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The back door of the car opens and, in a swift, gentleman-y move, Shen Ricky goes out to the cold of the season, buttoning up his coat, while putting up his best smile for the groups of people watching as the guests come in. He is quick to remember to open the door for his mother, too, on the passenger’s seat. He waits for her to come out of the car and for his father to join them before he thanks their driver and walks to the red carpet. At the end of it is the first bodyguard, who greets them with an acquainted bow. He doesn’t need to check for their family name to know that they’re invited, but he still checks, just to keep the security level high. He welcomes them in with a smile and a pat on the father’s arm.
The inside of the fancy-looking, glassed building is warmer. Ricky quietly thanks the waiter at the door for helping him take off his jacket and saving it in a safe space. His mother takes off her jacket too, puffing up her chest and pulling her hair back to show off her glittery, navy blue dress, tailored for the occasion. His father goes ahead and walks them to the main room, where dozens of rounded tables and pillowed chairs are neatly organized, shining under the bright, white lights, in tones of blue and silver. At the opposite end of the room, there is a stage, with a big dark blue curtain at the back and bold, silver letters in a cursive font spelling out the event’s name: National Pediatric Hospital Charity. Right underneath it, there is a board with smaller letters that reads “Main Contributors” at the top. Ricky can’t read the list of names under it, but he’s sure that Shen is somewhere there, probably in the first few spots.
“Straighten up your back,” his mother says, not even taking a look at him, as she walks to the tables with her polite smile. The room is already bustling with people – and Ricky knows she always wants to look her best when she’s surrounded.
Ricky does as he’s told, even though he thinks his back was already standing pretty decently. Then, he takes a look around, seeing if he can spot familiar faces. A lot of them just look the same – all the events his parents take him to are full of rich-looking people, with a thing for expensive jewelry and pale make-up.
“Oh, the Kims,” his mother gasps, while his father walks straight to them. “Shen Ricky, I know they’re despisable, even to look at, but please behave,” she says, glancing at her son, her teeth clenched. Ricky can see the way she’s tightly holding onto her purse, as she keeps her posture straight. “As much as you wanna punch them in the face real hard, we can’t fall that low. Remember: they think they’re better than us, but that’s not true. We know that and we are superior to the drama.” She glances at Ricky again, with an expression of slight disapproval. “Put on a smile, honey.”
Ricky nods along, buttoning up the sleeves on his wrist. Then, he puts on his best smile again, his hands behind his back. He always walks half a step behind his mother, two steps behind his father. Before the Kims can see them, Ricky quickly pulls his hair back, getting a few strands of it away from his eyes. He knows his hair looks fine, anyway – the three hours he spent at the hairdresser under his mother’s command have to be useful for something –, but he wants to look extra good, just to be safe. He doesn’t even want to imagine the things his mother would say if she had to scold him for the way he looked in front of their arch-nemeses.
“Mr. Kim,” Ricky’s father greets first, with a light touch on the man’s shoulder. The whole family turns around immediately. The first thing Ricky notices is how their backs seem to be straighter than his.
“Mr. Shen, Mrs. Shen!” Mr. Kim greets back, with his usual soft, polite tone, his manners always flawless. The man first shakes Ricky’s father’s hand, then bows at his mother, then grabs Ricky’s hands too, his grip always firm, his hands always warm. After the first contact, Mrs. Kim greets the family, then incites her son to do so, too.
Kim Gyuvin looks into the couple’s eyes as he greets Ricky’s mom and dad. He's wearing a cream white shirt, matching with his mother's silky dress, under a brown blazer. His hair is styled to the side, framing his round face and his deer eyes, which soon fall on Ricky, with a look that seems to tell that he’s bothered to be there. The two sons greet each other with a handshake, a copycat of the one their fathers shared. Ricky bows his head kindly, his lips turning into a gentle smile.
Their interaction is cut short by both their mothers starting up a conversation. It always revolves around the same topics: how is the family, how is the business, how is the house. Always the same feeling, too: as much as they smile and pleasantly talk with each other, keeping a kind, soft and polite tone, Ricky knows the tension is spiking up and they would, absolutely, stab each other in the throat if they could.
“Shall we go sit at our tables?” Gyuvin's mother asks, with a deadly smile. Ricky's mother agrees and they both start looking for their tables, their husbands following right behind, keeping a stern expression, trying not to kill each other either. The sons stay at the back, walking almost side by side, each trying to keep their back straighter than the other. Gyuvin always wins; he's taller.
“Here's ours,” Ricky's mother states, as he points at their family name on three of the chairs. The table is on the left side of the stage, front row.
“Oh,” Gyuvin's mother replies, her eyes widening, her movements freezing. Ricky only notices the cause of the scare when he looks at the opposite side of the same table and sees, written in beautiful calligraphy, the names of the three Kim family members, on the cards laying on the plates. The glance he shares with Gyuvin is brief, but it tells him they're thinking the same thing: the night has just become even more unpleasant. “I guess we're sitting together,” Gyuvin's mother trails off, looking at her husband, who simply shrugs and goes to pull up the chair for her. The silence that falls on the six of them is almost deafening.
With the way the seats are arranged, Ricky and Gyuvin end up sitting next to each other. Once the two families have sat down, Ricky clears his throat, as he puts his napkin down on his lap. He feels his mother hitting his arm, then urgently staring at him. Ricky realizes it's not time to eat yet, when she points, with her head, to the stage. He doesn't miss the way Gyuvin's eyes shine at the interaction, his lips curving into an amused and teasing smile. Ricky shuts his act up with a grab of his knife, slightly lifting it off the table. At the subtle gesture, Gyuvin nods and seals his lips closed. Ricky doesn't have time to keep the silent banter going, as the room's lights get dimmer and the spotlight on the stage, brighter.
Soon, the host of the event comes on stage, looking classy and elegant. Ricky recognizes him from somewhere on TV and guesses he hosts some kind of entertainment show. His voice is heard loud and clear through the microphone and he has a charming way to catch the audience's attention.
Despite that, Ricky isn't much interested in his speech; it's just the usual: something about the act of kindness of the people invited to participate in the charity, about how thankful everyone is for the hospital's director and also the children who will benefit from the generous donations, and about how significant it is to have people from a variety of fields contributing for such an honorable cause. It's always great publicity, after all; Ricky's parents, for example, were able to up the stocks of their cosmetics company by doing advertisements around the theme of child care. He's seen how it has affected Gyuvin's parents’ reputation, too: their plastic surgery clinics have been all over the headlines of South Korea's most important newspapers.
Ricky is starting to get bored by the endless speech, when he feels a kick on his shin. It hurts like hell – Gyuvin's shoe is pointy and, most certainly, new for how heavy and sharp it makes Ricky's bones sting. When Ricky looks to the side, his face contorting in pain, he can see Gyuvin's snarky smile, while his eyes are fixed on the host, as if he hadn't done anything wrong. Ricky replies to the sneaky kick with a bump of his elbow against his arm. He knows it probably doesn't hurt as much as the kick, but his goal is to let Gyuvin know that he felt that and it wasn't nice.
However, because he doesn't get Gyuvin's attention right away, Ricky keeps elbowing him, trying to get to his ribs. This way, Gyuvin is much quicker to stop him, bringing his hand to Ricky's arm, keeping the touch hidden under the table. His grip is strong enough to halt Ricky's movements, but also too strong that it makes them both hit the table top, making their side jump. It's almost too comical the way they both get their hands off each other immediately as soon as their parents look their way, surprised by the sudden noise.
“Ignore him,” Ricky's mother tells him, under her breath. “Always starting fights…” she adds, shaking her head, while sending a death glare Gyuvin's way. Ricky has noticed over the years how, although she may never show her annoyance directly to his parents, always too prideful for that, she doesn't miss an opportunity to show Gyuvin her distaste, as if the boy was a punching bag for her misery.
Ricky only takes another look at Gyuvin once their parents are focused on the stage again. Gyuvin is already staring back, trying to hold yet another sly smile. Ricky rolls his eyes, crossing his arms with a sigh. He feels Gyuvin's softer kick on his foot too, but he decides to ignore it, this time. Or, at least, ignore it in a way that would please his mother. There's no way she knows that her obedient, faithful son keeps his foot touching Gyuvin's shoe, teasing him a little bit further just for the sake of having fun. If their knees bump in the process, none of their parents need to know, either.
They only stop touching when the speech ends and everyone in the audience claps. There are a couple more people who go on stage and make deplorably long and uninteresting speeches too, but Ricky doesn't listen to any of those either. His eyes focus on something else instead: Gyuvin's long, veiny fingers playing with his tall glass, clearly distracted too. Ricky watches the way the thin glass spins and turns under Gyuvin's control, how he never lets it bump against the plate or the cutlery. By the end of the last speech, Gyuvin catches him staring at his hand; Ricky knows it because he can feel his eyes burning his skin, not because Gyuvin lets him know. It's weirdly thrilling to know he's being watched, though.
After the speeches, the dinner is served to the guests. The room falls into the consistent noise of people talking, the sounds of glass hitting on glass echoing through the whole place. Ricky waits for his parents to start eating before he grabs his fork and knife and cuts open the steak on his plate. The first five minutes of the dinner are calming and pleasant, and Ricky gets to savor the delicious and refined food in silence. Gyuvin seems to be enjoying it too, since Ricky can hear his satisfied hums as he puts more bites in his mouth.
However, all good things must come to an end, especially when families Shen and Kim are eating at the same table. Ricky knows a storm is approaching when his mother starts to talk; it’s almost like he can picture the waters receding in the sea before the tsunami.
“We haven’t seen your boy Gyuvin in a while, is everything going well?” she asks. The last two words are drenched in poison.
Ricky thinks about the last time the two families were together. He figures it must have been before Gyuvin went overseas, which was almost a year ago.
“He’s doing pretty well, thank you for asking,” Mrs. Kim answers, putting down her cutlery and clasping her hands in front of her. Ricky sighs; she had clearly been waiting for that question all night. “Oh, I haven’t told you yet, have I? He’s working as a neurosurgeon at the biggest private hospital in Seoul! Isn’t that delightful? All his senior coworkers say he’s a prodigy in the field,” she adds, looking at her son with pride, caressing his hand. Gyuvin just smiles and nods along, trying to swallow the piece of meat he put in his mouth before the conversation fell on him. Ricky hides his chuckles with one hand. “What about your Ricky?” the woman asks, daringly, batting her eyes intensely, as if inviting the other for a duel, one that will certainly result in blood and slaughter.
“Oh, you know, the usual!” Ricky’s mother replies, putting down her cutlery, too. She has barely even touched her steak, Ricky notices. “He just became the CEO of that high fashion company I told you about the other day. My son aims for the highest spots right away! A prodigy at that!” The choice of words, repeating Mrs. Kim’s earlier remark, is visibly purposeful. She holds Ricky’s hand in hers, stopping him from eating another bite. “He has tailored clothes for the most important people in the country! Tell them, Ricky. Tell them what you’ve been telling me about how important your work is. Who are your clients?”
Ricky holds his breath, as he feels the eyes of everyone on the table on him, waiting for an answer. He knows he needs to lie to make it all sound more flashy, but he doesn’t know how to even start. A truth to then escalate to the lies? A small lie from the start to keep their attention? One big name to keep everyone on their toes? He tries to think of what his mother would do in his place, then tones it down a notch and goes with it.
“The other day we finished a project for the football team,” which is not a lie, but it isn’t quite true either: he didn’t work on the project directly and his father hadn’t bought him the place as a CEO yet by the time the suits were finished. He could barely take any credit. “We designed their World Cup’s red carpet fits. I’m sure you’ll be able to see them on television,” he adds, because he knows his mom would love that.
She does seem pleased with his answer, so much that she doesn’t insist that he continues. “Everyone will look at our strong team and be proud of them for the high-quality clothing they’re wearing! Isn’t that wonderful?”
Mrs. Kim doesn’t take long to talk back. “Fascinating, indeed,” she says, a word she uses often when she’s not fascinated at all, but still wants to show off her elegant vocabulary. Even Gyuvin almost chokes on his food after hearing that. “But, you know, my son is not only popular domestically,” she adds. Ricky wonders when did she ever say Gyuvin was famous in Korea. “I haven’t told you about his studies in the USA, have I?” She puts an arm around Gyuvin’s shoulders just as he was about to take another bite of his food, making him stop eating too. The quick glance he shares with Ricky is a call for help. “He finished his PhD there, after he received a scholarship for his outstanding scores here. He even graduated cum latte !”
“ Cum laude ,” Gyuvin quietly corrects her, causing Ricky to hold back a laugh. When their eyes meet, Gyuvin simply lets out a sigh.
“He’s South Korea’s joy,” his mother finishes, with a hand clutching over her heart. Ricky is incredulous by the way she even fakes a tear or two.
“My Ricky doesn’t need to leave the country to be successful internationally,” his mother replies, not even batting an eye. Ricky gives up on eating peacefully altogether. “He graduated from an international university with a business major and studied fashion and design at the same time! All while making a name for himself and juggling a high position in the family’s company. He’s building his empire brick by brick and I’m sure overseas celebrities will be wearing his outfits on all the red carpets around the world soon! Isn’t that right, Ricky, darling?”
“Of course,” Ricky replies with a small smile, trying to ignore Gyuvin’s foot hitting his again, clearly enjoying the conversation too much just because he gets to make fun of Ricky.
“What about girlfriends?” Ricky’s mother asks, completely unprovoked, even though Ricky doubts he has anything to brag about on that territory. It’s becoming harder and harder to hold the laughter every time he and Gyuvin exchange looks. “Do you have a future daughter-in-law to introduce to us?”
Mrs. Kim looks at Gyuvin, burning him to the ground with a simple stare. “Oh, you know our Gyuvin-ie is working hard and focusing on his surgeries to earn good money to support and care for his future wife. Although he doesn’t have time to hang around while he’s saving the lives of dozens of people, of course he has a few options in mind already. He’s a very handsome man, clearly born with his father’s looks. He has multiple young women waiting at his feet.”
“How fascinating,” Ricky accidentally lets out, but he thinks only Gyuvin could hear him. He feels a bump on his arm right away. When he looks at Gyuvin, he knows he’s dying to laugh. Ricky signals him to shut up.
“Ricky is also very focused on his work, but he knows that marriage is an important matter to think about too, right, honey?” Mrs. Shen says, seemingly bored by the other woman’s answer. All Ricky has to do is to nod. “He has a few options to go through, as well. Actually, I set up a few blind dates for him next week, right? I’m sure he will find a woman to cherish, one from a good family and with wealthy plans for her life. Our Ricky is a gentleman.”
“I should also set up a few dates for my Gyuvin-ie,” Mrs. Kim continues, looking at Gyuvin with wide eyes. “I’m sure any woman would quickly fall for my son’s charms.”
Ricky looks at him in the eyes, reading his reaction. For now, Gyuvin simply nods, keeping his lips sealed, straightening up his back. But he can also see the slight sadness in his eyes, the way they shine out of worry, how he tries his best not to frown. When their eyes meet, Ricky gives him a genuine, tender smile. Underneath the table, away from everyone’s eyes, his hand meets Gyuvin’s own, caressing it gently, their fingers brushing against each other. Gyuvin nods at him slightly, as their mothers keep going on about how proud they are of their sons’ achievements and how successful their family is going to be someday. Ricky knows what he’s feeling. This isn’t, at all, the kind of conversation their mothers have with them inside their homes. This is what they say only when there are other people around.
“I finished my steak,” Gyuvin states after a few minutes, wiping his mouth with a napkin and putting his hands on his knees. He interrupts the conversation abruptly, but still speaks in a very polite and considerate tone. “I’ll be going to the bathroom.”
With that, he swiftly stands up. Once his mother approves of it – even when Gyuvin wasn’t looking for her approval at all –, he catches Ricky’s eyes and smiles at him, wiggling his eyebrows in an odd way. Ricky would have gotten the hint even if he hadn’t done that.
Just a couple of minutes after, Ricky finishes his food and tells both families he needs to go get some air before the second dish. His mother looks at him with a hint of worry, but still smiles and lets him go. The most important thing is that she stays unsuspecting. While he stands up, Ricky pats his father’s shoulder and then walks away, in the direction of the main door. He thanks the waiter at the front when he hands him his coat. However, he doesn’t put it on – instead of going out, he turns left and enters another hallway, empty and dimly lit. He knows he should be able to reach the bathrooms somewhere through it.
He sees the signs pointing to them at the end of the hallway and goes in after taking a look around. The men’s bathroom is brightly lit and big, with enough space to keep a little hall at its entrance, before opening up to a sink area, with the individual stalls on a more hidden side to the left. Ricky steps into the main area and doesn’t even have time to look around, before he is taken by surprise when a hand firmly grabs his shoulders and pulls him in, while another suddenly covers his mouth.
“You’re under detention,” he hears from behind him, a deep, strong voice right next to his ear. “You have the right to remain silent.”
Ricky rolls his eyes, as he tries to get the hand off his mouth. “Did you even wash your hands, you freak?” he asks, when he’s finally freed from the hold. It doesn’t matter how well Gyuvin alters his voice, Ricky always knows it’s him. Plus, he hasn’t changed his perfume since tenth grade.
“I didn’t even use a stall, you rascal,” Gyuvin replies, as he turns Ricky around. As soon as their eyes meet, they both melt into a giggle. Ricky puts his coat around Gyuvin’s shoulders, using him as a hanger just to annoy him.
“Is the room empty?” Ricky asks, his hands staying on the familiarity of Gyuvin’s shoulders, wrapping himself around the man, pulling them closer.
“Yeah, I checked,” Gyuvin answers, putting his own hands around Ricky’s waist, his fingers caressing his skin over the shirt. “Kiss me first,” he says, their lips almost touching each other, his breath tickling Ricky’s nose.
Ricky doesn’t need to be told twice. He breathes in deeply through his nose, before he presses his lips against Gyuvin’s, then opens them up with a tilt of his head. He lets out a sigh as Gyuvin’s tongue licks his bottom lip, before catching it between his teeth and releasing it with a heavy, warm breath.
“I missed you,” Ricky whispers, his eyes closed, their lips still lingering close to each other. He then pulls Gyuvin even closer, his head falling on his shoulder as he embraces him in a tight hug. He would merge into Gyuvin’s body and live as one, if he could.
“It’s been, like, two weeks, love,” Gyuvin chuckles, his voice muffled by Ricky’s shirt, as his arms circle around his body, as if hugging isn’t enough, as if he needs to swallow Ricky whole.
Ricky is the one to break the hug, and only because he wants to look into those bubbly, deep eyes again. “I’m sorry I’ve been busy,” he says, his fingers fiddling with the hem of Gyuvin’s sleeve.
Gyuvin smiles, as he takes Ricky’s hand and brings it to his mouth. He slowly, tenderly kisses each one of his knuckles while holding eye contact. It makes Ricky melt under his soft touch. “We’ve both been busy.”
Ricky nods, his vision blurry from Gyuvin’s sweet taste. He kisses his lips once more, then leaves a peck at the corner of his mouth. “I finally got that CEO spot,” he mumbles, distracted by the way Gyuvin’s hair falls to his eyes. He always wore it a bit too long for his forehead. Ricky finds it cute.
“So I’ve heard,” Gyuvin says with a giggle, his hands now clasping behind Ricky’s back. He steps a bit to the side so he can lean on the edge of the sinks and still support Ricky’s weight. “Congratulations, baby. I can’t believe I have a smart, successful boyfriend,” he adds, pressing a wet kiss to Ricky’s cheek.
Ricky pretends to be disgusted. Then, he frowns. “I mean, it wasn’t completely fair. But my supervisor from college says I still deserved it. I don’t know. It’s bittersweet.”
Gyuvin takes a moment to gently wipe a strand away from Ricky’s forehead, tucking it behind his ear. “It doesn’t matter. I know you’ll do great at your job. And you can finally do the things you want to, right? Without your father’s approval.”
Ricky smiles, as he nods. “Right. I’ve been preparing to launch a project that’s all about sustainability, actually. We’re talking with a few climate activist influencers. Some were suspicious of us at first, as they should, but we’re building a good team, one person at a time.”
“See?” Gyuvin replies, his eyes widening as much as his smile. “That’s so good to hear, love. I can’t wait to see where it goes.”
“Thank you,” Ricky replies with a shy smile, one Gyuvin always manages to get out of him, no matter how many years pass. “What about you? Are you planning on staying at the hospital?”
Gyuvin scrunches his nose. “I don’t know. I have my place secured there, because my dad is friends with the director of surgery. My supervisor sends a lot of people to my dad for a commission. But the environment there… it’s just awful. I wish I could work outside of the big city, maybe near my grandparents? All this stress wears me out.”
Ricky nods along. “I get it. You should do what makes you happy, Gyu. You have the privilege to experiment around. I know your parents wouldn’t leave you hanging.”
Gyuvin drops his shoulders, his eyes drifting away to Ricky’s neck, then his lips. “I wouldn’t be near you anymore, though.”
Ricky smiles, as his fingers play with the hair at the back of Gyuvin’s head. “I would drive for hours to be with you. Do you know how many times I begged my mom to go to the States with the excuse of networking? She never let me, but I still visited you. To this day, she still has no clue I put foot in America while you were there.”
“What a rebel boy,” Gyuvin jokes, kissing the cane of Ricky’s nose, then the tip of it, making it tickle. “I just wished it wasn’t so hard for us to always be together.”
Ricky looks him in the eye, taking in the moment. It was harder when they were minors. Even though they got to see each other every day at school, they were still in different classes and their friends never got along with each other. They would sneak out in between classes, meeting at the big tree outside, next to the empty pool, so they could spend some time together, with teenage sparkles and dreams floating in the air between them. Sometimes, after school, they would meet at the ice cream parlour, on the opposite way to their houses, just so they could take the long route with each other. Even at home, they would try to schedule their walks to the dumpsters, so they could get a glimpse of each other.
“Ugh, I don’t wanna go back and pretend to hate you again,” Gyuvin whines, pouty.
Ricky does the best he can do in this situation and kisses his pout away. He likes the way Gyuvin sighs against his mouth, how he opens it up so Ricky can bite on his skin. He deepens the kiss in a breath, not ever wanting to let go. He feels Gyuvin’s fingers playing with the hem of his shirt, while Ricky keeps his buried deep in Gyuvin’s hair, pulling it softly, making the man groan. Things get more heated up, when Gyuvin turns them around, taking control, placing his knee in between Ricky’s legs to keep him close. Ricky swears he sees stars when Gyuvin starts leaving a wet trail of kisses and bites down his neck, reaching for his collarbones. Ricky isn’t thinking anymore when he brings his shaky hands to the top of his shirt and unbuttons it slightly, just so he gets to feel more of Gyuvin’s mouth on his skin. When he moans his name, his voice low and raspy, Gyuvin pulls their bodies closer and kisses the back of his ear.
“Don’t make me wanna ruin you, pretty,” Gyuvin whispers, causing Ricky to arch his back. Gyuvin knows what he’s doing – pretty was the first thing he called Ricky when they spent the night together, back in their first year of college, in one of their friend’s dorm room; Hanbin swore he would never let them do that again after he saw the mess they made of his sheets, but he’s never spoken ill of their relationship and has been their biggest supporter throughout the years.
In a split second, Gyuvin puts his hands on Ricky’s ass, squeezing it gently, as he bites on his ear. Ricky can’t stop himself from whimpering anymore, so he keeps one hand over his mouth, biting his skin. Just as Gyuvin is about to lift him up, ready to sit him on the counter and mark Ricky as his, they hear the door of the bathroom opening.
They immediately step away from each other and turn on the faucets, holding their breaths. Ricky looks in the mirror and sees how wrecked he is, his hair all over the place, his shirt wrinkly. As the man comes into the bathroom – middle-aged, neatly dressed, raising an eyebrow when looking at the two young men by the sinks –, Ricky buttons up his shirt and unrolls his sleeves. He then wets his hands under the faucet and waits for the man to get into one of the stalls before he looks at Gyuvin.
As soon as they hear the stall door closing, they let out a relieved sigh, holding back laughter; Gyuvin keeps his eyes open wide and Ricky still feels his heart beating fast. He closes his faucet and walks back to Gyuvin, trying to keep quiet. He notices how Gyuvin’s hair is all messed up at the back and tries to make it look neater with his fingers. Before they can say anything else, Gyuvin presses a quick peck on Ricky’s lips, earning a hit on his arm from a still very worried Ricky.
“Let’s go out,” he whispers, signaling Gyuvin to follow him.
Ricky only breathes again once they’re in the hallway, still outside of the main dining room. The place is empty and dark, perfect for last minute adjustments.
“You go in first,” Ricky says, clearing his throat.
Gyuvin doesn’t complain. “Midnight on the balcony?”
Ricky smiles, as he puts his hands in his pockets. “Okay,” he replies. He looks around once more and sneaks a kiss on Gyuvin’s cheek. “You freak. Endearingly.”
“You punk. Pejoratively,” Gyuvin answers with a giggle, as he starts running down the hallway.
Ricky shakes his head and sighs. What a night th–
“Fuck, Gyu!” he calls, noticing how his coat is still around Gyuvin’s shoulders.
Gyuvin turns around, confused at first, before he notices it. He runs back to Ricky with a laugh. “How did we manage to keep it a secret this far? Holy…”
Ricky laughs with him, their hands brushing against each other as he grabs the coat. This time, Gyuvin is safe to go, but never before he remembers to take one last look back and send Ricky a flying kiss. Ricky rolls his eyes, then blushes, as Gyuvin turns back around.
He wouldn’t change a thing about them.
*
Ricky is drying his hair up with a towel when he hears something softly hitting on his window. He can’t help but smile as he puts the towel around his neck, then walks to the source of the noise, one so familiar to him – one that has brought both nightmares and dreams to his life.
In a swift move, he opens up the curtains to his balcony and looks through the window. The night is pitch dark and there’s barely any movement on the street. Ricky puts his hands around his eyes and leans into the window, so he can block out the light of his own room. He sighs, as he opens the door to the balcony and goes out, trying to make as little noise as possible. When he speaks, he keeps his volume low.
“It’s not midnight yet,” he says, leaning on the rail, as close to the balcony next door as he can, without falling down.
Gyuvin gasps and rolls up the right sleeve of his pajama. “You’re wrong. It’s exactly midnight,” he replies, showing his wristwatch to Ricky, pointing at it almost furiously. “You’re always late.”
“That doesn’t mean you have to throw rocks at my window,” Ricky says, looking Gyuvin in the eye, watching his bare face contort in a small laugh, followed by a slight, playful roll of his eyes. He looks beautiful under the dim light of the moon, silently shining on the young lovers, observing them from the cosmos.
Ricky can’t pinpoint exactly how old they were when Gyuvin started throwing rocks at his window – it might have been during elementary school. It started off as Gyuvin rage calling for Ricky, annoyed at the boy for ignoring him. Ricky remembers something about Gyuvin losing the bracelet his mother bought for him and blaming Ricky for it. It took a lot of talking and proof showing for Ricky to convince the boy that he had no interest in stealing his bracelet and would never do such a thing. Gyuvin said he would benefit from it, because he loved to see the family next door arguing and struggling. Ricky told him only a cruel person would enjoy causing havoc in someone else’s household, to which Gyuvin replied that both their parents seemed to tease and cause harm to each other on purpose. When they talked about why that could be and how they had always been like that, Gyuvin cried, out of frustration. He said he saw a close friend in Ricky, even though they weren’t allowed to hang out together much. He said he didn’t understand the adult world.
That time, Ricky watched as Gyuvin quietly let all his frustrations out on the balcony, acting as a good listener and someone he could trust. At some point, the meetings by the balcony weren’t even about their parents and their hatred for each other anymore – they were about other things the boys were struggling with, like schoolwork, bullies, expectations, hopes and dreams. Ricky remembers the anxious feelings running through his veins every time he heard the soft knocks on his window, telling him that Gyuvin was still awake and wanted to talk. He remembers the shaky hands and the nervous glances he would share with Gyuvin, always scared that their parents would find out that they were talking with each other behind their backs.
He also remembers their lives outside of the balconies, at school, on the way there, at the ice cream parlour, at the parking lot next to the cram school. Outside of their houses, far away from their controlling parents, they would meet with no worries in mind, no pressure to measure up to the expectations of their families. They would take it easy with each other, share stories about their days, talk about their deepest secrets and delay the time they had to go back home as much as they could without raising suspicions.
Summer days were Ricky’s favorites. Even though he wasn’t allowed to leave the house, unless it was to either study with colleagues or to visit family, he would still find every excuse possible to go buy food, walk the family dog or take out the trash – anything, if he was able to catch a glance of Gyuvin, maybe even greet him from the distance and see his gorgeous, bright smile.
One day, during high school, Ricky even ran away from home, pretending to be sick in bed, so he could sneak out and meet Gyuvin at their usual ice cream parlour. They shared a cone with two flavours that day, mango and strawberry, and talked for hours until the ice cream melted and they ate it all and the sun was no longer seen in the horizon. He remembers he got scolded that night, after he told his parents he had gone to meet with a friend from the same class to help them with homework. His parents said he shouldn’t hang around the kids with the lowest ranks in the class and that they only wanted to be friends with him because he was smart and they could take advantage of that.
Ricky took the scolding without a word. It didn’t matter. It really didn’t matter when he could still feel the ghost of his and Gyuvin’s first kiss on his lips, when he could still savor the strawberry ice cream mixed in with the scent of Gyuvin’s mango tongue. It didn’t matter when they had held hands on their way home, only letting go when they were in front of their houses.
It didn’t matter when he was in love.
He also can’t pinpoint when the feeling started. Maybe, it was during one of their balcony conversations, when they were at their most vulnerable, when they had to almost whisper to talk. Maybe, it was on one of their walks home, when they would stand so close to each other that their hands would often touch and neither would comment on it, afraid that the dream bubble would pop and never return. Maybe, it was watching Gyuvin from afar, running around the sports field during P.E., while Ricky had math classes on the seat closest to the window.
He just knows that the feeling never stopped growing, unlike their distance. As college entrance exams were approaching, their parents became more competitive than ever. It didn’t matter what path they took professionally (among the ones they had already planned for their sons), as long as they scored higher than the kid next door, as long as they got a better job position than the other. Ricky wasn’t even allowed to hang out with his class friends at the local café to study anymore, let alone get the opportunity to sneak out to meet Gyuvin.
So, they started to get more creative. When Gyuvin joined a spelling bee competition at school, Ricky joined too; they pretended to be sworn enemies throughout the whole event, but they took every chance they could to meet on the backstage, unable to keep their hands off each other for too long – as if they needed each other like they needed oxygen to live. When the school prepared a school trip for their year, Gyuvin managed to ride on the same bus as Ricky, claiming he had extreme motion sickness and had to stay at the very front of the bus, which was only possible on Ricky’s class’s bus, because it was smaller and there was only one teacher with them; they didn’t seat immediately next to each other on the way there, but, because everyone was too tired to care afterwards, they spent the whole journey back to school together, sleeping on each other’s shoulders, sharing earphones and quietly laughing at shared stories.
During their graduation day, they barely saw each other, since their families were with them at all times. However, after the main event, they convinced their friends to tell their parents they were going to celebrate with them at a restaurant, which was obviously a lie. They spent the evening together, eating at a quieter, more discreet restaurant, walking hand in hand by the Han river and even visiting the N Seoul Tower and leaving a padlock behind as material proof of their secret love.
Ricky still smiles when he thinks about it. They used to be so bold back then, but it was all worth it.
“What are you thinking about?” Guyvin asks, interrupting his thoughts. The wind softly brushes his hair.
“Us,” Ricky replies, in a sigh. He can’t look away from his shiny eyes. Kim Gyuvin is perfect. And he’s his.
Gyuvin giggles, as he leans on the rail. When they were little, it always seemed like Gyuvin’s balcony was miles away. Now, Ricky feels like he could touch his hands if he only leaned a bit further. “I love you,” Gyuvin whispers, trusting the wind to carry his words.
Ricky smiles, his cheeks feeling warm. “I love you,” he whispers back, taking in a deep breath.
Gyuvin blinks his eyes slowly, never drifting them away from Ricky’s own. “You’re so beautiful,” he says, seemingly not thinking much, just letting it out. Then, he chuckles. “What’s gotten to us today that we’re so mellow?”
“We’ve been stressed out, I guess,” Ricky replies, feeling a chill running through his body, from the cold weather.
“Put on a jacket,” Gyuvin tells him, as if reading his mind, always so attentive to the tiniest movements of his body.
Ricky shakes his head, sniffing his nose. “Wanna keep looking at you.”
“You’re gonna catch a cold,” Gyuvin laughs, even though he lets him stay staring. “We can meet another day, at my apartment or yours. Somewhere warmer.”
Ricky sighs. “I’ll stay here for a couple more days. I haven’t been with my parents for a while; they’ve been complaining.”
Gyuvin slightly pouts, fiddling with the intricate, steel ornaments on the rail of his balcony. “I’ll return tomorrow. I have work on Monday.”
“All day?” Ricky asks, already dreading the moment he has to get back to work. Not that he dislikes what he does, but after getting a little taste of Gyuvin, he can’t think about anything else for the entire week.
“I think I’ll get home by night,” Gyuvin replies, with a shrug. “We’re not kids anymore, though. We can meet up at night,” he adds, wiggling his eyebrows in a way that always makes Ricky feel embarrassed. And, maybe, flustered. But he wouldn’t admit that. “You can always pass by my apartment, you know that.”
Ricky nods. “I might, then. I’ll bring some champagne.”
“It better be expensive, mama said not to accept anything cheap,” Gyuvin chuckles.
“You don’t even drink,” Ricky says, softly rolling his eyes. “The champagne is for myself.”
“Why?” Gyuvin asks daringly. “You can’t make out with me sober?”
“When did I ever make out with you drunk?”
Gyuvin seems to genuinely think about it. “College party, first year. Truth or dare. We were still pretending to hate each other. I took you home. You kissed me by the door and I called you insane. So, naturally, I dragged you to that blind spot behind the bushes and kissed you more.”
Something in Ricky’s mind clicks. “Oh! I remember that! My parents saw me coming inside and asked me where I’d been. I had never lied so hard before. They knew something was up, for sure, but they didn’t say anything. To this day, I still believe they thought I was making out with some girl from college.”
Gyuvin gasps. “They wish I was some girl from college.”
“That part is very true,” Ricky sighs, their conversation falling into a deeper tone again. They know what their parents expect of them. Ricky knows his father wants him to wear his wedding suit for his own wedding and he knows his mother wants a daughter-in-law to go to the salon and gossip with. He knows well how his blind dates with women his mother approves of will go.
“Ricky-yah,” Gyuvin softly calls, bringing Ricky’s attention back to the present. “Hey. I will never go away. We’ll get through it, love.”
Ricky nods, his eyes feeling itchy, his heart clenching. “Together.”
Before Gyuvin can reply, Ricky hears a loud knock on his bedroom door, followed by his mother’s voice coming from the hallway. “Ricky! Are you awake? Your light is on. Have you showered yet? Come spend time with me and your father.”
Ricky sighs, knowing that his sweet time with Gyuvin is over.
“Go,” Gyuvin tells him, with a sad smile.
Ricky stares at him, then lets the tension on his shoulders drop. He wished he could, at least, give him a kiss goodbye. “I’m coming!” he tells his mother, after he opens the balcony door. “I’m going,” he tells Gyuvin, throwing him a flying kiss. Gyuvin sends one back, before he goes into his room, as well, since it’s too cold to be outside, anyway.
They know it. They’ll get through it. Together.