Chapter Text
Ricky Shen is a strong man.
He may not possess some freakishly impressive biceps that allow him to haul heavy furniture all the way up to the 7th floor of his dorm apartment by the extremely narrow and winding, decrepit stairwell (he employs his kind gym-goer RA, Kim Jiwoong, for that), and nor does he have the insane arm strength to defeat a recognized UFC fighter in arm wrestling (that’s his friend Seok Matthew, who’s had an insane workout routine since high school. Seriously, who was he planning to take down with his daily 200 hundred push-ups and load of 5kg of things to carry around in his backpack?)
But, Ricky prides himself most on his strong mentality. He answers this for every mock interview he’s been dragged into since young, whether it be for a rushed, low-budget high school media project, or another crazy venture from his journalism friends (looking right at you, Cha Woongki): I’m proud of my calm and stable mindset. Even in the worst situation, don’t lose your confidence, and trust yourself; you’re gonna make it.
Ricky is not swayed so easily by the constant challenges life throws in his ways. He’s moved all the way from fast-paced Shanghai to Los Angeles with his family and survived the first few years of American high school as an awkward teenager still fumbling through his English lightly accented with Chinese intonations. He’s left his entire life and family back in LA to move to Seoul at the ripe age of sixteen to continue his high school education in Korea then pursue his fine arts degree, allured by the benefits and opportunities of his university’s program and certainly not the prospect of running into Lee Sooman in the streets and fortunately scoring backstage tickets to seeing SuperM. Point is, Ricky is not easily beaten down by any hardships or sign of adversity that will come in his way, and he plans to keep it that way.
Except, Ricky Shen’s resolve crumbles immediately upon seeing the pleading puppy-dog eyes of his best friend of three years looking up at him, with all the hope and light in the universe gleaming in them.
“Pretty please,” Gyuvin, said best friend of two years and also his roommate, pleads up to him from their living room fur carpet, staring up at Ricky sprawled across their leather couch like he was an emperor lying on his prestigiously soft throne. He had abandoned the ping pong ball he was just throwing up in the air and catching for the past five minutes, the neon orange sphere lying forlornly in the dusty realm under their television. Instead, his hands were clasped together in a faux prayer.
Ricky rubbed his temples with his fingers, and let a wary sigh expel from him, “Once again, Gyuvin, what exactly do I benefit from this?”
Gyuvin’s answer comes instantaneously, words coming out in a rush and slurring together adorably in his haste, like he had been preparing this for ages. “I go on all our snack runs and I’m on dish cleaning duty for the rest of the month. You can pick the movies for our next movie night, and you get to style me however you want for it.”
See, Ricky’s most recent headache comes in the form of his six-foot tall lanky roommate who just successfully scored a date with this girl he has a crush on from his ethics lecture. And, not just any girl, but Jang Wonyoung, the it girl of their school and the school’s unspoken ambassador with how often her smiling face appears on their adverts inviting a new batch of freshmen every year (armed with statistics, Park Gunwook from PPE had reported that their student intake this year had risen with an impressive 11% after Wonyoung’s face begun featuring on their university’s social media. Ricky had to be impressed by the effective marketing.)
Obviously, Gyuvin was smitten and over the moon when he had come barrelling into their shared apartment unit, barely toeing off his sneakers off in time to dive right into Ricky on the couch, and face brought way too close to his just to scream an ecstatic: Jang Wonyoung agreed to go on a date with me! And really, Ricky would have felt happy for him too, if there weren’t another bigger headache for him pulsing at the back of his head.
Ricky’s other, more persistent headache, comes in the form of the unfortunate truth that he is irrevocably in love with Gyuvin, said six-feet tall lanky roommate, for two years and counting now. The same roommate who had just scored a date with his crush. See the problem?
And of course, of all people, Ricky just had to be part of those susceptible to Gyuvin’s myriad of charms. But, to be fair, who could blame him for falling heads-over-heels for his best friend? Even if Ricky would rather throw himself off a cliff than admit aloud to Gyuvin’s face that he even thought him to be tolerable, he couldn’t deny that there was just so much to love about Gyuvin. His smile, his playful disposition, his determined passion, his sincere words; the way he hollers and grins with that boyish charm of his whenever he makes a good shot at the basketball courts; the way he scrunches his nose and twists his mouth sideways as a habit. There was the way he’s always found burrowed in another one of his old hoodies around the dorm; and how he’s completely unfazed at the sight of horror movies but would instantly dissolve into pieces at the bittersweet ending of a romance movie. So, really, who could blame Ricky for realizing he was in love with his best friend one day around a year into their friendship, and knowing that there was no way coming back from that?
The thing is, about Gyuvin getting a date with Wonyoung: Ricky shouldn’t be surprised by Gyuvin’s ability to actually score dates. While Wonyoung was a shining figure, making literal headlines on their university gossip blog wherever she went, Gyuvin wasn’t that far-off either. Ricky wasn’t oblivious to the number of lingering stares and awed whispers that trailed after Gyuvin as he made his way to his lectures, nor the vast number of Valentine’s Day confessions and gifts he had religiously received every year. Ricky couldn’t even blame them, because if it was up to him, he would be sending a truckload of fresh roses to Gyuvin’s lecture hall every day with fucking Byun Baekhyun (who is Gyuvin’s all-time favourite soloist, courtesy of his old EXO-L days) hired to serenade him if not to woo him over. Yet, it didn’t stop the flare of smug self-satisfaction in him whenever Gyuvin turned down yet another proposal politely and bashfully, instead tugging on the jut of Ricky’s elbow and pulling him away so that they could continue on their merry way.
But this self-satisfaction hadn’t come in a long time, not since Wonyoung had raised her hand in Gyuvin’s ethics lecture and presented a new perspective on the moral dilemma they were studying at the time, and addressed the difficult biting interrogation their lecturer engaged her with level-headedly. Gyuvin had gone back home with moony eyes, blabbering on and on about how smart Wonyoung was and how pretty she was through his mouthful of Dippin Dots ice cream at the dining table even as Ricky progressively felt more like slamming his skull through their popcorn ceiling.
Now, two months later, after the endless insufferable pining-from-afar done by Gyuvin, an ethics group project, numbers exchanged, and frantic emergency meetings with Ricky to discuss what he was supposed to respond to Wonyoung’s texts with, Gyuvin was set to go on a date with her.
And, here comes Ricky’s third headache of the month: Gyuvin was begging him to help him prepare for his date.
“Styling you isn’t even a luxury for me at this point. It’s become a necessity for you. Only you’d be stupid enough to choose to go hiking in an Off-White hoodie.” Ricky found himself saying first.
“That was just one time! You treat all your uni fits like you’re walking down a runway.” Gyuvin shot back, “Who the fuck shows up to an 8:30 AM lecture wearing Versace all over and with flawless eyeliner?”
“Me!” Ricky hissed back defensively, swiping a fist at Gyuvin, who dodged it easily with a shit-eating grin, clearly aiming to gain a rise in Ricky (which he sadly managed, though Ricky will never admit it to him.) “You will never catch me in an ugly outfit, even if it’s to attend Mr Baek’s boring ass History of Art and Design lecture in the dead early of the morning.”
“And who exactly chose to have an 8:30 AM lecture?” Gyuvin deadpanned, staring straight at Ricky, unimpressed.
Well, if Gyuvin was so insistent, then fine, Ricky was maybe at fault for willingly choosing the 8:30 AM lecture slot, and that for a History lecture, which only screamed of the endless half-dead and fuzzy Wednesday mornings that would await him for a good few months. But at the time, after binge-watching all the aesthetic university student v-logs over his YouTube Recommended, Ricky was motivated to start living a healthy, refreshing lifestyle, and thus selected an early morning lecture in a bid to encourage him to start waking up early in the morning.
(And, in tiny script underneath that: Gyuvin only wakes up at 10 to barely make it for his 10:45 sociology lecture on Wednesdays, and his favorite breakfast is the freshly-baked melon bread from that popular bakery ten minutes away from their apartment that somehow manages to sell out their bread by mid-morning. So maybe Ricky chose an 8:30 AM lecture as motivation for him to wake up earlier so that he could rush to the bakery to get ahold of that stupid melon bread, make it to his lecture on time, and come home within an hour and a half to leave it on the dining table for Gyuvin with a curt sticky note message before promptly locking himself in his own studio. Without fail, every time, his phone would blow up with endless variations of gratitude and love messages and middle-school-coded memes from a certain boy. Every time, Ricky would just scoff at all the spamming, then send a heart emoji in response.)
So really, Ricky had no defense against Gyuvin, but Zeus would have to strike him down with lightning first before he was willing to let go of his pride and ego to concede defeat, and to Kim Gyuvin of all people.
“I was trying to live a healthier lifestyle.”
“You don’t get to say that when your alarms are literally a mental health hazard.”
“My alarms? You do know you never hear your alarms going off.”
“You literally set your alarms every 5 minutes. What the fuck is the use with 10 alarms if you don’t even wake up to any of them?”
“In the morning, I want to hear music."
Gyuvin collapsed to the ground in a suffering wail, and Ricky would pity him, but really, he was looking down at him with a smug, shit-eating grin. “It’s not music; it’s a siren alarm!”
(False: it was one of those nice melodic, rhythmic iPhone ringtones that he forgot the name of, but it definitely wasn’t the default siren one because that gave both him and Gyuvin traumatic jolts whenever they heard it in public, and a good dosage of PTSD. Really, Gyuvin was just being dramatic.)
Gyuvin sat up with a glare, finally having stopped his complaints about Ricky’s alarms. “Now you’re changing the topic. Can we get back to the main idea, please?”
“Last I checked, you were the one that brought up my alarms first.” Ricky pointed out, just for the heck of it.
“Pleaaaaase, Kim Ricky. ” Gyuvin whined, and Ricky had to swallow down the flustered squeak that always threatened to leave him whenever Gyuvin called him by his own last name, and the swarm of butterflies rising against his ribcage. “Wonyoung wants to go to this fine-dining restaurant with me but I know next to nothing about fine dining and their stupid etiquette rules and stuffy collared shirts but I really want to give her a good date and you’re the only fancy person I know so please will you help me?”
Kim Gyuvin and fine dining were two things he never expected to ever have in a sentence together. Ricky distinctly felt like crying. One, at the thought of Gyuvin, constantly swaddled in his days-old oversized hoodies finally emerging from his room after five straight hours of playing League of Legends with Taerae from Nursing, sitting upright and proper in a clean, crisp button shirt and dress shoes at a fine-dining restaurant. Two, at the thought of Gyuvin, once again, picking the appropriate utensil between the multiple options on the tablecloth for the different courses. Gyuvin could barely bother to grab a fork to eat his spaghetti after forgetting where Ricky shifted the forks in the kitchen cupboards, opting to literally eat them from a spoon instead because he was too lazy to search. How he managed to scarf down the whole thing with just a spoon — that will always baffle Ricky. Three, at the pitiful fact that he’s being roped into helping his awfully unrequited crush go on a date with someone else.
“You? Fine dining?” Ricky managed to croak out, tacking on an amused cough at the end to mask his thoughts. Gyuvin didn’t seem to notice, instead immediately zeroing on Ricky’s tone as his eyes narrowed.
“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”
Ricky couldn’t resist a snort. “Gyuvin, have you seen what you eat daily as a college student?”
“Now what the hell is wrong with what I eat?”
“Your daily college meals have literally consisted of shit like instant ramen with an egg and some seaweed if you’re feeling fancy.” Ricky rattled off. “Or you get take-out from the usual Chinese or Thai or Korean places but that’s only after I have to drag your ass out of your room away from your goddamn PC from trying to beat Taerae-hyung’s ass at League of Legends — which isn’t going to happen soon, if you ask me. Otherwise you practically live off your chocolate snacks or you exploit the campus cafe whenever Hanbin-hyung is working at the register by never paying whenever you get anything there. He’s always let you off the hook for plain daylight robbery, which is way too gracious of him if you ask me.”
“Ughhhhhhhh,” Gyuvin sulked, falling back onto the couch with a deep sigh that seem to came from the pit of his soul. Ricky felt his lips curve up in a grin.
“You admit it, don’t you?”
“Shut up, Kim Ricky.” Gyuvin muttered grumpily, “Go doodle in your princess diary or whatever the hell Jiwoong-hyung gave you.”
“Unicorn diary.” Ricky felt the need to amend, even if when he first received his birthday gift from his not-so-sweet-anymore RA he had been overcome with a huge sense of disgust and disdain for the fluffy abomination in his lap. His younger sister wouldn’t even use it, that much he told Jiwoong, to which the man had the audacity to just laugh it off. His claim was later proven right when his sister caught sight of the diary in his video call feed that same night and was so overcome with her giggles that she had to be sent out of the room by their mother to calm down.
Gyuvin ignored Ricky’s words entirely. “They have good food at fine dining,” he huffed. “They serve shit you’ll never see in normal restaurants. Plus I’ve never been to a fine dining restaurant, so it’ll be a nice experience?”
“Your lack of experience is exactly what I’m worried about.” Ricky commented dryly, managing to dodge Gyuvin’s hurling pillow in time, as he grabbed a pillow of his own to smack right into his best friend’s face in retaliation.
“Hey!”
“Deserved, asshole.” Ricky clicked his tongue, and Gyuvin sunk further into the leather of their couch, lips forming a deep pout. Oh, he’s so cute. Ricky couldn’t help but think, unable to help the sudden wave of fondness creeping on him and squeezing his chest. He’s like a little upset puppy. And because Ricky was a soft, curious, masochistic little shit — “Why did you even agree to go fine dining with Wonyoung as a first date?”
“She wanted to try new food, and while we were deciding she mentioned really offhand that there was this new place that opened near her house that was a fine dining place and that she hadn’t ever been there before, and…”
“And you, Kim Gyuvin,” a note of warning and apprehension crept into Ricky’s voice, but Gyuvin was completely oblivious to it, “interpreted it as her wanting to go fine dining with you?”
“What? She must have been hinting at it, right? She probably brought it up for a reason, and you know how girls are like!” No, as a matter of fact, Ricky Shen who has never liked a single girl in his life, does not know, and he wasn’t a good enough brother to really pay much attention to his younger sister’s frets and fancies. “And I thought it would be nice if I brought her there so we could both experience it together.”
“Kim Gyuvin,” a hiss from Ricky, and a yelp from Gyuvin as another pillow collided in his face, hard . “ You were the one to suggest for the two of you to go to a fine dining restaurant?”
“Well, yes—“
“Do you know how much a meal even costs there? With all the courses they serve? For those tiny-ass portions that are literally a fucking scam?”
Gyuvin scurried away from Ricky on the couch as much as possible to end up at the other end of it, hiding his face in his arms to shield him from any more of Ricky’s possible attacks. He sneaked a few glances at the blond. “In my defense!” he squawked out, voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt. “It seemed like a really good idea in the first place!” he yelped as Ricky threw a stray plushie lying around right at him. “Not my Snorlax!”
“Good idea?” Ricky seethed, launching himself right at Gyuvin to attempt to land a few solid punches on his stomach as they tussled on the couch. “Tell me now, Gyuvin. Since when have any of your ideas been good, logical, or reasonable? Tell me now.”
“I thought it’d make me seem chivalrous!”
“The only thing chivalrous about this whole ordeal is the fact that I haven’t yet put your head on a stake at our front door. That shit is so expensive and for what? It’s just ten bites and one huge dent in your bank account. Why do I have better financial awareness than you do?”
“You literally impulse-bought 4 jumbo packs of Shin Ramen last week.” Gyuvin pointed out, to which he received a well-delivered blow from Ricky’s pillow.
“Those were for you, idiot!”
“And anyway, it’s not like I have to pay! Aren’t they saying that girls should also offer to pay for dinner too because it’s only nice of them to do so?”
“Does not mean they will actually pay! And how the hell is that chivalrous of you if you’re expecting the girl to pay? I’m all for breaking societal norms but do you just lack common sense? What kind of a gentleman are you?”
“I’m starting to think arguing with you is the best way to improve your Korean,” Gyuvin mumbled, before immediately firing off rapid apologies in the face of Ricky’s nasty glare. He sat up against the arm of the couch, running a hand through his hair so it rested away from his eyes, and fixed a cheeky grin at Ricky. “But that’s why I need your help, no? To be a good gentleman for her.”
Fuck Wonyoung. I can be the gentleman for you. I can be the gentleman in this relationship, if you would let me. You don’t even need to go to some fancy scamming fine dining restaurant and pull out her chair and memorize all those stupid etiquette rules. I can do that for you. I can open the car door for you. I can drape my jacket over wet muddy ground so you can walk over it. I can have you just as you are, and I will if you would let me.
“Please?” Ricky snapped back to his senses when he felt the warmth of Gyuvin’s palms settle on his folded kneecaps and Gyuvin shot a pout at him. “You’d do this for me right, because I’m your best friend?”
Best friend and even more. Ricky resisted giving in to his inner demons and yelling. Boyfriend, hopefully, someday. Soulmate, definitely.
What Ricky wanted to say: No, Gyuvin. For once I’ll have to say no to your whims because really, I’m the worst person to ask for help for this. Seriously, what would Wonyoung think if I helped you get ready for your date with her while I’m literally in love with you? What about my mental health, Gyuvin? Don’t go to dinner with her. Don’t make this difficult for me. How can I survive hearing you go on and on about her and waxing poetic about everything she does even if my heart feels like it’s on fire? How can I stand seeing you share stories and laughter with someone else over dinner? How can I resist myself from leaning forward and kissing you right on the lips because all it really takes is an impulse, an insane thought, and a reach of a hand to bring your mouth to mine?
But what actually comes out of Ricky’s mouth will keep him up for nights later, pillow muffling his regretful screams and sheets bearing the brunt of his conflicted tossing and turning.
“You’re getting me lunch for the rest of the year too.”
“Deal!”
“Then, fine,” and the moment Ricky saw Gyuvin’s eyes light up and the boy surging forward to trap Ricky in a squeezing, grateful hug, Ricky knew he had doomed himself to a very unfortunate and unbearable fate ahead of him.