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From the moment he saw him lost in the school hallway, Heeseung felt that he had to be part of his life.
His small eyes, similar to those of a baby puma, silently asked for help; Heeseung remembers how he didn’t think twice before approaching and, without asking for permission, invaded the boy’s space, someone he had, by the way, never seen before at the school.
“Hi, I’m Heeseung,” he introduced himself with a friendly smile. “You look a little lost, do you need help?”
As he spoke, he couldn’t help but scan the boy in front of him with curiosity; he was a few centimeters taller, looked one or two years younger, his blond hair was neatly styled, and he had a cute mole beneath his lower lip, close to his chin.
Besides, he would never forget how shy he looked when he leaned forward slightly and murmured softly, “Hi… uhm, I’m Riki. I’m looking for class 1B, but I got confused with so many doors and students.” His shoulders lifted up to the height of his ears, feeling nervous under the sudden attention.
Heeseung felt his heart do something funny in his chest, surely because there was something kind of cute about seeing him lost on his first day, so he told himself. At least, he knew his name and which class he belonged to.
Without thinking about it, he placed one of his hands on Riki’s shoulder and guided him down the long hallway of classrooms until they reached the right one.
Before leaving him there, Heeseung flashed him a big smile. “See you around.” He gave his shoulder a friendly squeeze. “I think you’ll have to get used to seeing me often, Riki-yah.” The nickname slipped naturally from his lips.
And he kept his word.
While Heeseung was sitting at his usual table, surrounded by his friends who laughed and joked among themselves, chatting and sharing their lunch, he spotted a blond head standing out among the crowd in the cafeteria.
Those same little eyes, belonging to the cute and confused boy he had met the day before, scanned the dining hall looking for an available place to sit. The older boy didn’t think twice; he stood up immediately, dragging the chair with a soft screech, and walked toward him.
“Riki, hey!” Heeseung gently touched his shoulder to get his attention. “Do you want to sit with us?” he asked, pointing toward his table with a slight tilt of his head.
The younger one nodded right away, his enthusiasm palpable, a small smile lighting up his face and making his eyes shine.
And from that moment on, Heeseung and Riki became inseparable, as if they had always known each other; the connection between them happened effortlessly, like something destined to be.
Time passed.
The older one was the first to graduate and head off to university. Riki felt a sharp pain bloom in his chest during all the time they were separated by thousands of kilometers, but he never dared to mention it directly to Heeseung or to the other boys in the group.
However, nothing truly changed between them. The distance, and seeing each other only a few days every couple of weeks instead of every single day, at all hours like before, failed to affect their special connection; one could even say it made it grow even stronger.
They always found time, amid their busy lives, to send each other silly messages filled with their own inside jokes, late-night calls complaining about everything and nothing at the same time, talking about their day, sharing even the smallest detail just to avoid having to hang up.
And when they stayed quiet, it wasn’t because they had nothing to say, but simply because they enjoyed each other’s company, even through the phone and at a distance; it meant something, and in the middle of that silence, with only the sound of their breathing heard through the call, they said how much they missed each other.
That’s why, when the time came to choose universities for the youngest of the group, Riki didn’t even consider other options or hesitate; he had already applied to the same university Heeseung attended.
Following him felt like the most natural thing in the world, the only right option, and what his heart was screaming for him to do.
Now, with Heeseung starting his third year and Riki his first, they had decided to share an apartment. Their routine was like a dance memorized to perfection:
- Lazy weekend mornings in each other’s bed.
- The times they play rock, paper, scissors to decide who would go buy lunch or dinner.
- The silly arguments over who hadn’t washed the dishes the day before or who had left their shoes scattered at the entrance.
- Comforting dinners when Heeseung or Riki had a bad day at university and only wanted the warm, reassuring company of the other.
- And, of course, the shared laughter under the same blanket on movie nights.
Every piece fell into place.
All those precious moments were so theirs, so intimate, that sometimes it felt as if the world only existed within the four walls of their apartment.
From the very first instant, there was something more between them—something neither of them dared to name or to look at with different eyes.
The brushing of shoulders as they walked together, the way their faces lit up when they saw the other enter a room, the looks that lingered a second longer than necessary. The tender touches in each other’s hair, on their backs, as if they couldn’t bear not to touch when they shared the same space.
Even when it was nothing more than a fleeting brush, they still needed that sense of closeness. At times, even the comfortable silences they shared seemed to thrum with something unspoken.
Whenever the whole group gathered at an apartment to hang out or watch a movie, their friends couldn’t help exchanging exasperated looks, eyes rolling as they noticed what the two of them stubbornly refused to admit: that every small exchange between Heeseung and Riki carried a weight and intention far beyond friendship.
Then there were the nights they drank a little too much, when the younger one turned unbearably clingy and spent the entire evening perched in Heeseung’s lap, until it was time to leave and Heeseung carried him home on his back, hands steady on his thighs, even though Riki was taller than him.
Or the times they went out to eat, moments their friends had grown used to by now, Heeseung feeding him with his own chopsticks, cutting pieces of meat and slipping them onto Riki’s plate whenever he thought the other wasn’t paying attention.
He always tried to look indifferent while doing it, but the warmth in his eyes gave him away, to their friends and to Riki himself.
As on so many other occasions, and today was no different, Heeseung was completely absorbed in the game, playfully arguing with Sunghoon about who was cheating and confidently claiming he would take first place.
Without realizing it, his foot drifted toward Riki’s, brushing against it in a light, almost absent-minded caress, nudging it with gentle intent. It didn’t matter that Riki was scrolling through his phone, or that Heeseung’s eyes were fixed on the screen; the motion came naturally.
No words were exchanged, yet what lingered between them was unmistakable. It was a kind of intimacy that looked accidental, though it never truly was.
The rest of the group sat on the floor, a little farther from the couch where Heeseung and Sunghoon were playing Mario Kart. Laughter and easy conversation filled the room, but attention kept drifting back to the same place.
“Have you noticed how Riki reacts to everything Heeseung hyung says or does?” Jay laughed quietly as he watched Riki smile like someone hopelessly in love every time the older boy complained under his breath or let out an irritated groan at the game. “He gives him the same look I give to chocolate at three in the morning, pure love in his eyes.”
Jake, seated beside him, didn’t look away either. With a teasing murmur, he added, “If that’s friendship, I don’t even want to imagine what they’d be like as a couple.”
Jungwon lifted an eyebrow. “Friends? If that’s how friends behave, I’ll pass.” He made a face in mock disgust.
Jake leaned forward, elbows on his knees, watching as Riki unknowingly shifted closer to Heeseung, their shoulders pressed together. “What gets me is that neither of them seems to notice.”
Jay sighed, still watching. As frustrating as it was, it was also strangely endearing. “Do you really think they’re that unaware?”
From the other end of the couch, Sunghoon, still racing alongside Heeseung, let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Sometimes I think the only ones who don’t know… are them. It’s obvious, but they keep acting like nothing’s going on.”
And yet the two of them, the lovebirds, chose to stay right where they were, wrapped up in their own bubble, avoiding questions, not examining what they felt, never asking why being close made their hearts race the way it did.
Staying quiet was easier.
But that wouldn’t last forever.
That day, Riki is auditioning for the dance club.
He’s incredibly excited and has spent weeks practicing his solo, running through it thousands of times in front of the mirror in his bedroom, in front of Heeseung, and in front of the rest of the boys on different occasions.
He woke up thinking about the movements of his feet and fell asleep only once every inch of his body ached.
Heeseung watches him from the couch as Riki keeps rehearsing the final steps before he have to leave the apartment in about ten minutes.
He can’t help smiling fondly at the younger boy’s dedication, at the way he’s still standing despite the exhaustion. “You know you’re going to do amazing, right, Riki-yah?” he says with complete confidence, nodding along. “You are literally, the best dancer I’ve ever seen in my life.”
“Hyungie, I know you only say things like that because you’re my best friend,” Riki replies.
Even though his tone is serious, his body betrays him completely: his cheeks are softly flushed from the compliment, and he fiddles with the pendant of his necklace, just like he always does when he feels shy and doesn’t quite know what to say.
Cute, the older one thinks.
“You’re not being objective. You don’t even know the other guys who’ll be auditioning.”
Heeseung doesn’t falter in the slightest.
He gets up from the couch and steps closer until he’s standing right in front of him, cups Riki’s cheeks with both hands, and tilts his face down so their eyes meet easily.
“So? I don’t care who else is there. I know you’ll be the best one and you’ll impress everyone. That’s what you always do, my aegi,” he says, still squishing his cheeks until Riki’s full lips form a pout.
“But—”
“Shh, Nishimura Riki,” he murmurs sternly, gently steering him toward the entrance to help him put on his jacket.
He hands him the bag with everything he’ll need for the audition, opens the door, and gives him a light push outside. “You’ll do great. I already told you. Now go, or you’re going to be late.”
Riki looks like he’s about to argue, but in the end he just nods. He leans closer and sticks his tongue out at him playfully. “See you later, Heeseungie hyung.”
A few hours later, the apartment is busier than usual. The coffee table is covered with all of Riki’s favorite foods—spicy chicken wings, cream-filled bungeoppang, chips, a few beers, and, if a stronger drink is needed for comfort, there are plenty of bottles of soju in the fridge.
There are also a few balloons hanging unevenly around the living room, and a sign that reads “We love you, Kiki!” They decorated everything with care, even if it’s not perfect or particularly aesthetic; they just want to show their support.
Heeseung paces back and forth with his phone in hand, checking his messages every few seconds as if a new one might magically appear, even though Riki hasn’t replied in fifteen minutes.
“I swear, if he doesn’t get here in five minutes, I’m going out to look for him and dragging him back by the ears,” he mutters, ruffling his own hair and tugging at a few strands.
“You said the same thing ten minutes ago,” Jay replies from the couch, half-lying down with a pillow over his face, exasperated by the older boy’s impatience.
“But this time I mean it!” Heeseung complains.
“Hyung, relax,” Jungwon laughs. “Maybe he’s just taking his time because he knows you’re going to panic either way—whether he made the team or not.”
Heeseung pouts dramatically, unable to argue. He knows it’s true.
“What if he didn’t make it and is already planning his escape from the country?” Jake chimes in from the kitchen.
“Shut up, Jakey,” Heeseung says, rolling his eyes. Still, he can’t hide how nervous he is; he’s pretty sure everyone can tell the uncertainty is eating him alive.
Just then, the sound of the lock turning fills the room. Everyone freezes in place, holding their breath. It might seem exaggerated, but it feels like a life-or-death moment.
Heeseung’s gaze snaps to the entrance, his heart lodged in his throat.
The door opens slowly, and there’s Riki, standing in the doorway with his backpack slung over one shoulder. His eyes look glassy, like he’s been holding something in all the way from campus to the apartment.
When he sees all his hyungs gathered there, he goes still, taking in the scene around him. His chest fills with warmth.
Like the little menace he is, and never one to miss a chance to mess with them, Riki straightens up, takes a deep breath, and looks serious, as if he’s about to say something carefully chosen.
“I got in!” he suddenly shouts, breaking into a bright smile that makes his eyes crinkle into little crescents.
The words have barely left his mouth when Heeseung is already running toward him as if his life depends on it. Riki doesn’t even have time to open his arms before Heeseung crashes into him, clinging to him with every limb
The impact sends them tumbling backward in a mess of laughter and a small groan from both of them.
“I told you, I told you, I told you!” Heeseung repeats, hugging him tighter, nearly suffocating him.
Riki laughs into his hair, relaxing into the embrace and savoring the feeling of the older boy’s arms around him. “I didn’t know you were a football player now, hyung. I wasn’t expecting to get tackled like that.”
“You had me on the verge of a breakdown, idiot,” Heeseung says, pulling back just enough to press his hands to Riki’s chest and give him a few light taps in scolding. “I’m so proud of you, aegi.”
For a few seconds, none of the others move. Then, without a word, their gazes meet.
There’s a shared pause, a silent acknowledgment—as if they’re confirming, once again, what everyone can see except the two boys on the floor: there’s something more there, something far too obvious.
Jungwon is the first to smile, raising an eyebrow as if to say, see what I see?
And down on the floor, Riki keeps holding onto Heeseung, completely unaware. And Heeseung keeps holding Riki, like he never wants to let go.
Finally, Jay clears his throat. “So… are you two going to stay on the floor all day, or can we hug you too?”
Jake rushes toward them with his arms wide open, the rest following close behind amid laughter, piling onto the two of them like a single, tangled mass of joy. And Riki, buried under arms, legs, laughter, and warmth, smiles wider than ever before.
Heeseung walks toward his next class alongside Jay, Sunghoon, and Riki, whose arm is draped over his shoulder, pulling him closer to his side.
They make their way through the hallways until they reach the point where they have to head in different directions.
Riki is the first to break away from the group.
“See you at home, Heeseungie hyung,” he says, giving him a small, affectionate tap under the chin. The older boy responds by giving his hand a brief squeeze—small, but warm.
“Bye, guys,” Riki adds to the other two with a slight nod before turning around and disappearing into the crowd of students. Sunghoon and Jay both look at Heeseung with raised eyebrows, silently questioning the clear difference in Riki’s goodbyes.
They aren’t upset, just visibly exasperated by the dynamic between the other two, who seem completely oblivious.
Heeseung looks back at them just as confused, lifting his own brows, unable to decipher what they’re trying to say with their expressions—or what it means when they glance at each other as if communicating telepathically, speaking some secret language he isn’t part of.
Sunghoon follows the direction Riki went, then turns to Jay. “Did I miss something, or why are they acting so disgustingly sweet?”
He pauses. “Did they get married and forget to tell us?”
Jay covers his face with his hands.
“No, because if they were married, at least they’d know it themselves. This is worse.”
Heeseung frowns, genuinely lost.
“What are you two idiots talking about now?”
“Nothing,” Jay replies. “Just saying it’d be nice if our Riki showed us a little affection once in a while too, don’t you think?”
Sunghoon shrugs in agreement.
“Yeah. A ‘Sunghoonie hyungie’ wouldn’t hurt either, especially since he’s already into cute nicknames.”
Heeseung stares at them, not entirely sure how to respond.
To him, Riki hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary. “What’s wrong with you?” he asks. “He just said goodbye, like always. He’s like that with you guys and everyone else too.” He tilts his head to the side, irritation creeping in as he still fails to see their point.
The two of them nod at the same time, as if backing each other up, even though they both know it isn’t true.
“Of course, you’re right, hyung,” Sunghoon says, letting the teasing seep clearly into his tone. “Our Riki treats all of us exactly the same.”
Still, they let the topic drop for now. each of them still has to get to their respective classes, but it won’t be the last time they bring it up.
Back at the apartment, they sit in the kitchen, sharing a steaming pot of ramyeon they cooked together. They fall into a comfortable silence for a while, simply enjoying the food and the fact that they can finally rest.
The steam warms their faces as they eat, their feet crossed beneath the table, tangled together like they always are. without thinking about it.
Heeseung slurps another bite of noodles and, in a calm voice, breaks the silence. “So, how was practice today? Did you learn anything new?”
Riki nods eagerly, swallowing before answering. “We learned a new choreography. It’s totally my style, so I picked it up really fast. The instructor even gave me good feedback on my technique!” He makes a small victory gesture with his fist.
“Oh—and I talked to a new guy,” he adds suddenly, taking another bite of noodles. “His name’s Sunoo.”
Heeseung raises an eyebrow, still stirring the pot absentmindedly. “Sunoo? What’s he like?” he asks, mildly curious.
Their legs are still tangled together, but without realizing it, he presses his a little closer, unwilling to let go.
“He’s nice. And really good at dancing. He said it’s his first year in the club too, like me, so we talked for a bit.” Riki sets his chopsticks down and wipes the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.
“He gave me his Instagram,” he says, pulling his phone from his pocket. “Look, this is him.”
The older boy leans over the table and takes the phone in his hands. The screen fills with a colorful profile: smiling selfies with deep dimples, group photos, and several dance videos.
Sunoo looks…
Cute. Small. A little too adorable, if you asked him.
Heeseung wrinkles his nose slightly, unsure why. “Oh. Yeah… sure. He looks really… nice,” he says in a carefully neutral tone, scrolling with his thumb.
Then he glances at Riki, his smile just a touch tight. “Seems like you liked him.”
“Yeah! He said I could message him if I want to practice together.”
Heeseung nods again. “Mhm.”
Riki laughs softly, taking the phone back from him. “I literally just met him today. He was just being friendly.”
Heeseung tilts his head, as if he has no idea what Riki is talking about. “I didn’t say anything, aegi.”
“Hyung, if you keep squeezing your legs around mine like that, they’re going to fall off—and I’ll start thinking you’re a little jealous,” Riki teases, squeezing back.
The older boy smiles but doesn’t reply. He just lets out a quiet huff and loosens his grip beneath the table.
Riki watches him for a second longer than necessary, wearing a smile that might be, fond or suspicious, but he doesn’t comment.
The pot continues to steam between them, warm and comforting, as night slowly settles outside.
Heeseung hadn’t honestly expected to keep hearing Sunoo’s name so often.
He’d assumed he was just someone Riki had gotten along with in dance class, nothing more. Not someone who would become so close to him in such a short amount of time. Especially when Riki had always been rather guarded when it came to friendships.
He was friendly, bright, and got along easily with everyone, but letting people close enough to call them friends had never come easily to him. The group of boys he’d met back in high school had been the exception.
Heeseung most of all. But apparently, Sunoo was one too now.
Every afternoon, when Riki came back from practice and Heeseung returned from a long day studying at the library, they would sit together and talk about their days. And somewhere in the middle of their usual conversations, the name would come up.
“I helped Sunoo with a turn he couldn’t quite get right.”
“Sunoo brought cookies to class today. He even made double chocolate with almonds for me, my favorites.”
“I laughed so much with Sunoo during practice today, I couldn’t stop. The instructor actually scolded us and made us redo the choreography in front of everyone.”
“He asked if I wanted to go with him to—”
Nothing particularly important. Nothing alarming on its own. But it was every day.
Constant.
And Heeseung, who knew every subtle shift in Riki’s tone, couldn’t help but notice how excited he sounded whenever he talked about his new friend.
He knew he had no real reason to be upset. Making friends was normal, especially with someone like Sunoo. He’d understood that much without even meeting him in person.
Riki had described him clearly enough: charismatic, kind, attentive, with soft features and that bright, sparkling energy that drew people in. The kind of person who seemed effortlessly himself.
Heeseung didn’t even have a real problem with him. And yet, he couldn’t remember ever seeing Riki like this over any of his other friends.
The problem was what he felt every time he heard that name. Jealousy. Ugly, bitter jealousy.
Not loud or explosive, just a sharp, unpleasant taste at the back of his throat. A tight, aching discomfort that settled in his chest without asking for permission.
And even if he never said it out loud, Heeseung felt like someone was stepping into a space that had always been exclusive. Special. Something that belonged only to him.
And he didn’t like it.
What bothered him the most was that Riki didn’t seem to notice. He acted the same as always. And yet, Heeseung couldn’t shake the feeling that something was different, something he still couldn’t quite name.
Like an invisible line beginning to form between them.
One afternoon after classes, Riki came home later than usual. Heeseung was sprawled on the couch, notes open on his lap, though he hadn’t read a single word.
When the door opened and Riki walked in, still laughing at something that clearly lingered from earlier, Heeseung watched him closely.
“With Sunoo?” he asked, not looking up from his book, even though the words on the page made no sense to him.
“Yeah, hyung,” Riki replied easily, nodding with a smile. “We went out for ice cream after practice and ended up staying out longer than we meant to.”
He leaned against the armrest of the couch. “Sunoo tried to mess with me and tell me a scary story, but he kept forgetting parts of it, so it was more cute than scary. I told him he’d starve to death as a horror storyteller.”
Heeseung made a neutral sound in response, acknowledging that he’d heard him, without offering anything back.
The days after that went on the same way. The mentions continued. So did the laughter.
From his room, Heeseung could hear the low murmurs of Riki’s voice while he talked on the phone with Sunoo, sometimes in the kitchen, sometimes in the living room, sometimes from his bedroom.
And the tone he used with him was different. More open. More unguarded. As if talking to Sunoo allowed him a kind of vulnerability that felt unfamiliar.
Heeseung knew it was stupid. Selfish. Childish, even. Riki didn’t owe him anything, not even as his best friend.
And yet. It was inevitable. Because Riki was his Riki-yah. His person. His special one in the whole world.
The boy he told everything to.
The one who held him when the world hurt.
The one who shared his dreams and fears.
The one who called him Hyungie when he was feeling soft or trying to get his way, who laughed until his eyes disappeared into crescents just from being close to him.
And Heeseung wasn’t ready to figure out what it meant to share that with someone else.
They were supposed to have dinner together.
Heeseung had set the table carefully, nothing elaborate, just a small detail, but more importantly, he’d cleared his entire afternoon so he could give the other boy his full attention.
The message came thirty minutes before Riki was supposed to be home.
“Hyungie, I’m sorry. The professor asked Sunoo and me to run a few errands for class. I’ll only be a little late. <3”
Heeseung didn’t reply. There was nothing to say. And because it wasn’t the first time. Or the second. Not even the third.
So now he was sitting on the living room couch, a movie playing in the background that he wasn’t paying attention to at all, because he’d meant to watch it with Riki. The room was dim, lit only by the glow of the TV. He hadn’t eaten. He wasn’t hungry.
The lock turned, and the door opened slowly. Riki slipped inside quietly, closed it behind him with care, kicked off his shoes as silently as he could, and moved forward.
Heeseung didn’t move.
Riki crossed the room until he reached the couch and, without saying a word, sat down beside him. For a moment, there was only the distant murmur of the movie’s dialogue and the ticking clock in the kitchen.
Then Riki lifted a hand and, with careful fingers, began to stroke Heeseung’s hair in that way that was so unmistakably his, gentle, warm, overflowing with affection. “Hyungie… I’m sorry I’m late,” he said softly, sincerely.
Heeseung closed his eyes for a brief moment, letting himself lean into the familiar comfort. Because that was how Riki apologized. How he always did.
And part of him wanted to let it go. He would have. But this time, something inside him resisted, refused to fall back into the same pattern the past few weeks had carved out.
He turned his head away, breaking the contact, and glanced at Riki from the corner of his eye. “It’s fine,” he murmured, his face unreadable. “You had to go with Sunoo. I get it.”
Riki sighed, lowering his hand. “Hyung…”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s already done,” Heeseung interrupted, shrugging as he shifted upright. “Did you at least finish everything you had to do?”
“I—I… let’s talk, Heeseung hyung. I’m sorry,” Riki said, eyes dropping as he picked up on the distance, the cold edge in the other’s tone.
“Look, Riki,” Heeseung turned fully toward him now, more serious. “I’m not mad that you had to do something with Sunoo. I’m…” He paused, searching for the right words.
“I’m frustrated. Confused. Hurt. It feels like things are the same between us, and at the same time, they’re not. Like you’re not fully here with me anymore. Like with every minute that passes, there’s more distance between us. Like you’re pulling away.”
Riki looked at him, unable to untangle the storm of emotions bursting in his chest. His throat felt tight, full of words he couldn’t get out. His expression said everything.
But Heeseung couldn’t read it. If only he’d held his gaze for one more second, he would’ve seen the way Riki’s eyes were already shining, wounded, on the verge of tears.
“It’s like I’m not that important anymore,” Heeseung continued, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. “Like you don’t really want to spend time with me.”
The silence that followed was heavy, nearly suffocating, the kind that made breathing feel sharp and painful.
Riki shifted closer until his knee brushed against Heeseung’s. He didn’t dare reach for his hair again, or touch him anywhere else like he usually did.
“Of course you matter to me, hyungie,” he said carefully. “You’re my best friend. My favorite person in the whole world. You know I always want to be with you.”
He was afraid of saying the wrong thing, of pushing him further away, but there was a quiet firmness in his voice that betrayed how serious he was.
Heeseung only shook his head slightly. “Sometimes it doesn’t feel like that.”
So Riki added, even more softly, not knowing what else to say to fix this, “I’m sorry, Hyungie. Really.”
Heeseung let out a slow sigh, curling in on himself, eyes still fixed on the screen. The credits were rolling, though neither of them knew when the movie had ended.
Finally, Heeseung murmured, “Riki-yah… I just wish I didn’t always have to wait until you have time left over for me.”
Riki shook his head, a sad crease forming between his brows. “I know I’ve had to cancel plans and deal with things at the dance club lately. I know I haven’t made it up to you the way I should. But I’m trying to juggle everything. I really am.”
Heeseung didn’t answer.
But he didn’t pull away when Riki rested his head against his shoulder. Nor when their legs tangled again beneath the blanket, bodies instinctively seeking each other out.
Their bond felt fragile, stretched thin. The space between them, once invisible, was now noticeable. Cracking.
It wasn’t the end. But it wasn’t the same anymore.
A few days passed after the last time they talked, after that quiet, unresolved argument on the couch. And even though it ended in silence, with neither of them truly refuting anything, Heeseung retreated into a corner of his mind that grew colder and lonelier by the day.
He kept his distance, speaking only when necessary, staying shut inside his room most of the time, trying to avoid seeing the younger boy. But his thoughts refused to stay still, drifting back to Riki and every little thing about him.
His soul ached for all those small, casual touches they used to share, gestures that seemed insignificant on the surface, yet had always carried a deeper meaning.
That not-so-subtle closeness that bloomed between them effortlessly. A silent language only the two of them seemed to understand.
Sometimes, the memories came without warning.
Like the afternoons spent sitting in the kitchen, sharing a pot of ramyeon on those quiet days when the lines of friendship began to blur, unnoticed and unspoken. They fed each other absentminded bites, their feet meeting beneath the table, lingering together longer than necessary.
Or Riki’s seemingly innocent habit of using his thumb to wipe a smear of food from the corner of Heeseung’s lips. That brief contact always left behind a sweet, burning tingle that colored his skin and settled in his chest, a feeling that made him smile like a fool on the inside, even if he never dared to question why.
There were also the nights on the couch, movies playing until sleep claimed them. Riki would drape an arm around Heeseung’s shoulders, simple, but heavy with tenderness.
In those moments, Heeseung felt his pulse quicken, every nerve in his body tightening from the electricity of their closeness. It was a strange mix of surprise and warmth he had never felt with anyone else.
He wasn’t always aware of the effect it had on him. Often, without thinking, he would run his fingers through Riki’s hair or trace gentle lines along his arm, feeling the warmth and softness of his skin beneath his fingertips, as if touching him were the most natural thing in the world.
And then there were the moments that felt even more intimate, tucked away in the quiet of his bedroom.
When they curled up to sleep and distance simply ceased to exist, becoming a tangle of limbs felt normal, necessary, even. Riki’s face fit perfectly into the hollow of his neck, a place that seemed made just for him, as if it had always been his.
Heeseung would trace slow patterns along Riki’s back with his fingertips, saying nothing. And with his heart full, Riki would feel the need to break the silence.
“I love you, Heeseungie hyung,” he would whisper against his skin, voice low and heavy with sleep.
Then his nose would slide slowly along the curve of Heeseung’s neck in a careful caress, his lips brushing the same spot, almost ghostlike.
Heeseung would hold him tighter then, pressing their bodies together, driven by a deep need for closeness, for fusion, for erasing every boundary between them, for turning two souls into one.
And with his hand resting beneath the steady rhythm of his hyung’s heartbeat, Riki found calm. Protection. Home.
All those unspoken words, the deliberate and private touches, formed something fragile and sacred.
For Heeseung, they were a constant reminder of what he desperately wanted deep down, but never dared to name or fully confront.
For Riki, they were the purest, most honest way of loving, without pressure, without urgency.
They were actions that spoke for themselves. That said you matter more than anything in the world to me, I won’t let you go, I want to be with you—without any of those sentences ever needing to leave their lips.
But now, everything felt more complicated. Sunoo’s constant presence in Riki’s conversations burned at the back of Heeseung’s throat.
It wasn’t just childish jealousy, it was fear. A deep, gnawing fear of losing something he didn’t even know how to name. Because even though Riki hadn’t completely changed with him, even though they still spent time together, there was an uncomfortable sense of distance.
Riki understood that Heeseung needed space, even though the distance hurt more than he wanted to admit. His feelings were a tangled mess, a knot he didn’t know where to begin unraveling.
And so the days passed, filled with responsibilities and silence. Life kept moving. Riki rehearsed. Heeseung studied, and fought his thoughts, that tight knot pressing against his chest.
And even if they never said it out loud, they both wanted the same thing: to go back to how things were before.
That day, he simply couldn’t take it anymore.
He needed to see him, to talk to Riki.
He didn’t know if he actually had a plan or if he was just following the raw impulse to fix the mess that had formed between them. He walked to the practice room with a restless heart, hands tucked into his pockets.
When he arrived, he lingered at the entrance, hesitating for a few seconds before lifting his gaze. His eyes scanned the room, but it didn’t take long to find him.
Riki was there, dressed in his practice clothes, laughing at something, his eyes shining in that way that always stole the air from Heeseung’s lungs.
But he wasn’t alone.
Sunoo stood beside him, laughing too. They were so close that their bodies seemed to lean toward each other without realizing it, as if that kind of closeness came naturally to them, easy, comfortable.
A knot formed in Heeseung’s throat.
Riki didn’t see him. He was busy whispering something into Sunoo’s ear, nudging him lightly, and Sunoo responded with the same relaxed, familiar ease.
The sight hit him like a bucket of cold water. Because Riki was smiling, that smile. The one Heeseung had always thought was meant only for him.
He took a step back. Then another. And without saying a word, he left. He walked fast, shoulders tight, the air pressing painfully against his chest.
Back at the apartment, he shut the door harder than necessary and dropped onto the bed without even bothering to take off his shoes.
He stared at the ceiling.
For a long while. An hour. Then another.
The silence was so heavy he could hear his own thoughts spilling over, impossible to stop.
Anger filled his chest, not because of what he had actually seen, but because of what he feared. Because of everything left unsaid.
When he finally grabbed his phone to distract himself, the first notification on the screen was from Riki, a story on Instagram that had been up for a while.
It was a photo. Riki, Sunoo, and Jungwon sitting in a café near campus, half-finished cups of coffee in front of them. They all looked good. Relaxed. At ease.
Riki’s eyes were half-closed in that way they were when he smiled for real, and something twisted inside Heeseung, something that felt like jealousy, like helplessness, like the ache of not knowing where he fit anymore.
What hurt the most wasn’t the closeness. Not even the fact that Riki was smiling.
It was the feeling of having been pushed aside. Replaced. Forgotten without anyone noticing.
And even though some rational part of him knew it was irrational, he couldn’t stop himself from feeling that way.
Out of place. Not enough.
A few minutes later, as he got ready to leave, planning to take a walk and clear his head, he opened the door to his apartment…
And saw them.
Riki, right there, talking with Sunoo.
And as Heeseung watched from the doorway, he saw Sunoo lean in and press a quick kiss to Riki’s cheek. It was small. Harmless. Friendly. A thank-you.
But to Heeseung, it was devastating.
His heart slammed violently against his ribs, as if it wanted to break free. Everything inside him shrank, cracked, his body went rigid, and without thinking, he spoke.
He didn’t even register the words in the moment.
They came out heavy with sadness, loss, jealousy, and fear.
Hours passed. Then, sometime after midnight, Riki’s phone vibrated beside him on the couch.
He answered immediately, his heart pounding hard against his ribs.
“H-Heeseung hyung?” he asked, but the voice on the other end wasn’t his.
It was Jake’s. “He’s here, Riki-san. You need to come. Please. You need to fix this.”
Riki didn’t hesitate.
He didn’t even grab his coat. He ran straight out into the cold night, crossing the city with his heart in his hands. Because if he had learned anything during all this time, it was that without Heeseung, nothing really made sense.
Riki steps into Jake and Sunghoon’s apartment, casting a quick glance around the place.
Several empty soju bottles and a half-finished bottle of whiskey are scattered on the floor near the couch, where Sunghoon seems to be asleep—or rather, completely passed out.
Riki can’t help but wonder how much they must have drunk over the past few hours, ever since the older one ran out of their apartment before Riki could explain himself, before he stopped answering any of his calls.
And then he sees him.
Heeseung is hunched over the kitchen counter, his head buried in his arms, his shirt wrinkled, his hair a mess as if he’s been running his fingers through it, tugging at it over and over again.
Heeseung lifts his head, his eyes glassy with tears, unfocused. He looks at Riki, and something inside the younger boy breaks.
His hyungie looks so small. So vulnerable. And Riki hates himself for being the reason he’s in this state, even when everything was nothing more than a misunderstanding.
Unsteadily, Heeseung pushes himself upright and shoves Riki lightly, not having much strength left in him. “What are you doing here?” he slurs, his voice rough, drunk. “Go back to Sunoo. I’m sure he’s waiting for you so you can keep kissing.”
Riki takes a step back, stunned. “Hyung… what are you talking about?”
Heeseung lets out a bitter laugh, one that hurts more than any insult. “Don’t play dumb, Riki!” he shouts, his words slightly dragged out. “I saw you! I saw you letting him get close, letting him kiss you—I saw the way you smiled at him!”
His voice breaks. “You haven’t smiled like that with me in weeks. You never have time for me anymore…”
His eyes fill with tears again, spilling down his cheeks, slipping past his trembling lips.
“That’s not how it is! You’re the one who started pulling away from me, like you couldn’t stand being around me!” Riki shouts back, distressed, terrified of losing him for good.
He takes a deep breath, trying to steady his heart, to organize his thoughts before everything falls apart beyond repair, and he pleads, “Please, hyungie. Please. Let me explain.”
Hearing Riki’s voice, so sad, so desperate, hits Heeseung like a blow to the stomach, knocking all the air from his lungs.
Even so, he finds the strength to keep yelling. “I didn’t even know if I still had a place with you! Every time you came home late because you were with Sunoo, every time all you did was talk and talk about him, it felt like… l-like I wasn’t enough for you anymore.”
Heeseung hides his face in his hands, sobbing hard into the space between his fingers.
Riki clenches his fists, fighting back the tears that are desperately threatening to fall. “Hyung… you should have talked to me,” Riki says, his voice trembling. “You should have told me how you were feeling about Sunoo. Nothing ever happened between us that wasn’t friendship. If we got close and spent so much time together, it was because he likes Jungwon—I was helping him get closer to him.”
He swallows, forcing himself to keep going “That’s why the three of us went out for coffee today. And in the end, Jungwon agreed to go on a date with him…he likes him too. That kiss on the cheek, it was just a thank-you. It didn’t mean anything else. Not to either of us.”
Riki steps closer, his heart aching, his hands shaking as he reaches out and gently cups Heeseung’s face, holding it with a tenderness so fragile it almost hurts. With his thumbs, he wipes away the tears spilling down his cheeks, brushing softly beneath his eye, slow and careful, as if every tear matters.
They’re so close now he can feel Heeseung’s breath.
“I suffered too,” Riki continues, his voice breaking. “You stopped looking at me. You barely talked to me, even when we were in the same room. It felt like my heart was being torn out of my chest, but I didn’t know how to get close to you without making things worse…You always looked angry with me.”
A weak, broken sound escapes Riki’s lips, and finally the tears he’s been holding back spill freely.
Heeseung squeezes his eyes shut, as if Riki’s words physically strike him. “I was scared,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “Scared of losing you… of losing the only thing I’ve ever truly loved in my life.”
The confession falls between them like a silent explosion. Riki feels dizzy, his mind struggling to process the words that just left Heeseung’s mouth.
All the anger, all the hurt, all the confusion dissolve into something overwhelming, into that immense love he’s carried quietly in his chest for so long, for his hyung.
“Hyungie…” Riki murmurs, his voice cracking. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
Heeseung opens his eyes. They’re red, swollen, filled with sadness. “How could I?” he says, his voice shaking between sobs as he clutches the fabric of Riki’s shirt in his fists. “We’re best friends…I’ve known you since you were just a kid.”
Riki stares at him, hardly believing they’re finally saying out loud everything they’ve buried for years.
“I thought that if I said something…” Heeseung continues, struggling to breathe past the knot in his throat, “I’d lose you. I’d lose your friendship, and I couldn’t bear that. I would rather have you halfway. I would rather fight with you every day than live without you in my life…because I love you so much it hurts. It burns in my chest.”
A sob rips out of him, echoing through Jake’s apartment, and he sways on his feet, still drunk, but more than that, completely overwhelmed.
Riki catches him just in time, wrapping his arms around his waist before he can fall.
“I don’t want anyone else, Riki-yah,” Heeseung whispers, burying his face into the curve of Riki’s neck. “I’ve never wanted anyone else. Only you.”
“I’ve always been yours, Heeseungie hyung,” Riki replies, holding him tightly against his chest, one hand cradling the back of his head, the other soothing his back. “It’s always been you. I’ve never had eyes for anyone else, and I never will.”
His voice softens, full of certainty.
“I’ve loved you since the very first moment we met. Even before I understood what you would come to mean to me, my heart already knew. It always chose you. You’re my beginning—and my eternity, hyungie.”
And then, in the middle of all the chaos, of misunderstandings, unspoken feelings, and pain carried in silence, they kiss.
It isn’t careful. It isn’t restrained. It’s desperate. Messy. Filled with tears and the lingering taste of alcohol and broken sobs, but it’s more honest than any words they’ve ever spoken.
Their lips meet clumsily at first, like they’re still afraid it isn’t real. Then they move together, searching, deepening the kiss, trying to feel more, to hold on to each other as if their lives depend on it.
Heeseung clings to Riki like letting go is unthinkable. Riki holds him just as tightly, pulling him closer, closer still, until there’s no space left between them.
They cling to each other as if they could merge into one, as if the warmth of shared breath, shared heartbeats, and that trembling kiss might finally begin to heal everything they broke without meaning to.
And for the first time in weeks, they know, without doubt, without fear, that everything will be okay.
They love each other.
They have each other.
And that is all that truly matters.