Archive of Our Own

The first clue Gyuvin gets that his day is about to go haywire is that his front door is whining.

This is unusual in that he lives on the fifth floor of an apartment building, and also that it's a door.

He's home alone eating his cereal and scrolling through YouTube when he notices the noises rising ever so slightly above the strains of Ateez coming from his phone. It's a high-pitched, intermittent cry, like someone has shrunk a tiny seagull and then hung it from the doorknob.

He pauses the San fancam, hesitating slightly as he listens in case he's hallucinating. But the whining continues, so he slips out of the chair and cautiously heads to investigate.

When he opens the door, he is startled to find that there is a dog lying on his doormat.

It's not quite a puppy but not quite an adult, a tiny little greyhound of some kind - or is it a whippet? He can never remember which is which. It's certainly not a common dog - all his neighbours have little white yappy clouds, whereas this one is grey-brown and slender and wobbly, like it was drawn by Edvard Munch. It looks up at him with fishbowl eyes, and makes the saddest noise he may possibly have ever heard, and he feels tears well in his eyes in a sudden rush.

“What are you doing here?” He murmurs, reaching out to let the dog sniff his hand. It does so tentatively, and then licks the side of his thumb in a manner he can only describe as resigned. He glances about, but there's no one around. And then he notices that someone has left the fire door propped open. Apartment 327 out for a cigarette break again, probably. The dog must have wandered in out of the-

He glances at the window, but it's not raining. It's actually weirdly sunny for Seoul, a rare day where streaks of blue sky are visible through the smog and cloud cover. Huh.

He sighs, reaching out to scratch the dog behind the ear. “You don't have a collar. And you smell terrible. Are you a stray?” 

The dog leans into his touch almost instinctively, and he realises it's shaking a little. It's thin as anything. 

Often, Gyuvin feels like he can see multiple realities unfolding in front of him. Like he's in Everything Everywhere All At Once. Branching paths of action that are open to him, laid out for his consideration.

Right now, he pictures himself standing up and going inside, shutting the door on this poor shivering creature. Or ushering it down the fire escape again and back out onto the street. Both scenarios feel completely ridiculous, make something coil unpleasantly in his gut.

“Fine,” he whispers, mostly to himself. “Come on then.”

He stands up, his heart clenching slightly when the poor little thing flinches as he unfurls his full height. He moves to the side of the doorway and gestures at the dog. 

“Come in, I guess?”

The dog stares at him, and he stares at it, and then the dog slowly, tentatively stands up. It takes one step towards him, then another, and then it's trotting over the threshold of the apartment with all the confidence of a deer on ice.

“Ok,” Gyuvin says as he closes the door, unsure if he's talking to himself or the creature. “We need to make a plan, little dude.”

The dog is standing in the kitchen, almost frozen as it surveys its surroundings.

“You can't stay here,” Gyuvin tells it as he moves towards the fridge. “I have this roommate and well, he kind of scares the shit out of me? And he doesn't seem like a dog person, to be honest.”

Gyuvin has probably had about three conversations total with his roommate. Ricky, his name is. He's not as tall as Gyuvin and absurdly handsome, the kind of handsome that is almost impossible to talk to. Which is only made worse by how quiet he is, seemingly on purpose. The few times Gyuvin has tried to engage him in idle conversation, he'd mostly received a blank stare back. He'd given up pretty quickly. Better to save his dignity.

Ricky does something in finance. Gyuvin’s not really sure what, just knows that Ricky leaves for work early and comes home while Gyuvin is on shift, so they don’t see each other much. They buy their own groceries and their weekend schedules never overlap. It's a bit like living with a ghost. 

Gyuvin misses his old roommate Gunwook. The two of them had spent hours together in the evenings with their friend Matthew, ordering in bossam and playing LoL until 3am. But of course then Gyuvin had gotten stuck on the stupid night shift, leaving stupid Gunwook and stupid Matthew alone to fall in stupid love and move into Matthew’s stupid apartment, forcing Gyuvin to find a stupid new roommate. Enter Ice King Ricky, who surely could afford to live somewhere much nicer but would apparently rather darken Gyuvin’s door. 

“You'd be a friendlier roommate than Ricky, wouldn't you,” Gyuvin coos at the little creature currently sniffing at the shoe rack by the front door. He stretches his fingers together, cracking the joints. Ok. He can do this. It’s time to lock in. “Here's the plan, little dog. First, I will feed you. Then, I will wash you. And then, I will take you to the vet to see if you're microchipped. And either they'll find your owner or they'll take you in and find a home for you. Sound good?”

The dog stops sniffing the umbrella stand for a moment and looks up at him, blinking its snowglobe eyes.

“Excellent,” Gyuvin nods. “Let's get it.”

*

The thing about plans is that in Gyuvin’s experience they tend to fall apart somewhere along the way.

He'd planned to become a lawyer, once. He'd planned to do a master's degree abroad, maybe in Australia. He'd planned to live with Gunwook until he got married, presumably to a woman.

Except now he's 25 and he dropped out of university and he's never lived outside of the country, and he works the night shift as a hotel concierge and Gunwook abandoned him for love and also he's pretty sure he's never going to marry a woman because he is in fact completely gay, which is a bit of an impediment. 

So really, he probably should have guessed that the day would end exactly as it does now: not with Gyuvin heading off to his evening shift, glowing with the pride of having done a good deed, but instead returning home on the subway with a dog still stashed in his canvas bag.

Things had gone alright at first. He'd found some beef in the freezer which he'd cooked up, and the dog had wolfed down. He'd managed to get the dog into the shower and cleaned it up with a few drops of Ricky’s expensive shampoo, because he'd had none of the things Naver had suggested as alternatives for dog shampoo and he figures the more expensive stuff is less likely to do any permanent damage than his own generic crap. He'd dried the creature off (and then himself - RIP his freshly washed jeans) and found a big enough canvas bag to sneak it onto the subway in, and it was only at the vet that everything had come to a screeching halt.

The dog is female, and about two years old. She’s been desexed, but not microchipped, which suggests an abandoned pet. Honestly, Gyuvin hadn't been wildly surprised about that. What was surprising was what the vet had suggested he do, which was to go and drop her off at the shelter a few blocks away. 

Gyuvin had kind of been hoping the vet would just take the dog, but apparently they don’t do that. And when he'd searched up the shelter, it had turned out they were the kind who put the animals down after about a month.

The tiny dog had been sitting so calmly in his canvas bag as he'd stood in the middle of a bustling street in Mapo-gu, blinking up at him with her oversized trusting eyes, and he'd just turned and marched straight back to the subway without a thought.

Without a thought. That's what his mother had always said when she scolded him growing up. “Why did I bother to give you a brain when you always act without using it?”

He feels like he owes her another apology as he sits on the floor of his apartment, about to roll the ball again for the little creature to chase, and hears the front door lock go. Because he'd been so swept along in not wanting to throw this poor little thing to the wolves that he'd temporarily forgotten he lives with one.

Ricky lets himself in with the tired air of someone who has had a long day. His elegant shoulders are a little slouched and he runs a hand through his long black hair to push it from his eyes. It's been a while since Gyuvin has seen Ricky for more than about five seconds, and he's caught off guard once again by how unreasonably beautiful the man is, all pale skin and sharp lines. 

Gyuvin stays frozen in place as he watches Ricky slide his shoes off, place his expensive leather satchel on the shelf, don his house slippers, and then come to a halt at the sight of what is in his living room.

“Uh,” Gyuvin says intelligently, and he sees Ricky’s gaze fall on first him, and then the dog. “Hello. I can explain.”

Ricky moves forward slowly, stopping at the kitchen counter where the dog has also frozen in place. She’s staring up at him with her big glassy eyes, and Gyuvin thinks she might be shaking again. He calls for her to come, patting the ground beside him so the poor little creature can return to the safety of his side, and she responds in a hurry, pressing herself against his thigh while never taking her eyes off Ricky.

“There's a dog,” Ricky says finally, his voice low and confused, but still somehow melodic. His face is an inscrutable mask.

“She turned up on the doorstep,” Gyuvin explains, scratching her on the butt almost absently as he tries to keep her calm. The words come nervously tumbling out of his mouth without much finesse. “I took her to the vet but the only shelter nearby is a kill shelter, and well, look at her Ricky. She's so small and so scared and I just couldn't- I couldn't.”

Ricky is listening to him with a blank expression, and his gaze travels back down to the little dog, where it seems to get stuck. He’s staring at her kind of intently, and Gyuvin feels a little protective. He waves a hand in front of Ricky’s eyeline.

“Hello? Ricky, it’s just a dog.”

“I've never had a dog,” Ricky replies quietly, and his tone is hard to place. And then he bends his knees, crouching down a little, and cautiously holds out the back of his hand.

To Gyuvin’s surprise, the dog wanders forward. Slowly, hesitantly, she crosses the room to Ricky and comes to sniff at his fingers. Then she bumps her head against his hand, and Ricky tentatively begins to scratch behind her ears, his focused frown melting into a tiny smile.

“Hello,” he says to her, quietly, politely.

It's. God. It’s so cute.

Gyuvin is staring now, the way Ricky had just been. He can hear the soundtrack to How To Train Your Dragon in his head, and he's experiencing a cute aggression so powerful he's slightly alarmed by the strong and violent urge to snap something pulsing through his hands.

He shakes it off. The important thing is that Ricky and the dog seem to have hit it off, which means the dog is no longer in imminent danger of being thrown out on the street. He hopes.

“I’m not keeping her or anything,” Gyuvin tells him, still feeling distinctly nervous. Like Ricky is the unpredictable animal in the room. “I’ll call more shelters in the morning, I promise.”

Ricky glances at him. “Ok,” he says, and he sounds surprisingly unbothered. None of this is going the way Gyuvin had anticipated. Especially when Ricky adds: “What are we calling her?” 

Gyuvin blinks. We? He puts that one aside. “The dog,” Gyuvin tells him, and Ricky makes a face.

“That's a terrible name.”

“It's not a name, it's just a fact,” Gyuvin replies. “I don't know, I wasn't expecting to have to name a creature today!”

The flicker of a laugh runs over Ricky's features, and Gyuvin is bowled over. He's never said this many words in a row to Ricky. He's never seen any emotion other than disinterest show on Ricky’s face. It's like discovering alien life on Mars.

“I've never had a pet at all, have you?” Ricky asks, and he's sitting cross-legged on the floor now. Gyuvin hadn't thought him capable of such normal behaviour. Wonders never cease.

“I had a fish,” Gyuvin replies, rolling the ball on the floor. The dog bounds after it. “Hui. But I kept forgetting to clean its tank so my parents gave it to my little brother. He even renamed it, the little gremlin.” He nearly winces as he finishes, realising he's just overshared to a completely unnecessary degree. 

But Ricky just tilts his head a little, asks, “To what?”

“After his first word, Lotteria.”

Ricky actually laughs at this, a real and proper laugh, and it's captivating. Like the first beams of a sunrise storming over the grey horizon. He looks thoughtfully at Gyuvin.

“What was your first word?”

Gyuvin shrugs. “Eumppappa.”

“Is that a word?”

It's Gyuvin's turn to laugh. “My parents seemed to think so.”

Ricky nods, picks up the ball from the ground and waves it to catch the dog’s attention. “Eumppappa, fetch!”

He throws the ball, and the dog skitters after it, her gangly legs slipping a little on the tiled floor. She corners it just as it bounces off the bathroom door, bringing it back to deposit at Ricky’s feet.

“I guess she answers to Eumppappa then,” Ricky says with a smile, first at the dog and then directed at Gyuvin, and Gyuvin has absolutely no idea what's just happened but it feels like his entire world is askew. 

Ricky is the most beautiful man Gyuvin has ever seen in his life, but that’s old news. It's a fact Gyuvin had found easy to ignore when he'd assumed Ricky was some soulless automaton slash arrogant rich kid.

But no. Ricky can smile.

Ricky has a sense of humour. 

Ricky likes dogs.

Somewhere in Gyuvin's brain, a warning light quietly flickers on.

*

“What I don't really understand,” Gyuvin says as he holds out the box of pepero, watches Ricky pull one out and shove it in his mouth with a surprising lack of grace, “is why would anyone have a business meeting at Subway?”

“I’ve done that,” Ricky replies from where he's curled up on the other end of the couch, eyes not leaving the tv. His feet are tucked in almost awkwardly, as though he's afraid to take up too much space, despite the large gap between them.

“Seriously?”

“No,” Ricky replies, and he remains deadpan but for the hint of a grin sneaking around the corners of his mouth. Gyuvin finds himself echoing it, looks away. It hasn't gotten old yet, discovering that Ricky makes jokes.

God, it's been a strange evening. 

Normally, Gyuvin would still be on shift when the clock strikes ten. Tonight, he is home, in his living room, trying not to lose his mind about the fact that he’s now idly watching the drama that Ricky is apparently halfway through, two feet away from the man himself - to say nothing of the dog. 

Earlier, Gyuvin had insisted Ricky go about his evening as though Gyuvin and Eumppappa weren’t there, since they usually weren’t. And Ricky had reluctantly agreed, and then failed spectacularly to do so. 

Without a word about it, he’d made enough dinner for the three of them - some beef and rice situation that had a Spanish name Gyuvin had completely not understood for the humans, and just plain beef for the canine portion of their trio. 

This is how Gyuvin learns, in short bursts of slightly awkward conversation, that Ricky is from Shanghai, but had also lived in Los Angeles, before coming to Seoul. Learns that Ricky loves food, loves to cook, loves to try new things. Learns that on an average evening like this one, if he doesn't have any plans, Ricky likes to stay in and watch dramas. 

Gyuvin’s never really been into them himself - he doesn’t understand why ten episodes in there’s suddenly always some kind of serial killer or childhood kidnapping plot no matter what genre it is. But in between rolling balls and wrestling with Eumppappa, he does find it fascinating to watch Ricky watch dramas. His emotions play across his face with no filter, too wrapped up in the show to mind himself as he seems to in a regular context. 

Who was this man, and what had he done with the silent, cold android that Gyuvin had believed he was sharing a roof with?

Gyuvin pulls his focus back to Eumppappa, who has curled up on his lap now, snuggling further into his warmth. She’s so thin. Gyuvin is pretty sure people have to put sweaters on these sorts of dogs. He’s seen it online.

“You’re good with her,” Ricky says suddenly, and Gyuvin glances up in surprise. “For someone who never had a dog,” Ricky adds.

“I mean, I’ve still met dogs,” Gyuvin laughs. “My friends had dogs when I was younger. Didn’t yours?”

“I don’t remember,” Ricky replies thoughtfully. “We moved around a lot, it was hard to get to the come over stage with people.”

This admission makes Gyuvin a little sad, and for a moment he imagines a lonely little Ricky; still wearing a business suit, but one that fits a ten-year-old.

But Ricky seems unphased by his admission. He just reaches out to pet Eumppappa on the head, so gently, and a smile grows on his lips when she leans into it. 

Unable to stop himself from sneaking glances at Ricky periodically, Gyuvin notices that he starts yawning around eleven, though he seems to be trying to hide it. When the episode ends, Gyuvin suggests they head off to bed.

“Where’s she going to sleep?” Ricky asks, voice quiet, as Eumppappa is currently passed out on Gyuvin’s knees. She’s making little huffing noises in her sleep, and Gyuvin feels his heart clench a little.

“With me, I guess,” Gyuvin replies slowly, stroking her ears gently so as not to wake her. “It’s not like she has a basket, and this leather couch is way too cold for her.”

“Sorry,” Ricky mutters, because it’s his leather couch, and Gyuvin can’t help but snort a laugh at that. 

“Yeah, wow, how dare you not anticipate that a small frail creature would need to sleep on our couch when you bought it,” he replies, and a slightly self-effacing smile flickers across Ricky’s face.

“Ok, well. Good luck calling shelters tomorrow,” Ricky tells him as he gets up, and Gyuvin realises with a start that oh, right, he won’t see Ricky tomorrow. By the time Ricky gets home from work, Eumppappa should be somewhere else, safe and sound and out of their hair. 

What a strange thought, he can’t help but think as he stares down at this tiny creature that has made a bed out of his limbs. She’s so trusting. He hopes wherever she ends up takes care of her.

When he glances up, Ricky seems to be staring down at Eumppappa with a similar expression as the one he can feel on his own face. He crouches down, stretches out a hand to gently pat her with a soft smile.

“Good luck, little Eumppappa,” he says quietly. And then he meets Gyuvin’s gaze, and he seems self-conscious as he withdraws his hand. It’s not his fault. Gyuvin knows he is staring. Again.

He's never spent this much time in a room with Ricky in the two years they've lived together, never said so many words in a row to each other. Gyuvin is absolutely baffled at how pleasant it's all been. He wonders, now that the ice has been broken, if they'll ever speak again after this. Or if they'll both just pretend this strange evening never happened.

Ricky offers an awkward wave as he makes for his bedroom, and Gyuvin slowly folds Eumppappa into his arms and picks her up. She doesn’t seem too bothered, drowsily looking up at him as he carries her to his bed and gently deposits her down one end. She falls right back asleep once she’s down, leaving him to go about his routine.

When he slips into bed beside her, she seems to almost unconsciously shift towards his legs. He doesn’t understand how she manages to take up so much space when she’s so small, and he quickly finds himself pushed to the side of his own bed. But he can’t find it in his heart to be annoyed, when she snuffles and twitches a little, and then shuffles closer towards him. 

When Gyuvin falls asleep, it’s with her comforting weight pressed to the back of his knees.

*

Gyuvin briefly wakes when the light is only just trickling through the window, grey and unconvincing. The weight by his side is gone and there’s a noise coming from the corner of the room, a scratching sound on his door. He blearily tries to yank himself into consciousness.

And then he hears his door click open, softly, gently, and a small whine.

“Do you need to go out?” says a slow, deep voice. “I'll take you, it's ok. Shhh. Let him sleep.”

The door clicks shut again, and everything is quiet, and Gyuvin falls back into the void.

When he surfaces again, it's just past 10am. He thinks the scratching must have been a dream, until he realises there's no dog in his bed.

“Eumppappa?” He croaks out, slow to get his bearings. He pulls himself over the side of the mattress, but can't see her anywhere on the floor.

Gyuvin practically falls out of his bed, kicking his feet to untangle them from the sheets, and hauls himself upright. There’s definitely no dog in his room.

Worry skitters through him, and he hurries to his bedroom door, bursts into the living room and comes to a halt.

Ricky is on the couch.

This is not where Rickys usually go. By this time on a weekday, Ricky should be at his office. As it stands, he is currently holding a book in one hand and idly scratching Eumppappa behind the ears with the other. She is curled up by his side, head on a pillow, looking deliriously happy.

Ricky glances up on Gyuvin’s arrival. “Morning,” Ricky says, a little awkwardly. “Sorry if we woke you earlier. She needed to go to the bathroom.”

He carefully places the book face down on the coffee table. Gyuvin wonders what he's reading. The cover is in Chinese.

“Thanks,” Gyuvun replies, feeling strangely self-conscious. “That's sweet of you.”

Ricky looks at him for a moment, unmoving, and then glances away towards the kitchen. “There's some congee left, if you’d like? I made it with beef. Suits both of us.” He gestures down at his side. Gyuvin blinks.

“You made Eumppappa congee?”

“I made myself congee. Eumppappa was a side beneficiary.”

Once again, Gyuvin finds himself staring at Ricky slightly longer than what is likely socially acceptable, unable to select what to say from the strange array of options that jump into his mind. Ricky seems to shift uncomfortably under his gaze.

“Thank you,” Gyuvin says finally. “Why aren't you at work?”

“Ah,” Ricky says, and he seems even more self-conscious. “I tried. She seemed upset.”

Something fizzes in Gyuvin’s chest at this admission, like he's cracked open a can of Coke. “So you called in sick and made her a continental breakfast?”

“Apparently,” Ricky says, and it sounds like a sigh. “I also called around the shelters.”

“Oh,” Gyuvin responds dumbly. “Thank you. Any luck?”

“One might be able to take her in two to three weeks, if we check back then. Most of them said if she has a roof over her head for the moment, she's not exactly a priority, and we should just try and find her a home directly.”

“Figures,” Gyuvin sighs. “Thank-”

“You can stop thanking me.”

“I'm not sure I can yet.” Gyuvin yawns, stretches his arms wide. “I guess if she's staying for a bit I better go shopping today.”

Ricky seems to want to say something. It takes him a few seconds to gather the words, or perhaps the courage. “I can join you?”

Gyuvin shakes his head. “You've done enough, Ricky. You should go to work.”

“Oh,” Ricky replies, seeming to deflate a little. “If you want, then.”

“I don't want ,” Gyuvin responds hastily. “I just feel like I'm inconveniencing you a whole lot.”

“It's not an inconvenience,” Ricky says softly. He glances down at Eumppappa, who appears to have fallen asleep. She’s breathing soft huffs of air against the pillow. 

“Come, then,” Gyuvun finds himself saying, watching the way Ricky’s hair falls into his eyes like this and feeling strange again. “We can all go.”

Ricky smiles at that, and Gyuvin has to leave the room.

*

The closest pet supply store is the big PetMart in Gwangjin, and Gyuvin doesn’t want to leave Eumppappa alone just yet, so it’s back on the subway with Eumppappa in the large canvas bag. She doesn’t seem to mind at all, sitting calmly with her pointy little head peering over the top.

A young girl waves at Eumppappa from the seats opposite, and Gyuvin pulls Eumppappa’s paw out and makes her wave back. The little girl giggles, and when Gyuvin glances at Ricky to make a ‘how cute is that’ face, Ricky quickly turns his head away as though he’d been caught doing something wrong.

At the PetMart, they get a shopping basket with wheels on the bottom, and put Eumppappa in it. 

“This dog is so chill,” Gyuvin muses as he begins dragging the cart behind him, Eumppappa not making a peep as she watches the shelves go past with curiosity. “Do you think she’d let me dress her up?”

“Run, Eumppappa,” Ricky whispers back at her, and Gyuvin laughs. “I wonder where she came from,” Ricky adds, and Gyuvin nods.

“Wherever it was originally, it seems like she was on the street for a while. She was so gross, you have no idea.”

“What did you clean her with?”

Gyuvin hesitates. “I might have borrowed your shampoo.”

Ricky says nothing, and for a moment Gyuvin is worried he might have fractured whatever fragile thing is held between them. And then he sees the outline of a laugh appear on Ricky’s face.

“Lucky,” Ricky says to Eumppappa. “Now we both have great hair.”

Gyuvin's insides feels strangely fluttery, like he's swallowed a bubble machine. He looks away.

They get some proper dog shampoo, and a bunch of dog food. They spend far too long in the toy section, waving various things at Eumppappa to see what takes her interest - which is most things, but particularly ones that make noise. She seems most interested in a plush strawberry that squeaks and flashes, and for some reason this makes Ricky strangely happy.

“You like strawberries?” Gyuvin asks, and Ricky nods.

“They’re my favourite,” he replies simply, placing the strawberry in the cart, along with some tennis balls, a rubber treat dispenser, and a tug-rope.

“So should we buy this then?” Gyuvin pulls down a little padded dog jacket from the shelves across the aisle. It’s printed with strawberries, and comes with a tiny matching strawberry beret. Plus it’s half price, which is perhaps its most appealing point. “So she doesn’t get cold outside.”

Ricky doesn’t reply, just wordlessly holds his hands out for the outfit, depositing it carefully in the trolley. His mouth doesn’t move, but Gyuvin can see there’s a smile in his eyes. He’s quickly starting to realise there’s a lot more to Ricky’s expressions than he’s ever thought. All those times he’d thought Ricky had been stone-faced and silent, perhaps there had been something more going on that he'd just missed. 

“Ok,” Gyuvin muses, drawing his gaze away to check the list on his phone. “I think we just need a bed and a leash, and that’s it.”

The beds are in the next aisle. The cheap ones are just glorified flat pillows, and Gyuvin grabs one off a low shelf. But when he turns around, Ricky is staring at the novelty ones. Particularly the fruit section.

“The strawberry is above you,” Gyuvin points at the highest shelf, but Ricky shakes his head, glancing over his shoulder.

“What do you like?”

“Me?” Gyuvin blinks. “Mangos. I like mangos.”

Ricky pulls down a mango-shaped bed, holds it up. It’s adorable, and Eumppappa would be fatally cute all curled up inside it. Gyuvin’s heart yearns. But-

“It’s like four times the price, Ricky,” he sighs. Ricky shakes his head at that.

“I’m paying.”

“You’re not.”

“Gyuvin,” Ricky frowns. He pauses, searching for the right words. “Please don’t think this is needless bragging, but. I make a lot of money.”

“Right, but I don’t,” Gyuvin replies firmly, and Ricky nods. 

“You paid for the vet. Let me pay for this shopping trip. Just today. We can split everything else going forward.”

Gyuvin hesitates. “I’m not trying to take advantage-”

“It’s not taking advantage if I’m the one insisting.” Ricky hands the mango bed to Gyuvin, his tone final, almost a little exasperated, as though Gyuvin is being unreasonable somehow. “Now hold this while I find a leash.”

Gyuvin just kind of gapes, too surprised to mount a further argument, so he’s left standing in the aisle with his cart full of dog and his mango pet bed as Ricky strides off to the end of the aisle.

“Eumppappa. You’re making me a gold-digger,” he mutters. Eumppappa stares up at him innocently, and Gyuvin wants to give her the world. He supposes, for her sake, he can let this pass.

There aren’t any fruit-themed leashes, so they settle on one printed with greyhounds - the tall kind.

“It’s aspirational,” Ricky declares, as if Eumppappa might hope to one day grow to such a size, and when Gyuvin giggles Ricky’s answering grin lights up his eyes. And then he hesitates.

“Is this ok?” Ricky asks suddenly, and Gyuvin tilts his head. He feels like Eumppappa as he does so.

“The leash?”

Ricky shakes his head slowly, the leash dropping to his side. “Before… all day, actually. I think I sort of…barged into dog parenting.I don’t have to be part of this, if you don’t want. You found her.”

“Ricky,” Gyuvin says flatly, and Ricky looks so cautious, expression guarded all of a sudden. Like a turtle that had slowly ventured out of his shell, all of a sudden drawing back in to safety. Gyuvin is beginning to wonder how much of the Ricky he'd seen before was just that, just his shell. “I cannot express how glad and grateful I am for your involvement in all this. You’ve done nothing so far except make this entire mess way better. Seriously,” Gyuvin stresses, putting his hand on Ricky’s arm. He thinks he might feel Ricky tense slightly. “Thank you.”

“Oh,” Ricky says, glancing down at Gyuvin’s hand on his arm. “Ok.”

And now that they’re touching, Gyuvin can’t help but notice how firm Ricky’s arm is under his hand. He’s not sure he’s ever seen Ricky without sleeves on, and most of the time he’s under several layers of business attire, but Gyuvin suddenly realises something with horrifying certainty: somewhere under his button-downs, Ricky seems to be hiding a surprising degree of muscle.

Gyuvin feels his face flush as his brain throws up several unhelpful and frankly deeply inappropriate images to be experiencing in the middle of a pet store, especially about someone who 24 hours ago he would not have given the time of day to. He quickly drops his hand and turns to place the leash in the cart beside Eumppappa, who is nosing happily at her strawberry toy. 

“This is your fault,” he whispers at the little dog, and Eumppappa blinks her giant eyes up at him innocently.

“Did you say something?” Ricky asks, and Gyuvin nods, straightening up.

“I said let’s get out of here.”

Gyuvin balks at the price that is rung up at the checkout, but Ricky doesn’t even flinch, offering up a black credit card with barely a glance at the register. Then, despite Gyuvin’s huffing and protesting, he pays for an Uber back home so they don’t have to lug everything through the subway.

As grateful as Gyuvin is, he doesn’t want to get in the habit of relying on Ricky and his credit card. Especially when he’s about to leave Eumppappa in Ricky’s care, yet another imposition on his roommate.

“But it’s not an imposition,” Ricky tells him as Gyuvin audibly frets about leaving. “I told you, I want to be part of this.”

Gyuvin sighs. “Ok. But if she gives you any trouble, please call me and I’ll come home.”

“We’ll be fine,” Ricky replies dismissively. “She’s not even conscious right now, Gyuvin.”

He’s right. After the excitement of their shopping trip, followed by a shower with proper dog shampoo and a quick toilet stop outside, Eumppappa has passed out inside her mango at the foot of the couch. It’s the cutest thing Gyuvin has ever seen. He takes a photo and makes it his lockscreen.

In truth, Gyuvin can’t miss work again. Taking yesterday off had already jeopardised his chances at getting the day manager spot that’s opening up in a few weeks. It’s his best shot at getting off this infernal night shift, and he’s determined to do everything in his power to be in with a chance come the interview.

When he hesitates in the doorway again, Ricky has settled onto the couch with his work laptop open on his lap. He’s pulled the mango bed up onto the couch, so it’s resting against his side. 

Gyuvin’s heart beats a little faster as he looks at Ricky and Eumppappa, at the ordinariness of this scene in his living room. Strangely, all he wants right now is to call in sick, sit down on the couch with the two of them, continue on as they had been last night. He wants to roll a ball for Eumppappa. He wants to ask Ricky questions about himself. He wants to see Ricky without sleeves. 

What a strange new feeling. What a strange new constellation this apartment has become.

He sighs, and slips out the front door.

*

Gyuvin waits until he's safely ensconced in the warm dark corridors of the subway before he pulls his phone out. It rings twice before the other end picks up, and Gyuvin doesn't bother with niceties.

“Gunwook. He's hot.”

To his credit, Gunwook is not thrown by the greeting. Years of friendship in action. “Who's hot?”

“Ricky.”

Gunwook huffs into the phone. “We knew that.”

“No, not his face,” Gyuvin sighs. “His personality. He's like, weird and funny and sweet and good with dogs. Eumppappa seems to really like him.”

Gyuvin can hear the clink of a bowl on the other end of the line and the scrape of a chair. “Gyuvin,” Gunwook says after a moment, “Not to be rude, but who the fuck is Eumppappa?”

“Oh, I found a dog. I'm looking after her until I can find her a home.”

“You didn't want to lead with that headline?”

“That's what you're dwelling on?” Gyuvin asks. He awkwardly wrestles his T-money card out of his bag as the turnstiles approach, the phone wedged between his shoulder and his ear. “It's a dog, Gunwook, you can get them at the store. Focus!”

“Me focus? You focus!” Gunwook replies indignantly, and then his voice gets slightly tinnier as Gyuvin realises he's turned on speaker phone. “Gyuvin found a dog but he thinks his crush on Ricky is more important.”

“Oh what?” comes Matthew’s voice, quickly getting closer to the phone. “I thought we didn't like Ricky?”

Gyuvin smiles smugly at nothing in particular, even though Gunwook cannot see him. He accidentally makes eye contact with the station guard, who gives him a strange look. He ignores it. “Right? He's not actually an alien after all, Mashu, he's some kind of… anime prince .” 

“Like, an action anime or a slice of life anime?”

“Isekai.” 

He hears Matthew make a noise of surprise. “And you're raising a dog together? Bro. It's over for you.”

“Bro,” Gyuvin agrees. “It’s completely over.”

*

Work is the same as ever. Which is to say, it swings wildly between deeply boring and deeply stressful, with no in-betweens. He’s either checking in a group of fifty travelling students here for a music competition, or the lobby is a ghost town for forty minutes.

“You don’t seem sick,” Yujin says in his slow, quiet manner during one of these down periods, spinning himself in circles on his chair. “Where were you yesterday?”

“You’re going to make yourself throw up,” Gyuvin replies, and Yujin just rolls his eyes as he keeps spinning, so Gyuvin kicks the bottom of his chair. The jolt forces Yujin to stop mid-spin, grabbing the counter in surprise. “I found a dog.”

“For real?” Yujin asks, the flash of irritation on his face giving way to interest. “Show me.”

Gyuvin holds up his lockscreen, and Yujin makes a cooing noise that Gyuvin has never heard from him before. It’s mildly disconcerting. “The no-kill shelters won’t take her. I have to try and find her an owner.”

“Oh,” Yujin says thoughtfully, tilting himself back in his chair. It sways backwards in a way that is so much worse than the spinning. Gyuvin resists the urge to push him the rest of the way. “My cousin is looking for a dog, actually. You know Hao?”

Gyuvin nods. Yujin and Hao live together, so Gyuvin's met the guy once or twice. He’s somehow both adorable and terrifying. Clearly a family trait.

“His boyfriend is moving in with us, and now they want a dog. Well, I think Hanbin said a puppy - how old is your dog?”

“Two,” Gyuvin says. “Is that still a puppy?”

“No idea,” Yujin replies. “Anyway, I can ask them? They’re travelling at the moment, but they’ll be back next week. Send me that photo, I’ll show them when they get home.”

“You’re a life-saver Yujinnie,” Gyuvin tells him in an overly saccharine voice, and Yujin makes a nauseated face and then throws a pen at him. But Gyuvin sees him smile, just a little.

A possible adoption for Eumppappa, then. What a relief to have his first lead on finding her a home. Hopefully with people who would appreciate her mango bed and her strawberry jacket and her silly greyhound leash, if his brief impression of Hao is anything to go by.

He wonders what Eumppappa and Ricky are up to right now. After spending both last night and this morning together, he feels strange without them.

Oh. He misses them, he realises. Both of them.

In a quiet moment, he pulls out his phone.

His text thread with Ricky is sparse, mostly curt missives about rent increases or fire alarm inspections. He hesitates slightly, but figures the last 24 hours are excuse enough to break this pattern.

Gyuvin

might have found a lead 

There’s a few moments where nothing happens, and he’s about to put his phone away when suddenly the bubble with dots pops up. And then-

Ricky

Like another leash?

Gyuvin can’t help but laugh, imagining Ricky’s confused face.

Gyuvin

sorry, I mean a lead on finding eumppappa a home

Ricky

Oh!

Ricky

Amazing. 

Ricky

Great job.

Ricky

We went for a walk after dinner.

Gyuvin can’t help but smile at Ricky’s strangely stilted texts. And then an image comes through. It’s Eumppappa in her strawberry jacket, tugging on the greyhound leash that unfurls from the photographer’s perspective. 

A few seconds, and then another photo. Eumppappa is asleep inside her mango again, but this time, she’s curled around her toy strawberry. Gyuvin’s heart grows about ten sizes.

Ricky

Dog battery successfully drained.

Gyuvin

you’re my hero

The typing bubble appears, on and off, for a few seconds. Then a few seconds more. Then a few seconds more. Finally, a thumbs up emoji appears over Gyuvin’s message. Gyuvin rolls his eyes at his phone.

“You’re smiling weirdly,” Yujin says from where he’s flicking scrunched up receipts into the bin. “Are you dating someone or something equally horrible?”

“It’s just dog photos,” Gyuvin replies quickly. Yujin holds his hand out to see.

“Who took these?” he asks as Gyuvin holds his phone up, unwilling to let it out of his hands. He doesn’t trust Yujin as far as he can throw him. 

“My roommate.” 

Yujin makes a face. “The scary guy?”

“He’s not scary, it turns out,” Gyuvin says, and he regrets it immediately as he hears the way the words come out, sees the way Yujin’s face changes.

“I seeee ,” Yujin muses, eyes wide and knowing, and Gyuvin kicks his chair, spinning him into the corner of the office.

*

When Gyuvin wakes up on Saturday morning, Ricky isn’t around.

What Gyuvin does have, intriguingly, is a message from Ricky waiting for him on a leopard print post-it note in the kitchen.

Out of town til Sunday night. Call me if you run into any problems alone.

Gyuvin stares at it for a good minute, trying to imagine a scenario in which he actually picks up his phone and summons Ricky back from whatever weekend away he's off on just because he can't handle their accidental temporary dog. He wants to feel indignant, but all he actually feels is a little soft in the heart. Ricky had thought of them, both of them, before leaving. And it's just. It's nice. To be thought of.

Strange, given it’s by a man who would barely say hello to him for two years before this. But. Nice.

Eumppappa has apparently already been fed and toileted, and Gyuvin finds her inexplicably in front of the TV watching a Youtube For Dogs channel.

“Oh my god, we are not raising an iPad kid,” Gyuvin moans, flicking the TV off. “Your other father spoils you.”

Eumppappa stares up at him with those goldfish eyes, and Gyuvin realises how he’s just referred to Ricky. 

“No, no. Don’t look at me like that, it’s just a joint custody arrangement.” He considers this. “A temporary one. You’re our…foster child. Our ward? Like Batman and Robin. And Ricky is Alfred.” Eumppappa has stopped listening to him, if she ever was. She’s wandered off to start nosing around with a ball. Gyuvin rubs his hands across his face. “Fine. Let’s go to the park, Robin.”

Which is how Gyuvin finds himself standing in the cold throwing a ball just before lunchtime. Normally, Gyuvin would be online right about now for a bit of LoL. Instead, he’s trying to get Eumppappa to pose while holding the ball in her mouth, which does not seem to be a thing she understands. She just keeps dropping the ball in front of him, and he can’t even tell her off, because technically she is performing the task she was taught to do.

It’s actually a little depressing, he thinks, how many commands she can follow. She knows sit, and shake, and lie down, and she understands fetch, and how not to pull on a leash. 

The vet had told him it was sadly common. Pets who were brought home by people who didn’t realise the level of commitment needed. Sometimes, if they had money, they’d just pay for expensive trainers and expensive dog walkers, until finally a hurdle came along that wasn’t worth paying to remove, like an illness or a move.

Gyuvin’s heart clenches when he thinks about this tiny little creature and the state he’d found her in. But Eumppappa, for her part, seems to have taken to her new life like a duck to water.

Gyuvin throws the ball for her until her energy starts to flag, and then they head back to the apartment. She gets tired halfway, and she seems a little cold in the November breeze, so he picks her up and tucks her into his jacket. Zips her inside and carries her the rest of the way. It's adorable. He takes a selfie of them like this, just before they go in.

“Maybe I spoil you too,” Gyuvin sighs, letting her down when they get back to the apartment. “But if you’re only staying with us for a little while, I guess this might as well be a luxury hotel.”

Eumppappa skitters around his feet, oblivious, and Gyuvin feels a little sad at his own words. It’s only been a couple of days, but god. He’s really going to miss her.

It’s difficult to leave Eumppappa alone, when it’s time for Gyuvin to go to work, knowing today Ricky won't be coming home shortly after he leaves. He hesitates, suddenly understanding why he'd found her in front of the dog TV this morning, and then he gives in and flicks it back on as he goes.

He manages though, makes it through his shift and back home again to discover she's just sleeping in her mango, unbothered, and the tight clench of his chest finally releases. 

Eumppappa wakes up when he arrives, pokes her head out to sniff his hands and greet him, getting the information on his day from his scents. 

Gyuvin thinks of Ricky’s post-it this morning, of the way he had left her with the TV on, and wonders if Ricky misses her now just like Gyuvin had on his shift. So he takes a quick photo of her peering out of her mango sleepily, and sends it to his roommate with the caption, going hard on a Saturday evening.

Despite the late hour, Ricky’s reply comes in less than thirty seconds.

Ricky

Cute.

Ricky

Wait for me Eumppappa.

Ricky

I’ll be home as soon as I can.

Gyuvin stares at the messages, and then holds his phone out to the dog.

“Eumppappa, do you see this shit,” he sighs. “He’s such a loser. It’s so hot. This is so concerning.”

Eumppappa licks his phone screen, and Gyuvin understands.

*

When Gyuvin gets back from dinner on Sunday night, he expects to find Eumppappa in her bed. And he’s right. Eumppappa is fast asleep in her mango, head pillowed on her strawberry toy.

What he isn’t expecting is to find Ricky, returned from his trip and seemingly passed out beside her on the couch. He has reading glasses on, his book splayed on the couch beside him. His head is tilted back, and one arm is draped over the mango bed. 

Maybe it's the shock of not seeing him for two days, but Ricky seems an almost holy creature in the dim lamplight of the room. His hair is a little mussed, his shirt open at the collar, and his face looks so gentle in sleep. Gyuvin feels his heart still in his chest. He’s ethereally beautiful.

Gyuvin pauses in the entrance, not wanting to wake them. Not before he can slip his phone out, take a photo. He’s not even sure why he does it. He has no right to steal such things. It doesn’t stop him anyway.

He slips his shoes off and sets his bag down. It’s nearly 11pm, and Ricky has work in the morning. He’ll throw out his neck if he stays sleeping on the couch. Gyuvin walks quietly over and crouches down beside the couch so as not to loom over him. Then he reaches out a hand and gently squeezes Ricky’s arm.

He watches Ricky’s eyes flutter open, glance around, find Gyuvin. A smile flickers across his features, and then confusion.

“Gyuvin?”

“You fell asleep on the couch,” Gyuvin tells him quietly. 

“Oh.”

There’s silence between them, and Gyuvin realises that Ricky is staring at him. 

No, Ricky is staring at his lips.

There’s this strange openness to Ricky’s features that Gyuvin’s never seen before, his walls pulled down by sleep. His eyes are heavy, hooded, and he doesn’t seem to be quite in control of his reactions. Unconsciously, Gyuvin runs his tongue across his lips, suddenly feeling like they’re dry. Ricky’s gaze follows the movement.

For a single, surreal moment, Gyuvin imagines leaning forward into the space between them. Imagines placing his hand on Ricky’s sharp jawline, pressing their lips together, opening Ricky’s own up to explore. Imagines the way he might climb into Ricky’s lap as he does so, hands running down Ricky’s pristine shirt, ruffling it up. Or perhaps he’d push Ricky’s hair back from his eyes, run his fingers through it, tangle them up just like the two of them.

The vision floods his senses, unexpected and almost alarming. He's not sure why he's so caught off guard, he's always known Ricky was attractive. He's just… never been attracted before. Not like this.

“Gyuvin,” Ricky whispers, and with a start, Gyuvin realises he’s the one staring at Ricky’s lips now, so red against his pale skin. Gyuvin rocks back on his heels, rises to his feet.

“You should go to bed,” he murmurs, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. “It’s late.”

“Mmm,” Ricky responds, a little dreamily. And then he’s standing, stretching his arms out. His sleeves are rolled up at the wrists, Gyuvin realises. He can see muscles and veins in Ricky’s forearms.

Gyuvin needs a cold shower, immediately. Or a long, hot, private one with no interruptions. 

“Did you have a good trip?” Gyuvin asks, relieved to find his voice comes out sounding relatively normal, and Ricky nods.

“It was nice. But I missed her.” He’s smiling down at the little sleeping dog. “I feel like she's part of my morning routine already.”

Not for the first or last time, Gyuvin is struck again by how incredibly lucky he is that Ricky cares as much as he does. It must show on his face, as Ricky rubs his neck self-consciously. “Don’t say thank you.”

“I will,” Gyuvin insists. “Thank you for helping with her, Ricky.”

“Mm,” Ricky responds awkwardly. “Well. I won’t see you in the morning. But I’ll give her breakfast and message you if anything happens.”

“Thank you , Ricky,” Gyuvin says again, smiling warmly, and Ricky nods, and turns for his room. Gyuvin watches him go.

And then he makes for the bathroom.

*

Despite their conflicting schedules meaning he’s not always seeing Ricky in person, both Ricky and Eumppappa have woven themselves into Gyuvin’s day to day alarmingly fast.

One morning, Gyuvin realises Ricky has left laundry in the machine, and puts it into the dryer for him. The next day, Ricky leaves breakfast for Gyuvin as thanks, a dog-friendly meal Gyuvin shares with Eumppappa on the couch. 

Gyuvin brings home leftovers from a catering event at the hotel and leaves some in the fridge for Ricky, and then a second tiny dog jacket, this one printed with mangos, appears in the front hall closet.

And all the while, they’re messaging. It starts with just dog photos - Ricky sends one of Eumppappa drinking foamed milk out of a miniature coffee cup from a dog cafe, and Gyuvin sends one back of Eumppappa on a slide at a children’s playground.

But gradually, the topics start to shift and open up. Gyuvin starts sharing stories from the hotel, and Ricky tells him more about his office. Gyuvin tells Ricky about taking Eumppappa to the park with Gunwook and Matthew, and he hears about how Ricky’s friends Jiwoong and Taerae have been researching dog-friendly events and galleries to bring her to.

Gyuvin learns that Ricky is afraid of heights, and loves cats, and doesn’t believe in Myers Briggs or astrology but does believe in ghosts. Each new nugget of information colours in his black and white outline of Ricky, in shades he'd never expected to draw with.

On Friday, as he's nearly home at a bit before 1am, Gyuvin emerges from the subway entrance near his apartment to discover he can see a few stars. It's a rare sight in Seoul, and he takes a photo and sends it to Ricky with a bunch of star emojis.

Oddly for this time of night, the photo gets a read response almost immediately. Gyuvin pauses for a moment, but no answer is forthcoming, so he puts his phone away and walks the few streets to his door. 

Only, it's not his silent, darkened building waiting for him, but-

“Eumppappa?” he calls out, and the little dog starts skittering in circles around Ricky’s be-slippered ankles with delight as Gyuvin approaches. Ricky is clearly in his pyjamas, a matching black silk set, but with a big puffy coat thrown on over the top, and Gyuvin realises he was squinting at the sky just now. The stars aren't visible from here, blocked by a few buildings.

“Hey,” Ricky greets as Gyuvin reaches them both, happily scooping Eumppappa up off the ground and into his arms. She goes excitedly and willingly, licking Gyuvin’s chin.

“Hey?” Gyuvin laughs back. “Shouldn't you be asleep?”

“It's the weekend,” Ricky replies, and then, a little more quietly, “I wanted to see the stars.”

Gyuvin feels his whole face beaming at Ricky. It's sudden and uncontrollable and no doubt embarrassing, when it does that.

“So let's go see the stars then,” Gyuvin tells him, and Eumppappa barks with delight as he puts her down.

“Go?” Ricky asks, and Gyuvin nods. 

“Not far. Just to the bridge.”

There's a little stream about three streets away, and the bridge has a clearer view of the sky, unobstructed by buildings as they are now. It's not far to walk, and Ricky doesn't hesitate despite not wearing proper shoes.

“It's fine,” he says, when Gyuvin mentions his footwear. “These are old anyway.”

“Huh,” Gyuvin responds unconsciously, and Ricky glances at him.

“Huh what?”

“Nothing. You just don't seem like an old slippers kind of person. I figured you'd buy new slippers the second yours wore through.” When Ricky just stares at him, Gyuvin adds, “Don't look at me like that, I've seen all your shopping bags in the hallway a million times.”

At this, Ricky cracks a smile. “You’re right. I’ve just been putting off replacing these. My friends gave them to me.”

Gyuvin finds it hard to keep looking at Ricky, when he says something that adorable. Thankfully, they've reached the bridge now. A bigger stretch of the night sky appears, inky black streaked with the purple of cloud cover, but in the east a stretch of pure darkness hosts a handful of pinpricks of light.

Gyuvin reaches down and picks Eumppappa up again. “Look Eumppappa, the stars are out!” He tilts her back in his arms so she can see, though he's not sure she's quite getting the memo based on the way she immediately starts licking his chin again.

When he glances at Ricky, he realises Ricky is watching him, not the stars, a soft smile on his face. And then he quickly looks away, back at the sky. Gyuvin follows his gaze.

“When I was a child, I wanted to be an astronomer,” Ricky says after a few moments, and Gyuvin can’t help but laugh.

“That is such a Ricky thing to want to be,” he replies, and Ricky ducks his head, smiling. And it strikes Gyuvin suddenly, the fact that he now knows what a Ricky thing is and is not. How funny. “Not any more?”

“Not any more,” Ricky nods. And then, after a few moments, he adds a little quietly, “I’ll probably just inherit the family business.”

He sounds muted all of a sudden, a little flat. Gyuvin glances at him. “But?”

Ricky shrugs. “I don’t know.” His brow is slightly creased, and he shakes his head. Continues softly, like he's not sure he wants Gyuvin to hear him: “I want to own my own restaurant.”

“You’d have an amazing restaurant,” Gyuvin tells him enthusiastically, and he means it. “Great food and it’d be trendy as hell.”

“Thanks,” Ricky murmurs. “What about you?”

Gyuvin shifts Eumppappa in his arms a little, and she puts her head down on his shoulder, yawns. It squeezes at his heart. “I don’t really mind what I do,” he muses, gazing down at her. “I just want to have a life outside it. Normal hours, normal weekends, something worth coming home to. That’s all.”

“Something worth coming home to,” Ricky repeats. “That sounds nice.”

They’re quiet for a moment, enjoying the nighttime city soundscape. The gentle woosh of cars on the main road a few blocks over could be the wind, or maybe the sea.

“Thanks for sending me that photo,” Ricky says after a moment. “I feel like I haven't seen the stars in years. I almost forgot they exist.”

“I’ll try and fix that,” Gyuvin replies, and Ricky nods.

“You already have.”

Gyuvin runs a hand over Eumppappa’s ears, eyes on the sky, and tries to ignore the windchimes in his chest.

*

When the morning rolls around, Gyuvin wakes up to an empty apartment, and he tries not to feel disappointed. He’d been wondering, with this new status quo, if anything might change once they both have the same few free weekend hours.

And then he notices it’s an empty empty apartment, meaning Eumppappa is nowhere to be seen. He checks his phone, but there’s no message from Ricky. 

He’s standing indecisively in the living room, wondering if it’s overbearing to message and ask where they both are, when the two objects of his concern come through the front door.

“Where-” he begins, and then he stops, slack-jawed, because Ricky is not in a button-down shirt and slacks as he usually is. No, Ricky is in sweat pants and a muscle tank, a little sweaty, and his hair is pushed back off his forehead. Eumppappa is tucked under one arm, and there’s a brown paper bag in his other hand.

So, Gyuvin had been correct. Ricky does not just go to the gym, Ricky is in fact built as hell, in a slim, toned kind of way. His shoulders are surprisingly broad and well-defined, and he puts Eumppappa down as though she weighs nothing to him, which may in fact be true.

“Ha-” Gyuvin begins again, and then stops, because he’s not even sure what word he is trying to say. He can’t stop staring at Ricky’s arms.

“We went for a run,” Ricky answers without further prompting. “Well, we tried. Eumppappa gets tired surprisingly quickly.”

“Hunting dogs are bred for sprinting short distances,” Gyuvin supplies absently, his brain and mouth still on auto-pilot as he watches Ricky slide his sneakers off. His eyes run down the muscles of Ricky’s back, clearly visible through the clinging fabric. 

“I ended up holding her half the way. Which is an interesting new workout, I suppose.” Ricky puts the paper bag down in the kitchen. “Sorry I took her without saying anything. I thought I’d be back before you woke.”

“Walking our dog is not something you need to apologise for, Ricky,” Gyuvin tells him emphatically, finally managing to get a hold on reality. He slips onto one of the kitchen stools. “You say sorry a lot, you know that? I need to institute a penalty system. One coffee per needless apology.”

Ricky looks a little like a deer caught in headlights, and for a moment Gyuvin wonders if he's crossed a line. Their friendship is so new, so tentative, and he's out here blundering into Ricky's boundaries without a thought. But then Ricky nods.

“I do. Bad habit. The marks of strict parents and Catholic school, I guess.” His words are slow, thoughtful. “I just always kind of feel like I'm doing something wrong, somehow.”

“That is very Catholic,” Gyuvin agrees, leaning his elbows on the kitchen counter. “I get it though. I’m often waiting for people to get mad at me, like they did when I was a kid. I was always breaking and losing stuff.” He shrugs. “I thought you'd be angry. About Eumppappa.”

“When you kept her?” Ricky asks, and Gyuvin nods.

“It was pretty inconsiderate of me.”

Ricky shakes his head. “Gyuvin. You saved a dog’s life, at great personal inconvenience and expense. That's not inconsiderate at all.” His tone is soft, softer than Gyuvin is used to. It's a little like how he sounds when he looks at Eumppappa, and a little like how he looks too. “I admire you, honestly.”

“Oh,” Gyuvin murmurs. They're staring at each other again, and there's the slightest smile on Ricky's face, and Gyuvin can feel himself mirroring it. It warms his cheeks and crinkles his eyes, he can feel it in his fingers, in his chest.

“Did you eat?” Ricky asks, gesturing at the bag on the counter. “I need to wash up first, but if you can wait five minutes, I bought croissants from that bakery round the corner you like.”

Once again, Gyuvin feels like he’s temporarily lost control of his ability to form coherent speech. An inhumanly beautiful, ridiculously sweet man has brought him breakfast from a cafe he had mentioned one time several days prior in a text. This is unprecedented in Gyuvin’s life. The last guy he dated hadn’t even wanted to meet him for breakfast at a cafe ten feet from the guy’s apartment.

Not that he’s dating Ricky.

Oh, god. He wishes he was dating Ricky.

He can admit that to himself. Not so long ago he would have described his feelings towards Ricky as disinterested at best, mildly hostile at worst. But throw a dog and some honest conversation in the mix and he's down so bad he might as well be the stock market.

And it's not because Ricky is hot, although that is absolutely a key selling point. But honestly, Gyuvin had always known Ricky was hot. He hadn't known Ricky was kind, and thoughtful, and someone who could make Gyuvin laugh. He hadn't even remotely considered such a reality to be possible. 

“Croissants would be great,” he finally manages to get out as Ricky makes for the shower, and Gyuvin waits for him to leave before he crouches down to scratch Eumppappa’s ears.

“Eumppappa,” he whispers, holding her tiny face in his hands. “I like him so much! What the fuck!”

Eumppappa licks his hand, and makes an excited whining noise. 

“You’re right, this is all your fault.” Gyuvin lets her go, rubbing down her sides, and Eumppappa wags her tail at him. “Stop looking so happy about all this, you little parent trapper.”

Eumppappa skitters off in search of a ball, and Gyuvin watches her go.

He supposes the blessing is that he can just ignore all of this, and eventually it will go away. His dog, his crush, this strange new family that has coalesced under his roof.

“This is all just temporary,” he mutters, watching her snuffle under the couch. The words feel heavy on his tongue. “Get it together.”

*

Gyuvin does not in fact get it together.

They eat the croissants and take Eumppappa to the park and stop by the market together to do some grocery shopping. It's horrifically domestic, and Gyuvin heads in to work that afternoon feeling almost concussed to some degree.

Ricky is out on Sunday, some family thing, and Gyuvin has the audacity to miss him, which he complains about to Gunwook and Matthew when they meet for lunch.

“I think I might be losing my mind,” Gyuvin groans into his hotpot, and Matthew pats him on the shoulder.

“Parenthood is very stressful.”

Gyuvin’s phone buzzes. It's from Ricky, a selfie with Eumppappa on what seems to be a yacht.

“Well you weren't kidding about his money,” Gunwook mutters, peering at the screen. “Is he single?”

Matthew whacks Gunwook on the arm, and Gunwook grabs his hands and kisses his fingers. “I meant to join us, babe. Like as a third. To finance our lifestyle.”

“Oh, well in that case sure,” Matthew laughs, the two of them grinning disgustingly at each other.

“That's my daughter's father you're talking about,” Gyuvin interjects, grabbing his phone back from them. “I have dibs.”

“Better move fast then Gyub,” Matthew replies, wiggling his eyebrows, and Gyuvin throws a piece of cabbage at him.

A few nights later, after Gyuvin has been complaining via text to Ricky about a particularly terrible group of foreign customers that have just been checked in, a food delivery worker shows up in the hotel lobby. It’s pouring rain outside, and he drips a puddle onto the floor that Gyuvin is going to make Yujin clean up, if he can figure out where the hell Yujin has disappeared to. 

But the rider presents Gyuvin with a tray of fresh cut-up mango before heading back out into the storm, and Gyuvin is left staring at it speechlessly for a full minute while his brain scrambles and unscrambles itself.

Gyuvin takes a photo, sends it to Ricky.

Gyuvin

WHO MADE THISSS

Ricky

Is this another tiktok meme

Gyuvin

maybe

Gyuvin

it means thank you

Ricky

I actually don’t think that’s true

Ricky

But you’re welcome

Ricky

I hope your night gets better

Gyuvin places his phone down gently, and then groans, dropping his face against the counter.

“Kill meeeeeeee,” he mutters into the papers that are pressed against his lips, and he hears a noise like a muffled laugh.

His head jerks up, and he realises there’s two people standing in his lobby. One of them looks mildly concerned, eyes wide with confusion. The other is staring at him with a smirk written on his fairy-like features. For one horrible second he thinks these must be the guests for room 141 that haven’t checked in yet, and then he realises he recognises one of them.

“Hao, right?”

The smirking one nods. “Yujin forgot his umbrella, we were just dropping it off on the way out.” He gestures at Gyuvin, and his tone is dry as he adds, “Sorry to interrupt your… work.”

“An interruption right now is actually very welcome,” Gyuvin replies, deciding to simply ignore his embarrassment.

“Actually, I was hoping you might be here,” the wide-eyed one says, and Gyuvin suspects this must be the boyfriend, Hanbin. His suspicion is confirmed when presumably-Hanbin adds, “I wanted to ask more about that dog Yujin mentioned.”

For a second, Gyuvin is confused. And then he remembers - right, he is supposed to be finding a home for Eumppappa. “Oh,” he exclaims, sitting up straighter. “Yes! Eumppappa!”

“Yujin said she had a strange name,” Hao murmurs to Hanbin, who seems to be laughing with his eyes, though he’s doing a better job of keeping it off his face otherwise. Hanbin nods.

“Can we see her?”

Gyuvin pulls out his phone, finds a recent video of Eumppappa. It’s one Ricky had sent to him, where she’s chasing a ball around the living room, accidentally rolling it further every time she tries to pick it up. The sound of Ricky’s low laugh forms the soundtrack. Gyuvin has watched it nearly hourly.

“She’s adorable,” Hanbin exclaims, a little starry-eyed as he grabs Hao’s arm. Hao smiles at his boyfriend.

“You say that about every dog on earth.” He sounds immeasurably fond. He glances at Gyuvin. “Would we be able to meet her?”

Gyuvin nods, and this should be fantastic news, shouldn’t it? Why does he have such a sinking feeling in his stomach? He swallows it down, puts all his energy into keeping it off his face. “Of course! Are you free on Saturday morning?”

They are. So, that’s great. It’s great! Gyuvin repeats this to himself as he exchanges numbers with them, as they leave Yujin’s umbrella with him and head out into the rain.

He stares down at Eumppappa’s video again. It’s Tuesday. He has less than a week left with her. The thought curdles inside him.

*

When Gyuvin arrives home that evening around 1am, he’s surprised to hear multiple voices emanating through the front door. 

Most of the time, when he comes home at this time from his job, the apartment is cold and dark and silent. Only in the last two weeks has there been someone waiting for him - Eumppappa is usually asleep in her mango, but she tends to stir when Gyuvin comes through the door, waits for him to give her a pat before she curls back up again, seemingly more relaxed knowing that he has returned. It makes getting through the night shift infinitely more bearable.

But today, it’s not just Eumppappa who is waiting to greet him. He arrives to find Ricky with his legs curled up beneath him on the couch, Eumppappa passed out in her mango beside him. And they’re not alone - there’s someone else on the couch beside Ricky, and another perched in the armchair. Empty wine glasses are out on the coffee table.

He recognises them from photos Ricky has sent him - the one with the bright eyes and wide smile on the couch is Taerae, the handsome vampire-esque one in the chair Jiwoong.

“Gyuvin!” Taerae exclaims loudly as Gyuvin enters the scene. “Gyuvin is here!”

It’s an odd thing to say, his tone almost a little panicked, as though - as though Gyuvin had been the subject of conversation prior to his arrival. Strange.

“Ladies,” Gyuvin greets, and Jiwoong waves. 

“Nice to finally meet you. We’ve heard-”

“A regular amount,” Taerae cuts him off emphatically. “Of completely normal things.”

At this, Ricky slams a fist into Taerae’s thigh, and Taerae lets out a small yelp.

“Sorry,” Ricky tells Gyuvin. “We’ve been drinking.”

“I can see that,” Gyuvin laughs, and Ricky meets his smile with one of his own. Gyuvin realises how tense and nervous Ricky had been until just now. “And now you owe me another coffee.”

“How was that an unjustified apology? We’re being disruptive.”

“You are allowed to drink in your own home, Shen Ricky. Add it to the ledger.”

Ricky sighs, pulls out his phone and writes something down. “I’m racking these up faster than I can pay them off.”

“Then stop apologising all the time,” Gyuvin replies, grinning down at him, and he wonders if he looks as fond as he sounds. And then he realises with a start that there are two extra sets of eyes observing him. He watches as Taerae and Jiwoong share an indecipherable look, and Gyuvin feels his cheeks burn under the attention. 

“So,” Jiwoong says, getting to his feet. “It’s late, and Gyuvin probably wants to sleep. We’ll head off.”

“You don’t have to leave on my account,” Gyuvin tells him earnestly, and Jiwoong shakes his head.

“You’re just an excuse, I wanted to go to bed an hour ago.”

Taerae laughs at this, sliding off the couch. He bends over the mango, patting Eumppappa gently on the head. “Goodnight, little princess,” he sing-songs. “Your uncles love you.”

Eumppappa lets out the cutest snuffle in her sleep, and Ricky glances up and makes eye contact with Gyuvin, an adoring expression on his face. It’s all so domestic and comfortable, and Gyuvin feels a bolt of something strike him right in the chest. His vision seems to narrow, time almost slowing.

Oh god. He’s going to lose this, all of this, isn’t he. His dog is going to go, and Ricky will never talk to him again, and their lives will revert to how they were. He probably won’t get the promotion, and he’ll just keep coming home at this time to a silent and empty apartment, and there won’t ever be anyone to meet him.

Taerae and Jiwoong wave their goodbyes, and Gyuvin sits down on the couch beside Eumppappa, his fingers tracing gently over her bony shoulders, careful so as not to wake her. He feels almost frozen there as Ricky cleans up the wine glasses, the sadness in his chest an unbearable sandbag pulling him down.

“Gyuvin?” Ricky says after a moment, shutting off the tap where he stands at the kitchen island, and Gyuvin isn’t sure if he’d been saying something before that or not. “Are you ok?”

Ricky’s looking at him with big, concerned eyes, and Gyuvin tries to snap himself out of it. He takes a deep breath, squares his shoulders. “I might have found Eumppappa a home.”

Ricky seems to still at that. “Oh?”

“You remember that couple I mentioned, Hao and Hanbin? They’re coming by on Saturday to meet her.”

“Oh,” Ricky says again, a little stiltedly. “Well. That’s- good, right?” He sounds uncertain. Gyuvin understands.

“I guess,” he sighs. “I’ll just miss her, that’s all. But it’s good. It’s good.” If he can repeat it enough times, maybe he’ll start to believe it.

“I’ll miss her too,” Ricky says quietly. “But this is what she needs, right?”

“Right,” Gyuvin agrees. “It’s for the best.”

And it is, isn’t it? She can’t stay here, he had been certain of that. 

It’s just that, for the first time, he can’t quite remember why.

*

The one thing that’s distracting him from the dread he feels about Saturday, is the dread he feels about Friday. It’s the day of his interview for the day manager position, and Gyuvin is doing his best to do interview prep in the down-time he gets on shift. 

Not that he’s ever really understood exactly what ‘interview prep’ is supposed to be. He looks up interview questions online and gets Yujin to ask them to him, and then he feels like a dickhead answering them in business language while Yujin stares at him with an impassive expression barely masking his amusement. 

It all just makes Gyuvin feel less confident than ever. He can’t shake the feeling that he’s just going to mess this up, because that feels like something he would do. 

“What have you messed up recently?” Yujin asks him when he admits this, barely looking up from some kind of puzzle game on his phone. “Name one thing.”

And Gyuvin can’t, which is unexpected. “Huh. That’s strangely helpful.”

“Strangely,” Yujin repeats in a dry tone, and Gyuvin laughs.

“Sorry. You’re always the most helpful, Yujin-ah. I’d be lost without you.”

“Then take me with you to the day shift,” Yujin responds flatly, but he looks pleased as he stares down at his phone. Gyuvin salutes him. It will be his first priority, if he gets this stupid job.

When Gyuvin gets home on Thursday night, Ricky is still up, typing away at something on his work laptop in the living room.

“You’re awake?” Gyuvin asks as he lets himself in, and Ricky nods, smiling as looks up. He closes his laptop.

“We wanted to wish you luck.”

We. Gyuvin is surprised to discover that Eumppappa is in fact awake as well, her little head poking out of the mango as she emerges to come and sniff at Gyuvin’s feet, reading the scents of the hotel on him like a newspaper. Gyuvin gives her a few moments to get her fix, and then he picks her up to pull her into his arms. She comes willingly, licking his cheek in excitement, and Gyuvin feels the strange tide of love rising in him as it always does when he sees her.

Finally she settles a little into the crook of his arms, and when Gyuvin looks away, he notes that Ricky is watching the two of them with the softest look on his face. They make eye contact, and Ricky doesn’t break it as Gyuvin expects. He just lets out a long breath, his smile dropping.

“I’ll miss this,” he says quietly, and Gyuvin blinks in surprise at the honest admission. He sets Eumppappa back down on the couch, and she trots onto Ricky’s lap, sniffing at his fingers and nosing his hand into patting her.

“Me too,” Gyuvin sighs. “All of this.”

“All of it?” Ricky asks, looking a little confused, and Gyuvin feels self-conscious as he tries to find words that don’t make him sound insane.

“Just- it’s been nice, talking to you, I guess.”

Ricky stares at him for a moment, and then an amused expression breaks over his features. “Gyuvin-ah,” he says, a little incredulously. “Do you think I’m going to stop talking to you just because there’s no dog to talk about?”

“I don’t know,” Gyuvin replies, suddenly feeling incredibly self-conscious. “We never spoke before.”

“That was my fault,” Ricky tells him, more gently than Gyuvin has ever heard him sound outside of speaking to Eumppappa. His fingers skim absently over her back where she’s curled up on his lap like a pretzel. “It won’t happen again.”

His fault? What does that mean? He opens his mouth to ask, but Ricky is getting up all of a sudden, placing Eumppappa gently into her mango. He turns around, smiling, and reaches out to place a hand on Gyuvin’s shoulder. Gyuvin has to restrain himself with all his being not to look at where Ricky is touching him. He feels warm beneath Ricky’s fingers.

“Good luck tomorrow, Gyuvin. You’ll be great. I promise.”

“That’s a big promise,” Gyuvin replies, and his voice comes out quieter than he means it to, breathier. Ricky seems really close to him, all of a sudden.

“Then you better keep it for me,” Ricky tells him with a smile. And then his hand drops, and he disappears to his bedroom.

*

Gyuvin wakes up on Friday morning with lead in his stomach. His interview isn’t until the afternoon, cutting into his shift, so he has plenty of time to psyche himself out into a complete state before then.

When he drags his body out of his bedroom, Eumppappa skittering around his feet excitedly, he finds Ricky has left something for him on the kitchen island. It’s under a cloche, which, why on earth do they own a cloche? There’s a little post-it note on it, one printed with a little calico cat in the bottom corner, because Ricky seems to have the taste of a fifteen-year-old girl sometimes. It’s adorable. 

Fighting Gyuvin-ah! The note reads, and there’s a tiny sketch of Eumppappa holding a light stick and cheering underneath it. Gyuvin stares at it for a moment, and he can feel himself blushing, for some reason. He places it gently to the side, and then pulls off the cloche to find mango french toast and a cup of coffee from the cafe on the corner.

“Your other father,” he starts to tell Eumppappa, but he stops, unable to figure out how to finish that sentence. Is insane? Is perfect? It’s somewhere in between those two poles.

He eats his breakfast, pulls on some casual clothes, finds Eumppappa’s leash. A walk should calm him down. They go to the park a few streets away, and Gyuvin tries not to zone out as he lets Eumppappa snuffle through the bushes. He doesn’t need to be this nervous. It’s an interview, he’s had those before. 

He’s just never cared about the outcome this much, he realises.

He wants a regular schedule, a regular sleep time, a social life that happens at regular hours, a regular weekend. He wants- god, he wants to see Ricky when he comes home. Ricky had said they’d still be friends, hadn’t he? Maybe it won’t be the same, their little family missing a piece, but they can still see each other right?

Gyuvin snaps back to reality to find Eumppappa eating the remains of some kind of baked good on the ground, and he lunges to grab it from her. He’s far too late, he can see she’s already managed to get through half of whatever it is. A croissant, maybe.

“Do you have a death wish?” he asks the little dog, who stares balefully up at him, as if he has perpetrated a great betrayal. “We don’t even know what this is.”

Gyuvin spends the rest of the morning in a slight daze, running over interview questions in his mind, and almost forgets that he needs to go on a grocery run. He’d promised Ricky to pick up a few items for both of them, their grocery list starting to merge the more they move into each other’s spheres. So Gyuvin swallows his nervous desire to simply sit on the couch in the living room and stare at the wall for the next few hours and instead goes out to buy soy sauce and kelp and a couple of other things Ricky has written on the fridge.

It’s a reasonable distraction, and he manages to waste a bit of time window shopping along the way. But when he gets home, Eumppappa isn’t waiting for him by the door, or in her mango, which is odd.

“Eumppappa?” he calls out, and she doesn’t come running, skittering towards him as she normally would. He feels his stomach clench with alarm, just a little. 

In the living room, there’s a small puddle of vomit on the floor. Gyuvin frowns, looks around and notices his bedroom door is wide open. He steps around the mess, follows his instincts and finds his little dog curled up in his sheets. She’s vomited on those too, which is wonderful, but he puts that aside for now to crouch down beside her. She looks pale, if it’s possible for a dog to look pale, and a little shivery. She stares up at him with her big, snowglobe eyes full of woe, and Gyuvin feels his entire chest tighten with worry. He reaches out to pat her.

“What did you eat before?” he mutters, and she lets out a baleful sigh, places her head on her paws and closes her eyes.

Gyuvin quickly pulls out his phone, tries to remember what that croissant had looked like this morning as he scrolls down a list of foods that are bad for dogs, and stops cold when he sees that chocolate is basically poisonous. Had it been a chocolate croissant? He has no idea. Oh, god. This tiny creature’s entire life is in his hands, and he’d been so wrapped up in his own head he’d put her in danger.

“Ok, ok, ok,” he mutters, trying to calm himself down enough to make a plan. “We have to go to the doctor. Like, right now.”

He glances at the clock, and his heart sinks like a stone. He is due at his interview in an hour.

There’s no way he can get Eumppappa to the vet and back in time, and even if he could, it’s not like he could then just leave her here alone in her current state.

With a horrible sinking feeling, like watching a train leaving the station when you’re supposed to be on it, he realises he is going to pick this dog over his job. Of course he is, look at her, so tiny and sad and so completely dependent on him for her wellbeing.

He puts his thoughts aside for a moment, pulls out his phone and calls the vet. They can see them right when his interview is supposed to be, encourage him to bring her in to be cautious. They try to reassure him it will all be ok, that he’s done the right thing calling, that it’s good to get her checked. That this happens to every pet owner, and not to beat himself up. He thanks them, knowing full well he’s going to do so anyway.

He’s holding his phone, staring at her as he tries to get the courage to make the call to work, when a notification appears on screen. It’s Ricky, sending a series of strong arm emojis, no doubt encouragement for the interview Gyuvin is supposed to be on his way to in about twenty minutes.

And Gyuvin is a creature of impulse, at the end of the day. Always has been, a jumble of split-second decisions shaped like a man. So he’s barely thinking as he presses on Ricky’s picture, hits the phone button, lets it ring.

“Gyuvin?” Ricky picks up quickly, and he sounds surprised.

“Ricky,” Gyuvin lets out, and he can hear the panic in his voice, “Eumppappa is sick, she ate something and she’s thrown up everywhere, I need to get her to the vet and I’m going to miss the interview and I’m just freaking out right now. I don’t even know why I called you, I-”

“I’m getting an Uber,” Ricky cuts him off. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

“That’s not-”

“Fifteen minutes,” Ricky repeats. “Just get ready for the interview.” And then he hangs up.

Gyuvin can barely focus on getting changed, on trying to get his hair to do something respectable, when all he wants to do is cuddle the poor sickly creature burrowed in his sheets.

He cleans the vomit in the living room, and manages to pick Eumppappa up and place her gently in her mango so that he can throw his bedding in the washing machine too. 

And then Ricky comes purposefully through the door, and there’s no words for the sheer relief Gyuvin feels when they lock eyes. 

“How is she?”

“Pretty miserable,” Gyuvin sighs, and Ricky crouches down beside the mango bed, starts to scratch Eumppappa behind the ears.

“It’ll be ok,” Ricky tells her in his soft for-Eumppappa voice, and then he glances up at Gyuvin. “You better go.”

“I-”

“Gyuvin,” Ricky murmurs, standing up. He gently takes Gyuvin’s wrist. “Please. Just trust me.”

Gyuvin stares at him for a second, and isn’t that strange because- 

“I do,” he says, and he means it. Somehow, he really, really does.

*

Gyuvin’s interview goes surprisingly well, all things considered. 

It’s hard to focus knowing Eumppappa is at the vet having god knows what done to her, while he’s sitting in some bland conference room trying to pretend he cares about check-in speed and customer satisfaction scores. But he channels his best impression of Business Ricky, and he’s been doing this work for long enough that his answers come to him without much thought.

He’s even kind of surprised to discover that his bosses seem to like him, which he’s never been totally sure of. A little after he’d begun, there’d been this incident with him dancing to an NCT song when he was supposed to be working and he’d honestly thought they’d never really gotten over it.

Finally it’s over, and since Gyuvin’s shift is already being covered, he’s able to head straight home. It takes longer than usual since he’s not used to travelling at peak hour, and when he bursts through the door just after six it feels like it’s been days since he left the apartment, not just a few short hours.

He can see Eumppappa in her mango, asleep with her head just on the lip so that her pointy little nose sticks out. She stirs as Gyuvin enters, picks her head up to look at him, and she seems very tired and slow but Gyuvin lets out a sigh of relief he had felt himself holding in every limb and every sinew all afternoon.

He can hear Ricky in the kitchen, clattering with some kind of pot, and he’s singing.

Gyuvin pauses. He’s never heard Ricky sing before. His voice is high and soft and sweet, not what Gyuvin would have thought from his low tenor of speech. 

Gyuvin approaches slowly from the entryway, hoping Ricky doesn’t notice him just yet. It takes a few moments of just standing there, watching him, before Ricky finally turns, stopping mid-line in surprise.

“You’re back!” he exclaims. “How did it go?”

“Pretty well,” Gyuvin replies quickly, distractedly. “I’ll find out next week. What about the patient?”

“She’ll be fine. She already threw everything up so they just gave her some kind of charcoal to eat and said to keep an eye on her. She’s been ok since, just sleeping it off.”

“Thank god,” Gyuvin says, slipping into one of the bar stools along the kitchen island. He places his forehead on the cool fake marble top for a moment. “I was so freaked out. I’ve never had to- her whole existence is completely dependent on us, isn’t that insane?”

“It is,” Ricky agrees, turning the stove off. 

“What if I’d killed her?”

“Gyuvin,” Ricky sighs. “Dogs eat things. The vet said it happens to everyone.”

The vet is probably right, but Gyuvin still feels an unholy amount of guilt. He raises his head, realises Ricky is plating up two bowls of pork fried rice, and suddenly one is slid in front of him. He blinks at it, and then at Ricky.

“Thank you,” he says.

“It’s just rice,” Ricky replies, leaning on the counter from the other side.

“Not just for the rice,” Gyuvin tells him. “For coming home. For taking her. For helping me get to my interview. You’re kind of incredible, Ricky.”

Ricky drops his gaze, concentrates on his food for a moment, self-conscious. “I’m just glad I could help,” he says finally. 

Sometimes Gyuvin feels things so strongly it’s like they’re rattling around inside him, crashing into his edges, trying to find an escape point. Like the outside Gyuvin is a hollow cage, and the real Gyuvin is trapped inside, a roiling mass of feeling and impulse desperate to blow a hole in his side.

It feels like that now, as he watches Ricky take a bite of his rice. Feelings that seem to hurl themselves at the inside of his rib cage, clawing for acknowledgement, desperate to make it to the light of day. He can barely distinguish what they are - gratitude, relief, surprise, embarrassment, guilt, affection, all swirled together.

“Ricky,” he says, and he doesn’t know what’s going to come out after that, where this sentence sees itself in five seconds let alone five years. “I’m glad you’re in my life now.”

It’s so sincere, and Gyuvin feels himself cringe a little inwardly as he says it. Ricky just looks at him for a beat, quiet, but there’s this smile on his lips, leaping up into his eyes. 

“I know,” he says, after a silent moment. “I’m glad you’re in mine now too.”

Why weren’t we like this before? Gyuvin wants to ask. Ricky had said it was his fault somehow, hadn’t he? Not that Gyuvin had done much to try and mend whatever had gone wrong so quickly between them. It had been easier to just go along with it, to let the ice-cold Ricky in his head become reality, than to try.

No, he can't really blame Ricky. So he just smiles, and eats his rice.

The two of them watch another few episodes of Ricky’s drama, Eumppappa fast asleep between them on the couch. It’s been a big and exciting day, and despite his usually late sleep schedule Gyuvin finds his eyes drooping around the same time Ricky’s begin to. The credits on the episode roll, and Ricky switches off the TV, and suddenly Gyuvin remembers that he has no sheets.

“I didn’t put them in the dryer,” he says suddenly, sitting up straight on the couch. “Oh my god, this day.”

“Put what where?” Ricky asks confusedly, trying desperately to connect dots he has absolutely no context for.

“My bedsheets. Eumppappa threw up on them, but I haven’t washed my other set yet, so I don’t have anything clean.”

Ricky glances down at Eumppappa. “That’s kind of sweet.”

“It’s- what?”

“She must have thought of your bed as a safe place. I guess because it smells like you.”

“Oh my god,” Gyuvin whispers. “That’s so cute. Oh my god. I forgive you Eumppappa. My baby. My angel.” He runs his fingers over her ears, and she stirs in her sleep, but doesn’t wake. “I guess I’ll sleep on the couch with her. I can use the throw.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ricky tells him, standing up. “You can share with me.”

Gyuvin’s brain malfunctions slightly. “I can - what?”

“Our beds are different sizes, I can’t lend you my sheets. So just. Stay in mine. It’s just one night.”

“Ok,” Gyuvin agrees without thinking, too scared to try for anything more complex lest it come out in the form of a garbled scream.

He gets changed, cleans his teeth and his face, and then makes his way to Ricky’s bedroom. Strangely, for a room that is literally inside his home, he realises with a start he’s never actually been in here before.

It’s neat, which isn’t surprising, although there’s a small pile of shoe boxes on the floor near the wardrobe that have yet to be put away. The furniture is dark wood, modern and expensive, jewel tone accents. It’s all so cohesive, an almost perfect vision of design, but for the walls.

They’re covered in mismatched art, and after a few seconds of looking, Gyuvin recognises the way the lines curve and flow, realises that it’s Ricky’s art. Line drawings of cityscapes, watercolours of people, and on his desk, a half-done sketch in oil pastels of Eumppappa. She’s on a familiar bridge beneath a night sky full of stars, held by arms that don’t look like Ricky’s own.

The door creaks slightly behind him and Gyuvin steps back hastily as Ricky comes in. He's in black silk pyjamas pants and a blue silk robe, the picture of elegance. 

“Right side, nice,” Gyuvin blurts out, feeling a little guilty for snooping. Ricky just looks confused, slipping his robe off to hang it on the back of the door.

“Huh?”

“You’re a right-side sleeper. I am a left-side sleeper. We’re a good match.” Incredible work. He is going to chop his own tongue off, first thing in the morning.

He slips into the un-creased side of the bed, Ricky doing the same on the other one, and Gyuvin tries not to jostle around too much as he settles. Ricky’s bed is bigger than his, but even so it’s all so incredibly and strangely intimate, and Gyuvin feels a little like he’s going to vibrate out of his skin. He's surrounded by the faint yet intoxicating scent of Ricky, and his chances of getting any sleep tonight are rapidly dwindling, especially as Ricky shifts from his back onto his side, moving to face inwards.

“Hey Gyuvin,” he says quietly, and when Gyuvin turns his head to look at the man beside him, he immediately wishes he hadn’t. 

Ricky’s hair is strewn on the pillow messily, and he’s wearing an old t-shirt with a vampire character from an American cartoon on it that Gyuvin vaguely recognises but cannot name, and he seems so unguarded and unpolished and just pure undiluted essence of Ricky that Gyuvin almost feels the room swim a little.

And then it all breaks when he says, “That couple is coming tomorrow to see Eumppappa, right?”

Oh. In all the drama and excitement of the afternoon, Gyuvin had completely forgotten. He presses his hands to his eyes. “Oh my god. Yeah, they are.” He turns to face Ricky properly. “Do you think they’ll still want her?”

“Because she ate a croissant?” Ricky replies quietly, and Gyvin can hear the amusement in his voice. “It’s ok, Gyuvin. The vet said she’ll likely be back to her usual self in the morning anyway.”

“Oh,” Gyuvin mutters, and he realises he’d been hoping Ricky was about to say, ‘Yes Gyuvin, they couldn’t possibly want her now, she’s ruined for all prospective suitors.’ As though she’s a young lady they’re trying to marry into the landed gentry, sullied by a dalliance with a rake and now staring down life as a governess. He needs to stop watching Ricky’s dramas.

“Are you ok?” Ricky asks quietly, and he’s looking at Gyuvin with big eyes and a soft frown. 

“I’m ok,” Gyuvin says. “I just forgot. And- I love her. I really love her, you know? I’m going to miss her so much.”

“Me too,” Ricky sighs. “How do foster-people do this all the time?”

“No idea,” Gyuvin hums. “I guess we’re not about to start a dog hotel any time soon, huh?”

“Not likely,” Ricky replies with a low laugh, and Gyuvin catches his grin, returns it. The water-wheel of feelings in his chest turns and turns and forces its way into his mouth again.

“Thank you, Ricky.”

“You already said that.”

“And I’m saying it again. Thank you for taking care of Eumppappa today,” Gyuvin tells him, and then, because it’s dark and the sheets are cool and he’s a little sleepy and this isn’t his room so that means there’s no real consequences, “Thank you for taking care of me.”

“You're worth taking care of.” Ricky pauses, and then adds, a little softer, “Both of you.”

He's so close, and so beautiful, and none of it feels quite real. This isn't Gyuvin’s life, he doesn't have a dog, he doesn't sleep in Ricky's bed. Maybe this is all a dream, he thinks. And if it's a dream, then he can do anything he wants.

So he reaches out without another thought, his hand threading through the hair that falls against Ricky’s neck, and tugs him in.

Ricky’s lips are soft and taste like toothpaste, and he makes a slightly surprised noise, but he doesn't freeze, doesn't pull away. No, it seems to only take Ricky a second to understand what's happening, and then he's rising up slightly and kissing Gyuvin like he’d been waiting for it, like Gyuvin has never been kissed in his life.

Ricky is confident and demanding in the way he claims Gyuvin’s lips with his own. He pushes Gyuvin back into the pillows, and Gyuvin pulls him down with him, the two of them magnetised to each other. Ricky whines a little when Gyuvin grabs at his waist, when Gyuvin’s hands run down Ricky's back, attempt to pull him closer, get more of him, more. 

It’s surreal, some kind of dream, the way Ricky’s teeth gently scrape his lip, and he hears himself make a noise that would be embarrassing, if he cared any more. 

But there's nothing else to care about, there's only Ricky, his lips, his tongue, his hands in Gyuvin’s shirt. The way their chests are now pressed together, their thighs, the weight of Ricky’s body against his own.

He wants to live entirely in this moment, wants to drown in it, disappear entirely until it's all that he is. He feels like he's made of starlight.

And then Ricky laughs, it's almost a giggle, and he pulls back slightly.

“Sorry,” Ricky says softly, smiling. His hair is falling into his eyes, and he’s staring at Gyuvin in some kind of wonder. “Sorry, I just. This doesn't feel real.”

It's Gyuvin’s turn to laugh at that, because he'd had the exact same thought. He's looking up at Ricky’s wide-blown pupils and red-stained lips, thinking I did that, all of it , and it feels like some kind of miracle has taken place. He leans up to kiss Ricky again, because he can, because he’s addicted, because he’s not sure how much of this he’s allowed to have.

He feels Ricky smiling into his lips, feels Ricky’s hands on his thighs.

And then he feels a weight on his feet.

At first he thinks it must be Ricky somehow, but then it’s moving, making its way up the bed, and Gyuvin pulls back from Ricky with a gasp as he realises that something is pressing into the side of his thigh. Something small, and warm, and a little snuffly.

“Ricky,” Gyuvin murmurs, his face against Ricky's neck. “Did we leave the bedroom door open?”

“Apparently we did,” Ricky sighs, and he shifts back, his body falling off Gyuvin’s own into the space beside him. He props himself up on his elbow, reaches over to pat Eumppappa, who is now resting her head on Gyuvin’s knee. He sighs, and glances at Gyuvin.

“I suddenly feel new empathy for my parents.”

Gyuvin huffs a laugh, reaching down to scratch the little dog that’s pressed against him.

“It’s probably her last night here, I guess she can stay,” he murmurs. “That is, if you're ok with it. Sorry, it's your bed, I-”

“She can stay,” Ricky agrees, lying back down. His head is pillowed on his arm and he looks at Gyuvin, and Gyuvin should be used to how stunning Ricky is by now but it never seems to get any less affecting. Ricky’s expression is soft, hair a little messy as he asks quietly, “Can we talk? In the morning?”

Gyuvin is not usually a putting-things-off kind of person, too much room in his brain for doubts to creep in. But because Ricky is smiling at him so softly and sweetly, he nods, finds himself yawning as he agrees, “In the morning.”

Ricky closes his eyes, moves a little closer, and he makes himself a little smaller so he can slip right up to Gyuvin’s chest. Gyuvin almost feels like holding his breath, as though a butterfly has landed on his hand. He isn't sure if he’s allowed to put his arm out and pull Ricky closer, so it stays uselessly by his side, feeling restless with unfulfilled purpose. 

Instead he lets his eyes close, hoping sleep will pull him under. He can feel Eumppappa nestled in the crook of his knees, the way she had been that very first night she’d stayed with them. Ricky is curled into his front, breathing beginning to slow. It all feels so incredibly good Gyuvin has to check that he’s still awake and not dreaming.

Hazy thoughts cloud his muffled senses, and at their edges he can see the shapes of a life coalescing. One made of him and Ricky and Eumppappa, of morning walks and coffee from the corner cafe, of nights on the couch watching dramas, of weekends where he falls asleep just like this and wakes up again the same.

And he wants, in a way that is so foreign to him. He hasn't had much to want in years. 

His heart, he realises, has been irrevocably split in three. 

And oh, but he’s about to lose it all.

He feels a rush of wakeful panic rise in his throat, his mind racing back to alertness, and he suddenly needs to get out of this bed.

He sits up, and he thinks Ricky might stir but he doesn’t stop to check, just wiggles himself up and out of the sheets without rolling Eumppappa onto the floor. 

The floorboards are cold beneath his feet, and when he exits the bedroom the living room is dark and still. He’s not really sure what he's doing, just switches on a lamp and curls up on the cold leather couch beside Eumppappa’s empty mango bed. He can't stop staring at her little strawberry toy, his thoughts racing too fast to catch completely.

There’s movement in Ricky’s doorway, the door creaking open as Eumppappa comes trotting out, her nails clacking on the floor as she beelines straight for Gyuvin. Despite being asleep not two minutes ago, despite the air of ill exhaustion still hanging about her, she still picks up a ball along the way, drops it at his feet and looks at him expectantly. 

He wants to cry, looking at her. He prods it gently with his foot for her, lets it roll away, watches it come to a stop at a pair of feet in old slippers standing in the hall.

“Gyuvin?” Ricky asks quietly, eyeing him carefully if a little blearily where he’s appeared. Eumppappa snaps the ball up from before him, brings it back to Gyuvin’s feet. She doesn’t give it up though, just sits down on the ground with it, chewing on it gently.

Gyuvin isn't great at keeping his thoughts and feelings inside on a good day. Right now he feels like a carnival visited by a hurricane, all flashing lights and blown-down walls. Not a shred of structural integrity.

“I don’t want her to go,” Gyuvin finds himself sighing, and it feels good to say it, so he just keeps going. “Things really sucked, before she got here. I came back every night to an empty home.” He looks up at Ricky. “We never even spoke. Why didn’t we ever speak?”

Ricky comes to sit on the couch beside Gyuvin, tentative and a little tense and perhaps not quite awake. He runs a hand awkwardly through his hair. “I’m sorry about that. I was scared.”

Gyuvin blinks at this. “I'm scary?” No one has ever described him as scary. 

“No,” Ricky clarifies, and there's the slightest hint of a smile at Gyuvin’s surprised expression, though it doesn't last. Ricky’s cheeks are rapidly growing pink. “Maybe that's the wrong word.”

And Gyuvin might be staring, but how can he not, when: “You're blushing.”

“Because you’re cute,” Ricky replies in a pained voice, glancing down at his hands where they’re clenched in his lap. He winces slightly. “When we met, I thought you were- so cute. I kept freezing up. I know it made a bad impression. And I didn't want to make it worse, so…”

“So you just stopped talking to me completely?” Gyuvin asks incredulously, and Ricky nods, a little forlornly.

“It seemed like the only solution.”

Gyuvin is definitely staring now, though Ricky isn't looking at him to see it. He's once again caught off guard by the fascinating world that thrives just inches beneath Ricky’s perfectly polished shell. He thinks Ricky might be the most interesting person he's ever met. Also the most beautiful, and also:

“That’s completely insane Ricky.”

“Yes,” Ricky agrees quickly, and he lets out a long breath. He’s still not looking at Gyuvin, and he seems so defeated by himself. “I'm completely insane.”

Gyuvin reaches over to take one of Ricky’s hands. So often when he’s talking to Ricky, it feels like a dream. He stares at his strange, beautiful roommate. “Were you ever going to try again?”

“Probably not,” Ricky admits. He's staring at where their hands are interwoven. Gyuvin feels immeasurably fond.

“I can't believe this is who you actually are.”

Ricky visibly hesitates at this. “Is it disappointing?”

“Disappointing?” Gyuvin scoffs, and he gives Ricky’s hand a slight tug, trying to get Ricky to look at him. “To be honest Ricky, I want to kiss you so bad right now I feel stupid.”

Success. Ricky finally looks up, surprise written across his features. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

There's a moment where they just look at each other, Ricky apparently processing this, Gyuvin just unable to stop smiling at him.

“Ok. Good,” Ricky says, and finally, finally he smiles as well, cautious and tentative. “Me too. Not just now, all the time actually-”

And that's all the permission Gyuvin needs to lean in again, act on his impulses. He can feel a smile growing on Ricky’s lips as they melt against his own. It’s sweet and restrained and nothing like the way they'd kissed before, because Gyuvin is a little self-conscious that he's just fled Ricky’s bedroom in the middle of the night and Ricky’s clearly still a bag of nerves and there’s a dog sitting at their feet, and-

“Oh shit,” Gyuvin realises, drawing back with a start to stare at where Eumppappa is lounging on the floor, now half asleep on top of her ball. “Hao and Bin are coming tomorrow.”

“Tell them not to,” Ricky responds immediately, and something inside Gyuvin that’s been making a horrible racket all week immediately stills as he looks at Ricky with hope. Ricky is watching him cautiously. “Right? It’s not just me?”

“It’s not just you,” Gyuvin agrees, his answering smile written all over his features. “Eumppappa belongs with us.”

“With us,” Ricky echoes, beaming down at her, and Gyuvin wants to kiss him again so badly he feels almost dizzy with it. 

Gyuvin has never been one to deny himself his impulses.

*

Gyuvin lets out a breath where he sits alone on his bench, watches the way it condenses in the air. 

It’s funny, he’d never thought he’d be someone who had something he could think of as ‘his bench’. Never thought he’d have the reason or the time to sit on one for long enough to develop such thoughts.

The sun is peering through the cloud cover, and it’s finally getting a little warmer now that winter is officially over. There’s still enough of a chill to warrant dressing Eumppappa in a light jacket. Today’s one is Gyuvin’s favourite from her wardrobe. Strawberries and mangos and bananas, all mixed together. Ricky had found it online, bought it as her Christmas present.

Eumppappa is snuffling around another dog, some kind of tiny white thing as is so common in Seoul. They seem happy, so Gyuvin doesn’t intervene.

He feels something warm bump against his arm as a figure takes the seat beside him.

“Did I miss anything?”

Gyuvin turns to glance at Ricky, amusement no doubt all over his face. “In the six minutes you were gone?”

Ricky hands him his coffee. “Life moves fast.” Gyuvin laughs properly at this, and Ricky takes a sip of his coffee, leaning into Gyuvin a little. 

“There’s the cutest dog couch in the furniture shop next to the cafe,” Ricky tells him as they watch Eumppappa bouncing around her new canine friend. Gyuvin huffs another laugh.

“She doesn’t need a dog couch, she just sits on our human couch.”

“It could be for her room.”

“Ricky,” Gyuvin says flatly. “I thought you were joking about that.”

“You never sleep in there anyway,” Ricky replies petulantly. “Just move into mine. She deserves it.”

“You want me to move into your bedroom not because you love me, but because you love our dog?”

“Exactly.” Ricky’s tone is serious, but Gyuvin can see how hard he's struggling to keep a straight face. 

“Well, if it's purely for our daughter's wellbeing,” Gyuvin concedes, his own grin threatening to escape containment. He reaches down to pat Eumppappa, who has wandered over with a stick. Gyuvin pulls it from her mouth and throws it for her. “You really want to be a couple with a room just for their dog?”

“No, Gyuvin,” Ricky replies in a slightly exasperated tone. “I want to be a man who shares a bedroom with his boyfriend, and has a study slash storage slash guest bedroom that has a silly little dog couch in it. Thoughts?”

Gyuvin shrugs lightly, and Ricky makes a noise that sounds somewhere between a laugh and a groan. But as much as he enjoys winding Ricky up, Gyuvin’s not in the habit of stringing his boyfriend along about things that actually matter. He leans over, presses a kiss to Ricky’s cheek. 

“That sounds kind of good, actually,” he says, and means it. He can see Ricky smiling in the corner of his eye, feels Ricky wrap an arm around his shoulders.

Gyuvin tilts his head back to enjoy the weak sunlight, the sounds of the city. Ricky’s humming something quietly beside him, and then he pauses, asks, “Do we have plans today?”

“Meeting Hao and Bin’s new puppy,” Gyuvin replies. It’s kind of funny, how quickly they'd become friends with the couple after the near-miss with Eumppappa. Funnier still how they’d slotted straight into the blended social circle that had rapidly coalesced around Ricky and Gyuvin. 

It was strangely easy, the way Ricky and Gyuvin’s lives had wound together, especially once Gyuvin had received his promotion and escaped the night shift for good. Seamless, like it was always meant to have been this way. “Not for a few hours though,” he adds.

“Good,” Ricky replies. He leans back a little, pulls Gyuvin with him, and Gyuvin lets himself fall further into Ricky’s arms. “It’s a nice day.”

“It is,” Gyuvin agrees, watching Eumppappa running in circles holding her stick. For such simple pleasures, she seems deliriously happy. He thinks perhaps he can relate.