down the building, avoiding holding Yushi’s hand because it was so sweaty, but as soon as he saw his friends in the distance, instead of feeling calmer, he instantly panicked, covering Yushi’s eyes in a second.

“I have something that I want to show you,” he said, Yushi’s body shifting under his touch.

“Okay…” his boyfriend whispered

“Do you want to cover your face or-”

“It’s okay like this,” he assured him.

Sion nodded to himself, his heart pounding, and began carefully guiding Yushi forward. The campus was mercifully quiet on a Sunday evening as students used these precious afternoons to catch up on dorm duties, so Sion thanked the visibly long laundry line for the clear garden path.

He was more than pleased with the setting that they had done.

They were occupying two picnic tables, filled to the brim with plastic plates and cups containing all sorts of snacks, sweets, drinks… Sion’s stomach rumbled. He could see Shotaro clapping a hand over Sakuya’s mouth to stifle a burst of laughter, and Sion turned around to bite his own lip to keep from joining him.

“Are you okay, Sion?” Yushi asked softly

“Yes, it’s just-”

“SURPRISE!”

They all exclaimed in a somewhat not too miserable Japanese, and Sion uncovered Yushi’s eyes, feeling excited, so excited he could cry. Yushi’s expression shifted from shock to wonder, his eyes glistening as he took in every beloved face, every detail they had prepared just for him, scanning everything and everyone, and Sion tried to follow his gaze.

The happy waves from Yunah and Haewon; Anton beaming with his eyes crinkled shut; Wonbin and Sungchan recording everything on their phones; Jisung carefully guarding the cake’s candles from the breeze; Sakuya and Ryo playfully arguing over a gift; Riku bouncing on his heels with unrestrained excitement; and Daeyoung, standing serenely with his hand resting on top of the thick, lovingly crafted journal, keeping it safe.

A bolt of pure, cold fear shot down Sion’s spine. The silence stretched for a heartbeat too long. Had he misread everything? Was it too much? Was Yushi upset?

Then, Yushi’s knees seemed to buckle. He sank into a low squat, his face disappearing into his hands. Sion’s heart plummeted. He was crying. And he was embarrassed, hiding from everyone. He quickly squatted next to him, along with Riku. He thought he had messed up, but Yushi suddenly peeked his face through his fingers.

His cheeks were streaked with tears, but a soft, wet giggle escaped him, followed by a sniffle. The sound was so unexpected, so purely happy, that the tension shattered.

Sion almost had a heart attack before he heard him laughing. Only after that, he knew he had done a great job preparing the surprise. They softly teased him until he stopped crying, and they sat him down to open the presents. Shotaro, Wonbin, Jisung, and Sungchan had bought him a really expensive set of notebooks and pencils, and erasers, like he was a professional artist. Sion had seen Yushi’s sketches; he knew he was going to make great use of them.

Sakuya and Ryo gave him some accessories for his backpack, calling it boring, along with a cat phone cover. Yunah and Haewon added to that, giving him a cute pair of cat socks, and they seemed to have paired it with Anton’s present. As soon as he saw it, he had to breathe twice not to yank it into his pocket, but when Yushi grabbed the cat beanie and put it on, Sion felt much calmer. He looked extremely cute in that.

Daeyoung snapped a picture of everything, but he turned his phone down as he looked at Sion, then at the journal, and then at Sion again. He nodded, giving a silent permission. In the midst of all the chaos, Daeyoung slid the thick notebook along the picnic table, and Yushi looked at it confusedly.

Sion saw it from up high as he was standing behind him, and he clearly saw how the title was heavily crooked, just like he expected, but it was absolutely Yushi’s.

The Adventures of Our BubbleYang.

Yushi turned, seeking Sion’s eyes with a silent question. Sion just nodded, his smile so wide it felt like it might split his face.

As soon as he opened it, everyone shut up and concentrated on the notebook. Everybody started pointing out pictures where they appeared, and Yushi flipped through the pages slowly, reading everything in his mind with care. People started preparing the snacks and stuff at the other table, and Yushi finished reading the journal at the current table, and Sion quickly moved to sit behind him.

“Do you like this? The surprise and…” He gestured to the journal. “Whatever this is.”

“I do, Sion, I love it,” Yushi whispered.

Yushi pressed their lips together in a shy motion, which left Sion’s mind numb; his lips ached for more, and they moved by themselves towards something difficult to grasp.

“I love you, Yushi.”

He immediately traced a shaky finger over the words in the air, as if to retract them, to play it off. But he couldn’t. He meant it with every fiber of his being. He let his hand drop, his gaze locked on Yushi’s, vulnerable and completely open.

“Love as in-” Yushi started, needing to clarify, but with a shaky voice.

“I love you.”

Sion repeated, in Japanese, the words falling off his mind really easily. He had never said that out loud; he had only heard Shotaro say them in a futile attempt to teach Sion how to flirt, and he swore back then he would never have to use those to flirt.

He was partially right, because he wasn’t flirting, he was just letting Yushi know what he had been feeling for some time, his chest unable to shake the feeling.

Yushi’s breath hitched. For a terrifying second, Sion thought he’d moved too fast. But then his boyfriend surged forward, capturing his lips in a kiss that was anything but shy. It was a confirmation, an answer. When he pulled back, he kept a hand on Sion’s nape, his touch firm and anchoring. He pressed another soft kiss to his cheek, his lips lingering, making Sion’s head spin.

Then he leaned in, his whisper a warm, sure breath against Sion’s ear, meant for him and him alone.

“I love you, Sion.”

Notes:

so this chapter wasn't anything really crazy EXCEPT i did save it with the whole journal title right.... we love people cherishing yushi like he deserveSSSS!!!! hope you liked it as much as i did!!

thank you sooo much for reading this story rlly, for giving it a chance and enjoying it along the way! so much for your kudos and comments, i feel so happy to have shared this with everyone that is enjoying this, so thank you really! i really hope you liked this and you can always let me know ur thoughts either here or in my twt @ahyusshi ! ill be glad to listen to them !!! hope you have a fantastic rest of the week !

Notes:

fic playlist here !