Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Riki had never really thought about it before—that part of life people giggled about between classes. Crushes, confessions, chocolate on Valentine's, the endless chain of boy-girl jokes. He laughed when he was supposed to, rolled his eyes when things got embarrassing, and went along with it the way he went along with wearing a uniform every morning.

Boys liked girls; that was the rule. And Riki didn't question rules. Not until that day.

He had wandered to the back of the school building while waiting for Sunoo; half-bored, half-avoiding the noisy third-years roughhousing in the hall. It was quiet there, filled only with the faint rustle of leaves and the muted hum of voices carrying from distant classrooms. He hadn't expected to see anyone.

But he did.

Sunoo. His Sunoo. His best friend since elementary school, the one who always trade snacks with him during recess, who still sometimes ruffled his hair like Riki was ten years old. Standing just a few steps away, his lips pressed against Jungwon's.

Jungwon. The second grader everybody here knows, be it a girl or a boy. Jungwon, the vice president of Riki and Sunoo's dance club, and the only person in this school who could rival his popping skill. The cool, popular, and savvy senior Yang Jungwon.

The kiss looked soft, a love confession kind of soft. Jungwon's hand was trembling slightly against Sunoo's sleeve, but the older continued. Then his eyes opened, and they caught Riki's.

World stuttered like a skipped frame in a film between the two of them. Sunoo's expression was unreadable, dare Riki say almost daring, and the connection between him and Jungwon stayed unbroken.

Something inside Riki lurched by that, flipped and recoiled. He turned on his heel before he could stop himself, feet slamming against the ground as he bolted. He didn't remember the walk home, only the rush of air and the heavy pounding in his ears. By the time he collapsed face-first onto his bed, he was half heaving.

What was that?

He pressed his palms against his eyes, but the image wouldn't leave. Sunoo's lips on another boy's, Jungwon's shaky hand, the calm way Sunoo had looked at him like there was no reason to hide.

Riki's chest twisted. It felt wrong. It felt wrong! He wanted to scrape the thought out of his mind, bury it under something clean and normal. But every time he tried, disgust clawed at him. Not just at what he'd seen, but at the fact that part of him couldn't stop replaying it. His confusion soon became tangled with anger. With a heat he couldn't name and didn't want to. He pulled the blanket over his head and curled in tighter, as though he could shrink away from the truth pressing at his thoughts.

Homosexuality. He had always thought of it as something distant, like a rumor from another country, something too far away to ever brush against his life in this small town. But now it wasn't far at all; in fact, it was so near that Riki could never prepare for it.

It was Sunoo. And Sunoo had looked at him like it wasn't a mistake—either the kiss, or maybe the way he'd found out like this. Riki didn't want to know what any of those meant. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

He lay there on his bed, staring at the ceiling like it might give him an answer. His blanket had slipped off to the floor because of his unnecessary shuffling, but he didn't move to pick it up. His body felt heavy, like every nerve was on fire with a feeling so foreign he didn't think he could name it if he wanted to. He tried to tell himself it wasn't a big deal, that people kissed all the time, that it didn't matter if it was both boys. Sunoo was older; maybe he was experimenting, or maybe it was some fucked-up dare. But the more he told himself that, the louder the doubt grew.

After all he had seen Sunoo's face. The way he didn't pull back. The steadiness in his eyes.

Riki squeezed his eyes tightly, as if he could wring the feelings out of himself. He hated how his stomach twisted, how his mind wouldn't stop circling back to the sight of it. Not just the fact that Sunoo and Jungwon had kissed, but Sunoo kissing another boy, in front of him. Like the whole world had shifted in a snap, leaving him stranded on the other side. Like, why them? Why did it have to be Sunoo?

He had always thought Sunoo was different. Not in this way, just... better. Brighter. Someone to look up to. He wasn't supposed to be the one doing something so—so—

Riki bit the inside of his cheek until it stung.

Disgust curled through him, foreign when addressed to his dear friend. But the disgust wasn't only at Sunoo, it was at himself. Because beneath the anger, there was something else. Something smaller, quieter, shameful. A thought that made his whole body tighten.

If Sunoo could do that to Jungwon... then what about me?

The idea alone made him feel sick. He shook his head hard, like the motion could fling the thought out of him. He wanted it gone, buried where nobody—not even himself—could find it. Because if he admitted it, if he even let it sit in his chest for too long, it would mean he wasn't normal. It would mean all those years of laughing along, of pretending he understood what the other boys meant when they pointed at girls and whispered, were a lie. He couldn't be a lie.

He turned onto his side, burying his face in the pillow. It smelled faintly of detergent, of the safety of home, of everything that was supposed to make sense. But it didn't comfort him. What did Sunoo see when he looked at him like that? Regret? Pity? Or worse—acceptance?

Riki shuddered. He hated that last possibility most of all. Because if Sunoo had meant it, if he wasn't ashamed, then what excuse did Riki have left?

Normal, normal, normal. It was supposed to be normal. Boys liked girls, end of story. Crushes on girls, magazines with girls, jokes about girls. That was the rule. And I followed it, didn't I? I followed it because Sunoo asked—

A memory hits him fast, uninvited, the way a splinter works its way deeper under the skin.

They were sprawled across his bedroom floor, controllers tossed aside after another round of their favorite game. Sunoo, older by two years and impossibly confident, leaned back against Riki's bed like he owned the place, tossing questions like pebbles into still water. His aura was so effortless it made Riki envious.

He toyed with the hem of his hoodie, tossing a question that sliced through the clicky controller sound. "Hey, Riki," he began, voice low yet teasing, "do you... like anyone?"

The words hit like a sucker punch out of nowhere. His first instinct—the childish one—was to deflect, to laugh it off. "What... ? Where's that coming from all of a sudden?" He chuckled, gripping the edge of the carpet like he was nervous. "I'll tell you if you tell me."

Sunoo stopped fiddling with his controller, his fingers stilling mid-motion. He tilted his head, eyes shimmering with that same maddening confidence he always carried, and shrugged. "I don't," he stated simply, his tone deceptively neutral.

Riki let out an exaggerated tsk of disappointment, leaning back beside him in mock surrender. "Then I don't either, obviously."

"Bullshit," Sunoo shot back instantly, his teasing smile unfolding like a trap. "There's no way you've gone your entire life without having a single crush. Come on, spill."

Riki's composure cracked under the weight of Sunoo's gaze; a gaze he'd known long enough to understand that there was no escaping its scrutiny. His cheeks burned as he stammered, words tripping over themselves in their rush to escape. "I... I mean, maybe there's Danielle from my class? She's kinda—uh, she's kinda cute... "

"Ohhh, so that's your type," Sunoo cooed, dragging the words out with precision, each syllable coated in unmistakable amusement. "Not bad, not bad, Riki-yah. Danielle, huh? Nice choice."

But then, with a sudden, devilish grin, he leaned in closer, dropping his voice to a whisper. "So, when you—" with a crude little laugh, he lifted his fist and made that up-and-down motion like it was the most casual thing in the world. "Do you think about her?"

Riki's brain short-circuited, his entire face going up in flames. "What—what are you even—what the hell, hyung?!"

"Don't play dumb," Sunoo let his laughter filled the small room, making Riki feel even more cornered. "It's a totally normal question. Who doesn't think about their crush, huh?"

"I don't... I mean, maybe... okay, fine—sometimes," Riki admitted, voice barely there as he avoided Sunoo's sharp, knowing gaze. He felt like he was shrinking under the weight of his own honesty, his pride fraying with each passing second.

Sunoo's smirk only grew as he drank in the sight of Riki's embarrassment. He shifted his position, turning fully toward the younger boy, his expression suddenly curious, and maybe just a little too interested. "So, how do you do it?"

The words hung in the air like a match about to ignite. Riki froze, his mind scrambling for an escape route. "Do... do what?" he croaked, even though he already knew exactly what Sunoo meant.

"You know," Sunoo pressed, his voice dropping into something softer, more intimate. "When you... You know. Tsk, don't make me spell it out, Riki."

Riki swallowed hard, his throat dry as he tried to form a coherent sentence. He could feel the heat from Sunoo's gaze, the older boy's amusement barely veiling his curiosity. "I just... I dunno, I just do it," he mumbled, his voice cracking under the pressure.

But Sunoo wasn't letting him off that easily.

"No, no, no, you can't just ‘I dunno' your way out of this," he said, leaning closer with a grin. "C'mon, show me."

"Show you?!" Riki practically yelped, his voice shooting up an octave as his eyes widened in disbelief. "Are you insane?!"

Sunoo shrugged, utterly unbothered by the scandalized look on Riki's face. "Fine, don't show me. Just explain it, then. I'm curious—it's not a big deal."

Riki hesitated, his palms sweating as he glanced anywhere but at Sunoo. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he raised a trembling hand and made a vague, twirling motion with his fingers. "I, uh... I sorta... do it? Like this... "

Silence.

When Riki dared to glance back at Sunoo, he was shocked to find the older boy actually holding back laughter, his lips twitching and face red as he fought to keep a straight face.

"You... what?" Sunoo managed to choke out, his voice shaking with amusement. "You twirl it around? Like a helicopter??"

Riki groaned, burying his face in his hands. "I knew I shouldn't have said anything," he muttered, his voice muffled by his palms.

"No, no, it's cute, really," Sunoo said, still laughing as he reached out to pat Riki on the shoulder. "But, uh... there's definitely a better way to go about it."

"What the hell would you know?" Riki shot back, his voice tinged with defensive embarrassment. But the words lacked bite, especially when Sunoo's hand lingered a moment too long on his shoulder.

"Plenty," Sunoo replied smoothly, his grin softening into something almost... tender? He shifted closer, the distance between them shrinking until Riki could feel the faint warmth radiating off of him. "Do you want hyung to teach you?"

The question was a bullet to the gut, leaving Riki speechless. He wasn't even sure he was breathing anymore, his heart hammering so loudly in his chest that he was certain Sunoo could hear it. But Riki was nothing if not resourceful in moments of crisis—so with a desperate burst of energy, he snatched up the nearest pillow and hurled it straight at Sunoo's smirking face.

"Shut up, you perv!" he shouted, the words coming out more flustered than angry.

Sunoo dodged with ease, clutching his sides and doubling over with amusement as Riki glared daggers at him from across the room. "Relax, Riki-yah. I'm just messing with you."

"Mess with someone else," Riki grumbled, his cheeks still burning as he tried to bury mortification under a thin veneer of annoyance. But even as the conversation fizzled back into something more mundane, the unspoken weight of Sunoo's teasing lingered in the air, a thread pulled taut between them that neither dared to sever.

Even now, the memory makes Riki's stomach twist. Perfect Sunoo. Brave enough to joke about things Riki couldn't even say out loud. Cool, older, untouchable Sunoo—already living in a world Riki couldn't step into. Their age gap had never felt wider than in moments like that.

And now... now that same Sunoo had kissed another boy, like none of those rules ever mattered to him. Like he'd always been living in a different reality. He didn't know which was worse: that Sunoo had done it at all, or that Riki couldn't stop remembering every time Sunoo had made him feel smaller, younger, less.

Sunoo kissing Jungwon. The memory kept hitting like a slap, hot and stinging, impossible to shake. Jungwon's stupid, perfect face framed by Sunoo's hands, the way Sunoo's lips curved as though he knew exactly what he was doing, knew exactly how to make the world stop spinning for someone else.

That was what killed Riki the most, what made his fingernails dig into the fabric of the pillow like they were trying to tear through it. Sunoo hadn't flinched, hadn't stammered, hadn't looked unsure of himself in the way Riki always was. He'd just leaned in, steady as the tide, and done it. Like rules didn't exist, like there was nothing to fear, like it wasn't the most terrifying thing in the world to surrender a piece of yourself to another person. Let alone a boy.

It was all so effortless for him, like he was built for this, this game of touch and want and forbiddence. And Riki? Riki was still stuck fumbling with the controller, still trying to figure out which buttons to press to stop screwing up.

Why did it have to be Jungwon? He wasn't even mad at him. How could he be? Jungwon was just... well, Jungwon. A natural at everything, likable in a way that made Riki bristle because it reminded him of everything he wasn't. If it hadn't been Jungwon, it would've been someone else.

Someone who wasn't Riki.

That was the truth sitting ugly and raw in the pit of his stomach: it wouldn't have been him. It couldn't have been. He was straight, after all.

He groaned louder into the pillow, kicking his legs like a kid throwing a tantrum. God, he was pathetic. Sixteen years old and pining like some middle schooler with a crush he couldn't admit. He shifted onto his back, closing his eyes, though it did nothing to silence his head. The phantom image of lips, plush and pink, slightly swollen from contact, refusing to leave each other alone.

Riki rolled onto his side, clutching the sheets like they might somehow ground him. His skin felt hot, every nerve ending alive with a buzz so real. He thought about Sunoo's teasing smile, the way his voice had dipped that night in his room. Do you want hyung to teach you? At the time, Riki had been too mortified to do anything but throw a pillow at him, but now the words echoed in his head with a different weight, a different meaning.

What would've happened if he hadn't? If he'd said yes?

The thought made his heart race, like a live wire had been pressed against him. He could still picture it so clearly, the way Sunoo had leaned in, his smirk softening into something warmer, more sticky. His hand had lingered on Riki's shoulder just a moment too long, his eyes catching Riki's like they were sharing a secret no one else could know. It had felt like Sunoo was offering him something in that moment, something Riki hadn't been brave enough to reach for.

Now, the regret burned worse than anything else. What if he had said yes? Would Sunoo have laughed it off, or would he have followed through? Would he have moved closer, so close that Riki could feel his breath against his skin? Would he have tilted Riki's chin up, his fingers warm and gentle, and—

Riki shot upright, his heart pounding like it was trying to break free from his ribcage. "Goddammit," he muttered under his breath, raking a hand through his hair. He sat there frozen, the humid air of his bedroom sticking to the inside of his mouth like sap. His fingers trembled against his thighs, the fabric of his pants suddenly too hot, too suffocating. Everything felt wrong on his skin, like even his clothes were mocking the ache simmering low in his stomach. And the worst part of it all, the absolute worst goddamn part—

He was hard.

Not just kind-of, not accidentally. Fully aching, pressed up stubborn against the tightness of his uniform pants like his body had decided without letting his brain vote.

"Fuck."

His whole body was heat, prickling with it. He dropped back onto the bed, twisting the pillow over his face, trying to smother the sound as his hips shifted. Just a brush of friction against the inside of his pants made him gasp, horribly. Thoughts spilled uncontrollably, painted in the smear of memory and imagination; fingers gripping his jaw, a thumb brushing over his cheekbone, Sunoo's voice playful-low: Do you want hyung to teach you?

He imagined nodding. He imagined the way Sunoo might press against him, slow and curious, letting Riki feel everything with no space to hide, no joke to make, no escape. Sunoo wouldn't mock him. Not once Riki said yes.

That thought was gasoline.

Riki's hand slipped under the waistband, tentative at first, the skin of his stomach twitching like even he wasn't sure he was allowed to be doing this. But then, heat. His own hand against himself, and his hips jerked like something shot through him. He bit down into the pillow with his breath hitching, shallow and fast. Every muscle in his gut tightened with the friction of his hand, like his body had been waiting for this and he hadn't even realized it. His fingers curled harder, dragged slower, deepening the pressure, and he felt it in his spine—a shudder that made his thighs press together involuntarily. His legs curled slightly as if bracing against the sheer novelty of the sensation.

And still, even as the pleasure flared, his thoughts clawed back to him. Not Jungwon. Not some faceless fantasy girl with a pretty, lithe waist he could hide behind. It was Sunoo.

Sunoo, with his teasing eyes and those lips that tilted just slightly when he smirked like Riki was the joke and the punchline. Sunoo, with the habit of letting his fingertips linger too long on shoulders, on backs, on Riki's wrist that one time he'd handed him a water bottle and squeezed it shut between them like that weight of touch meant something.

Riki's hips rocked up into his palm and he choked down a gasp, teeth sinking into his lower lip until it throbbed.

"This doesn't mean anything," he muttered aloud before his voice failed him completely, barely audible and breathless. "It's just—just hormones. Fuck. I'm just... it could've been anyone... "

But even as he tried to force the lie through his clenched jaw, his mind betrayed him. Because he couldn't picture anyone else. Not a single girl. Not Danielle. Not some idealized magazine memory with soft curves and easy permission. No.

It was Sunoo. Always Sunoo. In his head like a hook sunk deep. And the taste of that was bitter and electric, because wasn't he supposed to be straight?

His whole life, it went without saying. He believed it. The idea of wanting another girl—kissing one, fucking one, and eventually marrying one. Yet here he was, fist wrapping shamelessly around his cock, dragging and squeezing like he was punishing himself for how good it felt to imagine the heat of his best friend's mouth instead of the pressure of his own pathetic hand.

He imagined Sunoo leaning over him now, that voice low and amusement curling behind it. So needy, Riki... didn't know you'd be like this.

His back arched sharply, thighs tensing, and a guttural whimper slipped past his lips before he could stop it. "Shut up," he hissed at the phantom in his head, knuckles whitening as he picked up pace.

But he didn't. Sunoo didn't shut up. Not in his mind.

That voice. Teasing, smug, warm, lingered as Riki squeezed his dick harder, chasing now.

You want hyung to help you come like this, don't you? Look at you, Riki.

He could see it: the way Sunoo would hover, breath on his neck, hand sliding down to replace his own. That exaggerated pout when he teased, the way he might drag a fingertip down Riki's chest like he was tracing desire itself into his flesh.

Riki was panting now, head thrown back against the pillow, brow furrowed like he was caught between pain and pleasure. Each stroke of his hands stoked fire into his belly, a torturous spiral winding tighter, tighter—

Sunoo would keep eye contact. And that's the worst part, Riki realized in a moment of helpless clarity. He'd look Riki dead in the eye while he touched him, watching him fall apart like it was his favorite game.

His whole body trembled under the weight of the imagination, shame curling molten and ugly in the center of his chest even as he chased it relentlessly. Because the truth was right there, unavoidable now. And that realization hit harder than any of his climaxes ever could.

He sucked in a breath through gritted teeth, thighs locking tight as that final unbearable pressure surged. His back arched off the bed like he could escape the reality of what it meant, and he came into his hand, the image of Sunoo's lips ghosting over his spurting tip, clawing straight from his core.

Riki closed his eyes as he let his mind race, every thought colliding with the next in a chaotic mess.

Maybe he should talk to Sunoo, bring it up casually like it didn't matter, like he was just curious. But what would he even say? Hey, so... what's it like to like boys? He could already imagine Sunoo's laugh, that infuriatingly knowing grin. No, that wasn't the answer.

But then what? He couldn't keep doing this. Spiraling in circles, torturing himself over something he couldn't change. He needed to do something. Anything. And yet, as he raised his palm to look at the white spent coating it, the weight of his feelings pressed down on him like a lead.

He realized the truth he didn't want to admit. Not yet.

And no matter how much he wanted to be braver, to be cooler, to be the kind of person Sunoo could look at the way he'd looked at Jungwon, he wasn't. He was just Riki. Too young, too awkward, too far behind.

But God, he wished he wasn't.

❓

The days after that kiss blurred into something unbearable.

Riki stopped waiting by the school gates in the morning, stopped texting Sunoo after dinner, stopped sitting with him at lunch. Every time Sunoo's shadow crossed his vision, he turned the other way. And the worst part—the part that gnawed at him every night—was that Sunoo didn't chase. He didn't ask why, didn't push, didn't even tease. He just accepted the distance like it was natural.

That acceptance made Riki's chest burn hotter than any confrontation would have. Was he that easy to let go now that he has Jungwon? He thought, over and over, lying awake in the dark. He couldn't stop replaying it, the kiss, the offer that day in his room, the masturbation. If it didn't mean anything, why couldn't he forget it? Why did it coil in his stomach like a stone, making him lose literal sleep?

By the time summer heat settled over the schoolyard, Riki's body was running on fumes. During break, under the sun's glare on his way to the canteen, his head swam. The ground tilted. He barely registered his knees buckling before steady arms caught him.

"Riki!"

The voice was too familiar. He wanted to shove it away, but he was too weak. By the time he came to, he was lying on a cot in the school infirmary, Sunoo crouched beside him, his brows drawn tight with worry.

"You idiot," Sunoo muttered, pressing a cold towel to his forehead. "Not drinking enough water in this heat? What were you thinking?"

Riki turned his face away, shame prickling at his skin. His throat was dry, but the words forced themselves out. "... Congratulations."

Sunoo blinked. "What?"

"You and Jungwon." Riki swallowed hard, trying to steady the tremor in his voice. "Guess I should've said it sooner. You two... suit each other."

Sunoo opened his mouth, but Riki didn't give him the chance.

"All this time, you didn't tell me." The words came sharper, like he'd been holding them back until they cut his tongue. "We've been friends since forever, Sunoo-hyung. You told me everything—secrets, even stupid stuff. And this, this you just kept hidden like I didn't matter? Like I couldn't handle it?"

Sunoo flinched, his lips parting, but the unreadable look was back, the one that made Riki want to shake him.

"You think I didn't notice how normal you acted? Like you weren't carrying something this big behind my back?" Riki's voice cracked, raw with exhaustion and sleepless nights. "Do you know what it's like, finding out this way? Watching you kiss him, and realizing I don't even know who you are anymore?"

The room rang with silence after his outburst, the sound of the ceiling fan buzzing faintly above them. Sunoo's hand tightened around the damp towel. His mouth opened, then closed again, as if the words he wanted to give were too heavy. And Riki hated that silence. He hated that once again, Sunoo wasn't fighting back, wasn't pushing, wasn't reaching for him. It made him feel small. It made him feel furious.

"Riki-yah... " His voice was softer than usual, stripped of its teasing edge. When Riki glanced at him, Sunoo's eyes were ready but gentler, carrying something Riki didn't have the courage to name.

"You don't understand. I—" Sunoo's grip tightened slightly, just enough to keep him from pulling away. His lips parted like he was about to say it, the thing that hung unspoken between them.

But before the words could fall, the infirmary door slid open.

"Kim Sunoo," the nurse called, her tone brisk. "Your homeroom teacher's looking for you. You need to get back to class."

Sunoo froze. For a long beat he didn't move, didn't look away from Riki. His hand lingered on Riki's wrist like he didn't want to let go. Then, slowly, he slipped it free.

"Rest," he murmured, almost too quietly for Riki to hear. And then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him.

The silence that followed was worse than before. Riki lay there, staring at the ceiling, heart still hammering from something that hadn't even happened.

❓

Summer break came just in time, and their distance grew even worse.

Sunoo didn't come over to play games, didn't dance around Riki's room, or talk about their friend group or tease him about his neglected holiday homework. The room felt emptier without him, but Riki told himself it was better this way. He didn't have to deal with those eyes, that touch, that almost-explanation he'd been too scared to hear.

And yet, every night, when the world went quiet aside from the cicadas, the memory replayed. The towel on his forehead, the circles traced on his wrist, the words Sunoo never finished. He lost count of how many times he stared at his ceiling until dawn, wondering why it mattered so much.

The first day back after summer break, Riki expected things to get heavy. He expected awkward glances, maybe even more silence between him and Sunoo. But at least he expected Sunoo. Yet from the moment he stepped onto the school grounds, something felt missing. No glimpse of him by the gates. No familiar figure in the courtyard, waving lazily to friends. Not even a silhouette on the stairwell, where Sunoo always paused between classes to peer over the railing.

He's still avoiding me, Riki thought, his stomach dropping. Avoiding me like I don't even exist.

The day dragged. Between classes, Riki found himself circling the hallways under the excuse of errands, hoping he might catch sight of him. At lunch, he scanned the crowded canteen, his tray untouched as he searched for that familiar dark hair, that laugh. Nothing.

By the last period, desperation gnawed at him. He ran up to the school roof, breathless, only to find the benches empty, the view of the city spread out under a sun that suddenly felt too harsh. The place where they used to eat lunch together was silent, the wind tugging at his uniform sleeves.

When the final bell rang, Riki didn't hesitate. He cut straight across the hall to Class 2-B, heart hammering in his chest. Through the doorway, he spotted Jungwon gathering his books, chatting distractedly with a classmate. Riki forced his feet forward.

"Jungwon-sunbaenim." His voice cracked slightly. "Do you know where Sunoo-hyung is?"

The younger boy turned, blinking in surprise. Then, slowly, something shifted in his expression—recognition, then pity, then a softness that made Riki's stomach churn. Like Jungwon was witnessing something break.

"Riki, Sunoo moved away to Seoul last week," Jungwon said quietly. "Because of his father's work."

The words didn't land at first. They hung in the space like a foreign language, incomprehensible. Then Riki felt his throat close.

Jungwon's gaze faltered. "... Surely he told you this?"

The question hit harder than anything else.

His breath stuttered, his fists curling at his sides. The hallway noise faded into static, every detail around him dissolving until all that remained was the hollow weight of those words.

Sunoo hadn't just avoided him. Sunoo had left. Left without a goodbye. Without a word. Without him.

Riki stared at Jungwon, waiting for him to laugh, to say it was a joke, to say Sunoo had just been late that morning. But Jungwon didn't laugh. His expression stayed quiet, almost mournful.

"You're lying," he muttered, though his voice wavered. "He would've told me. He always tells me."

Jungwon shook his head slowly. "He asked me to take care of you. That's all."

The words punched the air out of Riki's lungs. He staggered back a step, gripping the strap of his bag so hard it hurt. Take care of you. Like he was a burden Sunoo could hand off before disappearing. Like their years together—fights, laughter, secrets—had all boiled down to this single errand left in someone else's hands.

Heat rushed up his throat, shame and fury tangled until he didn't know which burned more. "Tch—whatever," he spat, forcing his voice flat, hard. "Like I need him to tell me everything. He probably didn't care that much anyway."

But the words tasted like ash.

Jungwon's eyes softened even more, and Riki couldn't stand it. Couldn't stand being looked at like that, like he was someone to be pitied. He turned on his heel before Jungwon could answer, shoving through the crowded hallway until the noise swallowed him whole.

By the time he stumbled out into the late afternoon sun, his chest was heaving, but no tears came. Only the hollow throb of disbelief, circling and circling with no place to land.

For the first time since he was a child, Riki felt like the ground beneath him had given way.

The world was still there. Students laughing, cars passing, the heat of summer pressing down. But without Sunoo in it, without a goodbye, it all felt like a stage after the lights had gone out.

And he had no idea how to step off it.

❓

Three months had passed, and Riki still hated the way Seoul clung to him.

The heat, the humidity, the noise. It was too much. The city moved fast, faster than anything he'd known back home. And yet, in the brief moments between the dance studio and the boarding house, the stillness would find him. It never asked permission. It just dropped into his chest like a stone and sat there.

At least he had Jungwon now.

Much to his chagrin, they had grown closer after Sunoo. At first, the sight of him alone had been salt in an old wound. But over time, their shared trauma in the shape of Kim Sunoo's cutout became a kind of comfort. They didn't talk about the past, but they didn't need to. Late-night convenience store runs, griping about exams, helping each other choreograph routines; it all fell into place like it was meant to.

And dance. That was still theirs.

When Jungwon moved up to third year and claimed the presidency of the club, he made Riki vice without even asking. They had even promised to pursue dance here together, at one of the biggest art universities in Korea. But even in all their hours rehearsing or researching about the campus admission, they never spoke of Sunoo. Not once. His name was a thread neither of them dared pull.

It was always there, though. Buzzing in the pause after a joke, lurking in the shift of Jungwon's eyes when something hit too close. The subject hovered like smoke in a closed room, staining everything quietly.

So when Jungwon had gone radio silent in the weeks leading up to Riki's enrollment—dodging texts, letting calls ring out, vanishing into his schedule, coming home well past midnight—Riki figured it was nerves. Or maybe something personal. He didn't press. He was too busy drowning in placement exams and dance auditions anyway.

But then the campus tour began

It was supposed to be mindless. Some half-baked orientation tour for first-years, led by a bored upperclassman who was desperate for extra credit. Riki almost skipped it. He should've.

Because when he turned the corner, there he was.

Kim Sunoo.

Standing at the front of the group of wide-eyed freshmen, waving a university flag around like some kind of joke. Like nothing had changed. Like three years of silence meant nothing.

Riki hadn't known what to expect after three years, but it certainly wasn't this.

Sunoo looked like he'd been plucked from a dream and placed in the middle of a waking nightmare that is Riki's mental state.

His hair had gone pale gold, longer now, catching the late afternoon sun in a way that made it hard to look directly at him. A choppy, blunt fringe framed his rosy cheeks, and the light caught on his skin like glass. Like something delicate and far away, meant to be stored in a guarded display.

But it wasn't just the hair.

It was the clothes. That red sweater, slipping low at the shoulders as if daring everyone to stare, the stitched roses blooming across the neckline, the white ruffled skirt brushing high against his thighs. The lace garters peeking just above his boots only made Riki's throat feel tighter, and he hated himself for noticing.

It was wrong—or at least, it felt like it should be. Sunoo was supposed to be the boy he raced downhill with, the one who dirtied his jeans running through the mud, who never cared if his knees were bruised. And yet here he was, fragile and bold all at once, dressed like someone Riki shouldn't be looking at the way he was.

His stomach twisted. He told himself it was shock, discomfort maybe. But the truth pressed heavier than that. He couldn't stop staring. He couldn't reconcile the Sunoo he remembered with the one standing here now, beautiful in a way that left him unsteady, irritated with himself for even thinking it.

And somewhere in that confusion, Riki realized he wasn't sure if he wanted to look away—or if he even could. Just stood there, blinking in the bright, cruel light of Seoul, trying not to fall apart. For one dizzy second, he thought he was hallucinating. But when Sunoo turned just slightly, catching the edge of his gaze through his red-rimmed sunglasses that matched his entire fit, the recognition slammed into him.

It was really him. Older. Changed, but still unmistakably him.

Unfortunately, Sunoo knew. Riki saw it in the flicker of his eyes, the way his smile didn't falter, the way his posture didn't break. Sunoo had seen him and was purposefully, skillfully dodging him.

Riki's jaw clenched, heat crawling up his neck. He should've been baffled. He should've been confused, shocked, anything. But all he felt was anger. Anger that Sunoo had vanished without a word. Anger that he had reappeared just as easily, with long hair and a skirt and a new life that had no room for Riki. Anger that Jungwon had known and hadn't said a thing.

He was so killing Jungwon tonight.

As the tour moved along, Riki's eyes stayed locked on the boy, or girl—he didn't even want to assume. And each time, Sunoo slid past him, graceful, untouchable, as though Riki wasn't even there. The group shuffled through the main quad, freshmen whispering to each other about dorm assignments and cafeteria hours. Riki wasn't listening. His world had narrowed into a tunnel, and at the end of it was Sunoo.

Sunoo's voice carried easily, lilting and precise, the same voice Riki remembered from late-night teasing in his room, only steadier now, more polished. "This is the humanities building. Most of you will have general lectures here... " The words blurred as Riki's eyes traced the unfamiliar details: the delicate sweep of eyeliner, the way the skirt material swayed around his thick thighs, the soft click of his shiny boots against stone.

Every detail was wrong. And yet, every detail was still Sunoo.

Riki's hands curled into fists in his pockets. He caught himself staring again, caught the flicker of Sunoo's glance back at the group—at him. For a fraction of a second their gazes met, sharp and unyielding. Then Sunoo looked away, smoothly, as if Riki had been just another anonymous face in the crowd.

It stung more than being ignored, because it was deliberate.

As they moved toward the library, Riki's pulse refused to steady. Memories assaulted him with each turn of Sunoo's head. The way Sunoo used to laugh when Riki fumbled with skinny Korean chopsticks, the way his eyes had gone unreadable that day behind the school building, the warmth of his hand pressing against Riki's forehead in the infirmary. All of it clashed against the vision before him now: hair tumbling over shoulders, skirt swaying, a version of Sunoo Riki had never been allowed to imagine, much less see.

When Sunoo paused to gesture at the old stone steps of the library, sunlight caught the line of his jaw. For a breath, Riki almost forgot to breathe. Beautiful, his mind supplied, unbidden, before the thought curdled into something he tried to smother.

His throat tightened. He hated himself for it. He hated Sunoo. And he hated Jungwon more.

By the time the tour wrapped up, Riki's pulse had reached a fever pitch. He didn't know whether he wanted to drag Sunoo aside and demand answers, or storm out and pretend none of this was real. The group scattered in relieved chatter, already forming clusters of new friendships yet Riki didn't move. His sneakers were rooted to the floor, eyes fixed on the back of Sunoo's head as he dismissed the freshmen with a smile that didn't falter, not once.

The second Sunoo turned to leave, Riki's body moved before his mind caught up.

"Sunoo-hyung."

The name tore out of his throat hoarse and jagged, louder than he meant, enough to make a few students glance back.

Sunoo froze mid-step. His shoulders stiffened, just barely, then he turned with infuriating calm. His expression was the same one he'd worn the entire tour: polite, poised, impossible to read.

Riki swallowed hard. Three years of questions pressed against his teeth, each one more venomous than the last. Why didn't you tell me? Why did you leave? Why are you pretending I don't exist?

But what came out was small, sharp, almost childish.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

For a second, Sunoo's mask cracked. Not much, just the faintest tremor in his smile, the barest flicker of his eyes. Then he closed the gap with a few steps, close enough for Riki to feel the faint brush of perfume that was both unfamiliar and maddeningly, deeply him.

"I didn't think you'd want me to," Sunoo said softly. No sharpness, no mockery, just a quiet weight that made Riki's chest cave in.

Riki's fists clenched at his sides. "So you just disappeared? Three years. And then you show up like—" he broke off, eyes flicking down Sunoo's figure, the skirt, the hair, his throat tightening around words he couldn't shape without choking on them. "—like this? Like nothing ever happened?"

Sunoo's gaze lowered, lingering on Riki's face with something unreadable. Sadness? Guilt? Amusement? Whatever it was, it was gone before Riki could name it.

"Nothing ever does happen with you, Riki-yah."

The words were gentle, but they landed like a brick.

And just like that, Sunoo turned again, slipping into the flow of upperclassmen crossing the quad, his figure folding back into the crowd like he belonged more than anything.

❓

Riki stormed into the campus café later that week, spotting Jungwon hunched over a laptop with a half-drunk bubble tea.

"You," Riki barked, slamming his palms onto the table. "Where have you been all week? You're never at home and you won't even answer my calls! You left me out here all alone!!"

Jungwon didn't even flinch. He adjusted his glasses and scrolled down a page. "Good afternoon to you too, Riki."

"Did you know?" Riki hissed, leaning forward so sharply the table squeaked under his weight. "Did you know he was here? Like that? With—" he made a vague, spastic gesture that somehow encompassed Sunoo's long hair, skirt, and perfectly painted lips.

Jungwon finally looked up, expression flat as stone. "You mean Sunoo-hyung? Yes. He's been here before me. Everyone knows."

Riki's jaw dropped. "Everyone?! And you didn't think to tell me??"

"Would you have transferred universities if I did?" Jungwon asked, taking a sip of his drink and munching calmly on the bobas.

Riki sputtered. "That's—that's not the point!"

Jungwon tilted his head, unimpressed. "Then what is the point?"

"The point is," Riki faltered, flailing for words. "The point is he—he was just... " He buried his face in his hands, groaning loudly enough to earn side-eyes from the next table.

Jungwon clicked his tongue, saving his document before shutting the laptop. "You know, for someone who spent years pretending not to care about him, you're awfully loud about it."

Riki peeked between his fingers, glaring. "Don't start with me, Yang Jungwon. I'm not—this isn't," he waved his hands helplessly, nearly knocking over Jungwon's cup.

Jungwon caught it smoothly, unimpressed as ever. "You're ridiculous."

"You are ridiculous!" Riki shot back, jabbing a finger at him. "Disappearing for weeks before I got here, and then bam—surprise, motherfucker. It's Sunoo! You knew I'd walk right into him."

A corner of Jungwon's mouth twitched upward, just enough to infuriate him. "And even if I did, it was worth it."

Riki groaned again, tugging at his hair, half-ready to leap across the table. Jungwon just leaned back, perfectly calm, as if he'd been expecting this all along. He slumped into the chair opposite him, limbs puddled like a sulking child.

"I fucking hate you."

"You've said that before," Jungwon replied, pulling out his phone. "Usually right before you ask me for help."

"I'm not asking for help," Riki snapped, crossing his arms. "I'm demanding answers. What else haven't you told me? Is he magically in our department too? Did he win Miss K-Art already? Does he... wait. Don't tell me you guys are boyfriends?!"

Jungwon raised an eyebrow without looking up from his screen. "Would you like me to draw up a list?"

Riki's face turned red. "I'm serious!"

"So am I." Jungwon finally pocketed his phone, expression maddeningly calm. "You're acting like Sunoo-hyung owes you a press conference."

"He does!" Riki nearly smacked the table again before remembering the glares from nearby students. He hissed instead, leaning forward. "I deserve to know what he's been doing. Who he's been with. Specifically, why did he leave me like that."

His voice cracked, betraying more than he wanted. Jungwon's eyes flicked to him, unreadable for a moment, but then he leaned back again, lips twitching.

"You sound like a jealous ex-girlfriend right now."

Riki almost toppled the chair standing up. "Take that back!"

"I mean, if the shoe fits—" Jungwon drawled.

"I will end you."

"Relax."

Riki stood there, hands trembling, caught between throttling Jungwon and sinking through the floor in embarrassment. Finally, he let out an explosive groan, dragging his hands down his face.

"I hate this. I hate you. I hate everything."

Jungwon smirked, already reopening his laptop. "Welcome to university life."

Riki slouched further down in his chair, glaring at Jungwon through half-lidded eyes. "Fine. Last question. What department is he in anyway?"

Before Jungwon could answer, the barista appeared with Riki's order, setting down a tall, glistening cup of strawberry ade. The ice crackled gently, condensation already sliding down the cup. Riki grabbed it like a lifeline, straw between his teeth before the barista even walked away.

"You guessed it, the same as ours," Jungwon said casually, almost too casually. Then, with a flicker of mirth tugging at his stupid lips: "But he's in ballet."

Riki choked.

A violent sputter shot pink ade in a perfect arc across the table, splattering Jungwon's pristine shirt and more disastrously, his open laptop.

"—!" Jungwon's chair screeched against the floor as he shot up, napkins already in hand. "Do you have any idea how much this costs?! It took me a year, gloating Jay-hyung to buy me this!!"

"Don't just—don't just say stuff like that!" Riki coughed, pounding his chest, ears blazing red. "Ballet?! Sunoo-hyung in ballet?!"

Jungwon's annoyance quickly melted into something far worse: amusement. His mouth curled into a slow smirk, eyes glinting like he'd just confirmed a suspicion.

"What's so funny??" Riki snapped.

"Nothing," Jungwon hummed, dabbing his shirt with infuriating calm. "I saw his many recitals, you know? Don't tell me you don't wanna see it. Him in tutus."

Riki went rigid. His throat worked, but no sound came out.

Jungwon leaned back in his chair, satisfied. "Exactly."

Riki slammed his face into his hands with a groan, the sticky strawberry scent clinging to his humiliation.

❓

University life settled into a rhythm quicker than Riki expected. Wake up, rush to morning classes, sweat through hours of choreography drills, collapse into the dorm for a power nap, then repeat. Being a freshman in the dance choreography program meant constant exhaustion; his feet ached more often than not, and his notebook was already stuffed with sketches of formations, timing counts scribbled in the margins.

If it weren't for Jungwon, he might've been able to pretend Sunoo didn't exist. But no. Jungwon had a talent for bringing him up without fail. I had lunch with Sunoo-hyung today. Sunoo's working on a pas de deux this week. Oh, Sunoo's trying pointe conditioning even though it's not required for male roles. Every casual mention chipped at Riki's nerves. He'd nod, grunt, sometimes change the subject, but it never stopped Jungwon.

And worse, the name stuck.

Nights were the worst. Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, his body tired but his mind restless, he'd catch himself thinking about it again: Sunoo, in a gently lit rehearsal room, back straight, arms poised, skirt fluttering mid-turn.

He always stopped himself right there. He knew enough about ballet in theory to know that wasn't how it worked. Sunoo wouldn't be in a tutu or fluttering skirts. He'd be in tights, fitted jackets, taking male roles, partnering with grace and strength. He'd still be recognized for what he was.

A man.

And that thought lingered heavier than the reverie of it all. Because ballet wasn't kind to men either. Not in Korea, not anywhere. It was branded "feminine," dismissed, even mocked. Riki, who'd already felt stares for choosing dance over sports, could imagine the weight Sunoo carried, doubled with the kind of scrutiny he drew just by existing.

Still... Riki couldn't let it go. The thoughts started again the same way they always did: with the silence, with his heartbeat a dull, persistent thud in his ears. His calves prickled under the sheets, that post-practice soreness that promised he'd danced hard enough. But tonight, the ache wasn't only from rehearsal. It was mental. Deeper. Like a thread pulled too tight behind his eyes, snapping over and over every time he thought of Sunoo.

He'd seen him earlier this day, briefly. Not up close, just through the studio mirror, reflected from across the hallway. Sunoo had been leaning into a développé, lines clean as brushstrokes, his upper body floating, secured only by the trembling control in his thighs, sweat glistened against his jaw.

And yes, fuck, his hair was up again. Always up in a perfect bun behind his skull, tendrils curling free when he moved too hard. Like he didn't care if it looked too pretty.

Riki hated how much he noticed.

He turned onto his side, curling up tighter. He should've buried the thought then. Should've counted sheep or imagined his mom's voice on the phone. But the image of Sunoo lingered like the shadow of a scent; something sweet, unexpected, impossible to stop inhaling.

Even worse... when Sunoo turned, when Riki caught just a half-second flash of him spinning, his mind had filled in the rest. A skirt, fluttering. The kind worn in classical pas for women's solos, tulle layered just past the flexed thigh, and a short, romantic tutu. Unrealistic. Totally inaccurate. But so fucking vivid anyway in his head.

The skirt twirled, lifting with the velocity of his turn, revealing the tight stretch of dancewear beneath. The curve of muscular legs. The pointed strength of ankles. And Sunoo's expression: calm, focused, lips parted slightly like he didn't even know how obscene it looked to Riki.

Riki swallowed hard. His hand slipped under the waistband of his sweats before he even realized how far he'd gone.

Just tonight, he told himself. No one would know.

His fingers curled around himself, and he bit down on his lower lip. Heat burned fast at his neck. His hips shifted, barely, against the mattress, trying to keep his breathing soft, shallow. His mind flooded with it: the tulle twirling, hugging Sunoo's waist. The way his ass might look under that thin fabric, tight and—

Riki squeezed his eyes shut. His hand moved faster.

Guilt smeared over the edges of pleasure, thick as sweat. This wasn't what friends thought about. This wasn't normal. Sunoo didn't even know. Couldn't know. Would never let Riki look at him again if he ever found out.

But the image had him in a chokehold.

He imagined Sunoo glancing over his shoulder mid-turn, catching him watching. Not angry. Just knowing. Like he'd seen it coming.

The thought pushed him over.

Riki came with a stifled grunt, thighs tensing. Shame hit him before his breathing even settled. His hand sticky, hot and unclean. The bed suddenly felt too small, too warm, like it was roasting his guilt into his skin.

He didn't wipe off right away. Just stared at nothing, chest rising and falling, wondering what the fuck was wrong with him.

Wondering if he was ever going to be able to look Sunoo in the eyes again.

❓

By the third week, Riki's nights had settled into a cycle of torment. He'd lie down, shut his eyes, and instead of sinking into sleep, the same reel would start again: Sunoo's hair pulled back, Sunoo's steps precise and fluid, Sunoo in tights, on stage, backlit and untouchable and so, so pretty. And then he would beat his meat to it until the sun went up. Rinse and repeat.

That, combined with his gruelling schedule was starting to make him lose weight. His eyelids felt like lead by noon. He stumbled between rehearsals in a haze, living off vending machine coffee and nearby convenience store kimbap.

Then one day, he walked into morning class with one white sneaker and one black, only realizing when his professor sighed and pressed a hand to her temple as if she couldn't take another second of him. Laughter rippled through the room, while Riki just wanted the floor to swallow him whole and spit him back to his hometown.

By then, Jungwon also had had enough.

"Fix yourself," Jungwon had muttered at lunch, stabbing at his salad like it wronged him. "Or I'll fix you."

Riki hadn't asked what that meant back then. He was too tired. That night, he dragged himself back to the boarding house, keys fumbling in the lock, brain fogged with exhaustion. The door swung open, and—

"Oh, you're finally home."

Riki froze in the doorway.

Sunoo sat on the edge of his bed like it was the most natural thing in the world, legs crossed, a small black skirt skimming his thighs. His top clung to him while the collar hung dangerously low, printed with innocent doodles of cake and tiny tulips, and a matching black scarf draped fashionably around his neck. His hair fell in sheets down his shoulders.

He looked up from where he was inspecting one of Riki's notebooks and smiled, soft and almost amused. "Your room is nice."

Riki blinked. Once. Twice.

His jaw worked before words actually came out. "... What the hell are you doing here?"

The casualness in Sunoo's tone only sharpened the bewilderment twisting in his chest. His room. His exhaustion. His constant, tormenting night escapades, and now the real thing, sitting like a mirage that refused to vanish. And worst of all, he could already tell this was Jungwon's doing.

Riki slammed the door shut behind him, more force than necessary. "Are you insane? How did you even—"

"Jungwon gave me his keys," Sunoo said easily, picking at a loose thread on Riki's pillow as though breaking into someone's private space was as normal as borrowing a pen. "He said you needed company."

"I don't need—" Riki's voice cracked with exhaustion and disbelief. "—company. I need sleep. And you," he gestured at Sunoo's outfit, the skirt, the glossy blonde hair falling perfectly into place with every tilt of his head. "What even is this?"

"What?" Sunoo blinked innocently, tugging the hem of his skirt as if only just remembering he was wearing it. "Clothes. Do you not wear clothes at home?"

"Not like that!" Riki shot back, heat crawling up his neck before he could stop it.

Sunoo tilted his head, studying him with a faint, infuriating smile that said he'd already won without lifting a finger. He set the book down, folded his hands neatly in his lap, and leaned back on his palms like this was his room, his bed, the same bed he used to— "You're loud for someone who looks two minutes away from collapsing."

"I am collapsing," Riki gritted, dragging a hand through his hair. He could feel his pulse in his temples. "And the last thing I need is you sitting here like—like some—"

"Some what?" Sunoo's voice dipped just enough to turn the air between them heavier. He arched one brow, lashes lowering deliberately slow, as though daring Riki to say it out loud.

Riki's mouth went dry.

"Forget it." He kicked off his mismatched shoes and stomped toward his desk, desperate for something, anything to focus on that wasn't Sunoo being a vision and a nuisance at the same time. "Just, don't touch anything."

"Too late," Sunoo said, not bothering to hide his amusement. He just lifted Riki's notebook, the corner of his lips curving in that same unreadable, infuriating smile. "You write messy when you're tired."

Riki lunged, face burning, but Sunoo pulled it out of reach with a chuckle that was soft and merciless all at once. Sunoo tilted his wrist, effortless, like dodging him was second nature. "You spelled choreography wrong here," he mused, tapping the page with a manicured finger. "Twice."

Finally, he lunged properly, practically throwing himself across the bed. Sunoo let out a soft hum and let the notebook go at the very last second, so Riki caught it in a graceless snatch and nearly tumbled off the mattress.

"You're insufferable," Riki accused, hugging the notebook like it was a child he'd just rescued.

"And you're dramatic." Sunoo adjusted his glasses, rimless black this time, watching him from where he lounged, one leg bent, the other stretched out—too composed for someone who had just broken into a boy's room. "Seriously, all this over me sitting here? You act like I'm haunting you."

"You are haunting me!" Riki barked, then immediately regretted it because Sunoo's brows arched, faint amusement sparking behind his eyes.

"Oh?" The word was light, dangerous. "Then maybe I should stay longer."

"No—you—God, why are you like this??"

Sunoo leaned forward a little, chin in his hand now, studying him like a puzzle. "Why are you like this?" he countered smoothly. "Running around campus like a zombie. Two different shoes, by the way? Cute."

"I hate Jungwon."

"Mm," Sunoo replied, far too pleased. "You say that, but here I am because of him."

Riki groaned into the pillow and dragged it tighter over his face, muffling the sound that wanted to claw its way out of his chest. He couldn't believe this was real. Couldn't believe Sunoo was sitting there, legs crossed, skirt hem brushing the bedspread like he belonged in this room.

"Are you done sulking?" Sunoo asked mildly, shifting just enough that the mattress dipped closer to Riki's side.

Riki yanked the pillow down just far enough to glare at him. "You can't just... show up here. In that. And act like nothing happened."

Sunoo's lips curved, not quite a smile, not quite cruel. "Why not? You seem awake for the first time in weeks."

His throat worked, no comeback ready, because Sunoo was right—Riki was awake. Too awake. His pulse thudded hard and fast in his ears, every nerve on fire under the weight of Sunoo's casual presence.

The older boy tilted his head, letting his blonde fringe spill forward, glasses slipping lower on his nose as if to test him. "Besides... " His voice softened, lazy but edged. "You didn't really want me to leave, did you?"

Riki froze, every denial tangling on his tongue. Sunoo didn't press for an answer. He just leaned back again, perfectly at ease, like he could wait there all night.

And Riki realized, with a sinking, frustrated certainty, that he might.

The silence stretched, thick enough that Riki could hear his own breathing catch. He kept his eyes stubbornly fixed on the notebook clutched against his chest, willing Sunoo to get bored and leave. Instead, the mattress dipped again. Riki's pulse jumped as Sunoo leaned forward, closing the small distance until Riki could feel the faint brush of his sleeve against his arm.

"Your room's cozy," Sunoo murmured, voice deceptively casual. His hand slid across the bedspread, fingertips grazing the hem of Riki's shirt as if by accident. He didn't pull away. "Feels... familiar."

Riki went rigid, heat climbing his neck. "I told you not to touch my stuff."

Sunoo tilted his head, eyes glinting through the slant of his glasses. "Is it your stuff I'm touching?" The faintest smile curved his lips, knowing, merciless. He let his hand linger just long enough for Riki to notice the softness of his touch, then pulled back as though nothing had happened.

Riki shot upright, notebook tumbling onto the floor. "What the hell is your problem?!" he blurted, louder than intended.

Sunoo didn't flinch. Didn't even blink. He just watched him with that unreadable, infuriating calm, like Riki was exactly where he wanted him—flustered, cornered, spiraling. And when Riki scrambled to shove his hair back and find the words to push him out, Sunoo finally leaned back against the headboard again, perfectly unbothered.

"No problem," he said lightly. "I'm just getting comfortable."

Riki wanted to scream.

He dragged a hand down his face, nails grazing the edge of his jaw just to ground himself. He hated how his pulse wouldn't slow down, how the air in the room felt thinner with Sunoo sitting there like it was his throne.

"Comfortable?" Riki scoffed, reaching for his fallen notebook if only to put space between them. "Then maybe you should just move in, huh?"

Sunoo hummed, tilting his head like he was seriously considering it. His blonde hair slipped over his cheek, catching the faint light from the desk lamp. "Not a bad idea. I'd have a front-row seat to your sleepless nights."

Riki's grip on the notebook faltered. "What—"

"Isn't that obvious?" Sunoo's tone was soft, deceptively gentle, but there was a menace threaded beneath it. "The bags under your eyes. The way you drag yourself through the day. Don't you wonder why?"

Riki's throat closed up. He knew why. He hated that Sunoo might know too.

"Shut up," he muttered, voice low, weak, unconvincing.

But Sunoo didn't shut up. He leaned forward again, not touching this time, just close enough that Riki had no choice but to feel the weight of his presence. His eyes held Riki's like they always had. Like they could see too much.

"I will," Sunoo said finally, sitting back, lips curving just slightly. "But only when you start being honest with yourself."

The words landed heavier than any touch. Riki clenched the notebook to his chest until his knuckles went white, every nerve in his body screaming that he'd already lost control of this conversation.

"Honest with myself?" Riki barked, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. His voice cracked on the edge of anger and something he didn't want to name. "You think you know me just because you've been watching? You don't know anything."

The outburst echoed against the cramped walls of his room. His notebook slipped from his hands again, sliding across the floor with a dull thud. Sunoo didn't flinch. He didn't rise to meet the anger. He just let the silence stretch for so long that Riki almost wished he would yell back, anything but this suffocating quiet.

When Sunoo finally spoke, his voice was calm. Too calm. "I don't need to know everything," he said simply. "Just enough."

The words felt like a trap but also like the truth, and that was worse. He wanted to deny it, to spit out something sharp, but his throat betrayed him. All he could do was sit there, trembling, feeling every thread of control slip through his fingers while Sunoo moved. Not with another sharp line, not with a lecture, but with something smaller, more dangerous. He reached out, slow and deliberate, fingers brushing a strand of Riki's messy fringe away from his eyes.

The touch was barely there, light as dust. And yet it burned.

"You're always hiding behind this," Sunoo murmured, almost to himself. His hand lingered just a beat too long near Riki's temple before withdrawing.

Riki's breath caught, chest tight as if someone had reached inside and tied his lungs in knots. He wanted to slap the hand away, to demand what the hell Sunoo thought he was doing. Instead, he sat frozen, every nerve alive with confusion and anger and something worse.

"Don't—" The word clawed out of him hoarse, half-formed. But he didn't finish it. Couldn't.

Sunoo didn't push. Not yet. He just looked at him. Really looked at him. With those maddeningly confident eyes that always seemed two moves ahead, always too knowing. Riki hated that gaze. Hated how exposed it made him feel, like Sunoo could peel him apart with nothing but silence and soft fucking hands.

"You don't know what you're doing," Riki breathed, lower now, quieter along the edges, his voice all frayed in unfinished threads. But the words didn't have bite anymore. They came out almost like a plea. A confession.

Sunoo exhaled slow. Purposeful.

"I think I do."

His voice had gone hush-dark, like a secret passed between lips in the back row of a movie theatre. His palm hovered—hovered, not touched—near Riki's knee, just over the fabric of his sweats. And Riki couldn't move.

"You hate that I saw it every time," Sunoo whispered. "That I noticed the way your hands shake when I get this close."

Riki's jaw tensed. "They don't."

But they did. Fuck, they were doing it now.

"And how you stare at my mouth when you think I'm not looking."

The dare cracked the air wide open. It wasn't playful. It wasn't innocent. There was fire underneath it, hot and smoldering, and it tore the mask off the moment. Every second until now had been circling, pushing at the edges, but now it was Riki's breath caught between his teeth and Sunoo's hand inching up his thigh by centimeters, heat blooming in the wake like smoke.

And Riki—God, Riki hated that he wasn't pulling away. His legs weren't moving. His mouth wasn't moving.

But everything else in him was fucking screaming.

"I'm not—" he started, voice trying to be stern, yet it was wet with panic. "Sunoo, I'm not like that. I'm not like you."

Sunoo's touch finally dropped, fingertips ghosting just above his knee, a trail so feather-light it made Riki burn. Like he'd been branded without pressure.

"And what am I like?" Sunoo said. The softness in his tone was gone now, replaced by something less patient. "Say it."

"I don't—fuck, I don't know!" Riki barked, threading his fingers into his hair like he could rip the confusion out of his skull. "You just do things. You touch people, you flirt, you kiss guys, you—you kissed Jungwon."

There it was.

The crack in the dam gave way to the flood.

Sunoo didn't glance away. Didn't flinch. He stared into it, walked right into the wave of it like he'd been waiting.

"Did you want it to be you?"

He asked it so easily, like he wasn't tearing Riki apart.

And Riki froze.

His mouth opened. Nothing came.

Sunoo leaned in again—not with hands, not yet—but his face so close now Riki could count the flecks of gold in his irises. Could feel the warmth of his breath. Sunoo's lips didn't smile this time. They were still. Soft. Waiting.

"You came thinking about me, didn't you?"

Riki's entire body locked up. The air left his lungs.

He should have said something. He should have shoved him out of the bed, thrown something, anything. But his hands wouldn't move.

"... I don't know what you're talking about," he managed, barely audible.

Sunoo's fingers reached. Just two of them, thumb and forefinger, curling around Riki's chin, tilting his face up like he was some poor thing caught in a spotlight.

"I do know," he said. Voice velvet. "You think nobody hears you at night. But the walls here, Riki... they're thin."

Riki's cheeks burned feral red. Shame and arousal twisted together inside him like blender.

"I wasn't—I didn't mean to—"

"Didn't mean to what? Scream my name?"

Riki's gut dropped. Hard.

Sunoo's smile this time was meaner.

"I think everybody here heard it. That's why Jungwon kept staying at his boyfriend's."

His whole skin prickled, numbness giving birth to electric want that he didn't know where to pour. His thighs pressed together instinctively, mouth parted. His heart hammered. Every survival instinct screamed run.

But his lips whispered instead: "You're lying... "

Sunoo leaned in, so close their noses almost brushed.

"Try me."

Riki's jaw clenched so hard it ached. Sunoo's breath ghosted over his lips, sweet and hot and maddening. The scent of lotion, powder, something delicate and infuriating, curled in the air between them. Riki hated how much he noticed, hated the way his pulse hammered against his throat.

He couldn't look away. Couldn't stop staring at the soft plush of Sunoo's mouth, the way his hair curled around his jaw, the dip of collarbone exposed by that ridiculous, perfect shirt. The stupid scarf, the black skirt—Riki's gaze tripped over those bare thighs and he wanted to keel. It should be wrong. Sunoo shouldn't look like this, shouldn't be baring himself in front of him, shouldn't know exactly where to touch to make Riki come undone.

But Sunoo did. Maybe Sunoo always did.

"Stop," Riki rasped, shoving Sunoo's hand away, but it was weak. A desperate plea, not a command. "You don't get to do this. You don't get to just... Show up, wear—" His hand flailed, gesturing helplessly at the skirt, the shirt, the glasses perched so carelessly on Sunoo's pretty nose. "—this. You don't get to come back and act like nothing happened."

Sunoo's gaze dropped, slow and deliberate, down to where Riki's fist still trembled at his side. "You like it," he said, voice like silk dragged over gravel.

Riki's face burned. "I don't—fuck, Sunoo, I don't even know who you are anymore. Three years, and you just... " His voice cracked again, but he forced himself to keep going, words tumbling out faster, angrier. "You left. You didn't call. You didn't care. I spent every day wondering if you were okay, if you missed me, and now you wear these clothes and you flirt with Jungwon and everybody around and you... "

He broke off, chest heaving, tears stinging hot at the corners of his eyes. He wanted to punch a wall, punch Sunoo, punch himself.

Sunoo's lips curled, just a little. "You're angry because I left, or because I came back like this?"

Riki's hands shook. "Both! All of it!" He dragged his palms over his face, trying to scrub the shame off his skin. "You're not supposed to look at me like that. You're not supposed to touch me like I'm something you want. I can't—"

He swallowed hard. The words were knives in his mouth, too sharp to spit out, too painful to swallow.

"But I do want you. I always did."

"Stop it," he whispered, broken. "Just stop. I can't do this. I can't be like you."

Sunoo's fingers found his chin again, gentle but unyielding. "Maybe you already are," he murmured, and this time, Riki didn't flinch.

He just let himself break.

The older's thumb traced slow circles along Riki's jaw, his touch feather-light but commanding. "Look at me," he murmured, and trembling Riki obeyed, because he always did, even when he hated himself for it.

Sunoo's eyes were dark and unblinking behind those thick glasses, his lips parted, his breath a hush against Riki's cheek. "You're such a bad liar," he whispered, voice dipped in honey and venom. "You say you can't do this, but you haven't moved an inch."

He slipped between Riki's knees, the skirt brushing hot against Riki's thighs, so close Riki could feel the press of his body even without contact. "You keep being in denial," Sunoo said, fingers sliding into the mess of Riki's hair, tugging just enough to tilt his head back. "But everybody and their mother heard you at night, Riki. Now the whole department know what you sound like when you break."

Riki's breath stuttered, eyes wide, lips parted and pink and desperate. "Sunoo—"

"Shh." Sunoo's mouth hovered just above his, close enough that when Riki exhaled, it stirred Sunoo's hair. "You want me to stop? Say it. Push me away." His fingers tightened, not cruel but inescapable, a promise and a threat all at once.

Riki's hands fisted in the sheets, knuckles white. His dignity screamed at him to deny, to fight, to do anything except yield. But Sunoo's utterly intoxicating perfume filled his lungs, and the warmth of his skin burned through every layer of Riki's resistance.

Sunoo smiled devastatingly, as if he'd already won. "You can't, can you?" he whispered, voice curling around Riki's spine. "You want it. You want me."

He kissed him.

Not gentle like the one he did with Jungwon back then. Sunoo's lips crashed into him fierce and claiming, stealing the breath straight from his lungs. Riki's gasp was swallowed whole, his denial drowned out by the taste of his best friend—sweet, sharp, utterly familiar and dizzying in its newness.

Sunoo pressed closer, one knee sliding up between Riki's thighs, the skirt riding up scandalously. His tongue slipped past Riki's lips, coaxing, demanding, until Riki surrendered his mouth, hands clutching the bedsheets, desperate and lost.

The boy pulled back, just enough to whisper against his mouth, "There you are. I missed you, you know."

Riki's eyes fluttered open, his cheeks burning, the truth bleeding raw between them. "You left," he breathed, voice splintering. "You left me."

Sunoo's smile was soft this time, almost sad. His thumb brushed the corner of Riki's mouth. "I'm here now. Isn't that what you wanted?"

Riki's answer was a whimper, his body arching up, lips chasing Sunoo's, all his frustration dissolving into want, want, want.

"Fuck you."

Sunoo's mouth curled, cruel and triumphant. "Not yet."

He pressed Riki down into the mattress, the skirt riding up his thighs dangerously nearing his crotch. His body a whole threat and a promise above Riki's trembling form. He kissed him again, his teeth caught Riki's lower lip, dragging a gasp from his mouth, a sound too wrecked to be anything but surrender.

Sunoo's body was pressing so close, heat blooming everywhere they touched. Thigh to thigh, chest to chest, Riki felt helpless and exposed in the low lamplight. Every inch of Sunoo's skin seemed to hum with purpose, his gaze never wavering from Riki's flushed, wide-eyed face.

"Breathe," Sunoo whispered, mouth brushing over Riki's jaw, lips trailing down the column of his throat. "Let yourself want it. Let yourself want me. That's all you have to do."

Riki's pulse thudded wildly, every nerve alive and screaming. He tried to hide, to turn away, but Sunoo's grip only tightened, grounding him, forcing him to feel every moment, every drag of breath, every tremble of anticipation.

Sunoo's hands were gentle, undoing the buttons of Riki's shirt, letting them fall open one by one. He pressed slow, careful kisses to new skin, tracing the frantic beat of Riki's heart with his tongue. "You're so beautiful, even more now that you let yourself go," he murmured, voice kind but laced with something darker. "You don't have to be ashamed. Not with me."

Riki shivered, his resistance cracking under the tenderness in Sunoo's touch. "I don't know how—"

"You don't have to know. I'll show you. Just feel," he coaxed, guiding Riki's hands to his own waist, letting him touch, letting him learn the shape of want.

Sunoo brushed his skirt up Riki's bare thighs, skin to skin now as he moved with unhurried confidence, meeting their raging hard-ons—grinding down, rolling his hips, making sure Riki felt the new, tilitating sensation. Riki's breath came in ragged pants, hips jerking up instinctively and Sunoo smiled, approval glinting in his eyes.

"That's it. That's what you like," Sunoo praised, lips brushing over Riki's ear, his words a low, intimate rumble. "It's okay. You're allowed to want this. You're allowed to want me."

Sunoo's lips barely left Riki's skin. He kissed along Riki's jaw, his throat, down the trembling line of his collarbone. Between each kiss, his voice was a dark whisper, coaxing, "Tell me what you feel, babe. You're allowed to speak."

"I—I don't know. Everything. Too much."

Sunoo's hands mapped out new territory, fingertips ghosting over ribs, waist, the sharp edge of a hip. He paused at every hitch in Riki's breathing, every unconscious arch and shiver, cataloguing each reaction like choreography. "You like this," Sunoo murmured, pressing his lips to the hollow of Riki's throat. "You always did. Even before you knew."

Riki's hands never really settled on Sunoo's waist. He hovered barely, as if checking if Sunoo was real, if this was allowed.

Sunoo guided him, slow and patient. He took Riki's hands in his and slid them up beneath the hem of his shirt, letting Riki feel the smooth warmth of his back, the delicate flutter of his heart. "Touch me," Sunoo urged, gaze steady beneath his glasses. "It's not wrong. It's you."

Riki swallowed hard, his thumbs tracing tentative circles, learning the shape of Sunoo's spine, the curve of his waist. His embarrassment faded beneath Sunoo's approving smile, replaced by something greedy and new. "You're—soft," Riki whispered, awe blooming in his voice.

Sunoo's eyes gleamed, wicked and gentle all at once. "And you're starving. Don't hide it." He took Riki's hand, guiding it higher, beneath the fabric, until Riki's palm was pressed to the frantic beat of Sunoo's heart. "See? I'm just as wrecked as you."

Riki's mouth parted, stunned. He let his fingers spread, memorizing every inch, every shiver that ran through Sunoo's body. The skirt brushed his thighs, heat pooling low in his stomach. "I want—" Riki started, then stopped, uncertain.

Sunoo leaned in, teeth grazing Riki's earlobe. "Say it."

Riki closed his eyes, shame giving way to hunger. "I want you closer."

Sunoo rewarded him with a slow, devastating roll of his hips, pressing their bodies flush. Riki gasped, his head falling back; the sensation was simply overwhelming. Sunoo kissed the corner of his mouth, then his jaw, then lower, biting a mark into the skin just above Riki's collarbone—a secret mark.

"This is all yours," Sunoo whispered, voice trembling with his own want. "You can touch me—anywhere. However you want. There's nothing wrong with it. You're allowed to want me."

Riki's hands moved of their own accord now, bolder, sliding up Sunoo's thighs, tracing the hem of the skirt, the line of soft fabric over hipbone. Sunoo's breath hitched, eyes fluttering closed.

"Good boy," Sunoo breathed, and Riki shivered at the praise, his body responding before his mind could catch up.

Sunoo shifted against him, hips still snug against Riki's, and the heat between them felt like it could ignite. His breath fanned over Riki's neck as he whispered, "You've barely started, baby. There's more." He leaned back just enough to look at him properly—cheeks flushed, glasses slipping a little down his nose, eyes glinting with mischief and something deeper. Affection, maybe. Lust, definitely.

Riki's lips were parted, dazed. His hands lingered at the bend of Sunoo's thighs, fingertips brushing the edge of something lacy beneath the skirt. "Is this okay?" he murmured, his voice husky, uncertain again.

Sunoo tilted his head back with a throaty little laugh, then looked down at Riki from beneath his lashes. "God, you ask so sweetly. But you don't have to. You feel that?" He pressed down, slow and deliberate, against the growing urgency in Riki's lap. "That's your answer."

A low, choked sound escaped Riki's throat. His fingers tightened, cupping Sunoo's ass through the skirt, tentative but possessive. He felt the give of it, the way Sunoo arched into him, spine curving like it'd been waiting to bend just for this. For him.

Sunoo's breath caught. One hand curled behind Riki's neck, pulling him in, mouths meeting in a kiss that was all tongue, heat, and yearning. Riki faltered, then surged into it, desperate to map Sunoo's mouth with his own. It was clumsy, too wet, too needy, but Sunoo moaned into it like he loved every second.

When their teeth clicked. Riki laughed—a breathless, surprised sound—and Sunoo grinned against his lips, licking slow and deliberate into Riki's lower lip as if to collect it. "That's better. You're getting it." His fingers slid down Riki's chest, feather-light. "Don't have to be perfect, baby. Just have to be mine."

Riki's thighs tensed under Sunoo, heat coiling deep in his belly. His hands wandered again, this time under the skirt. He paused once, breath held, and Sunoo didn't say a word, just nodded and spread his legs a little further, lips brushing Riki's temple.

Riki's fingers grazed lace and skin, trembling, reverent. He groaned low and desperate. "Fuck."

Sunoo giggled, almost cruel in its sweetness, and pulled his shirt off over his head, slow and smooth like a demonstration. His skin glowed in the low light: moon-pale, marred only by the faint red bloom of his desire. He reached back behind himself to undo the clasp of the skirt with a practiced flick. The fabric slid down his hips, revealing long, pale legs and delicate black panties that left little to the imagination.

The black scarf stayed on, for some reason. And combined with the lacy, dainty socks straight out of a man's wet dream. Riki didn't have it in him to look away, not when Sunoo let him stare, hands on his own hips, inviting, waiting.

"Show me what you want, Riki. Don't be shy."

Riki's breath stalled, every nerve felt raw and new. His gaze was glued to where the racy lace clung to Sunoo's hips, delicate and dark against porcelain skin. His hands rose of their own will again—this time without hesitation—and he traced from the swell of Sunoo's thighs up along the edge of the fabric.

"You're unreal," he whispered, voice hoarse, almost accusatory.

Sunoo smirked, tilting his hips forward just enough for Riki's fingertips to brush what pulsed beneath the lace. Riki's fingers flattened, bolder now, and pressed into the heat through the fabric. The sound Sunoo made, high and barely contained, sent a jolt through him. His own body ached in response. His thighs clenched.

And then Sunoo moved, rolled his hips into Riki's hand like he'd been desperate for it all along. And that same glazed, desperate look flickered in his eyes again, only this time it wasn't just arousal. It was trust. Letting Riki take control, even if just for a second.

Riki pushed himself upright, chest-to-chest now, and brought his other hand to Sunoo's waist, gripping tight. He pressed a kiss to the side of Sunoo's neck, right beneath his jaw. Tongue and teeth, claiming.

"You like that?" he asked, voice rough now, unsteady from the twisting heat crawling up his spine.

Sunoo moaned, tipping his head back to give him more skin to work with. "Fuck yes. Keep going. Don't stop. Don't think."

Riki obeyed.

He dragged Sunoo down, laying him back on the bed in an eager movement and followed, slotting their bodies together, their hips grinding again. Sunoo's legs wrapped around his waist with instinctive ease, his nails dragging down the back of Riki's shirt, mouth open in a silent gasp as their cocks rubbed together through too-thin layers.

Riki was panting now, grinding again, slow and rhythmic as his mouth moved lower. Neck, collar, chest; he found his nipple and circled it with his tongue, drawing out a full-body shiver from him. He looked up to meet Sunoo's eyes.

"This okay?" he asked again, almost growling with need.

Sunoo's reply was a whimper and a breathless, "If you stop, I'll kill you."

Riki grinned—a real grin, the one he'd missed so much—and tugged the lace just enough to expose one thigh, kissing the inside of it, tongue teasing. Sunoo bucked beneath him, heels locking over his back, and Riki moved to the waistband. Lust throbbed in his grip. The scent of arousal made his head spin.

"You're fucking perfect," he muttered into the skin he kissed. "You make me feel insane."

Sunoo laughed, high and breathless, pushing his fingers into Riki's hair. "Good," he said, voice breaking deliciously. "Go insane for me."

Riki's hands curled into the sides of the panties, trembling again but not with hesitation this time. No, this was want edging into urgency, dizzying. He dragged the lace down slowly, reverently, watching every inch of skin reveal itself like something sacred, like something forbidden he was finally allowed to worship.

Sunoo gasped as the air hit him, legs spreading wider without command, his cock flushed and leaking against his belly, twitching with every breath. That pretty, ruined look on his face, those half-lidded eyes, lips slick with spit and parted in something near a pout, made Riki feel like something primal.

"Holy shit," Riki breathed, staring. "You're so—fuck—pretty doesn't even cut it."

Sunoo hummed, dragging a finger up his own thigh, slow and teasing, stopping just shy of wrapping it around himself. "Then stop talking and put that mouth to better use."

Riki didn't need to be told a second time.

He shifted, dropping to his elbows between Sunoo's thighs, hands bracketing those milky hips. Hesitant for only a heartbeat, he licked a long, brave stripe from the base of his cock to the tip, tongue catching on the slick already gathered there. Sunoo moaned and his fingers shot straight into Riki's hair, caging him.

Riki groaned, the taste and the sound unraveling something tight in his chest. He wrapped his lips around the head and sucked, shallow at first, then deeper, learning the weight of it, the shape of Sunoo on his tongue.

Sunoo writhed, hips twitching upward. "Fuck—just like that. Yes, Riki," he hissed, and fuck if his voice didn't crack on his own name, all sugar and desperation.

Encouraged, Riki took more, choking softly as he adjusted, saliva slicking the way. He bobbed his head, slow and needy, one hand coming up to stroke what he couldn't take in, the other splayed wide over Sunoo's belly, feeling it tremble with each movement. The control felt good.

Sunoo let out a ragged moan, legs shaking. "You're such a quick fucking learner, baby," he gasped, hips bucking into Riki's mouth. "God—don't stop. Don't you fucking stop—"

Riki groaned around him, the praise, the mess, the way Sunoo was melting above him like never before, it was all too much. He pressed down, tongue swirling, hand stroking harder. He wanted to ruin him. He wanted to own every sound that left Sunoo's lips.

And Sunoo let him.

Fingers white-knuckled in his hair, thighs pulled tight around Riki's shoulders, back arching off the mattress, he chanted his name like a curse. Riki felt Sunoo twitch against his tongue, body going taut as a bowstring, and that voice thinned, warned him between heaves of breath. "Gonna—fuck, Riki—gonna come—"

That was the only warning he got.

And Riki didn't flinch. He closed his eyes, gripped tighter, and took all of it.

Sunoo came undone with a sound so beautiful Riki nearly came just from hearing it. His body seized beneath him, thighs clamping around his head, and one heel digging into the sheets, the other into Riki's back.

Riki wouldn't let go.

Salt on his tongue, the heat and weight of it filling his mouth, the pulsing of Sunoo's cock against his throat—he took it all with a quiet groan that vibrated against Sunoo's overstimulated flesh. The reaction it got; a whole-body shudder and a whined "fuckfuckfuckfuuuuck," was truly addictive.

He didn't pull back until Sunoo was twitching, gasping, his grip slipping from Riki's hair like his strength had finally given out. Even then, Riki took a moment to let his tongue flick over the sensitive tip, slow, teasing, drawing out one last strangled moan. Sunoo slapped weakly at his shoulder, laughing breathlessly through it. "Cruel. You're s-so cruel."

Riki lifted his head, lips swollen and glistening, eyes dazed and wide with wonder. His mouth parted like he was about to speak but nothing came out. Just a shaky exhale and a dazed smile, like he couldn't believe what he'd just done. What he got to do.

Sunoo looked up at him from the pillow, flushed and wrecked, glasses askew and hair stuck to his wet temples. He was the picture of sin, fucked-out and gorgeous, with that same wicked softness in his eyes.

"You... " he panted, licking his lips. "Are a fucking natural. Jesus."

Riki blushed hard, but couldn't stop grinning. He crawled up, pressing their bodies together again, and Sunoo welcomed him with open arms and sticky thighs.

"That was... " Riki whispered, nose brushing Sunoo's. "Hot. I didn't think I'd be... good at it."

Sunoo kissed the corner of his mouth, slow and lingering. "You weren't good," he murmured, voice still ruined from moaning. "You were perfect."

Riki's breath caught, but Sunoo leaned in again, this time tongue pushing gently past his lips. He tasted himself, deliberately slow, deliberately greedy, and Riki moaned, grinding down hard.

Sunoo rolled them, smooth like muscle memory, until he was on top again. "But now," he whispered against Riki's jaw, kissing downward, fingers already tugging at Riki's waistband, "it's your turn."

His eyes gleamed behind his lashes. "And I wanna hear you fall apart for me."

That flip, being suddenly under Sunoo's weight, the way the older boy straddled his hips with that expression, half-devoured and still hungry, sent him south; cock twitching, pressed hard against the now-damp cotton of his boxers. Sunoo's fingers slipped beneath the waistband, slow, teasing, dragging the elastic down inch by inch like unwrapping something precious.

And Riki could barely look away.

The heat in Sunoo's eyes was smoldering. Not just lust, this was deeper, like he was proud, like Riki was some discovery he'd been waiting his whole life to make. He tugged Riki free with a soft gasp, like he was seeing it for the first time, gaze locked on the way his cock stood flushed, leaking, twitching in the cool air.

"Fuck," Sunoo crooned, sinking lower. "You're hard as hell, baby. That get you going? Licking me dry like some needy little—"

Riki whined. He couldn't help it, hips bucking up involuntarily.

Sunoo chuckled, sinful and low, dipping his head. He pressed his tongue flat against the length and dragged it up, slow, from hilt to tip. Riki's eyes rolled back. There was no warning whatsoever. Sunoo just took him in with one practiced motion, lips hot and slick and tight.

Riki cursed, loud, hands flying to Sunoo's hair, instinctively clutching. "Fuck hyung—wait, that—ah!"

But Sunoo didn't wait. He moaned around him like he wanted to see how deep he could pull him in, how much of Riki he could swallow before he broke. His tongue worked with maddening precision, flicking at the under-vein, each swipe purposeful and a little cruel. Every time Riki twitched, whimpered, tried to control his hips, Sunoo rewarded him with something wetter, filthier.

"C-can't," Riki gasped. "Hyung, I—don't know if I—I can hold it—"

Sunoo pulled back with a wet pop, lips dragging slow along the shaft, teasing the head with a kiss. His hand wrapped around the base, stroking lazy now, coaxing. "That's the point," he purred. "Don't hold it."

And then he sank down again, faster this time, taking him so deep Riki felt his throat tighten. The heat hit him like a fucking bomb. Toes curling, back arching, mouth gaping open but no sound coming out. The pressure had been building with no release, the edge jagged and sharp, and Sunoo pushed him right off it like he'd been planning it all along.

He came with a broken cry, hips jerking up, hands clamping down like he'd fly apart otherwise. Sunoo took it all. Fucking swallowed around him like this was the best part, like he'd been waiting, desperate for it. Riki's entire body tingled, every nerve ending crackling fire.

Sunoo only let him go when Riki's thighs were trembling and his cock gave one final weak twitch against his tongue. He pulled off with a smug hum, wiped the side of his mouth with the back of his hand, and leaned up over Riki's gasping chest.

"That," Sunoo said, voice wrecked and eyes glowing, "was fucking adorable."

Riki blinked up at him, dazed and pink-cheeked, totally silent until he pulled Sunoo down into a clumsy, desperate kiss, tasting himself on Sunoo's tongue, cutely mimicking his action earlier. He moaned into it like it wasn't enough, like he needed more.

And Sunoo kissed him back as a promise.

"Don't worry," Sunoo whispered, breath brushing Riki's lips, "we've got all the time in the world now that you're mine. Let's save the rest for another time, baby. Don't you have an early class tomorrow?"

Riki squinted at him. "How would you know that?"

"Jungwon," Sunoo said simply, smiling like it was obvious. "He told me your schedule. Told me not to overdo it."

Riki groaned. "That little shit—"

"Hey," Sunoo cut in softly, tapping his chest. "Don't be mad. He's the reason we made up, isn't he?"

The air shifted then, thick with what they weren't saying. Riki's chest rose and fell like he'd just run a mile in the heat, eyes wide and searching, like he couldn't believe where he'd ended up. Sunoo had seen that look on him before, not just after release, but after realization. That mix of awe and fear that asked silently: How did I get here? And is it okay that I did?

Sunoo's edges softened.

He rolled to the side, slow and careful, giving Riki room but staying close. His hand skimmed over his stomach, ribs, and up to his cheek, knuckles still faintly slick, the trace of intimacy raw between them.

"You good?" he murmured, brushing a damp strand of hair from Riki's temple. His voice lost all playfulness; it was careful now, steady. "You were kind of... incredible."

Riki swallowed. "No, I was scared." He leaned into the touch without meaning to, lashes heavy. "Not of you. Just... of what it would feel like. If it'd feel weird. Wrong."

"And?"

Riki blinked up at him, a grin tugging slow at his lips. "I feel right. Like something finally stopped buzzing in the background. Y'know?"

Relief flashed over Sunoo's face, soft and quick, before he tucked himself into Riki's side, chin resting on his shoulder, arm draped across his chest.

"That's exactly how it's supposed to feel," he whispered. "Like something clicked."

He pulled the covers up around them, cocooning them in warmth and the weight of something new. Silence stretched, but it was easy now, solid and safe.

After a beat, Riki mumbled, "How do you always know what to say, hyung?"

Sunoo smiled against his skin, kissing his collarbone gently. "Because I've been there. Wondering. Doubting. Needing someone to just stay. Not push."

He tilted his head, eyes catching Riki's in the dim light. Relief flickered across Sunoo's face, but then his expression shifted, shadowed. He exhaled, resting his forehead against Riki's for a moment before pulling back.

"Riki... I never said I was sorry. For leaving you like that."

The words hit heavier than the air already was. Riki stilled, eyes searching his face, but Sunoo pushed on.

"I begged my parents to wait until we graduated. I cried, screamed, threw tantrums—I wanted more than anything to stay. But my dad's transfer wasn't something they could pass on. And... " his voice wavered, small but fierce, "... our town wasn't somewhere I could survive. Not when everyone already thought they knew what I was."

Riki's brows knit. "You mean—"

"They all knew, Riki. Your parents, the teachers, the people at church. Everyone but us. I didn't even want to label it yet, but the adults did. My parents caught whispers before I ever could. And yours... yours wouldn't even look at us anymore. At me."

Riki flinched, like the memory finally made sense. The stares, the sudden distance at Sunday service.

Sunoo's throat worked as he went on, softer: "That's why my parents didn't want us together too much. And when the chance came to go to Seoul, somewhere freer, they took it. They didn't even tell me until everything was packed. Like ripping off a bandage before I'm ready."

His hand shook faintly as he brushed Riki's cheek. "I wanted to tell you that day, at the infirmary. To explain my feelings for you, everything. But then summer break came and we're ready to move. One day I was with you, the next... gone."

For a long beat, neither spoke. The silence was raw, thick, but not empty.

Finally, Riki let out a slow breath. "... I thought you hated me."

"God, no. I missed you every single day." Sunoo's chest clenched. "That's why right now, I don't wanna waste what we finally have. I knew it the moment I saw you again at the orientation, that we're possible. That I got to have you. That I'll wait for as long as you need to discover your own feelings."

Riki stared at him, wide-eyed and wrecked in a way that had nothing to do with lust this time. Something in his shoulders loosened, his hand finding Sunoo's wrist, squeezing like he was grounding himself.

"... Then don't leave again," he said, voice thin but steady.

Sunoo leaned in, pressing his lips softly to his temple. "I won't. Not if it's up to me."

Riki didn't bother answering. He just threaded their fingers together, tugged him closer, chest to chest, heart hammering.

"... I think I wanna learn everything," he whispered. "Not just sex. I wanna know what loving a guy feels like. All the real stuff."

Sunoo's smile spread, wide and bright, and he kissed the corner of Riki's mouth.

"Then I'll teach you." He buried his face in the crook of Riki's neck, sighing like his whole body finally let go.

"But first," he muttered, sleep softening his words, "we should clean up. I just hope none of your housemates are outside. I've been talking shit about how you moan my name like a mutt every night... who knew I'd end up doing the exact same thing next week."

Riki laughed, bright and unguarded, the kind of laugh that left him tired and happy. It was new, but real.

And Sunoo kissed it into permanence.

Chapter Text

The curtain dropped to a roar, and applause thundered along the theater walls, against Sunoo's ribs, rattling through his skin along the last notes of Prokofiev’s. Behind him, his castmates whooped and hollered, hugging him and each other in a giddy relief that only came after pulling off a successful show. Stagehands darted past with headsets and clipboards, shouts of "great job" overlapping with calls for water, costume change, cleanup.

It was something Sunoo wished to never end. Alive, electric, dizzying.

And then Sunoo saw him..

All six feet of him, somehow standing perfectly still in the middle of the chaos, pink bouquet cradled in his arms like a cliché made flesh. He didn't belong to this frenetic noise, this blur of bodies and sweat and adrenaline. He was there, clear and sharp and Sunoo's attention tunneled instantly. The applause faded to a mere background static, along with the laughter of his castmates. The only thing that existed was the boy waiting in the corner, head tilted and grin tugging higher the moment their eyes locked.

For one second, Sunoo swore he was still suspended in a jetè in the middle of the stage.

How was this fair?

That was the adorable boy who once tracked mud across his bedroom floor, the boy who used to steal his lunch with sticky fingers and fall asleep mid-sentence on his lap—that same boy was now standing here, impossibly tall, impossibly handsome. Sunoo's baby, his silly little childhood crush he thought he'd buried under years of distance, had turned into the epitome of everything he’d ever dreamed of.

And now he got to call him his boyfriend.

The thought was almost too much. Added with the post-stage nerves made him torn whether to laugh or cry. He'd spent years telling himself he wasn't allowed to hope for this, that wanting him meant trouble, that it was safer to run than to stay. And yet here he was, bouquet in hand, smiling like Sunoo was the only person in the world worth waiting for.

What kind of luck did he stumble into? What did he do, in this lifetime or the last, to deserve Riki looking at him like that?

"Hyung."

Riki's voice cut through his daze, bringing him back to the present. When Sunoo finally reached him, Riki lifted the bouquet higher, awkwardly but endearingly, his adorable grin still hovering at the corners of his mouth. It was a peony bouquet, in all sorts of Sunoo's favorite shade of pink, crowned by lush foliages peeking between the enormous bulbs.

"Congratulations," he said, voice ringing soft like a bell. "You were incredible out there."

Sunoo blinked at him, heat crawling up his neck faster than the adrenaline had. "You watched the whole thing? I thought you said you had an important rehearsal today."

"All of it." Riki's tone was maddeningly casual, but his eyes gave him away. They were bright and wide, still riding the same high Sunoo felt in his bones. "There's no way I'm missing your Tybalt. I've never seen you that intense before, hyung. You kind of stole Romeo's spotlight, you know?"

"Riki, I died halfway through…"

"Yeah," Riki replied, his grin getting bigger, "but you went out with a bang."

Sunoo shoved the bouquet lightly against Riki's chest, trying to hide how his ears burned. "Ah, you're an idiot."

"No, you're amazing," Riki countered like it was the simplest fact in the world. He adjusted the flowers against his chest and leaned down just enough to murmur, "Seriously, hyung. You were breathtaking."

The word landed stupidly heavy in his love-struck heart. Sunoo tried to play it off with a roll of his eyes, but the corners of his lips betrayed him. "You're lucky you brought flowers, or I'd be mad at you for lying about your schedule again."

Riki chuckled, that low, easy sound that always managed to make Sunoo's chest feel too small for his heart. "Good thing I did, then."

They stayed close like that, with Riki's hand lifted, brushing a stray strand of styled hair off his temple. His fingers lingered there a second too long before sliding behind his ear, cool against the heat of Sunoo's sweat.

"You look unreal," Riki said simply. "My beautiful Tybalt."

They let Sunoo wear his real hair this time, thanks to the American adaptation of Romeo and Juliet—potraying Tybalt in a more sophisticated light rather than someone who forces their way into everything. But even so, the blond was simply out of question; the styling crew had to spray his hair with a brown spray, then a ton of heavy duty spray to lock both the color and the wavy perm in.

Sunoo admitted he looked different than usual; and it might've piqued Riki's interest because he caught it slowly, how the tenderness in his eyes melted into something, as his gaze dipped lower and lower, tracing over the fitted lines of his costume. The sharp cut of the doublet, the curve of his waist cinched by silk belts, the ribboned slipper that tied tightly to his calf.

Sunoo didn't shy away from it; didn't tease the boy like he might have in the past. Instead, he let the admiration sink into his skin and turned into heat. He basked in it, standing under Riki's gaze like it was another stage spotlight. The tension between them thickened, and Riki's eyes roved one last time over him, before flitting back to his eyes. Sunoo swore he could feel the burn of that gaze like fingertips over his skin.

The eye-fucking must've not been subtle, because soon a muffled snicker broke out nearby. One of his castmates nudged another, whispering not nearly as quietly as she thought. Another cooed, earning herself a glare from Sunoo that only made them dissolve into laughter.

"We… should continue this somewhere else," Sunoo muttered, low enough for only his boyfriend to hear.

Riki didn't argue, but his hand twitched, like letting go cost him something. Still, he released him with a small nod. Sunoo turned to slip toward the dressing rooms, but his steps faltered when Riki spoke again, not a hint of courtesy in his voice.

"…Can you not change out of that?"

Sunoo spun back around, caught off guard, and felt his face flame hotter than the stage lights had ever made it.

"Riki!" He stammered, searching for the sharpest retort he could find. "The stage director would kill me if I ruined this. You know how much these costumes cost??"

Riki's mouth quirked, like he knew exactly what kind of picture had flashed through Sunoo's mind. "Shame,"

❗️

The door clicked shut behind them. He barely had time to slip his shoes off—platforms, ridiculous choice he'd cursed while running backstage earlier today—before the charged silence settled. This time there was no audience, no friends, no music. Just Riki and the loud pounding in Sunoo's ears.

"I'm gonna take a shower," he mumbled, clutching the side of his skirt as he stepped toward the bathroom.

When he got ready this morning, he'd tugged on something easy from his wardrobe: a flowy cream blouse with puffed sleeves and cinched waist, paired with a micro skirt too short for its own safety. This was something he'd worn often to his practice routine, so Sunoo just liked the way it clung to his body with comforting familiarity—not like he had something else in particular.

He barely touched the door handle before fingers curled tight around his wrist.

"No."

Riki's voice wasn't forceful, yet the pull was there. He stepped closer, breath brushing the shell of Sunoo's ear soft, far too calm for Sunoo's racing heart.

"You smell so good."

Sunoo froze midway through a pout; one that ceased the second his brain actually processed what Riki had said.

"What?" he hissed, unsure if he was scandalized or confused. "I smell like hairspray and nine layers of foundation, Riki…"

Riki's nose nudged along the curve of Sunoo's cheek, brushing over fading glitter, tracing the smudged contour of his cheekbone that'd been sharpened for stage effect.

Sunoo's knees nearly buckled.

Riki took another daring step forward, their bodies almost flush now. One of his hands wandered lazily up Sunoo's arm, trailing over the puffed sleeve, the delicate lace soft against clammy skin. Riki's grip was featherlight, as if touching him too hard would break the illusion.

"You look so good like this. Let me have this version of you a little longer, hyung.”

Sunoo swallowed on nothing. The lines of the skirt fluttered when Riki's other hand ghosted along the hem, the back of his finger skimming the bare skin of his thight—probably not accidental at all. The room was still, save for the sound of Riki's breath and the faint hum of life outside in the common room.

"You were so damn beautiful on that stage." Riki murmured, eyes flicking over Sunoo's waist, then down to the curve of ass hidden by fabric. "I tried my hardest to behave until we get back here."

Sunoo let out a sound, a betrayal in the form of a soft whimper as strong hands curled into the gauzy fabric of his blouse.

And still, his feet wouldn't move toward the bathroom.

Then Riki buried his face into the crook of his neck, inhaling deep like he wanted to memorize the scent of his stage—the ecstasy mixed with perfume and sweat. His arms closed around Sunoo's waist, finally pressing their bodies together.

"I missed you."

"You saw me this morning," Sunoo breathed a protest but it held no weight, wilted in the thick need bubbling inside of him.

"Hm, but you looked so far away on stage. So pretty while you touch other people and smile at them."

Sunoo's scoff came out weak. His hands drifted up to Riki's shoulders, fingers digging into the fabric there, needing something to latch on.

"Is this jealousy or did you develop a sweat fetish when I wasn't looking?"

Riki didn't laugh, but he leaned back just enough to look him in the eye, blunt and hungry.

"It's just me who can worship you like this, hyung."

Sunoo's heart slammed. His eyes dropped before he could stop them, because there it was again; molten hunger and awe twisted together, seeing him for all he was and wanting him because of it, not despite.

"You have problems," Sunoo muttered.

"You like my problems."

Sunoo bit his lip.

He'd seen Riki like this. Many times. A few careless moments stolen in hidden corners of the university, kisses gasping and greedy, hands intruding beneath clothes. But this shade of Riki; so intense and so eager, was something Sunoo knew he wouldn't be able to quell eventually.

"Hyung…"

Sunoo's lashes fluttered. "Mm?"

"You've made me wait for so long…" His voice cracked with that awkward, boyish honesty that killed Sunoo every time. "I don't wanna wait anymore."

There it is.

"I want to fuck you, hyung."

A sheer heat rushed up Sunoo's spine so fast it nearly tipped him off balance. His gut dropped and rose all at once, heartbeat snapping in his chest like a string yanked too hard. Riki's hands weren't shaking, but they clinged now, like he feared Sunoo might say no, might slip back into his overprotective mode and laugh it off, escaping him like he did for the entirety of their three months relationship.

"I want to know what you like. I want you to show me."

Sunoo's whole body was on fire. He could feel a full blush burning down his neck, his cheeks, even his chest if he dared look—but he didn't. Instead, he stared at Riki as if seeing him for the first time. This wasn't the awkward kid who always tripped into his advances like it was a pitfall. This wasn't the boy from two summers ago who had no idea where to place the attraction he felt for his boy best friend.

This was hunger. Honest, and aimed solely at him.

"I want you to touch me the way you've thought about," he murmured, fingers curling tighter on Sunoo's hips, gently guiding him back until Sunoo's thighs hit the edge of his bed. "And I want to learn how to touch you right too… If you show me."

That last part broke whatever thread-thin barrier Sunoo had held up. His thighs tensed as he reached up slowly, drawing a line down Riki's chest with one fingertip, through the center of his shirt, until it rested above where his heart beat.

"You want me to teach you?" he whispered, a teasing creeping into his voice. "You want your lessons, Riki-ah?"

Riki nodded once, eyes not moving.

"Then you better do what hyung say," Sunoo said, fingers sliding upward to curl around the neckline of his shirt, dragging him fractionally closer. "Sit."

Riki obeyed, knees bending without argument, hands briefly caught between them as he dropped onto the edge of the bed. His gaze flitted up at Sunoo, half-awed.

Sunoo, still standing, toed off the last stubborn band of his socks and stepped between Riki's knees, letting his hands glide upward, under his own blouse, just a tease of skin. He watched the way Riki's pupils dilated, the faint twitch of his jaw at just the sight.

"So eager as always," Sunoo murmured, tutting, brushing his hand through Riki's hair. "So cute."

Sunoo's nails slid lightly along Riki's scalp, slow enough to make him shiver. All that tension, suppressed like a shaken soda can, bubbling just beneath the surface; threatening to burst out when he looked at him.

"Although one rule," Sunoo said, voice dropping to a command, "no touching unless I say."

Riki'is hands clenched, not daring to lift but trembling like they wanted to anyway. His knees spread further apart, subtly, as if to offer more of him without even being told. Sunoo noticed. Oh, he noticed.

"Good boy…" he cooed, fingertips drifting down the column of Riki's throat until they grazed the base of his collar. "You want to do well, hmm?"

Riki's breath hitched. "Yes."

"Mm." Sunoo bent slightly, hips aligning with Riki's where they sat on the bed. His skirt shifted with the motion, hem teasing high on his thighs. Riki's gaze dropped, locking to the skin revealed just beneath the flimsy edge of lace. Sunoo trailed his fingers down Riki's chest, lingering over each button of his shirt.

"You're letting hyung have the reins, then?" He tilted his head, lips brushing close but never touching.

Riki bit the inside of his cheek and nodded.

Sunoo chuckled and finally pressed his lips just once beneath Riki's ear. A soft, teasing kiss, no deeper than a peck. But it still made the boy sigh like it'd punched him. His hands drifted down, started slowly undoing the first button of Riki's shirt.

Riki's chest rose and fell hard beneath the fabric. Sunoo worked them open one by one, and with each inch of revealed flesh, his smirk grew. His fingers paused at the last button, nails grazing the sliver of skin just above Riki's belt buckle.

"You've thought about this all the time, haven't you?" he asked. "What I might look like above you, or below you, pressed up against the mirror in our shared practice room?"

Riki's nod was stiff, jaw set tight.

"Say it," Sunoo said, voice suddenly sharper.

"I think about you every fucking night," Riki blurted, eyes fully dilated. "In this—in tutus, in sweat, in nothing—on me, riding and screaming my name."

Sunoo's cock twitched in response.

He was crouching now, kneeling between Riki's spread thighs, hands sliding to the younger boy's hips. Sunoo palmed the line of his stomach through the waistband, feeling up the toned muscles beneath his grip. His eyes locked onto Riki's like tracking prey pinned to a board.

"Want me to keep going?"

Riki nodded wildly.

Sunoo leaned in, lips brushing just over his. "Then you've gotta ask, baby."

"Please, hyung. Please touch me. Use me. I don't give a damn how… I just need you on me."

The buckle clicked like a present opening. Sunoo exhaled through his nose, painted nails raked lightly along the harsh line of Riki's pelvic bone. Then he rose onto his feet, skirt flaring out a little as he stepped back to pull Riki’s jeans down along with his boxer. Riki jolted in response, spine following without thinking, palms flexing down onto the mattress like he had to hold himself back from reaching.

Sunoo’s eyes instinctively followed the movement; at Riki’s obscenely huge cock—springing as soon as it was freed, standing tall as if it had mind on its own—then to the thick, dark bush below it; hiding the rest of his present. He swallowed the spit building inside his cheeks and then bent again slowly, dragging his blouse up over his head in one fluid motion. His chest was flushed, rising fast, faint sweat sheen across his sternum catching the glow of the bedside lamp.

"You like the view?" he teased when he saw how Riki's cock twitched in response, tossing the blouse aside.

Riki looked up through his lashes, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. "M’trying so hard not to reach for you, hyung."

Sunoo straight up almost purred. That restraint was a reverence in itself and he loved it. He fed on it.

"You're being very cute right now," Sunoo stepped in again, sitting directly on Riki's erection now as he settled to his laps. The skirt flared around them like a veil, leaving plenty room for imagination. He planted both hands on Riki's chest and rolled his hips just once, slow and testing—feeling the immediate, desperate jolt in response.

Riki let out a curse. Sunoo leaned in to kiss it gently, fingers brushing his beautiful face. Lips soft at first, mouth slanted open, tongue slipping in with no warning. The kiss felt like their hunger manifested; raw and unabashed.

They went on so long without taking a breath, until Sunoo could feel Riki's chest struggle beneath his palms. He then pulled back from the kiss with a wicked grin, drinking in how hard his boyfriend was gripping the sheets, knuckles all white with the effort of obeying his command.

"Such a good boy," Sunoo rolled his hips again more deliberately. The friction from the fabric of his ruined panties drew a strangled moan straight from Riki's throat. "I think you've earned a reward..."

He guided one of Riki's trembling hands to his bare waist. "You can touch me here. Just here."

Riki's fingers immediately latch into the soft skin, desperate. His thumb digging spots that made Sunoo shiver. He ground down harder, making Riki's head fall back with a gasp.

"Please," Riki whimpered. "Need you so bad..."

"Shh," Sunoo soothed, though his own breath was coming faster. He traced his nails down Riki's exposed chest, leaving faint red lines. "Let hyung take care of you."

He slid his fingers into Riki's hair and tugged, exposing more of his throat. His lips found the racing pulse there, sucking marks into the sensitive skin while Riki trembled beneath him.

"You're mine," Sunoo whispered against his neck. "All mine to play with..."

Sunoo smiled against his skin and bit down harder, drawing a broken moan. His free hand worked at pulling down his panties while he left hickeys across his collarbone.

"Show me how much you want this," he commanded softly. "Let me hear you..."

Riki's answering groan echoed off the walls when Sunoo slinked back down, the plush of his bare ass enveloping his throbbing length. His hips bucked up immediately, seeking for more friction while Sunoo shuddered—breath hitching as the younger finally betrayed his command by roaming his hands desperately over his thighs.

"Wait, baby," he moaned, reaching for his bedside drawer. "Take it slow… We need to do this properly."

He pulled out a bottle of lube, the one that had been sitting in his bedside drawer for ages. Riki's eyes darkened at the sight.

"Let me," Riki breathed, but Sunoo shook his head and smiled.

"Patience. Watch me first... learn how I like it." Sunoo get off from his lap and settled back against the pillows, spreading his legs apart. He coated his fingers generously, letting some drip onto his inner thighs just to see Riki's pupils dilate further.

"Hyung..." Riki's voice was strained as he watched Sunoo trace his entrance with slick fingers, looking straight at him.

"Pay attention," Sunoo instructed, voice breathy as he pressed the first finger inside. He took his time, showing Riki exactly how he liked to be opened up—the slow circular motions, the gradual deeper pushes.

"See how I curl my finger?" he demonstrated, gasping softly at the sensation. "Right here..."

Riki nodded frantically, transfixed by the sight of Sunoo's dainty finger disappearing inside himself. His hands clenched and unclenched on his thighs.

"Add another when you feel the muscle relax," Sunoo continued his lesson, sliding a second finger in alongside the first. He scissored them gently, working himself open with practiced ease. "Mmmh~ like this..."

"Please," Riki whispered hoarsely. "Let me help..."

Sunoo considered him for a moment, then withdrew his fingers with a soft whine. "Come here then."

Riki's hand trembled slightly as Sunoo poured the lube onto it. He positioned himself between Sunoo's spread thighs, pressing one finger experimentally against his entrance.

"Like this?" he asked as he pushed in.

Sunoo's back arched. "Yes... just like that. Now curl it up—ah!" He broke off with a moan as Riki found his prostate right away. "There, right there..."

Encouraged by Sunoo's reactions, Riki grew bolder. He worked in a second finger without asking, mimicking the scissoring motion he'd watched earlier. His free hand stroked Sunoo's thigh soothingly.

"Is this fine?"

"Mhm," Sunoo nodded, rocking his hips down onto Riki's fingers. "You can add—another... stretch me properly, Riki-ah..."

Riki added a third finger really carefully, watching Sunoo's face for any sign of discomfort. But Sunoo just moaned, head thrown back against the pillows as the younger stretched him open with growing confidence.

"You're doing so well," Sunoo praised breathlessly. "My baby is such a fast learner..."

Riki curled his fingers again, drawing a sharp gasp from Sunoo. He kept up the motion, mesmerized by how Sunoo writhed beneath him.

"Now," Sunoo finally whimpered after long minutes of thorough preparation. "I'm ready… Please, I need you inside."

"Are you sure?" Riki looked at him worried, a contrast from the way his fingers moved in and out Sunoo's hole with unrelenting pace.

"Yes... you've opened me up so well, baby. Wanna feel you now."

Riki withdrew his fingers slow, reaching for the lube again without being asked to. Sunoo watched through heavy-lidded eyes as Riki slicked himself up thoroughly, intense pride blooming in his chest on how stupidly hot his boyfriend looked doing it.

"Go slow at first," Sunoo instructed as Riki positioned himself. "Let me adjust to you..."

Riki nodded, lining himself up groggily. Cute. He pressed forward with agonizing care, watching Sunoo's face intently as the head of his cock breached the slicked hole. When Riki finally pushed inside, his whole body trembled like he’d been electrocuted. His eyes went wide, lips parting in a shocked gasp at the sheer heat and tightness enveloping him.

"Oh god," he choked out, fingers bruising Sunoo's hips unconsciously. That would surely leave a mark. "Hyung, I... fuck."

Riki's inexperience showed here in the way he panted adorably, fighting every instinct to thrust deep. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he held himself still, patiently letting Sunoo adjust. The feeling must’ve been beyond anything he'd imagined in his dirty fantasies.

"You're so... I can't…"

Sunoo reached up to cup his face. "Breathe baby. I've got you." He rolled his hips slightly, drawing a strangled moan from Riki.

"Too much," Riki gasped, eyes squeezed shut. "Feels too good... don't wanna come yet..."

"Look at me," Sunoo demanded softly. When Riki's eyes fluttered open, they were dark and desperate. "That's it. Focus on me."

Riki nodded frantically, trying to focus on Sunoo's gaze instead. When he finally started moving, his thrusts were uneven and hesitant. Each slide drew shocked little sounds from his throat, like he couldn't quite believe the pleasure coursing through him.

"Hyung," he whimpered, small. "Hhyung."

His raw reactions made Sunoo's heart swell—reminded him of his sweet baby Riki, sixteen years old and didn't know what to make of love. He pulled Riki down for a kiss break, swallowing his desperate moans.

"You're doing so well," Sunoo praised against his lips. "Such a good boy for me..."

Riki whined at the praise, hips jerking forward instinctively. His whole body was hypersensitive, every touch and movement threatening to push him over the edge.

"Can't last," he admitted, rhythm growing erratic. "You—uhn-feel too amazing."

"It's okay," Sunoo ran his hands down Riki's trembling back. "Let go for me. We have all night..."

Riki buried his face in Sunoo's neck, overwhelmed tears pricking at his eyes as pleasure built. His movements grew more desperate and uncoordinated with each shallow thrust.

"Hyung, I'm gonna—"

"Come for me baby," Sunoo moaned. "Want to feel your first time inside of m—mmh!"

Those words broke what little control Riki had left. He bottomed out with a particularly hard thrust one last time and came with a sob, hips stuttering as pleasure crashed over him. His whole body shook with the force of it, fingers clutching Sunoo's body like it was his lifeline.

When he finally stilled, he was breathing hard against Sunoo's neck—halfway through burying himself under his skin, occasional tremors still plaguing his nerves. Sunoo stroked his hair and coaxed him through the high, blowing raspberries to his temple as a reassurance.

"That was..." Riki's voice was broken, still shaky. "I've never felt anything like that before…"

"The first time is always intense," Sunoo murmured, a fond smile tugging on his lips. "You did beautifully, baby."

Riki lifted his head, eyes soft and vulnerable; practically spilling out sparkles by how glassy and bright they were.

"I love you,"

Sunoo answered with a kiss, pressing his chest against his boyfriend’s so he could feel the thrumming reserved there solely for him. The movement made Riki’s cock slide back deeper, a gush of cum spurting out from the tightness of the connection, inciting a moan that was swallowed straight by Sunoo's mouth.

"Sensitive?" Sunoo teased as he felt Riki hardening again inside him. So eager. He clenched deliberately around him, drawing a broken whimper.

"Hyung, please..." Riki's voice was high and pitchy, clearly overwhelmed by his first penetrative orgasm. His hands trembled where they latched on Sunoo's thighs beggingly.

"Shh," Sunoo hissed, rolling his hips in slow circles. "I know my baby could take more."

He pushed gently at Riki's chest until the younger boy lay back, still buried deep inside him. Riki's eyes were wide and crazed as Sunoo began to move again, rising up slowly before sinking back down, globs of cum spurting out of him. His mouth fell open in a silent gasp at the new angle.

"Watch me," Sunoo demanded, placing Riki's hands on the ass under his skirt. "See how I move on your cock?"

"Shit, fuck! Hyung,"

Riki choked out as he lifted the skirt to peek, transfixed by the sight of himself disappearing into Sunoo's body. He bunched the fabric on top of Sunoo's leaking cock, not wanting to miss the view now that he has the privilege to see it outside his wet dreams.

"You can move too, baby," Sunoo encouraged, picking up speed. "Match my rhythm..."

Riki tried, hips jerking up uncertainly at first. But being the natural that he was, he soon found the pace, thrusting up to meet each of Sunoo's downward movements.

"That's it…." Sunoo moaned, head lolling back. "You're unbelievable."

"Ah, hyung!"

Riki gasped, eyes drinking in every detail: the way Sunoo's milky thighs flexed, how his cock bounced with each movement, the blush spreading down his chest. Sunoo smiled wickedly and leaned back slightly, changing the angle. The next thrust hit just perfect, just so deep, making him cry out.

"Right there?" Riki asked eagerly, repeating the motion. His earlier hesitation was melting away, replaced by determination to please his hyung.

"Yes," Sunoo panted, grinding down harder. "Just like that... don't stop..."

Riki's hands roamed up Sunoo's body, exploring with his newfound confidence. He brushed over a nipple experimentally, drawing a sharp gasp.

"Sensitive here too?" he murmured, pinching gently. The way Sunoo clenched around him in response made them both moan.

Sunoo praised him over and over, until he could feel Riki's thrust getting riskier each time. He was close already, worked up from before and from teaching Riki.

"Baby, touch me…"

This time Riki didn't hesitate, wrapping his hand around Sunoo's length and got to work immediately. His strokes were so delicious, so hungry to please.

"Like this?" he asked, thumb swiping over the tip the way Sunoo had shown him many times.

"Perfect—!" Sunoo cried, movements growing erratic. "Nnh, so perfect for me."

Before long, Riki's own rhythm was faltering again, oversensitivity warring with building pleasure. "I'm sorry hyung, I'm close again," he admitted meekly. "Can't help it..."

"Me too," Sunoo bounced once, "baby," bounced twice. "Don't worry. Come with me this time."

The sight of Sunoo losing control above him, the ravaging hotness around his cock, the sounds spilling from both their lips—it was all too much for Riki. The boy came with a cry of Sunoo's name, hips jerking up so high Sunoo was lifted off the bed completely.

“Hnnh—baby!”

Riki mouthed his love on Sunoo’s ear and the older came moments later, spilling all over Riki's hand and stomach as his body stuttered its last constraint. They rode out the aftershocks together, movements slowly gentling until they both could breathe normal again.

"You’re unbelievable…" Sunoo panted against his neck. “Learning... so fast…”

Riki wrapped his arms around him, pressing kisses to the crown of his head. "Mhm..." he murmured. Then, shyly: "Can we... again? Later?"

Sunoo laughed softly, nuzzling closer. "Oh my god, you’re insatiable already. What have I created?"

"Your fault," Riki mumbled, trailing fingers up Sunoo's spine. "You've been starving me for so long."

Sunoo grinned and apologized with a kiss. His limbs felt pleasantly heavy as he lay draped across Riki's chest, their breathing slowly syncing into a rhythm. The younger's hands traced lazy patterns on his back, stars, flowers, occasionally dipping lower to squeeze his waist with lingering possessiveness.

"We should clean up," Sunoo mumbled against Riki's neck, though he made no move to actually get up. The mess between them was starting to cool uncomfortably, but the warmth of Riki's embrace was too good to leave.

"Just... a few more minutes," Riki pleaded softly, tightening his hold. His voice was rough from all his earlier moaning, but they held that adorable note of neediness all the same.

Sunoo pressed his lips along Riki's jawline—not really kissing—tasting the saltiness of dried sweat on his skin. "My sweet boy," he cooed. "Congrats on losing your gay virginity, you did so well for your first time. I'm so proud of you."

A pretty blush bloomed across Riki's cheeks. He turned his face to capture Sunoo's lips in a featherlight kiss, so different from their earlier desperate ones. This was slow and deep, filled with all the love and trust that had brought them to this moment.

When they finally parted, Riki's eyes were suspiciously wet. "Thank you for being patient with me, hyung," he whispered. "For teaching me... for making sure I was ready."

"Oh Riki…" Sunoo brushed away a stray tear with his thumb. "You were worth every second of waiting. Look how beautifully you came undone for hyung."

Riki buried his face in Sunoo's neck, overwhelmed by the praise and lingering vulnerability of their intimacy. Sunoo just held him close, running soothing fingers through his sweat-dampened hair.

"Come on love," he eventually said, pressing one last kiss to Riki's forehead. "Let hyung take care of you now."

Their bodies separated with a wet sound. Sunoo carefully disentangled himself from Riki's limbs, wincing when he felt cum trickling down his thighs—the sticky evidence of their love. But before he could move away, Riki caught his wrist.

"Let me know what I need to do," he insisted, eyes ever earnest.

Sunoo's heart melted all over again. He let Riki carry him to the adjoining bathroom, turning on the shower to warm while they shared touches and tender looks from the sink mirror. Under the shower, they washed each other with gentle hands, discovering new ways to show their love through care. Riki was especially attentive, massaging shampoo into Sunoo's extremely matted hair and carefully cleaning away all traces of their lovemaking.

"Does anything hurt?" he asked worriedly, hands ghosting over Sunoo's hips where finger-shaped bruises were starting to form.

"Only in the best way," Sunoo assured him with a playful wink. "You marked me so prettily, baby."

After they dried off, Riki insisted on applying Sunoo's ointment, paying special attention to the places he'd scratched and bruised in their passion. Back in bed with a fresh set of sheets, they curled together like puzzle pieces clicking into place. Sunoo and Riki.

"I love you so much, Sunoo-hyung." He mumbled, already half-asleep. "Thank you for being my first... my one and only..."

"I love you too, Riki-ah," Sunoo whispered back, carding fingers through Riki's damp hair. “So lucky to have you…”

The younger nuzzled into his bare chest, pressing occasional kisses to the spot above his heart. And in the softest, smallest voice, just before the night swallowed them whole:

“Thank you… for showing me love.”

❗️