Work Text:
The First Law of Holes (noun phrase):
The law of holes, or the first law of holes, is an adage that states: "If you find yourself in a hole, stop digging." It is used as a metaphor, warning that when in an untenable position, it is best to stop making the situation worse.
Euijoo wakes up to a sharp buzz rattling his ribcage.
He startles awake at the feeling, hands instinctively coming up to grab hold of whatever it is currently rattling his bones — sitting up fast enough for his bones to crackle. His eyes hurt, his neck even more, as he fiddles to get the sheets out of the way, then–
It’s just his phone.
Right. He must’ve fallen asleep using it last night.
He stares at the now lit screen of it for one, two beats, then slumps back against the mattress with an aspirated huff without even bothering to check who’s trying to reach him. Shit.
It’s too fucking early. Too fucking early.
The phone bounces off his chest with a low thud as he lets go of it, hands lazily dragging up his ribs and up to rub at his face. He presses the palms of them against his eyes, really digs them into the sockets until he’s seeing fleeting freckles of light float across his nonexistent field of vision. He groans, just for the sake of it, cringing at the funny timbre lingering behind his voice. Sexy.
Not really.
Euijoo was once told he looks like a morning person, whatever that might mean. He’s not sure, nor does he think he wants to know; maybe he just always looks so awake and alert, ready to face the day and that’s why that one guy he dated a few years back told him he does, in fact, look like a morning person. Approachable. Happy to be alive. He doubts it, but still. Maybe. Hopefully.
Whatever, the point is– he’s not.
Like, at all. Maybe it was more of an insult rather than a compliment, now that he's thinking about it, considering it means the guy hadn’t even bothered to get to know Euijoo well enough to know that right. Euijoo fucking hates mornings. Despises them. Call them the bane of his existence. Wants them gone. Extinct. The list goes on, but you get the gist.
Euijoo fucking hates mornings. More specifically this morning.
It’s Friday. June 5th, 2026. Euijoo is 23 years old. 24 in approximately three months and two days. One week from now, he’ll graduate and be one major richer — seven days closer to his birthday.
In two days, he has his last exam of the year. Of his life, he hopes — because if there’s one thing Byun Euijoo is never doing again, no matter how many days or months passes and his time at college slowly bleeds into a distant memory of his past — is taking another class. He almost shivers at the thought, and it’s not because his room feels oddly cold despite the summer heat lingering just outside his window. No, he just really hates it that much.
College. Exams. All of it, he’s sick of it and he’s over it and he wants it all gone, away from him and soon to be free soul. It’ll fix him, he thinks, getting that one final exam over with. Patch him back up. Bring some of his will to live back, the same will he lost approximately four years ago when he for the very first time sat foot inside an exam hall.
He’s going to flip the door off when he walks out. Just because he can. Because he’s childish like that. Still, it’ll feel good — so fucking good, never having to see those big, ugly doors ever again. To never sit on those unnecessarily uncomfortable chairs again, to never bite back tears at the realization that right. Four years into the gig and he’s learnt absolutely nothing. Useless, really.
Still– he’s made it this far.
Four fucking years, baby. Four, long years. A miracle, really, achieved by nothing but Euijoo’s pure soul (read as: evil) and need for academic validation — one he could not be more happy to see go. He’s had his fun (read as: despair). It’s time to wave it off, now.
And he will. In two days. 48 hours, give or take. After that final exam has been written, he’s clocking out. Whatever he has left to do until his graduation, he’ll pretend like it doesn’t exist. Sleep for the remainder of the week, eat so much food he’ll feel sick with it. Never open another textbook ever again. Bathe in the bliss of knowing that yeah. He did that. He fucking did that, and now it’s over.
He doesn’t allow himself to think about it for too long, because then he’ll start bathing in that bliss before it has even started, giving himself a faux taste of it.
Before that, that glorious bliss he so eagerly waits for, there’s still shit to be done.
Study. Sleep. Study. Eat. Study. Shower– if time allows it. Study. Eat, if he remembers. Study. Study. Study. Stu–
Yeah. It’s not over just yet, he knows it isn’t. In 48 hours time, it will be — but right now, it’s not. He still has to drag his heavy limbs out of bed, sit by his desk until his ass starts to hurt, stare at the same textbook until it sticks, write that stupid exam, then he’ll be there.
Bathing in that bliss. Floating, if you will. Kind of like the odd specks of light currently floating behind his eyelids, free and fluid and just there.
The bed creaks below him. His hands come back down to fall limply down his sides. The sun is shining today, he notices once his vision clears up — a bright light infiltrating its way through his blinds and if it wasn’t for his buzzing– still buzzing phone, it probably would’ve been the reason behind his eventual awakening.
He squints, stares at the bright beams, then turns around with a grunt, grabbing his phone with him.
The phone vibrates in his hand as he tries fixing the now crumpled sheets, groaning when they remain clumped up. He gives up with a disheartened moan, and instead fiddles to unlock his phone.
the pack
(11:24 AM)
yuma
attention everyone
a week from now marks the day the glorious nakakita yuma was born again (2026)
which means u are all called to arrive at dropkick 9 pm sharp tonight to celebrate his eventual resurrection
be there or be squaremaki
why can’t i be circlefuma
?maki
yeah like. why is it always be there or be square
can’t a guy be circle anymore or whatyuma
be there or be circle
whatever the fuck u wantharua
why are you talking about yourself in third persontaki
i have a better questionjo
don’t acknowledge it
it’ll feed into his god complexmaki
i knew you’d get me yuma
love you dude
i’ll be thereharua
are you highmaki
man it’s not even lunch timeharua
so you aremaki
yeah
wanna come overharua
your greed sickens memaki
your ass sickens me baby
Euijoo closes the chat with a disgusted groan sitting at the tip of his tongue. It doesn’t materialize, not completely, fingers already fiddling to go elsewhere before the words has the chance to truly sink in, therefore he swallows it down and opens Instagram. Fuck that.
He has no time for Dropkick tonight. Or tomorrow. Not for another week, at least, then he’ll have all the time for Dropkick and its heavy strobe lights. Just not tonight, despite it being Friday. He has shit to get done, to do. To study. An exam to pass. Yuma’s apparent resurrection can wait. It hasn’t even happened yet, anyways, so why the fuck are they celebrating it?
He’s just about to lock his phone and drag himself out of bed to get the day started when it vibrates in the palm of his hand, taking away from the glory that is Choi San currently pulled up on his Instagram feed.
(He’s hot, okay. Euijoo likes hot men. Sue him.)
nichol
bet
can ricky come
Euijoo stares at the notifications, watching them roll down his screen one by one. He doesn’t even bother swiping them away, staring at them until they fade away on their own, huddling themselves together with all the other notification Euijoo has waiting for him.
When his gaze falls back onto Choi San and his exposed chest, he no longer feels as giddy as he had moments prior.
Thank you Prada, the caption reads. Like that’s what people are looking at. He would snort at the pure irony of it all if he could.
Well. He doesn’t want to say that’s his morning ruined, but it’s kind of true. That is his morning ruined, and it has yet to even begin. Great. Spectacular, even. Fucking splendid.
He doesn’t even know what fucking splendid means, that’s how splendid it is.
Maybe it was already ruined the moment he was rudely awoken by his phone vibrating against his chest, but still. It feels better blaming it on Nicholas. It always does. That way he actually has something to blame it on, something other than having to wake up and get his day started; something a little more tangible, something a little more real.
Like how he feels about Ricky, for example.
Look. Ricky is … Ricky is great. Truly. Euijoo isn’t evil, nor is he the type of guy who goes around hating others for no reason, therefore Ricky is great. Charming. A little too charming at times. He would say hot, but that feels a little wrong, so he doesn’t. It’s useless to state the obvious, anyways.
Point is, he hasn’t given Euijoo a reason not to like him, therefore he does. Kind of. If anything, Euijoo should like him. Love him, even.
They have a lot in common, after all. Like Nicholas for example. Which is also, like, the only thing they have in common, but c’mon — Euijoo’s trying to give him the benefit of the doubt here. That way maybe, just maybe, he’ll warm up to the idea of Ricky being a thing now, if he just finds something they have in common.
Because apparently, Ricky is a thing now. In Nicholas’ life. In their life, because let's be real here: where Nicholas is, Euijoo will be, too. It’s always been that way.
Euijoo and Nicholas. Nicholas and Euijoo. Just the two of them, Byun Euijoo and Wang Yixiang — ying and yang, if he gets extra sappy with it, which he never does — and now, Shen Ricky.
Shen Ricky. Two years younger than him and Nicholas, Euijoo learns during one of his late night stalking sessions, majoring in visual arts. Born in Shanghai to a father who runs one of the most successful law firms in all of China, mother known for her time as a model back in the 90s — which, yeah. Makes sense, Euijoo thinks the first time he hears about it. He has this stupid tattoo running down the side of his neck, starting just above his ear and trailing all the way down to the middle of it.
Rolemodel, it reads. Euijoo would find it infuriating if it wasn’t for how damn hot it is.
Apparently they met through a mutual friend. Euijoo doesn’t really believe it — you have other friends? he had asked when Nicholas told him about it, to which Nicholas had responded to with a glare sharp enough to kill — but forces himself to believe it anyways. He thinks they might’ve met otherwise, like through one of those stupid dating apps Nicholas spends the majority of his time on, but what would he know?
It’s not like Nicholas tells him that, therefore he has no other choice but to believe him when he says they met through a mutual friend. Who, Euijoo doesn’t know. Euijoo knows all of Nicholas’ friends. None of them has ever mentioned a Ricky before. But then again– what does he know?
Seemingly not a whole lot, considering the fact that a mere month ago, Euijoo had no idea Shen Ricky even existed. Now, he can’t seem to go anywhere without Ricky slithering his way there, too.
That’s okay. That’s cool. Ricky’s cool. Ricky’s nice. He hasn't actually spoken to him other than a mere hi and what’s up whenever they come together, but still. Euijoo likes Ricky. He thinks. Maybe. Nicholas apparently does, which means Euijoo does too.
That’s how it works, right? If Nicholas likes someone, then Euijoo has to like them too. He doesn’t make the rules. That’s just how it is. The rest seems to like him too, so by all means, Euijoo does too.
It’s just, well.
Well.
Here’s where things get a little complicated, putting what Shen Ricky makes Euijoo feel into words. He doesn’t hate him, he doesn’t, he just … feels a certain way about him. A very peculiar way, a way that would probably make the rest of them scrunch their noses at him if he were to tell them.
He hasn’t, of course, but if he did, then yeah. They’d probably never look at him the same way again.
Sweet, kind Euijoo, harboring such foul feelings for someone he doesn’t even know, completely unjustified. It’s so unlike him that even he feels a little worried about it, because since when the fuck does he not like people? Euijoo likes everyone. Even Yuma’s stupid ex-boyfriend who did more bad than good. He did give Euijoo his old Switch that one time, which, yeah. Probably not enough ground to still like the person who broke your best friend's heart, but still. Euijoo loves that Switch. Still.
The point is: Euijoo doesn’t just hate people. Nicholas says he’s incapable of it, says he’s too kind for his own good. Which is true, sometimes he is too kind for his own good, but that doesn’t mean he’s completely incapable of harboring other feelings, too. Bad feelings.
Nicholas might be right a lot of the time, just not about this.
Ricky is the sole proof of that. That Nicholas does, in fact, turn out to be wrong sometimes. A rare occurrence, but it does happen; Nicholas thinking he knows Euijoo better than anyone else, just for Euijoo to turn around and prove him wrong.
It’s not like Nicholas knows that, though. No, whatever feelings Euijoo harbors for Shen Ricky — is it jealousy? Maybe, but it doesn’t feel like it. It feels broader, sharper, like something he can’t quite place — will remain buried inside of him, out of reach for Nicholas and his curious hands.
If he wants to see them, hear them, he’ll have to reach inside his chest and pry them out. Which won’t happen, because Euijoo won’t allow him to.
Never. They’re his feelings to bear, no one else’s, especially not Nicholas. If he likes Ricky, then so be it. Euijoo’s own feelings have nothing to do with that. Doesn’t have to affect whatever they got going on.
So he swallows them down, pretends like they don’t exist, and goes back to the group chat. It’s too early for him to be feeling like this, anyways. It’s close to 12, the world already bustling with life outside his window, but still. Still.
(If Euijoo could, he’d sleep for all eternity. Turn back around and let the sheets swallow him whole, shut his eyes and never open them again. That way there would be no exams waiting around for him, nor would there be any difficult feelings staring him right in the face as soon as he wakes up. A dream, really. Euijoo will continue to chase after it until the day he dies.)
yuma
oh ur hot friend can come anytime
do u even have to ask
nichol
ricky
his name is rickyyuma
yeah isn’t that what i saidnichol
nomaki
to be fair it’s kind of the same thing
nico’s hot friend and ricky
they’re synonyms are they notnichol
are you sure you’re actually graduating next yearmaki
nonichol
godspeed
wishing you and your future endeavors best of luckyudai
euijoo you’re late
get your ass up or i’m cutting your balls off
Euijoo groans, loudly this time, voice cracking with the sheer force of it. Right.
It’s Friday. Yudai is waiting for him, has been waiting for him for — he glances up at the clock — a good 20 minutes, now. Shit.
It’s become somewhat of a tradition, really — Euijoo going over to Yudai’s place with the excuse of studying every Friday, just to take up the majority of his couch while Yudai talks his ears off about whatever has happened at work during the past week. More often than not that includes customers doing and asking for bizarre things, like that one time someone had rounded the counter and attempted to throw the entire coffee pot at him. They hadn’t succeeded, of course, Yudai way too tall and strong for someone to just be able to do that, but still.
It left him with a funny story to tell Euijoo while he procrastinated, so Euijoo thinks it was worth it. Yudai too, judging by the way he had laughed while telling him about it.
Forcing his body to move, he swings his legs over the edge of the bed and sits up. His room feels colder than usual, leaving for a shiver to run down his spine as he shakes the sheets off, yet he doesn't slump back down.
No, he has shit to do. Shit to get done. Shit to attend. A life to live. A day to get started, if you will.
He gets up with a grunt, phone still in hand, and types.
Me
👍On My Way!yudai
he lives to see another day
who would’ve thoughtyuma
do you always threaten him like thatyudai
i mean
sometimesyuma
hotfuma
Heyyuma
sorry
Hot
Euijoo locks his phone and goes to get ready, leaving the screen to slowly go dark against his sheets as he shuffles to the bathroom. Whatever text follows will have to wait. Now, it’s time for Euijoo to get his shit together.
Let the day commence.
___
“And it’s just,” Yudai gestures with his hands. Waves them around. Painting a picture Euijoo is having trouble seeing. “Bizarre, you know? Like, do people actually like things like that?”
Euijoo shrugs. The fabric of his shirt sticks to the back of the couch as he does, the leather of it creaking. Do people even get leather couches anymore, he wants to ask in response, but refrains. Yudai did say he’d be cutting his balls off, after all.
Euijoo likes his balls. He’d be sad to see them go, and therefore keeps his mouth shut.
“Apparently,” is all he mumbles instead, glancing back at his laptop. It’s gone dark with lack of activity, leaving for him to stare at a morphed reflection of himself. It looks a little funny. “You do know that people have different opinions, though, right?”
“Obviously,” Yudai scoffs beside him. He’s slumped back in his seat now, arms crossed over his chest as he glares at the TV when Euijoo glances back at him. “Doesn’t make it any less bizarre, though.”
“I mean,” Euijoo mumbles, glancing back at the TV. There’s some old episode of Pokémon playing. Yudai doesn’t even like Pokémon. “It’s just coffee,”
“Coffee with eggs in it, Euijoo.” Yudai deadpans, twisting his head to glare at him. “Eggs.”
Euijoo just shrugs. What the hell, sure, he thinks. Why not. Maybe it’s good. What would they know? It’s not like they’ve ever tried it. He thinks. Not that he’s aware of, at least. A scary thought, now that he’s thinking about it; what if he’s accidentally drunk coffee with eggs in it? Maybe it is bizarre, after all. Just a little.
“Is it sweet, at least?”
“Too fucking sweet,” Yudai bulldozes on, attention back to the TV. Euijoo can’t recognize a single one of the Pokémons currently taking up the screen. “Sugar, condensed milk, all of it. And eggs. Eggs, Euijoo. In coffee. Does that not sound bizarre to you?”
Euijoo, idly wiping at the keyboard of his laptop, shrugs for what feels like the nth time since he sat foot inside Yudai’s apartment. “Can’t be that bad, I like sugar.” He says. Yudai huffs. Says something under his breath Euijoo doesn’t quite catch. “And eggs. And coffee.”
“And condensed milk?”
Meh. “Not as much as the previous three.”
Yudai scoffs. “Of course.”
The outro begins to play on the TV, the song infiltrating its way through the room and bouncing off the thin walls. His laptop comes to life as he accidentally brushes against the mousepad, the document he had been reading flashing back onto the screen, looking a little taunting now that he’s seeing it again.
Like an ex passing you by on the street, catching your eye. Remember me?, it doesn’t say. Euijoo hears it nonetheless. Blocks it out. No, he thinks. I don’t want to remember you.
The document remains pulled up on his screen. He doesn’t close it even when every fibre of his body begs him to. Fuck.
He really needs to get this done.
Beside him, Yudai shifts. Pulls his knees up, crosses them. Leans forward a little. Closer to Euijoo. “Are you coming tonight?”
Euijoo glances up at him, raising his brows. “Hm?”
“To Yuma’s resurrection party, or whatever,” he says, playing with one of the rings adorning his fingers. Euijoo glances down at it, just momentarily; watching it glide up and down the bone before looking back up at Yudai. “At Dropkick. You didn’t respond when he asked, so,”
Ah. Euijoo hums, looking back at his laptop. Finds the document staring back at him. Looks away. Pretends to find the cuticle of his thumb more interesting.
“I mean,” he goes to say, mumbled. “Maybe. Really gotta study, though,”
“Isn’t that why you’re here?”
“Look how well that’s going.”
Yudai sneers, amused. “Sounds like a you problem,”
Euijoo, not as amused, just scoffs. More like a you problem, he goes to say, but swallows it down before it has the chance to properly form. He doesn’t have time for bickering right now. He really, really needs to lock in, get this document over with so that it’ll stop taunting him through the corner of his eye.
“Maybe,” he settles for in the end. A safe bet. “We’ll see. Are you going?”
Yudai hums beside him. “We all are.” Then, “You’re graduating, Euijoo. You’re allowed to cut yourself some slack.”
Well. Euijoo wouldn’t say that, not really. If anything, he’d say that he’s cut himself too much slack — doing things he deems more fun and more worthy of his time instead of doing what actually matters over the past four years. He’s managed to get this far, sure, but still. This last exam is kind of important.
Scratch that; this last exam is really important. Like, half-his-grade important. His-chances-of-actually-graduating important.
Maki might be fine with not graduating, but that doesn’t mean Euijoo is. No, Euijoo hasn’t wasted the past four years of his life for nothing; shredding sweat, blood and tears for something he hopes will define his future. It’d suck for all of it, all that time and effort, to go to waste now that he's gotten this far, 7 days away from finally completing what 20 year old him started.
He would get sappy about it, if he could. He can’t, though. Maybe he will in a week, when he’s free and floating and has gotten some of his spark back. Right now, he can only think about actually getting there.
Which, right now, feels a lot harder than it should. He will get there, he knows he will, it’s just a matter of how. This — whatever arrangement he and Yudai have created for themselves — isn’t really part of that how. If anything, it’ll end up being the reason why Euijoo never even gets there, to that blissful state of knowing he did that. He really fucking did that.
Still, he stays. His laptop blinks, the screen slightly powering down as a low battery indicator pops up. He didn’t bring the charger with him.
“Yeah, I know,” he mumbles in response, leaning further back against the couch. Well. Might as well stick around, then. Like he was ever planning on doing otherwise. “It’s just … stressful, y’know? I have so much shit to get done, yet so little time. Shit, how the fuck did you do it?”
“Euijoo, aegi,” Yudai purrs, throwing in the odd Korean he knows to sound more consoling. Euijoo bites back a scoff. “I work as a barista. You really think I did it?”
Euijoo frowns, blinks up at him. “You didn’t?”
“Well, yeah,” Yudai shrugs. Rolls his ring around his finger. Takes it off, put it back on. “Kind of. Not the point, though. The point is that you’re allowed to have fun, to let loose. When was even the last time you went out, anyways?”
Euijoo mulls it over, racks through his brain. Probably before Christmas, he thinks. He was sick during new years, so he didn’t go out then — nor does he think he would want to, hadn’t he been sick. He spent majority of winter break with his family and once he got back home he slept for three days straight — which makes before Christmas the last time he went out.
That’s over half a year ago.
Okay. Well. Maybe it’s been a while, so what? Euijoo isn’t like that, anyways. Going out and whatnot. That’s never been Euijoo, not even during their first year of college when it was all still so new and still fun; back when partying and drinking was the only thing that mattered. Not to Euijoo, of course, but to everyone else. His friends. To everyone but Euijoo. He still went out, of course, just not as often as the others.
Not as often as Nicholas.
It’s the one thing that sets them apart, their taste in social life — because where Euijoo prefers the quietness of his own bedroom, Nicholas enjoys the bustling streets of the night. The flashing lights of clubs. He’s always been a little like that, at least for as long as Euijoo has known him; always chasing after things bigger than himself, louder. Greater.
It’s what Euijoo likes about him. His need for speed, need for noise. Without it, he’s not too sure what Nicholas would look like. Without the constant bassline thrumming beneath his skin, forming him into something alive — something vibrant. It’s a beautiful sight everyone should experience, Euijoo thinks, seeing Nicholas in his true essence.
So maybe it’s been a while since Euijoo last went out. Last found himself under the flashing lights of some club, last found himself thrumming with that bassline. It’s been a while since he last saw it thrumming through Nicholas, too.
He misses it. Not for himself, no; just seeing Nicholas like that. Thriving, doing what he’s meant to do. Maybe he should go. Take a break, reset his brain. Reboot his system with tequila mixed with orange juice. His favorite, and he doesn’t even particularly like tequila. A tequila sunrise, however?
“Exactly,” Yudai hums beside him, like he’s able to peek into Euijoo’s brain and see all the thoughts swirling around in there. He kind of wants to ask what he thinks about it. If it really is as much of a mess as he makes it out to be. “It’s settled, then. You’re coming. I’ll text Yuma, let him know,”
Euijoo bites back a frown as Yudai reaches for his phone where it lies discarded on the armrest beside him. “Yudai,”
Yudai looks back at him, raising an eyebrow. His fingers are still where they’re hovering above his phone, one hand pinching onto the charger plugged into it.
“Unless,” he slowly says when all Euijoo does is frown at him. “Unless there’s something else keeping you from coming.”
He doesn’t have to say it for Euijoo to pick up on it. He hears it loud and clear, that small implication of something lingering behind his hushed voice.
Well.
He should’ve seen it coming, he thinks; Yudai knows him, after all, knows all about him and his scrambled mind. Sometimes he wonders if he perhaps knows too much, and that’s why he has such an easy time picking up on things like these.
Things like these, as in moments where Euijoo hesitates. To everyone else, it might just look like unwillingness or laziness, but to those who know him, it’s clear that it’s so much more than that. Not a lot of people are able to see it, only a handful; like his sister, for example. Or Nicholas. Nicholas always picks up on it, more often than not before even Euijoo does. It just proves how well they know each other.
And yet.
Yet.
Another person who’s able to pick up on Euijoo’s silent cues is Yudai. Not all too surprising, considering Euijoo is the one who more often than not says too much around him and lets all his deepest darkest secrets loose. It’s a bad habit of his, feeling too comfortable and perhaps saying too much, except for when it actually matters. It has led him to places he doesn’t even wish on his worst enemy, places he never wants to go back to. It has also, however, led him to places, situations, like these.
“Yudai,” he warns, although there’s no real bite behind it. Only a funny quiver that leaves him feeling a little embarrassed, so he swallows it down before it has the chance to get to him.
“Euijoo,” Yudai parrots, mimicking his stern tone as he slumps forward. “You need to get over it. Ricky is nice, he likes you. You should try liking him back.”
Easy for you to say, something roars inside his chest, bitter. Try liking the person hogging who you consider your person, see how you like it.
He doesn’t say any of that, though, and instead just stares down at the keyboard of his laptop. It’s not like he ever could say that, anyways.
Yudai knows. Yudai knows more than he probably should, but still; Yudai knows. Knows all about Ricky, how Euijoo feels about him and his sudden presence. He knows how he feels about Nicholas, too — knows all about it, from how it started to how it’s evolved over time. Knows the deep rooted longing sitting between Euijoo’s ribs, knows how hard he’s tried to swallow it down to no avail. That’s not why Euijoo can’t say how he feels, no.
Saying how he feels means admitting it to himself, which is something he’s not looking to do. Not today, not tomorrow, and not the day after that, either. There’s been moments where it’s all gotten too much and he’s admitted it for no one but the darkness of the night and Yudai to hear, sure, like all those times where Nicholas has shown up with kiss bitten lips and marks to show for it decorating the places he thinks no one can see, but Euijoo does. Euijoo always sees.
Which is why this whole Ricky situation hits him so hard, because Euijoo always sees. Even when Nicholas doesn't think he does. Euijoo hasn’t just grown attuned to Nicholas, he revolves around him. Everything Nicholas does affects Euijoo. Affects his entire world. How he views it, how he views himself. Like a stupid codependent dog. It’s bad, he knows it is, but that’s just how it works. How Euijoo works.
Around Nicholas, that is. Always working around Nicholas. If Nicholas is happy, then Euijoo is too. If Nicholas is sad, then Euijoo is sad too — angry, upset, bustling with joy, it doesn’t matter; whatever Nicholas is feeling, Euijoo feels it, too.
Except when it comes to love, it would seem. Because while Nicholas is currently bustling with life, soft around the edges and filled to the brim with something Euijoo can’t decipher, Euijoo does not feel the same way. He can’t, even if he tries. As long as that love isn’t directed towards him, then no.
He can’t.
And isn’t that what it all comes down to in the end? This newfound, particular feeling he keeps feeling whenever Ricky gets brought up. He’s someone special to Nicholas, that much is obvious, someone Nicholas likes, loves, maybe. Treasures. Still, Euijoo doesn’t feel the same.
It’s not directed towards him, after all. Nicholas’ love.
It’s directed towards Ricky.
“I know,” he mumbles, voice a little muffled around the lump growing in the back of his throat. “I know, it’s just,”
“Save it,” Yudai murmurs, waving a hand in the air. “I know. It’s not that easy. Still, give the guy a chance. Plus it’d make Nicholas happy, seeing you get along with his friends,”
Euijoo knows this. How happy it’d make Nicholas, seeing Ricky and Euijoo together. His two best friends, hanging out. Getting along. Laughing. Bumping shoulders. He’d probably look at them the same way he looks as Euijoo whenever he does something for him, with those big, glistening eyes filled with so much love and joy that Euijoo always has to look away before it makes him say things he shouldn't say. Euijoo just can’t bring himself to do it.
That means facing things Euijoo has always avoided. Nicholas loving someone else, giving someone else the love Euijoo wishes he could give to him. It’s a common theme in Euijoo’s life, you’ll notice, running away from the things that bring him fear. Nicholas is one of those things.
Shit, no one has ever scared Euijoo the way Nicholas does. Nicholas is the scariest person he knows, and it’s not because of his sharp features and resting bitch face. No, it’s the feelings he brings out of him that scares him.
So he runs. Of course he does — what else is he supposed to do? Stay, and face what he’s spent so many years running from? No. It doesn’t work like that. It never will. Euijoo will continue to run until the day Nicholas finally settles down with someone comes, and maybe then he’ll stop. Not because he wants to, but because then it’ll be safe to do so. When he knows there’s no chance of him accidentally saying too much.
“Whatever,” is all he says in the end. It’s the easy way out, he thinks, leaving it as an open question. He’ll warm up to the idea of Ricky eventually, he hopes. “It doesn’t matter, anyways. I’ll just wait until they make it official, then give him a chance. Or something.”
Beside him, Yudai shifts in his seat. Euijoo glances at him through the corner of his eyes.
”Have you ever maybe, I don’t know,” he starts off, words muffled where they leave the tip of his tongue. ”Considered the fact that Nicholas might like you, too?”
Euijoo blinks. What?
”No,” he says, careful. Like he’s scared. Which, to be fair, he kind of is, because where the fuck did that come from? ”Why would I?”
Yudai shrugs. Light, despite the implications lingering behind his words. Something tightens in the pit of Euijoo’s stomach. It feels an awful lot like hope. ”I don’t know. Just a thought.”
He’s quick to stomp it down, put it back where it belongs. Deep inside his chest, locked up and unable to surface. ”Why? Has he said something?” He pries, making sure not to sound too hopeful. When Yudai doesn’t answer, he bulldozes on. “Yudai, tell me, you can’t just say that, you have to tell me,”
”Or you could just talk to him,”
”I can’t just talk to him,” Euijoo says, a little aspirated. The hope is slowly seeping out of its cage, now, dancing around the metal rails of its cage. ”That’s not how it works,”
Yudai raises an eyebrow at him. Euijoo feels a little sick with it. ”Isn’t that exactly how it works?”
”No,” Euijoo shakes his head, final. ”You know it’s not. Not with me,”
”But what if it could be like that with you?”
A frown slowly spreads across Euijoo’s face. He can’t say he’s following, not really. It’s like Yudai is speaking in a completely different language, all vowels and syllables foreign to Euijoo and his unwilling ears. His laptop has gone dark where it sits in his lap. ”What do you mean?”
”Hypothetically speaking,” Yudai says, dragging his words out. ”What would happen if you just, I don’t know, talked about it? Told him how you feel?”
Euijoo, not particularly wanting to humor him, says the first thing that comes to mind. ”He would tell me he hates me and that he never wants to see me a–”
”Hypothetically, Euijoo,” Yudai tsks. Almost like he’s telling a dog off for being bad. ”There are more possible outcomes than that. You know there is.”
Euijoo frowns. What other outcomes are there? There’s been moments where he’s fantasized about it, where he lets his brain play with the idea. He always comes to the same conclusion.
”I don’t know,” he settles for in the end, because truly, he doesn’t know. It’s always the same outcome. Nicholas tells him to never speak to him again, blocks him and throws away the past four years of their lives. Simple.
”Yes, you do.” Yudai pushes. Leans over, bumps his shoulder against Euijoo’s own. ”C’mon, humor me.”
Euijoo nibbles on his bottom lip. There’s a crack that runs along the middle of it. There’s a faint taste of iron coating his tongue, now.
”… Hypothetically speaking?”
Yudai nods. Slow. Euijoo frowns.
Well.
He supposes there are other outcomes. It’s not a thought Euijoo ever allows himself to entertain, but under the premise that it’s all hypothetical, he supposes he can — plus it’s all for Yudai, anyways. It’s not like it’s for him, this silly, stupid thought that slowly begins to form.
Hypothetically speaking, Nicholas could tell him he feels the same way. It’s a thought so distant he barely wants to acknowledge it, but it’s there. Distant, sure, stupid, absolutely; but there. Lingering in the back of his mind, asking the one question Euijoo could never bring himself to ask: what if?
Here’s the thing: Euijoo doesn’t do well with what if’s. Euijoo likes knowing, likes structure and when things are predictable — he doesn’t like going places unknown to him. He never has. The risk is too great, he thinks, wandering into places he’s never been and leaving the outcome up to fate; especially when it comes to things like these.
Like these, as in Nicholas. Him and Nicholas. Their relationship as a whole, really.
Sure, Euijoo could tell him. He could. He could pull him to the side, sit him down and let it all out. Let Nicholas' heavy gaze split him in half and let the years worth of feelings fall right into the palm of his hands. Euijoo knows this. He knows that technically, logically, he could do that.
But with that knowledge also comes the knowledge that Nicholas might have his palms closed, facing away from Euijoo and his split open chest. He could refuse to catch his overflowing emotions, refuse to hold them somewhere close and treasure them — frown at Euijoo’s never ending words and awkwardly pat him on the back when it’s all over, telling him thank you, Euijoo, but I just don’t feel the same.
That’s what it all boils down to in the end. That fear, the fear of the unknown and the possibility that maybe, just maybe, Nicholas won’t be there to catch him once it’s all out there. That his words will be left to linger in the air, bare and naked for the entire world to see as Nicholas refuses to let them land in the palms of his hands. It’s a scary thought. Not knowing whether or not Nicholas would be there to catch his sorry heart.
But now– now Euijoo allows himself to think. To dream. To think the forbidden. To ask himself the one question he’s never dared ask, all under the premise that it's all hypothetical; what if?
He thinks about it. Pictures it. Nicholas sitting in front of him, palms open. Willing. Ready to catch every word that falls off Euijoo’s tongue. It’s a scary thought just as it’s freeing, picturing something so otherworldly. Nicholas smiles. Grins. Brushes their fingers together. Lets the words linger. Lets Euijoo feel them. Lets Euijoo take them in.
Then, in the back of Euijoo’s mind, he says he feels it, too.
Something shifts inside his chest as the thought. The thought of Nicholas, warm and smiling, saying that he’s not alone in his feelings. That somewhere, he feels them too. Something sprouts, filling his lungs — it gets a little hard to breathe, but he dances around it. For now, he does.
Maybe Nicholas would even pull him close, apologize for letting Euijoo ever think otherwise. For leaving him to navigate through what has — and still does — felt like never ending darkness with no end in sight. For not telling him that it’s always been him, that it’ll always be him. For not saying it earlier.
I love you, he’d say. Repeat it until it sticks. Until Euijoo believes him. I love you. I love you. I lov–
“Yeah?” Yudai carefully says. Like he's able to see the chaos unraveling inside Euijoo’s mind in real time. “You get it, now?”
Euijoo blinks, and with it the thought disappears. It’s gone as fast as it came, leaving for his chest to hollow back out, the roots that had started to spread retracting and disappearing somewhere deep inside where Euijoo can’t reach. For a moment, he wants to chase after it, make it stay for just a moment longer, but finds it useless.
It’s already gone.
“Nope.” Is all he says, popping the P. It comes out a little choked, his voice sharp like it always is whenever he’s lying. He stretches his fingers out. Opens his palms. They feel oddly empty, now. “Still only one outcome.”
He shoves his hands beneath his shaking thighs as Yudai slumps back against the couch.
“You’re fucking impossible,” he grunts, sounding so defeated that Euijoo would feel bad if it wasn’t for the hollow feeling inside his chest. He swallows, hoping it’ll go away. It doesn’t. “Has anyone ever told you that? I think you need to hear it. You’re impossible, Euijoo. Like, really fucking impossible.”
Euijoo shrugs. Light, despite the newfound heaviness now creeping up his spine. “You have now,” he says. Yudai scoffs. ”Care to tell me again?”
Yudai just rolls his eyes and directs his attention back to the TV. ”Fucking impossible.”
Yeah, Euijoo thinks around the now hollow feeling inside his chest.
Fucking impossible, indeed.
___
Euijoo wants to be meaner.
It often sits in the middle of his chest, that want. It longs for him to acknowledge it, to be meaner, greedier. More selfish. It wants him inside out, begging for things Euijoo cannot give even if he so wanted; wants his chest pried open, wants his ribs out for the entire world to see that Euijoo, too, can be selfish, if he’d let himself. It gets overwhelming, the constant urge to want, want, want.
Euijoo, however, has learnt how to get around it. For the most part.
A master of his own art, of sorts. That’s what Euijoo has become after years of practice — a master of his own art, one so skilled that sometimes, he simply chooses to ignore the monster that’s brewing inside of him. A little funny, considering he’s the creator of it, but isn’t that how it always goes? Victor Frankenstein created a monster just to flee from it the second it awakened. What makes Euijoo so different?
So he does.
Tonight, the monster is particularly loud. Clawing at his ribs. Begging for a way out. Still, he shushes it and pretends like it’s not there. He would feel a little bad about it (It just wants to be seen, after all. Don’t we all?) if the circumstances had been different, but they’re not. No, tonight the circumstances are as such:
Yudai sits in front of him. He’s laughing. Talking to someone Euijoo doesn’t know. Waving his hands in the air, looking a little animated, like that one anime Yuma watches sometimes. The one about titans. Yudai kind of looks like a titan. Only his flesh isn’t exposed for the world to see, nor is he violent. Yudai is kind, soft, warm. A little ironic at times. A little loud, too. Almost like something Euijoo wants t–
Whatever. Not the point. The point is that right now, Euijoo is seated in the back of Dropkick with his shins swung over Fuma’s lap, and therefore can’t bring himself to care about the monster clawing at his chest. It can roar as much as it wants. Euijoo won’t acknowledge it.
Not tonight.
It gets a little hard, though, especially when he cranes his neck to find Nicholas and Ricky standing a few feet away.
Talking. Leaning into each other. Whispering over the loud music, sharing words for no one but them to hear.
Nicholas looks good tonight. He always does, but there’s just something about him that resonates with Euijoo more than usual tonight. The freshly bleached hair, maybe, falling down the nape of his neck in messy curls. Whatever it is, he’s really doing it for Euijoo who’s slightly tipsy and doing everything he can to not let his eyes linger for longer than they should.
He has one hand resting against the small of Ricky’s back, pressing against him. He always does that whenever he can’t hear what someone’s saying — getting unnecessarily handsy, forcing himself impossibly close. Euijoo would know, considering he’s been a victim of it more times than he can count. He’s not complaining. He likes it. Likes having Nicholas close, likes the way his pulse skips a beat every time his lips brush against the shell of his ear with a breathy sorry, what did you say?
What he doesn’t like, however, is seeing it from an outside perspective.
Ricky leans closer. Yells something into Nicholas’ ear, presumably in a language Euijoo doesn’t speak. Nicholas fingers twitch where they’re idly resting against his lower back. He tips his head back. Laughs. Shows his teeth. Leans back. Yells something back into Ricky’s ear, still in a language Euijoo probably doesn’t speak. Curls his fingers into the fabric of his shirt.
Euijoo looks down at the tequila sunrise hanging between his fingers. The red and orange layers have merged together, leaving a murky vermillion color that almost looks black beneath the flashing blue lights to swirl around the glass when he brings it up to his lips, downing the rest down all in one go.
Whatever, he thinks. It’s whatever. He repeats it until it sticks. Whatever.
Fuma pinches the bare skin of his ankle where his jeans have ridden up. Euijoo glances up at him, letting the now empty glass come down to rest in his lap.
A tangy taste lingers on his tongue, a little sweet. Sour. It might just be the image of Nicholas’ fingers curling into the fabric of Ricky's shirt that’s causing the sourness, though.
Fuma parts his lips, saying something Euijoo doesn’t quite catch over the loud music that’s playing. Shit, this song fucking sucks. Who even listens to Nicki Minaj anymore, anyways?
So he shuffles forward, leaning closer. “What?” He yells, loud enough for half the club to hear.
Fuma faintly grins, places a firm palm behind his neck, bringing him closer until he’s right beside his ear. Euijoo briefly wonders if Nicholas is watching. Seeing how close they are. Fuma’s fingers slip into the hair falling down his nape before he has the chance to think any further about it, curling into soft strands, then, “Are you having fun?”
Euijoo scoffs. Pulls away just enough for Fuma to be able to see the grin threatening to twitch onto his lips. “Sure,” he yells back, tapping his nails against the glass resting in his lap. “So much fun. Are you?”
Fuma grins back at him. It looks a little downturned at the corners. “Being the only sober one sucks.”
“I bet,” Euijoo sneers. “Wanna dip?”
He goes an entire mile by nodding towards the exit, blocked by tens, if not hundreds of bodies. He can’t see them from here; the big black doors, just the flashing red exit sign that hangs above them. He’s been eyeing it all night, wondering if perhaps the blinking lights are trying to call his name. Lure him closer. Pull him back out into the chill night air, doing him a favor by saving him from his agony.
Fuma raises an eyebrow at him before twisting his head to see what Euijoo is nodding towards. When he looks back at him, his grin has grown tenfold. “That miserable, huh?”
Euijoo shrugs. “Something like that.”
It’s not often that Fuma tags along on nights out, but when he does, Euijoo knows he’s guaranteed to have somewhat of a good time. Fuma doesn’t drink, something about a particularly bad experience back in college that he prefers not to talk about — it must’ve been bad, Euijoo thinks, considering he has yet to see him touch a single drop of alcohol ever since he came into Euijoo’s life. That’s fine. You don’t need alcohol to have fun. Alcohol and getting drunk is a social construct, anyways. Poison.
Maybe Euijoo should follow in his footsteps. Get so shitfaced he does something so traumatizing he never wants to touch alcohol ever again. It’d do him good, he thinks, being more like Fuma.
Point is: whenever Fuma tags along, Euijoo knows he’s bound to end up less miserable than usual, because then he’ll have Fuma to feel miserable with. There’s something about it, sharing your misery with someone else, that makes it easier to handle — knowing that somewhere, there’s someone just like you, feeling just as hopeless.
They work great together like that. Side by side, bathing in their own misery while the rest of the room is on cloud nine, taking part of something Euijoo and Fuma can’t seem to find. It’s nice. Makes Euijoo feel less alone when he glances over and sees that Fuma is, in fact, having just as much of a bad time as he is.
“Tempting,” Fuma hums loud enough for Euijoo to hear. His grip slightly falters as he leans back, no longer hovering just below his ear. “But no. We haven’t even witnessed Yuma’s resurrection yet.”
Euijoo lifts his gaze back to the floor. Yuma is there, in the middle of it, laughing. Dancing. He’s been there for the most part of the night, shaking his stupid pink hair and letting strangers trail their hands down his flank. For a moment, Euijoo briefly wonders if he’s trying to make Jo jealous, by riling him up or whatever — but Jo seems fine. Content, even, where he sits across the table. Watching. Completely fine. He even seems to be enjoying it.
He glances back at Fuma. Whatever. If this is their form of foreplay, having strangers feel Yuma up as he sways his hips and Jo watches, then great for them. He’s glad someone’s getting laid, at least. Odd way of doing it, but what the fuck does Euijoo know. “I think he’s about halfway there. Isn’t that enough? Do we really have to stay for the entire thing?”
Fuma snorts. “I mean,” he mumbles, just high enough for Euijoo to be able to hear. He glances over at something. Lets his gaze linger for a moment, before looking back at Euijoo. “Probably not. Still, can’t leave just yet. Sorry, Juju.”
Euijoo, as curious as always, turns his gaze to the side, looking for whatever Fuma had looked at. He has to bite back a laugh as he realizes that right.
Yudai. God, if not Yudai, then who?
He’s still seated from across the table, sipping on the same drink as last time Euijoo had looked at him. He still has someone by his side, too, leaning close as Yudai laughs around the straw of his drink — mindlessly chewing on it as he listens to whatever the stranger yells into his ear. They look close, at least close enough for Yudai to have an arm swung around their waist. Still, Euijoo doubts it's like that.
Fuma seems to doubt it, too, considering he looks almost fond where he’s now glancing at them.
Probably just a friend, happening to be at the same place at the same time. Yudai has a lot of those, friends — many of which Euijoo has yet to even know about. It pays off, being a social butterfly. Just look at Yudai. Or Yuma, who now has his arms slung over a girl’s shoulders as he dances. Or Nicholas. Just about anyone, really, other than Euijoo himself.
That’s okay. Euijoo likes it that way, anyways. Him and his tight knit group of people he refers to as friends. He doesn’t need more than that, he thinks. Just him, and them.
Fuma doesn’t meet his gaze when he looks back at him, still eyeing Yudai and this stranger Euijoo has never seen before. Euijoo just leans forward and offers him a light pat on the shoulder.
“Godspeed,” he says over the music, sounding oddly like Nicholas with how he says it. He cringes at himself. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”
“Ew,” Fuma scrunches his nose as he looks back at him. “Don’t say that. You sound like Nicholas.”
Tell me something I don’t know, he goes to say, but instead just scoffs. Light, despite the slight heaviness seeping back into his chest. Shit. Maybe he should get another tequila sunrise.
Yeah. He probably should. Go a little crazy with it, maybe. Try something new, like a slippery nipple — which is a real thing, by the way. Maki ordered it once just for the fun of it, and he liked it, so by all means, he could try it, too. Should try it.
Yeah, he thinks. Yeah. Why the fuck not. It’s not like his night could ever get any worse, anyways; so why not go out with a bang while he’s at it? Euijoo and his slippery nipple. It has a nice ring to it, no?
A grunt rumbles through his chest as his feet come back down to rest against the sticky floor, abandoning their place in Fuma’s lap. Fuma just watches with curious eyes as he places his now empty glass back onto the table, leaving for someone else to grab it while he’s away getting a new one.
He nods towards the bar. “Getting a new one,” he says, even though he doesn’t think Fuma will be able to hear him over the music bouncing off the walls. One Direction is playing, now. Classic. Never goes wrong. Better than Nicki Minaj by a mile. “You want anything?”
A water? Sprite? he doesn’t add, but Fuma seems to understand him nonetheless. His lips part, forming into a small ‘o’ before he shuts them, shaking his head. He says something Euijoo doesn’t quite catch, probably something along the lines of no, thank you, I’m good, before he waves him away. Euijoo just shrugs and goes on his way.
There’s more people now that the hours have passed, taking up more space than Euijoo would’ve liked with their moving bodies, making it difficult for him and his lanky limbs to squeeze past. Still, he’s not against pushing someone away if he has to, which is exactly what he does.
Someone steps on his foot. A hand ghosts down his spine, a lingering touch that doesn't stay for longer than it should as he tries getting past. Someone briefly grabs onto his hand, too, attempting to pull him into the sea of bodies — to which he replies by shaking it off, watching as the stranger gets pulled along. To dance, perhaps. Sing along to the song that’s playing. Hype each other up, let the night carry them and their heavy limbs.
Euijoo doesn’t wish to partake. He thinks he might catch a glimpse of Yuma as he gets closer to the bar, a pink blur beneath the flashing lights; Maki, too, huddled up in the corner with Harua. He doesn’t pay them any mind. Instead, he sets his eyes on the bar, and tries not to fall over when there’s someone harshly bumping against hi–
Suddenly, there’s a hand wrapping around his wrist, pulling him back. Further away from his goal, further away from the bar.
He struggles to twist around, to jerk free of the firm grip, to tell whatever stranger it is trying to get his attention to fuck off, when he comes face to face with the culprit.
“Juju,” Nicholas yells, tightening his grip around Euijoo’s wrist. He’s grinning when Euijoo manages to turn around to look at him. “Where are you going?”
Something tightens in the pit of Euijoo’s stomach. “What?” He yells. Nicholas doesn’t let go of his wrist, the pads of his fingers leaving indents in the bare skin. Euijoo just frowns around the feeling bubbling up his throat.
Nicholas scoffs, although it’s hard to hear over the loud music. Still, Euijoo doesn’t need to hear it to know that he’s, in fact, scoffing. It’s written on his face. The curl of his lip. He steps closer, placing one hand against the small of his back as he pulls him close.
A small huff leaves Euijoo’s lips as their chests collide. Great.
“I said, where are you going?” He yells into his ear, voice melted around the edges. He’s drunk, smelling faintly of vodka and energy drinks. Warm beneath the flashing lights. “Are you leaving?”
Euijoo tilts his head back to suck a shuddering breath through his teeth. Nicholas just seems to think he’s drunk as he laughs, tightening his grip around his waist. “No,” he eventually leans forward to yell, pointing a thumb towards the bar. “Just getting a drink.”
“Oh,” Nicholas seems to light up at that, voice a little sharper. Not as melted. Clearer. Happier. “Can you get me one?”
Euijoo scoffs. “Sure,” he mumbles, attempting to snake out of Nicholas’ firm grip. Nicholas doesn’t budge, keeping him in place. “What d’you want?”
“You,” Nicholas breathes into his ear, playful. Teasing. Euijoo tries not to groan in defeat. “Actually, nevermind. I want to dance. Do you want to dance?”
No, Euijoo thinks, still trying to recover from his previous words. Fuck, he hates how Nicholas gets whenever he’s drunk. All playful, saying things he doesn’t mean, thinking they won’t affect Euijoo. Thinking he’ll tip his head back and laugh, sneak an arm around his waist and tell him how funny he is. He never does. Still, that doesn’t stop Nicholas from trying, even when Euijoo doesn’t react.
“Nicholas,” he grunts. He hates dancing. At least like this, around other people. Almost as much as he hates Nicholas when he’s drunk.
Nicholas pulls back just enough for Euijoo to be able to look down at him. His bottom lip is wet with a mixture of both alcohol and saliva, the pink flesh of it glistening beneath the flashing lights; eyes wide and pleading. He looks good, sweet. Soft around the corners. Like Euijoo could pry him open if he wanted to.
“C’mon,” he says, voice touching at the edges of a whine. Euijoo tries not to let it get to him. He still has his arm slung around his waist, pressing them close. “It’ll be fun. You can get your drink afterwards. Please?”
“Ask Yuma,” Euijoo says before Nicholas’ pleading eyes get the better of him. “He’s already dancing. Or Maki. Drag Jo out there with you, Taki, too. Or R–”
“I want to dance with you,” he’s whining, now. Like, full on whining. Euijoo hates it. Euijoo hates everything. Euijoo wants to die. “Not them. C’mon,”
“What about Ricky?” The words are tumbling out of him before he has the chance to think about them, spilling past his lips and hanging in the stuffy air.
Nicholas stares up at him. Blinks once, then twice. Something shifts in his gaze, his pleading eyes narrowing back into sharp slits for just a moment before they’re back to being wide and open. His grip slightly loosens, too. Euijoo chooses not to read too much into it.
“Ricky?” He says, no longer yelling. Euijoo takes the opportunity to take a small step back, putting some space back between them. “I mean, he’s busy talking to some gu–”
Euijoo chooses not to hear. “Go on,” he urges him on, hand coming up to lightly nudge him in the shoulder. “Go ask him. He used to dance, right? He’ll be more fun to dance with, anyways,”
Maybe he’s rambling a little, so sue him. He’s not even sure where he learnt that, the fact that Ricky used to be a dancer — maybe it was Nicholas who told him, or maybe it’s just one of the many things he learned during one of his late night stalking sessions. He’s not sure, nor does he care; all he cares about is creating some distance between him and Nicholas.
Put up a nonexistent barrier. Leave space for him and his sorry lungs to breathe. Direct him elsewhere, just so he won’t be paying Euijoo any attention. If that means he has to willingly send him Ricky’s way, then so be it. He’ll feel hurt about it in the morning, when he no longer has Nicholas staring up at him.
Like Euijoo owes him something. Like he wants something. Euijoo just nudges him again, offering him a light smile when he doesn’t immediately respond. Whatever.
“... Okay.” Is all Nicholas responds with, low and muffled. Euijoo almost doesn’t pick up on it, and therefore goes to lean in to make sure he’s hearing him correctly before he abruptly stops himself.
Right. The barrier. He’s supposed to be pulling away, not lean in closer, goddamnit.
Nicholas' hand limply falls back down his side, abandoning the small of Euijoo’s back. It feels weirdly empty now without Nicholas’ heavy palm pressing against it. “Tell me what drink you get later, yeah? I need some recommendations.”
Euijoo just nods, smile still plastered onto his lips. It feels a little taut, tight where it sits. He hopes Nicholas is drunk enough to not notice. “Yeah, sure,” he says, nodding towards the dancefloor like he’s in a rush. Nicholas just stares up at him, gaze unreadable. Euijoo has to get the fuck out of here before he starts asking for things he can’t have. “Go on, I’ll catch you later,”
Nicholas stares up at him for one, then two more beats, before he nods. There’s still something lingering behind his features, something Euijoo can’t seem to decipher. Funny, considering Euijoo always knows how to read Nicholas. Whatever. Maybe he’s drunker than he thought, his brain a little mushy. He’ll order this stupid slippery nipple, then get out of here.
Nicholas slips back into the crowd with a small wave. Euijoo keeps his grin in place, waving him off — watching until he’s nothing but a blond blur amongst the neverending sea of bodies, keeping track of it until he no longer can. Only then does it falter, cracking at the edges and crumbling into a small frown.
He doesn’t stick around long enough for it to stick. Instead he twists around, and continues his way towards the bar. Whatever feeling it is lingering inside his chest, the slippery nipple will help drown out. Hopefully it’s strong. Stronger than a tequila sunrise. Maybe he can ask the bartender to make it a little stronger than usual, just to be safe.
He doesn’t see Nicholas again for the rest of the night, and therefore isn’t able to tell him that a slippery nipple with an extra shot of sambuca tastes fucking disgusting.
___
Euijoo wakes up to a sharp buzz rattling his ribcage.
He startles awake at the feeling, hands instinctively coming up to grab hold of whatever it is currently rattling his bones — sitting up fast enough for his bones to crackle. His eyes hurt, his neck even more, as he fiddles to get the sheets out of the way, then–
It’s just his phone.
Right. He must’ve fallen asleep using it last night.
He stares at the now lit screen of it for one, two beats, then slumps back against the mattress with an aspirated huff without even bothering to check who’s trying to reach him. Shit.
It’s too fucking early. Too fucking early.
The phone bounces off his chest with a low thud as he lets go of it, hands lazily dragging up his ribs and up to rub at his face. He presses the palms of them against his eyes, really digs them into the sockets until he’s seeing fleeting freckles of light float across his nonexistent field of vision. He groans, just for the sake of it, cringing at the funny timbre lingering behind his voice. Sexy.
Not really.
Euijoo was once told he looks like a morning person, whatever that might mean. He’s not sure, nor does he think he wants to know; maybe he just always looks so awake and alert, ready to face the day and that’s why that one guy he dated a few years back told him he does, in fact, look like a morning person. Approachable. Happy to be alive. He doubts it, but still. Maybe. Hopefully.
Whatever, the point is– he’s not.
Like, at all. Maybe it was more of an insult rather than a compliment, now that he's thinking about it, considering it means the guy hadn’t even bothered to get to know Euijoo well enough to know that right. Euijoo fucking hates mornings. Despises them. Call them the bane of his existence. Wants them gone. Extinct. The list goes on, but you get the gist.
Euijoo fucking hates mornings. More specifically this morning.
It’s Friday. June 5th, 2026. Euijoo is 23 years old. 24 in approximately three months and two days. One week from now, he’ll graduate and–
Wait.
He reaches for his phone again, catching a glimpse of himself and his messy hair in the dark reflection of it. He taps the screen using his thumb, watching as it comes back to life. He squints his eyes, trying to blink away the blurriness of them as he stares at the clock; 11:24 AM, it reads. Just above it, today’s date sits.
Friday, June 5th.
Euijoo frowns. Wasn’t Friday yesterday?
He’s pretty sure it was. He overslept then, too. Waking up to the group chat blowing up. Something about Yuma’s upcoming resurrection. Celebrating it at Dropkick. Nicholas asking if Ricky could come, too; Yudai threatening to cut his balls off. Scrambling to catch the next train, getting home and showering before heading to meet up with Fuma. Tequila sunrise. Flashing lights. Slippery nipple?
His frown deepens. Huh.
Did he– did he dream all of that? Hell, he knows he has somewhat of a broad imagination, known for having weird dreams every now and then, but still. That’s ambitious for even him. His dreams are never that clear, never that coherent. They’re always a mix of things only the wildest of imaginations could produce, like talking cats and giant flamingos. It’s odd for him to have a dream so … normal.
He blinks as the clock ticks. 11:25 AM, it reads now. Okay, time is still ticking. Good. That means the world hasn’t ended, that he’s not stuck in some weird version of his personal hell. Shit. Maybe he did dream all of that. Weird, but not completely impossible. He does have normal dreams, too, believe it or not.
He shakes the uneasiness creeping up his spine off, letting it melt into the mattress beneath him. The sun is peaking through his blinds, proof of the summer that’s hastily approaching — yet his room feels cold, like the sun hasn’t shone in days. His phone vibrates once more in the palm of his hand, the screen once again lighting up.
He glances down at the notification now sitting at the top of it. It’s from Maki, texting the groupchat. Not completely out of the ordinary, but still. A little uncanny, considering the dream he’s just had.
He holds his phone up just high enough for it to recognize his face, redirecting him into the chat.
the pack
(11:24 AM)
yuma
attention everyone
a week from now marks the day the glorious nakakita yuma was born again (2026)
which means u are all called to arrive at dropkick 9 pm sharp tonight to celebrate his eventual resurrection
be there or be squaremaki
why can’t i be circlefuma
?maki
yeah like. why is it always be there or be square
can’t a guy be circle anymore or what
Okay.
Euijoo sits up fast enough for his back to crackle, brows furrowing where he stares down at the conversation pulled up on his screen. What.
What.
That’s– that’s his dream. He’s like, ninety percent sure that’s his dream. He only skimmed through the messages in his dream, but he remembers that. Maki, stupid and high, asking why he can’t be a circle instead of a square. That happened in his dream. In fact, this entire string of texts happened in his dream.
Okay. Okay. So. Maybe he’s just psychic. Maybe he’s just able to see into the future, now. Wouldn’t have been completely out of the question, if only Euijoo believed in bullshit like that — which he doesn’t, thank you very much — but shit. What does he know? Maybe it’s true. Maybe that's actually something that happens. Spiritual awakening, he thinks it’s called, or–
His phone buzzes again. Then again. He stares down at it with dry eyes, unable to blink.
Be there or be circle, Yuma’s next text reads. Why are you talking about yourself in third person, Harua replies. Euijoo feels slightly nauseous, now. Taki texts, too. Then Jo. Maki. What the fuck?
Euijoo has read these texts before. Just like this, in this exact order. Yesterday, he thinks, or while he was asleep, he has no fucking idea — point is, it played out just like this. In this exact order. Soon, Maki will ask if Harua wants to come over and then Harua will say that his greed sickens him and Maki will respond with–
Your ass sickens me baby, the text on his phone reads.
Yeah. Okay. So maybe Euijoo is freaking out a little now, because what the fuck is going on?
He racks through his brain, trying to come up with an explanation to whatever it is that’s currently playing out in front of him. Did he get too drunk last night? Did he black out, leaving for the rest of them to fuck with him? Maybe they thought it was funny, Euijoo getting blackout drunk on a slippery nipple with an extra shot of sambuca and decided it’d be fun to fuck with him. Change the date on his phone, make him think he’s stuck in some weird time loop by repeating the day before. He wouldn’t put it past them, especially not Taki, but still. That’s not funny. That’s fucking absurd.
In the end that’s what he settles for. He must’ve blacked out, and now they’re trying to be funny. It doesn’t make much sense, considering he feels completely fine — not a single trace of the alcohol he had last night present in his system and making his limbs feel heavier than they are, his head seemingly fine too — but still.
It’s the only thing that makes sense. The only thing that can make sense. Jesus Christ. He’s going to fucking kill them next time he sees them, whenever that might be. Hopefully never. Hopefully they all die of alcohol poisoning. That way Euijoo will never have to touch a single drop of alcohol ever again, plus he’ll be eight problems lighter.
He slumps back against the bed. There’s still a sense of unease licking up his spine, but it’s slowly going away now that he’s a little more aware of what’s going on. Instead, he lies back down, opens Instagram, and–
The first picture he sees is of Choi San, standing in front of a beige wall. He has his chest out, holding up a card that says Prada, dressed in all black, sleek clothes.
Thank you, Prada, the caption reads. Euijoo frowns. He already saw that picture yesterday. Why is his feed showing it to him again?
His eyes flicker down to the time it was published, hoping it’ll calm the panic slowly starting to spread back out across his chest.
Posted two hours ago.
Something shifts, then. Inside of Euijoo. Around him. The entire world shifts, suddenly feeling so off-kilter that he feels slightly dizzy with it. Like it’s suddenly spinning on an axis that doesn’t exist.
No. This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening, because Euijoo has already seen that picture, 24 hours ago. He stared at it yesterday morning, while he was still fuzzy with sleep, feeling giddy over the slightly exposed skin. It’s not possible that he only just posted it, a mere two hours ago. Did he delete it, just to post it again? Maybe the engagement wasn’t as good as they had hoped, deciding to post it on a Saturday, instead?
Just as he’s about to click into the comments, to see if anyone is saying anything about the apparent repost, a notification comes through at the top of his screen.
He glances up at it before he has the chance to stop himself.
nichol
bet
can ricky come
His heart comes to an abrupt stop where it was just jackhammering inside his chest. He thinks it might stop beating all together, but he can’t really tell over the ringing in his ears — all he knows is that yeah.
He’s fucking dying.
He’s dying and this is the last thing the universe has forced him to see before he dies, forcing him to relive what will go down as the worst day of his life. Forcing him to relive Maki’s awful flirting and Yuma’s awful god complex, forcing him to remember that Ricky is still, in fact, a thing.
He hasn’t gone away, nor is he any less of a problem. No, he’s still here, always at the top of Nicholas’ tongue.
Is this the dream? If so, it’s a nightmare. He already lived through yesterday. He really doesn’t have to live through it again. He’d rather die than do that, which, yeah. Maybe he is. It sure feels like he is, at least. He wouldn’t mind. Death feels much more peaceful than whatever the fuck this is.
The notifications keep coming, but Euijoo isn’t there to read them. Not really. He’s somewhere else, somewhere distant and far away from where his body is currently splayed out across the mattress of his bed. There’s no point anyways. He already knows what the texts say.
Your hot friend.
He scrambles to call Yudai.
His fingers are shaking, he realizes, as he presses his way into his recently called, eyes wavering as he searches for Yudai’s name. Once he finds it, he presses down hard enough for the screen to slightly bend beneath the pad of his thumb. Okay. Yeah. Maybe he’s gained some kind of super power overnight, too. Super strength or something. Great.
It rings once against his ear, then twice. Thrice. Yudai isn’t picking up. Euijoo, quite frankly, thinks he might be dying.
Then, muffled and tainted by static, “Look who the cat dragged in. I was just about to text the groupchat telling you to get the fuck u–”
“Are you home? Euijoo cuts him off. Breathy. A little rude, maybe. Like he has time to think about things like that right now.
On the other side of the phone, Yudai scoffs. “Well, yeah,” he says, oblivious to the panic seeping through Euijoo’s rushed words. “It’s Friday, stupid. Where are you? I’ve been waiting for like, a good twenty minutes now.”
Euijoo doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the irony of it all. It’s not, he goes to say, but finds himself unable to, because he has no fucking idea if it actually is Friday or not. For all he knows, it could be Thursday today — ten years from now. What would he know? Truly, what the fuck would he know?
Oh, god. He prays he’s not still in college ten years from now. That would suck. More than this sucks, whatever the fuck this is.
“Yudai,” he says, surprisingly even considering the panic rooted inside his chest. Serious. “I need you to be honest with me.”
“Hm? About what?” Yudai asks, still seemingly oblivious.
Euijoo sucks a shuddering breath through his teeth. Closes his eyes. Okay. It’s okay. Yudai will tell him it’s all a prank, that yeah, he did in fact black out yesterday and this is all part of some absurd prank no one finds particularly funny. Give him a lecture about how he shouldn’t drink so much, tell him to follow Fuma’s footsteps. It’s okay. It’ll be okay. He’s oka–
“What the fuck happened last night?”
On the other side of the phone, Yudai goes silent. For a moment, just a moment, Euijoo feels himself relax — convincing himself that this is it. That Yudai’s silence can only mean one thing and one thing only. He’s gathering up the courage to tell him he’s sorry for fucking with him like that, of course he is. He probably feels bad, making Euijoo panic when there’s nothing to panic about. He knows how Euijoo gets, after all. How he doesn’t do well with panic. Gosh, of course that’s what it is.
Euijoo’s willing to forgive him, once he apologises. A very sick and twisted prank, sure, but Euijoo can look past that. If only Yudai apologises. Which he’s not.
He’s not apologizing.
Instead, he parts his lips, and asks, “... What do you mean?”
Okay. So maybe Euijoo’s not okay, after all.
The panic begins to rise again, bubbling up his chest and spilling past his lips in the form of an aspirated huff. “Last night,” he bulldozes on, because now he can’t stop. This isn’t funny. Nothing about this is funny. “Last night, Yudai. What happened last night?”
“Woah,” Yudai suddenly says, sounding so surprised it almost makes Euijoo a little angry. Like he has no idea what Euijoo is referring to. “How am I supposed to know what you were up to last night? Didn’t you go see that movie with Maki?”
That was on Thursday. He went to see a movie with Maki on Thursday. That’s two days ago. Not yesterday. Yesterday, he was with Yudai for the most part of the day, then he was with all of them. At Dropkick. Celebrating Yuma’s eventual resurrection. He was there. He knows he was, because yesterday was Friday. Not fucking Thursday, Friday.
“Are you– are you serious? Stop, it’s not funny,” he’s a little close to crying, now. He doesn’t want to cry. He wants things to be normal. He wants Yudai to apologize. To tell him it’s okay. “I get it, okay? Don’t drink, don’t order drinks you haven’t tried before, blah blah blah, just stop, I get it,”
“Euijoo, what–” Yudai chokes out on the other side of the phone. He sounds concerned, now. Euijoo would laugh if it wasn’t for how absurd all of this is. “Are you okay?”
“No,” Euijoo practically barks out, all rough around the edges. “Shit, what the fuck do you think? It’s not funny, it’s– how the fuck did you even get Choi San to delete his Instagram post?”
He’s rambling now, but what else is he supposed to do? He’s out of options, here. Yudai still hasn’t apologized, nor told him it’s all just a big, bad prank; so truly, what else is he supposed to do? “Choi San? Euijoo, are you having a mental breakdown or something because I have no idea what you’re ta–”
“I’m coming over.” He says, final. He forces his sheets off, leaving them to huddle up in the corner of his bed as he scrambles to get up. “I hate you. I hate you so much. I should be the one cutting your balls off.”
Yudai practically gasps on the other line. “How did you kn–”
Euijoo hangs up before he has the chance to finish his sentence, throwing his phone on top of his now crumpled sheets, not staying around to listen to it beep as the call disconnects. Instead he heads straight towards the bathroom, forcing his heavy limbs to move.
It’s okay. He’s okay. Yudai is just being a dick. They’re all being dicks. Euijoo should block all of them. Delete their contacts. Move to a different country. Leave a note behind expressing just how much he hates them, how miserable they make him.
His hands are still shaking by the time he bolts out the door.
___
“Euijoo,”
“No,” Euijoo pushes past him, ignoring the airy oof that spills past his lips. Fuck manners. He doesn’t even know what that is right now. “No. Explain.”
He can feel Yudai’s eyes tracking him down as he waltzes into the apartment, dropping his jacket over the armrest of his couch. He turns around to meet his gaze, holding it even when his eyes wavers. Yudai just stares at him, jaw loose and lips parted where he’s still standing by the door. “Explain what, exactly?”
Euijoo waves his hands in the air, no longer panicked. Just angry. Angrier than he’s been in a long, long time, now. “This, whatever the fuck this is. Explain. Now.”
“Explain what, Euijoo?” He repeats, sounding just as surprised at the first time.
“Are you deaf?” Euijoo barks out, throwing his hands in the air. Yudai’s face slightly crumbles. Euijoo just bulldozes on. “Why are you doing this? Why can’t you just apologize and admit that yeah, you went too far? Why do you keep dancing around it? I know, so there’s no point in dragging it out,”
Euijoo doesn’t like being angry. It makes him feel weird, makes him feel like somebody else. Like he’s not himself anymore. Which is true, he kind of isn’t — because Euijoo never gets angry. Like ever. It’s a rare occurrence that doesn’t happen more than once every blue moon, which practically means never. Just in fancier terms.
Once the blue moon occurs, however, it’s ugly.
Euijoo gets ugly. At least on the inside, because once he’s angry, that’s all he can see. That anger. That raw, visceral anger. It takes up so much space inside of him that he has no idea where to store it, what to do with it; therefore he explodes. Lets it all pour out of him, lets it manifest in the form of waving hands and furrowed brows. He often says things he doesn’t mean, too, leaving for him to tuck his tail between his legs once it’s all out there and he realizes that maybe, just maybe, he went too far.
Right now, however, he’s not. Right now, he’s angry. Really angry. He’ll probably feel embarrassed about it later, but as of right now, he’s just angry. So angry that even the downturn of Yudai’s lips makes him seethe.
Who the fuck does he think he is? Ruining Euijoo’s day by pulling the worst prank of his life on him, knowing how stressed he’s been lately? Shit, he has an exam to write in two days. He shouldn’t be here, asking for an apology over something so stupid as a prank.
A horrible prank, but still.
“Euijoo, I have no idea why you’re so angry,” Yudai eventually says, a little careful. Like he’s trying to reason with a child. Euijoo bites back the urge to stomp his foot to the ground in disbelief. “But let’s talk about it, yeah? You’re upset, you’re allowed to be upset, but you’re not really making any sense right now,”
Euijoo almost scoffs. He’s allowed to be upset? Well, what the fuck did he expect? Truly, what other possible outcome did he see coming out of this? That he’d just laugh it off? Maybe that’s what anyone else would’ve done, but not Euijoo. Yudai knows that. Yudai knows that.
So he says. “You knew I’d be upset. You know how stressed I’ve been. Shit, I get that the others might’ve not known, but fuck, Yudai, that was,”
Mean, he wants to say. Evil, even. Shit, why Euijoo? Why not someone else? Like Nicholas, for example. He deserves it, for constantly fucking with Euijoo’s head. He might not know that he’s doing it, but he is, and therefore Euijoo deems him more suitable for a prank like this. He would’ve handled it better, too. Laughed it off. Would’ve told them nice try, try harder next time though, or something like that. Why Euijoo, out of all people?
Instead of saying how evil he thinks they are, he falls silent. The anger is slowly starting to fizzle out, morphing into something along the lines of hurt instead. Yudai knew. He knows how much Euijoo has on his plate. He doesn’t have the time nor energy for stupid shit like this. Not right now. Next week, maybe, and maybe then he’d react more soundly to it. Not freak out like this.
React more like Nicholas.
Calm. Always calm. Taking one day at a time, letting the day guide him instead of it being the other way around. God, Euijoo envies that about him, he always has. How free he is, not bound by any worries. It’s why he likes him so much; amongst other things, of course, but that might be the root of it all.
How free he is.
From across the room, Yudai’s face goes from surprise to concern to downright pity. He drags his feet across the floor, hooking his pinky together with Euijoo’s own. Euijoo doesn’t pull away even when his bruised ego begs him to.
“C’mon, let’s talk about it,” he says, tugging at his hand, gesturing for him to sit down. “Help me understand.”
Euijoo slumps against the leather with a huff. His shirt sticks to it like always, yet he does nothing to fix it where it’s slowly riding up his back. Instead he just stares at the TV idly playing in front of him, taking in the bright colors of it.
Pokémon. Of course. Of fucking course.
“I’m tired.” Is all he says in the end, not pointing out the obvious. What’s the point, if Yudai isn’t going to acknowledge it?
Beside him, Yudai slumps down. He’s still holding onto his pinky, letting their intertwined hands rest against his knee as he gets comfortable. “I know you are,” he hums, dragging his thumb against the back of his hand. Like he’s cradling a child. To be fair, he kind of is. “It’s been a lot, hasn’t it? School and all. You’re done soon, though, so don’t let it get to you now, Euijoo, not when you’re so close to the end.”
A Pokémon he doesn’t know appears on the screen. It’s an ugly shade of orange, one so vibrant it makes the blue sky behind it look dull.
“Did I really get that drunk last night?” He mumbles instead of acknowledging what’s supposed to be Yudai’s attempt at comforting him. “At Dropkick. Did the slippery nipple really fuck me up that badly?”
Yudai is frowning when he rolls his head to look at him. His thumb has fallen still, now.
“Dropkick?” He says, and Euijoo finds the confusion written behind his eyes to be genuine. Something drops inside his chest, pooling in the pit of his stomach at the sight. “That’s tonight, Juju. We’re going to Dropkick tonight. Did you read the groupchat? Also, what the fuck is a slippery nipple?”
There’s a certain urgency building up inside of him, now. Not the same urgency as earlier, the one that had been tainted by anger and hurt and everything in between — no, just an urgency to understand. He doesn’t even care about an apology now that the anger has fizzled out, nor does he want Yudai to cradle him and say that it’s okay. He just wants to understand.
Yudai looks so earnest, so genuine from where he’s frowning at him. Like he truly has no idea what Euijoo is talking about. It’s weird, because Euijoo can't think of a single instance where Yudai has ever lied to him, which is why he’s having trouble wrapping his head around why he’d feel the need to lie to him right now, when he’s never done it before.
Hadn’t he known better, he would’ve taken his words and confusion for what they seem to be, which is honesty.
He can’t, though. Not really. That’d mean Yudai wasn’t in on the joke, and he’s having trouble seeing how that’s possible. Yudai is like, the only person who knows his phone password, alongside Nicholas. Plus he’d react to them repeating themselves in the groupchat, not just shrug it off.
Fuck. This doesn’t make sense. None of it does. Euijoo feels like someone’s put his brain in a pot and turned the heat up.
“... Are you serious?” He finds himself asking, desperete for things to make sense again. “You really had no part in this?”
“I don’t even know what you’re referring to,” Yudai says, looking more worried than Euijoo thinks he’s ever seen him look before. “So no. I had no part in whatever it is you’re referring to. Are you getting sick?”
Euijoo groans. “No,” he says, then thinks it over. Is he? Maybe he is, and that’s what all this is about. His room did feel oddly cold this morning. Like someone had left the window open while he was gone, not closing it before he cuddled up in bed. “Or, I don’t know. I don’t think so,”
“Do you want to check? I can get the thermometer,” Yudai offers, already halfway up when Euijoo tugs him back down.
“No, it’s okay,” he mumbles, lolling his head back against the couch. “I just– I think I had a weird dream, or something.”
That’s putting it lightly. If it was a dream, which he doesn’t think it was, but under the premise that it was, then yeah. Calling it weird might be the understatement of the century, because being able to look into the future is like, the furthest thing away from weird.
It’s absurd, and that’s still putting it lightly, because if anything, it’s downright insane. Impossible, even. You shouldn’t be able to do that. Science doesn’t even allow that. Euijoo shouldn’t be able to do that.
“Okay,” Yudai says where he’s back to leaning against the back of the couch, careful. Dragging the end of it out a little, like he’s encouraging Euijoo to go on.
“Yeah.” Is all Euijoo mumbles, tired. Wanting things to be normal again without him having to explain himself.
“So,” Yudai pushes when he doesn't continue, seemingly not happy with Euijoo’s lack of elaboration. “Tell me about it. What happened? What was it about?”
Well. Everything, he supposes. His entire life, small bits and pieces of it. His friends, school, Nicholas — Ricky. Just everything he feels like has been making his life a little extra difficult lately, all huddled together into one singular day, overlapping with one another. His personalized version of hell, he’d describe it as; a day filled with everything he wishes to avoid.
He could say that, but that wouldn't justify his sudden explosion. Nor would it justify the weird questions, his attempts at digging for something Yudai seemingly has taken no part in, completely unaware. So what does he say, truly?
That he somehow predicted the entirety of today through a dream? Yudai will never believe that. He’ll stare at him like he’s actually lost his mind and fumble to get the thermometer to check if he’s currently dying from a fever, or god forbid, something worse. Something life threatening. Like a parasite that has wiggled its way into his brain and is now making him hallucinate.
So he frowns. “It’s weird, like, really weird,”
“I don’t care,” Yudai is quick to say. He squeezes his pinky, a firm grip around the bone. Euijoo lets out a shuddering breath. “Tell me. Let’s figure it out together.”
Shit. Well. Here goes nothing, he supposes. “Promise you won’t laugh?”
“I promise.”
“No, like, really promise,”
“I really promise, Euijoo,”
“Promise like you’ve never promised anything in your entire life,”
“Euijoo,” Yudai barks out, firm. Euijoo swallows down the lump perched in the back of his throat. “Just tell me.”
Euijoo waits for one, two more beats, before he parts his lips to speak. His tongue feels heavy, like he’s not supposed to be telling anyone about it. “When I woke up, it was like, I don’t know,” he begins, just to trail off. He’s quick to pick himself back up when he notices Yudai staring at him through the corner of his eye. “It was like … I’ve already lived through today, you know? Like I’m reliving it. I could’ve sworn it was Friday yesterday,”
Yudai frowns. “Okay,” he says, a little uncertain. “So you dreamt it was Friday.”
“No,” Euijoo is quick to retort. “Or, yes, but not … not like that. The dream, it– it predicted today, I think. Like, I’ve already been to Dropkick. Already read all those texts. Already been at your place, trying to study. My computer died halfway through, though, so I didn’t get much done, so we just watched Pokémon for half the day,”
“I don’t even watch Pokémon,” Yudai blurts out beside him. Euijoo glances over at the TV. Yudai follows suit, returning his gaze looking a little embarrassed. “Well. Not that often, at least. Still, might just be a coincidence, Juju. We always go to Dropkick, it’s not like that’s something out of the ordinary,"
Something spasms in the back of Euijoo’s throat, desperete to get out. “No, you don’t get it,” he says, sounding a little desperete. “It was the exact same. Yuma talking about his resurrection, Nicholas asking if Ricky can come– all of it, it was the exact same,”
Yudai has his lips pressed into a thin line when Euijoo looks back at him. He seems perplexed, like he can’t wrap his head around what Euijoo is trying to say. Euijoo tries his best not to groan in defeat. “You met one of your friends, I think. At Dropkick. A tall guy, blonde hair. He was there, with you. Talking.”
“None of my friends even go to Dropkick,” Yudai deadpans. The confusion written on his face slowly bleeds out, morphing into something Euijoo can’t decipher. Relief, maybe. Like he has nothing to be worried about anymore. “You sure you weren’t just, I don’t know, in and out of sleep? Mixing reality and your dream together? That happens, y’know, when you’re half awake and still dreaming. Happens to me all the time.”
Euijoo falls silent. Not because he has nothing to say, but because it’s obvious that Yudai is just not getting it. No matter what he says, he’ll just sum it up to him having a weird dream that felt oddly like reality. Euijoo knows that’s not what it was, but there’s only so much he can say and do for Yudai to listen to him.
He’s not. Right now, he’s not. He usually always does, but maybe things are different today. Maybe he just doesn't have the patience for Euijoo’s bullshit today, which, fair. Euijoo gets it. He does. He just wishes he could listen, at least.
When he doesn’t say anything, Yudai leans over and bumps their shoulders together. “C’mon, cheer up. Don’t let a weird dream ruin your day. We all have weird, uncanny dreams sometimes, Juju. It might be uncanny, but nothing to worry about.”
Euijoo makes a noise in somewhat agreement. He’s tired. It feels like he hasn’t slept in a week, the panic finally catching up to him and making his limbs feel heavy with exhaustion. He kind of wants to curl up in Yudai’s lap and sleep until whatever this is wears off. Until things go back to normal.
“Yeah,” he mumbles, although his heart isn’t in it. Not really. “Yeah. I’m sorry.”
Yudai tsks. “Don’t,” he says, letting go of his pinky to pat him on the thigh before he curls up against the armrest. “Where’s your laptop, anyways? You’re supposed to be studying today,”
Euijoo doesn’t tear his tired gaze off the TV as he parts his lips to respond, voice mumbled with something he can’t place. “It’s dead.”
Haven’t charged it since yesterday, he wants to say, but refrains. There is no yesterday, after all. Just today. Friday. June 5th, 2026.
Jesus fucking Christ.
Yudai snorts beside him. “Too bad,” he hums, getting comfortable. “Anyways, you wanna hear about this batshit crazy order I got yesterday? It’ll help you take your mind off things, I promise. It’s like, pretty fucking insane.”
Euijoo watches the same Pokémon episode he swears he’s already seen as Yudai tells him about coffee made with eggs for what he thinks might be the second time. He doesn’t comment on it, and instead just pretends to agree when he goes on to tell him how bizarre it had been. This time, Yudai seems pleased with his response.
He feels oddly empty for the remainder of the evening.
___
As the day progresses on, Euijoo grows more and more certain that it was, in fact, not a dream.
Right now, he’s back to sitting in the back of Dropkick, mindlessly fiddling with the rim of his glass as the lights flashes around him. Yudai is seated from across the table, talking and laughing and looking just as animated as he had last time Euijoo found himself in this exact seat — legs swung over Fuma’s lap. Yudai meets his gaze once, looking at him kind of funny when his friends shows up, slumping down beside him with a loud laugh.
If he thinks anything of the coincidence, he doesn't say anything, and instead just falls back into conversation with the blonde stranger.
The only thing differentiating the dream (It’s not a dream, Euijoo just doesn't have a word for it yet) and right now is the fact that he has yet to even touch his tequila sunrise. It remains full, an orange and red mixture sitting inside his glass, waiting for him to finally drink it. He won’t.
He refuses. He’s not too sure how big of a role alcohol played in yesterday’s– today’s events, therefore he refrains. It won’t do him any good, anyways, drinking. He’ll just wake up hungover tomorrow, when everything’s gone back to normal. Which they will, by the way. They will go back to normal.
How, he doesn’t know. He just knows that it will, that it has to. Considering he’s apparently capable of predicting the future, he figures he should also be able to bend it to his desires, therefore he decides that tomorrow, it’ll all be back to normal. He thinks it over and over again, just so that the universe will pick up on it. Hear his desperate pleas.
So he doesn’t drink. He didn’t even mean to buy it, his body just did it for him — brain still all mushy and leaving him unable to think properly. That’s fine. He’ll just give it to Maki once he gets back. Tell him he thinks it tastes funny.
Maki won’t mind, he drinks just about anything, anyways. He’ll probably hug him, too, tell him how happy he is to be his friend. Something along the lines of dude, you’re like, the bestest friend ever. Typical drunken Maki behavior. Euijoo likes it more than he lets on.
That also means he won’t be having any slippery nipple tonight. He shudders at the mere thought, the bitter taste of anise still lingering on his tongue if he thinks too long about it — the smooth bailey lulling him into a false sense of security before the anise had hit. It had been horrible. To think he even asked for an extra shot of it, too. The bartender must’ve hated him.
Point is– he’s doing things differently tonight.
No alcohol is the first rule, to avoid having to spend tomorrow hunched over the toilet and to hopefully avoid finding himself in the same predicament, having uncanny dreams and whatnot. The second rule, well.
The second rule is fairly simple.
No Nicholas.
Tonight, he’s going both alcohol and Nicholas-free. He’s been doing a great job at both so far, both by not touching his now murky tequila sunrise and by staying as far away from Nicholas as possible. He’s currently standing somewhere behind him, hand probably resting against the small of Ricky’s back — just like yesterday (today).
Only this time, Euijoo doesn’t roll his head to the side to witness it.
No, tonight Euijoo is being strong. Stronger than ever, really. He keeps his eyes trained on the rim of his glass where he has it hanging between his fingers, pretending to find the dark liquid more interesting than the sea of bodies dancing a couple of feet away; ignoring the monster roaring inside his chest.
If it was loud before, he has no idea how to describe it today. Tonight it roars, claws particularly fierce where they sink into his skin and beg him to look. To just twist his head, let his eyes linger on what he knows will bite him in the ass. To see for himself, if Nicholas actually has one hand perched on the small of Ricky’s back, or if that was just a one time thing.
It wasn’t. Euijoo knows it wasn’t. He knows that if he twists his head to look at them, Nicholas will be standing there, blonde curls of hair falling down the nape of his neck as he leans closer to Ricky, dressed in the same stupidly hot clothes as the last time Euijoo found himself in this position. Ricky will still be there, too; bathing in what Euijoo would like to refer to as his.
So he saves himself the pity and just doesn’t look. There’s no use, anyways. What’s the point in looking if he already knows what will be waiting for him?
It’s been going good so far. He plans on stalling for another 15 minutes or so, just until Maki gets back so he can give him his drink, then he’ll dip with the excuse of not feeling too well. Yudai will believe him following his crashout this morning, and the rest will probably just give him the same talk as always. Don’t go, Yuma will plead. The night is still young. We can dance, Juju. Don’t go.
Whatever. Euijoo’s over it, anyways. He’s been over it since the moment he woke up, if he's being honest. Now, he just wants to head back home and curl up in bed and wake up to everything being back to normal. To it being Saturday. Gosh, he’s never been more excited for it to be Saturday, he thinks — and that’s coming from a fulltime student who loves the weekend.
Like clockwork, Fuma pinches the bare skin of his ankle where his jeans have ridden up. Euijoo pretends to be surprised by it. In reality, he’s been waiting for it to happen.
This time, it’s him leaning close and yelling into his ear before Fuma even has the chance to react.
“I’m gonna dip soon,” he yells, shrugging when Fuma’s smile slightly falters. “I’m tired.”
“Already?” Fuma yells back, sounding just as confused as he looks, “We’ve only been here for like, an hour. Yuma is never going to let you go.”
He’s not wrong, but still. Euijoo doesn’t care. If it comes down to it, he’ll just slip out the exit without Yuma noticing. The lights of it blinks, calling his name. He leans back, closer to Fuma. “Meh, not my problem. It’s his resurrection, not mine.”
Fuma slightly grins, then. It’s a genuine grin, like he actually finds Euijoo funny. Euijoo lets himself bask in it just long enough for it to not affect his ego. “It could be yours too, though,” he shrugs. “He’s not the only one graduating. Aren’t you being born anew, too?”
Euijoo snorts. “There’s no such thing. I’ll have to get a job now, which is like, ten times more soul draining. I don’t think I’ll be born anew until the day I retire.”
“Tell me about it,” Fuma grins. It looks a little lopsided. Like he’s drunk, even when he’s not. Euijoo sums it up to be the Yudai effect. He’s been looking at him all night, Euijoo has noticed now that he’s not sneaking glances Nicholas’ way every chance he gets. Who knew he could be so observant when Nicholas is out of the picture? “I miss college, man. What jobs have you been looking at, by the way?”
Euijoo shrugs. He feels a little lighter, now. Easier. Fuma seems to have that effect on him. “Dunno yet, haven’t really looked into any. Wanted to get school over with before I focus on the next thing, y’know? Don’t wanna s–”
“Are you going to finish that?”
Euijoo cranes his head without thinking, looking up at the person now hovering above him and seemingly very interested in his untouched drink.
He regrets it as soon as he does.
Nicholas is already leaning down, snatching it out of his hands when he realizes that right. It’s Nicholas. Of course it is. Fuck, if not Nicholas, then who?
To think he was just saying how well he’s been doing, avoiding him. Which he has, by the way, he’s been doing a spectacular job at avoiding him all night — so of course Nicholas has to ruin that for him.
His lips press into a thin line. He smells of perfume where he’s leaning down over him, one that doesn't particularly smell like his own, mixed with vodka. There’s a hint of some sort of energy drink in there too, wafting off his breath as he grins down at him. Euijoo’s first instinct is to flee.
Nicholas makes that hard for him, though, as he places one hand over his shoulder. His fingers sink into the muscle there. Squeezes it.
“No,” Euijoo brings himself to say. It sounds flat. Void of any real emotion. “I’m leaving soon.”
“Huh?” Nicholas says, grin slightly faltering. Euijoo thinks he didn’t hear him and goes to say it louder, when Nicholas leans back down to place the drink onto the table. He looks so serious all of a sudden. Euijoo would find it funny if he could. “No you’re not. Why?”
“I’m tired.” He shrugs, hoping Nicholas' grip will slip away as he does. It doesn’t. He thinks it might grow a little firmer, but he can’t really tell. “Wanna go to bed.”
Nicholas huffs out a laugh in disbelief. “Tired? Juju, it’s Friday. You can’t be tired this early on a Friday.”
Sure I can, the bitterness sitting in the middle of his chest encourages him to say. Then he remembers that right, he’s not supposed to be bitter. There’s no reason for him to be, at least not in Nicholas' eyes; therefore he swallows it down, packs it away and hopes it’s not all too noticeable when some of it ends up seeping into his words anyways.
“It’s been a long week, I just wanna get home. Didn’t even want to come to begin with.”
There’s a brief moment where Nicholas doesn’t say anything. Instead he just lingers right above him, allowing for Euijoo to look at him. Like, really look at him. Something he hasn’t done all night.
He looks … like Nicholas. A drunken version of him, maybe, but still Nicholas. He’s done something new to his hair tonight that leaves the blonde strands slightly wavy, almost curly — just like had last time Euijoo found himself in this position. He didn’t really think about it then, though, only acknowledged that yeah. He’s done something different to his hair. Now, however, he does.
A part of him wonders if it’s for Ricky. Or even worse– if Ricky is the one behind it. If he’s the one who stood beside him, carefully curling it until Nicholas deemed it good enough, slipping his fingers into it to mess it up a little. Make it look a little unruly. The thought settles in the pit of his stomach like a sinking stone, which is why he’s so quick to look away.
Nicholas-free, he reminds himself. It’s supposed to be an alcohol-free and a Nicholas-free night. He settles his gaze on the wall beside them, pretending to find the odd stains more interesting.
“You suck,” Nicholas eventually says. It sounds a little flat. Euijoo almost parts his lips to agree. “It’s like you’re immune to having fun. I hate it. Do you at least wanna dance before you go?”
“No.” Euijoo responds a beat too fast. He clears his throat when Nicholas tenses up above him, trying again. “I’m sorry, Nichol. Another time?”
“C’mon,”
“Nichol,”
“One song. They’re even playing One Direction! How can you not want to dance? One song, Juju. Nothing more. Please?”
Euijoo blinks up at him. He’s doing that thing with his eyes again, when it looks like he’s asking for things Euijoo can’t give him. All big and pleading, threatening to split Euijoo in half. Euijoo thinks he might let him.
If he asks nicely enough, then yeah. Maybe he will. It’s not like he hasn’t done it in the past, anyways.
Still, he dances around it. Not tonight. Not ever. “Sorry,” he says, again. It sounds a little more earnest this time. Not as flat. Nicholas' hopeful eyes still falter. “Another time. You can take the drink, though. I wasn’t even going to drink it, so I don’t know why I even bought it,”
Nicholas eyes it for a moment, before looking back down at Euijoo. He does nothing to retrieve it when his hand falls off his shoulder. Euijoo suddenly feels about ten pounds lighter as it does — although there’s an oddly shaped Nicholas hole in his chest, now.
“Whatever,” he mumbles, just low enough for Euijoo’s ears to be able to catch it. His fingers twitch where they’re resting in his lap. Wants to reach out, pull him back close. He curls them into tight fists. “Get home safe, or something,”
“Have fun,” Euijoo calls out, but Nicholas is already gone.
He disappears back the way he came, squeezing past countless bodies before Euijoo eventually loses sight of him and his blonde hair. He lets his eyes linger for just a moment, before he looks back down in his lap.
Whatever.
He bids Fuma goodbye mere minutes later, slipping out the exit without anyone noticing. He’ll text Yuma tomorrow, apologize for dipping. When everything’s normal again. When he no longer feels like he’s carrying the weight of the entire world on his two shoulders, when the world is back to spinning on its normal axis.
He has trouble falling asleep that night.
___
Euijoo wakes up to a sharp buzz rattling his ribcage. This time, he reaches for his phone before he even has the chance to open his eyes.
His room feels cold. He doesn’t care. The sun is shining outside his blinds. He still doesn’t care. All he cares about his getting his eyes to open wide enough to be able to see the screen of his phone where he now has it hovering right above his face, furiously blinking away the stubborn blurriness and–
No.
No.
11:24 AM, the clock reads. Just above it, today’s date sits.
Friday, June 5th, 2026.
He slams the phone down against the sheets hard enough for it to almost break. Fuck. Fuck.
This isn’t supposed to be happening. This can’t be happening. He was supposed to go to bed and wake up to it being Saturday. Things were supposed to be normal. Normal, not whatever the fuck this is — because it’s not just a dream, alright. It’s not. Euijoo is like, ninetynine procent sure this is not a dream anymore. It can’t be.
His phone buzzes where it lies discarded by his side, the screen of it lighting up. Euijoo just buries his face in his hands and tries his best not to scream.
Okay. So it’s Friday. Again. It was Friday yesterday, too. The day before that, as well. Fuck, what comes next? Friday?
Oh my god. Oh my fucking god. This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening, it can’t be. Why Euijoo out of all people? Why Euijoo, who’s always done well and treated everyone with kindness and respect and–
He sits up. Okay. It’s clear what’s happening here. He should probably consider checking himself into a mental hospital, but that feels like too much work with everything else going on, so he decides not to.
Instead, he decides that today, he’s figuring this shit out.
Whatever this shit might be, he’s figuring it out. Today. Now. As soon as possible. If he has to rearrange all the stars in the entire universe, then so be it. He’ll change majors and become an astronaut, invent some sort of immortality spell that lets him live long enough for all the stars to be perfectly aligned just so everything will go back to normal if he needs to. He doesn’t care. Whatever he needs to do, he’s doing it.
He’s always wanted to go to space anyways. A little ambitious, but entirely possible, considering everything else that’s going on. Hell, maybe dragons are a real thing, too, while we’re at it. Fucking unicorns. Elves. Time traveling. The fucking moon landing. What’s not possible?
He glares down at his phone where it lies against his sheets, screen lit and all. There’s multiple new notifications coming through. His stomach churns at the sight. There’s something bubbling in the pit of it, now, sour and urgent.
His feet barely work as he scrambles to stand up, scurrying his way out the hall and into the bathroom. His knees hit the tiles as soon as the door swings open, probably leaving bruises to bloom against the otherwise pale skin as he hunches over the toilet and throws up.
(Euijoo hates throwing up. It makes him want to cry. It’s uncomfortable and it’s scary. Maybe one day he’ll grow out of it, but that day is not today. The tears that spill past his lower lashline as soon as he’s empties his stomach of all its contents proves as much. Another day, maybe. When it’s no longer Friday, perhaps, whenever the fuck that might be. The thought makes him cry even harder.)
Fuck this, he thinks as he slumps back against the cold tile wall, stomach empty and head spinning. He drags a shaky hand through his hair, pushing it away from his forehead before wiping at his mouth using the back of it, not caring whether it’s disgusting or not. Fuck this.
He’s figuring this shit out. Today. Again, he’ll go to space if he needs to — he doesn’t care, goddamnit, he just refuses to let it go on for another day. Another Friday, rather said. Oh, what the fuck.
Fuck this, indeed, he thinks as he cleans himself up and moments later heads out the door, laptop packed into his school backpack alongside it’s charger. He needs it charged today, otherwise he won’t be able to do what he’s about to do.
His phone remains abandoned against his bed, buzzing with notifications he’s not there to see.
___
He doesn’t go to Yudai’s place. He’s not too sure if that’s something he has to do, in order to not mess up the timeline he seems to be stuck reliving, therefore he decides to try it out. So far, nothing bad has happened. That’s something, he supposes.
Instead he heads for the library. The old one, the one located downtown that nobody ever goes to. It’s old and it’s outdated and it never has any of the books Euijoo likes to read, therefore it’s been a while since he last found himself roaming its neverending hallways; hence his careful steps as he tries navigating through the billion different shelves.
He finds himself drawn to the science section, hoping that somewhere, he’ll find what he’s looking for.
It makes sense, he thinks, the answers to all his questions existing within the tall shelves; that somewhere amongst all the books about kinetic energy and all the other science terms Euijoo has no idea what they mean, he’ll find the answer to his questions. If he’s lucky, maybe there’ll be a solution, too.
He doubts it, but still. It doesn’t hurt to be optimistic. Euijoo is always optimistic. Kind of. Not really. He is right now, at least, and isn’t that all that matters? Fuck what he usually is and isn’t. Right now, he’s feeling optimistic, and that’s that.
Not for long, though, because an hour into his search, he still has nothing to show for it. Makes sense, considering Euijoo is like, the most unlucky person to ever exist — but still. Maybe things could be different for him. At least for today, considering everything else seems to be. How come the entire universe gets to shift, but not Euijoo’s luck?
So he falls into a nearby chair, slumping against it. Defeated. The library is somewhat empty, no more than a handful of people carefully roaming around the shelves as he tries recomposing himself before he throws up again.
There wouldn’t be too many people around to witness it, but still. He’d feel bad for the old lady standing by the counter. She’s probably wiped enough puke as it is during her many years on planet Earth. She doesn’t need to be wiping Euijoo’s puke away, too.
So going the old-fashioned route leaves him empty handed. He can’t say he’s too surprised, but still. He really thought he’d find something, at least. Like a book hidden behind tens of other books, old and ragged; bearing all the secrets Euijoo is so eager to be part of. It sounds like something out of a movie, but so does whatever it is Euijoo’s currently experiencing. Doesn’t make it any less real. A little laughable, sure, but still real.
He kind of had a feeling it wouldn't work, like most things in his life, and therefore comes prepared. He lets his backpack slump against the floor, unzipping the front of it just enough for his laptop to be able to fit through the narrow slit. He fishes it out with a grunt, places it on top of his now bruised knees, plugs the charger in, and gets to work.
It takes a minute to connect to the shitty WiFi the library offers, but once it does, he’s already knee deep in ten different Google searches.
Reliving the same day meaning, one tab says. Psychosis symptoms, says another. How to know you’re going insane. Traveling back in time. Portals to another dimension. Fever dreams that feel real. How to know if your friends are playing a lifelong prank on you. Do unicorns actually exist? How to go to space. The list goes on, and in the end, there’s only one search left.
His fingers hover over the keyboard, ghosting over the letters of them. A part of him hesitates, suddenly feeling so embarrassed he could die, because what the fuck is he doing? Truly, what the fuck is he doing?
He should be at Yudai’s place, studying. Getting ready for his last exam of his life. Thinking about what to wear to his graduation next week. Figuring out what comes next. Looking at jobs. Trips to Europe. Whatever it is people do before and after graduating college, that’s what he’s supposed to be doing.
Instead, he’s here, in the back of some old library nobody ever comes to. Looking for answers that doesn’t exist, hoping that by some miracle, the universe will bend to his desires and give him what he so badly wants. It never works that way, yet he dreams. Hopes.
When it never does, he decides to take matters into his own hands. His fingers presses against the keys, slow and reluctant.
What to do if you find yourself stuck in a time loop. Search.
Because that’s what this is. At least Euijoo thinks it is. It’s kind of the only thing that makes sense, unless he’s actually going into psychosis, which he doubts. The whole time loop thing feels more plausible, as laughable as it is; because somehow, being stuck in a time loop feels ten times better than considering the fact that yeah. Maybe he’s just having a mental breakdown.
The thought first pops into his head on the train. The idea of him being stuck in a time loop, reliving the same day over and over again. He shrugs it off at first, the mere thought of it too absurd and complex for him and his mushy brain to comprehend — but it keeps coming back, slipping through the cracks of his mind and tainting his brain with one question only: what if?
Euijoo doesn’t do well with what if’s. We’ve already established that. It makes him panic, makes him think too much and therefore makes him do too little. It makes him freeze, in a sense, unable to do just about anything as the world continues to spin around him, unaware of Euijoo and his racing mind as he tries figuring out the safest route.
This time, however, he has no other choice but to acknowledge it. That quiet what if lingering in the back of his mind, begging to be seen. Heard. It takes a while, but in the end, he gets there. When there’s no old and ragged book for him to read, when all other things leave him empty handed. Only then does he acknowledge it.
Look: it sounds insane. Like, really fucking insane, but Euijoo finds some truth lingering behind it. The concept of him being stuck in a time loop. It’s not something he thinks should be possible, nor is it something the laws of the universe should allow, but it’s true. Kind of. Maybe. Euijoo being stuck in a time loop. It sure seems that way, at least.
So pushing all his doubts and embarrassment to the side, he presses search. He doubts he’ll find anything useful, but it doesn't hurt to try. The worst that can happen is that someone somehow hacks into his computer and sees his search history and admits him to a mental hospital. Maybe someone should, actually. Do the work for him. Save him from whatever this is.
The page takes a moment to load, but once it does, there’s multiple suggestions waiting for him.
Time loops – The Science Behind It and If It Exists Outside Of The Movies, one article reads. He presses his way into it, just to exit it just as fast. He can’t read half the words written on there. He’s majoring in advertising, goddamnit, not science — he has no fucking idea what wormholes and thermodynamics means.
So he presses the next one. Do Time Loops Really Exist, and Can You Get Stuck In One? the title of it reads. It’s somewhat easier to understand, but still too difficult for him and his mushy brain. So he goes back, presses the next one. Is there a scientific theory on time loops, or is it a strictly fictional phenomenon? It reads. Quora. Good. Quora always has all the answers.
It’s all fiction, the replies read. No such thing. Scientifically impossible.
Well. Maybe not, then. Euijoo closes that one, too.
The next ten links he clicks his way into follow a similar pattern. They all repeat the same difficult words Euijoo can’t understand, tells him it might be possible, just not proven, followed by the odd Reddit thread here and there telling him the opposite. Totally possible, one user says. I’d love to experience it. Imagine how insane it would be, getting to relive the same moment over and over again. Sounds fun IMO.
Euijoo bites back a snort. He goes to reply, typing out a response of his own. I don’t think it’d be very fun, to be honest.
He deletes it with shameful fingers before he has the chance to press send. Whatever. Not the point. He’s not here to argue with people on Reddit. He’s here to get some answers.
Which seems impossible, by the way. Because here he is, a good two hours into his search, and he still has nothing to show for it other than the odd scientific term he’s picked up on. Still, he won’t get far with that — if anything, it only sets him back even further, because what the fuck does quantum mechanics even mean, anyways?
He exits the tab. Closes it alongside the tens of other tabs he has open. It’s useless, he thinks; there’s no such thing as being stuck in a time loop, it would seem, and if there is, Euijoo seems to be patient zero. It would be funny, if it wasn’t so goddamn disheartening. Because it is.
Incredibly so.
He doesn’t want to be alone in this. Patient one would’ve been better. That way, he’d know that somewhere, there’s someone that’s gone through the same thing — and hopefully, gotten out of it alive.
He’s just about to slam the laptop shut, head back home and prepare himself for the night he knows is about to come, when something catches his eye.
How would you get out of a time loop?
He eyes it for a moment, fingers lingering on top of his screen, lightly pressing against it.
It’s a Reddit thread, published two years ago. Posted by u/sciencefreak99. Of course. Reddit hasn’t given him much so far, just a bunch of bullshit theories that sound like a bunch of twelve year olds have written them during their lunch break, but still. Something about it calls out to him.
His fingers fall back down to rest against the table. He nibbles on his bottom lip. Oh, what the hell.
He presses the link, watching as the screen takes longer than needed to redirect him. Once it does, he’s met with a long thread of replies.
u/sciencefreak99 - r/Science
Mods, feel free to delete. I recently watched Happy Death Day and found myself wondering what I would do if I found myself in a similar situation. Then I found myself thinking: what would everyone else do? What would be the main thing you’d look for? How would you try and get out of it? Give me your best theories. I’m still figuring out one of my own. Will keep you updated once I come to a conclusion.
Euijoo lets his eyes skim through the post, scrolling down to read the replies. He doubts he’ll find much, but still. It doesn’t hurt to try. If anything, he might walk out of here with a few good laughs, at least. God knows he could use a few of those right now.
Die, the first comment reads. There’s no point in even trying. Wow. Okay. Optimistic, Euijoo thinks. Depends on the situation. Would probably put my degree to use for the first time in ten years, lol. People don’t use their degrees? What’s the point in getting them, then? Call Einstein, ask why he thinks I should do. Well. Euijoo would, if he could. Too bad he died, like, a hundred years ago.
Then, in the middle of what Euijoo would like to refer to as bad attempts at being funny, there’s one comment that sticks out to him. A longer one. A more serious one.
I’d probably look for things that feel out of place, or things that keep repeating themselves. Lets say I get stuck in a time loop where I keep reliving the same day, for example. I’d look for repeating patterns, what keeps appearing no matter what I change or do differently. I think most people miss that, in movies and such. They just panic and do whatever. Just look for what keeps repeating itself or what you can do differently and that’s your way out, baby. Movie characters just love to make things more difficult than they have to for themselves. Skill issue, methinks. I could never.
Euijoo blinks. Something is turning inside his head, now. Like a gear that’s been stuck, the screws of it slowly unclogging themselves and slowly but surely allowing for the gear to turn again.
Look for what keeps repeating itself?
Euijoo would, if he could. It’s hard to look for specific things when the entire day follows the same pattern.
He wakes up to his phone buzzing. Yuma invites them to Dropkick to celebrate his eventual resurrection, Nicholas asks if Ricky can come. He hangs out with Yudai, watches Pokémon, goes to Dropkick with Fuma. Watches Yuma dance, gets a tequila sunrise, goes home. Yesterday was no different. It followed that exact pattern, only slightly altered due to Euijoo and his semi crashout.
Today, too, followed the same pattern. He woke up to the exact same texts waiting for him, rattling his ribcage. The only difference today is that he didn’t wait around for Yudai to threaten to cut his balls off, and instead went to the library. He wonders if that’ll change things. If his urge to figure shit out will be what sets him free.
He won’t know until tomorrow, but still. He considers it. Maybe that’s exactly what he needs to be doing. Look for things that feel different, out of place. He can’t think of anything right now, but maybe it’ll come to him. Tonight, perhaps.
At Dropkick.
Look: when he first woke up this morning, he decided that he wasn’t going. Not tonight. Last night– tonight? Whatever, you get the gist — was somehow worse than the first night he spent at Dropkick, despite going both alcohol and Nicholas-free. He had spent the majority of the night twisting and turning, trying to decipher what the feeling that had been brewing in the pit of his stomach meant.
In the end, he came to the same conclusion he always comes to whenever things get hard and he has to figure them out.
Nicholas. If not Nicholas, then who?
Nicholas … Nicholas has been weird, lately. He’s always a little weird, but even more so as of late; almost like he’s dancing around something Euijoo can’t see. At first he had summed it up as him drifting closer to Ricky, the effects of your best friend falling in love spilling onto Euijoo and his sorry heart, but it feels different. Nicholas feels different. Euijoo has seen him falling in love before, and it’s never looked like this.
Like this, as in suddenly trying to pull Euijoo closer. Always keeping him at an arm's length away, keeping him just within reach of him and his greedy hands to tug and pull at. Euijoo allows him to, of course he does, but still. It feels different, somehow. Like Nicholas has picked up on something Euijoo has yet to figure out. Like he’s waiting for Euijoo to see it, too, trying to force it onto him by saying look here. Look at me.
And Euijoo always looks at Nicholas. Always. There hasn’t been a single day over the four years Euijoo has known him that he hasn’t looked at him. Sometimes, he finds himself looking a little too much, hoping that somehow, his intense gaze will magically make him see and hear what Euijoo so badly wants to say but can’t.
I love you, that is. I love you so much it makes me want to die.
He’ll never say it, of course, but it’s there. In his eyes, written inside the dark brown irises every time Nicholas begs him to look at him. Pulls at him and his sorry heart, asking for more than Euijoo can give.
Which is why it’s been so hard to be around Nicholas lately. Both because of the entire Ricky situation, but also because Nicholas has been pulling at him more than usual, tugging at his sorry heart and asking for things he can’t give. He could try, sure, but then he’d have to watch Nicholas walk away, disappointed.
He doesn’t want that. He can’t have that. That'd kill him, to see Nicholas walk away.
So, much like always, he feels too much and ends doing too little. If Nicholas has picked up on it, he has yet to mention it. Instead he keeps pulling, tugging, desperete to keep him close when all Euijoo wants is to step away. Flee. Hide from all the things he can’t bring himself to face.
God, had Yudai been here to hear him, he would’ve slapped him. Not across the face, but probably on his fingers. Tell him off for being bad, like a dog.
Euijoo feels like a dog sometimes. Wagging his tail when he’s happy. Tucking it between his legs whenever he’s upset. Always following what everyone else tells him to do. It’s a little funny, just as it is bizarre.
Shit. He really needs to get himself together.
Point is: he wasn’t planning on going to Dropkick tonight, but now that his brain is back to semi-working, he decides that it’s a good idea to go. That staying home would be a bad idea. Awful, even.
How else is he supposed to find what’s out of place, what he’s supposed to be doing differently? It’s a little silly, considering the person probably replied just for the sake of it, not to give actual scientific advice, but still. It’s kind of the only thing he has to go by, therefore he will.
He slams the laptop shut. The loud thud it creates bounces between the tall shelves, echoing throughout the spacious room as he stands up. He doesn’t flash the old lady by the counter an apologetic smile as she glares his way, and instead just forces his laptop back down his backpack before slinging it over his shoulder — then he’s out of there.
God bless Reddit. He has no idea where he’d be without it. Truly. If this works out, then he’ll personally donate a million dollars to them. When he has it, that is.
(Which will probably be never. He’s majoring in advertising, after all. Not a lot of money to be made there, if he’s being honest. That's okay. He’ll just send them a thank you letter or something.)
(And fuck Quora, by the way.)
___
the pack
(2:13 PM)
yudai
has anyone heard from euijoo?
he’s like
ignoring meyuma
u did threaten to cut his balls offyudai
yeah but he’s into things like that
it was meant to make him come running not the oppositefuma
?????yudai
don’t worry about it babefuma
ok <3 yay <3maki
doesn’t he hang out with you on fridaysyudai
yeah
that’s the whole point
he’s not heretaki
earth to jujuyudai
it’s useless i’ve already tried
he might be dead
nicholas go check on your boyfriendnichol
nah
let him be dead
one less problem for memaki
you’re brutal man
i’m kinda bricked upjo
jesus christ harua get your man under controlharua
no thanks i’m goodmaki
oh he’ll be getting me under control alright
tonight
you’re all invited to watch if you want
jo left the chat.
yuma left the chat.
fuma left the chat.
harua left the chat.maki
damn
tough crowd
___
nichol
you okay?
are you coming tonight, by the way?
(Delivered)
___
Nicki Minaj is currently playing, a loud bassline thrumming through the crowded room and bouncing off the thick walls. Starships. Euijoo would like it, if it wasn’t for how incredibly overplayed it is. Hot take or whatever, but let’s be real here.
There are more songs. Better songs. Again — who still even listens to Nicki Minaj, anyways?
Tonight, he feels a little lighter where he sits. Optimistic. Like he’s the one in control for once. A rare occurrence, really, one he’s had the honor of experiencing today. It’s nice. He’s honored.
Much like the past two nights of his life, Yudai sits from across the table, talking to the same stranger Euijoo has yet to learn the name of. Shit. Maybe he should ask, considering this is the third time they meet. He doesn’t know that it is, but still. Euijoo likes being nice. He wouldn’t want him to think he’s being inconsiderate, not introducing himself. Perhaps he should’ve done that the first night, now that he’s thinking about it.
Beside him, Fuma sits. He’s toying with the rim of his glass of water, mindlessly staring into the sea of people dancing beside them. Euijoo doesn’t have his legs slung across his lap this time, instead he has both feet planted firmly onto the ground — carefully watching the room.
Fuma had asked why he wasn’t drinking when they first sat down, frowning at the lack of tequila sunrise hanging between his fingers. Euijoo just shrugged, said something along the lines of following in your footsteps, then sat down. Fuma had scoffed, but left it at that. He had fallen into conversation with Yudai shortly thereafter, and by the time Yuma had found his way to the dance floor and Maki had sneaked off with Harua, the blonde stranger had appeared, leaving for the two of them to mindlessly stare into the flashing lights.
On any other night, Euijoo would find it embarrassing. He always does, sitting in the back of the club, staring into nothingness. He should be out there, having fun — letting strangers feel him up, kiss a few of them maybe, dance until his limbs feel loose with both alcohol and adrenaline — but he never does. It’s just not for him, he thinks. Not his idea of fun.
Tonight, however, he doesn’t. There’s no embarrassment rooting itself into his chest when he accidentally makes eye contact with a girl who slightly frowns at him, taking in the lack of enthusiasm decorating his face before moving along. On any other night there probably would be, just not tonight.
No. Tonight, he’s a man on a mission.
To sort things out. Get things right. Return things to the way they were, make it so that when he wakes up tomorrow, it’ll finally be Saturday.
Gosh, he’s never coming back here once he does. He’s so sick of hearing Starships play over the loud speakers, making his head hurt more than it should. He knows the next song will be One Direction, so that’s at least a little better, but still– Dropkick can suck his ass once this is all over and done with.
Which will be tonight. He knows it will be. He finally knows what to do (sort of), and can therefore say that yeah.
Tomorrow, it’ll be Saturday. He’ll wake up in his bed, and his phone won’t be buzzing against his chest. It’ll be placed on the nightstand, far away from him and his fragile ribcage. He won’t be met with the same picture of Choi San when he opens Instagram (it’s still there, by the way. Posted this morning. Euijoo checked as soon as he got home. For scientific reasons, of course, no other reasons), nor will he be brutally reminded of the fact that Ricky is still very much a thing.
He’s here tonight, much like he’s been the previous two nights. Euijoo can’t say he expected anything less.
He knows exactly where to find him, too — right behind him, slightly to the left. Nicholas is there, too, probably holding him close with his fingers digging into the small of his back. It doesn’t hurt as much now that Euijoo has grown a little used to it, but still.
It still sucks, therefore he doesn’t look. Simple as that.
The monster inside his chest is suspiciously quiet tonight. A nice surprise, but also suspicious. Very much so. It’s always loud, always roaring; so what makes tonight so different?
Maybe it can sense how tired Euijoo is and therefore decides that tonight, it’ll keep quiet. Go to sleep for a while. Let him breathe without constantly feeling its claws sinking into his lungs with every breath he takes. Whatever it is, he hopes it’s here to stay. He’s growing a little sick of it, constantly having it roar inside of him. It gets tiring. It really does.
Whatever. Back to the point.
Tonight, he’s on a mission. To make things right. To make the world spin again.
He thinks back to the first night. The real night. What he could’ve done differently, what he hasn’t done yet. He asked Fuma if he wanted to leave. Fuma declined. Does he have to leave? No, he already tried that. He still woke up to it being Friday. Does Fuma have to leave with him? That feels too farfetched. What does Fuma have to do with anything, anyways? Shit, what else fucking happened, what else did he not do that maybe he should’ve d–
Dance.
Nicholas wanted to dance.
Both nights, Nicholas has asked him to dance. The first night, he tracked him down on the dance floor on his way to the bar. Last night, he decided not to get a drink, and therefore didn’t go to the bar. Nicholas came over instead, asking to dance before he left. It played out differently both times, but Nicholas still asked him to dance. Even when Euijoo accidentally altered the timeline.
Oh my god.
He stands up fast enough for the legs of his chair to scrape against the sticky floor, leaving for Fuma to stare at him in confusion as he fumbles to push past all the people. He spots Nicholas standing right where he suspected he would, leaning into Ricky. Hand on his back. Blonde curls curling down his nape. Euijoo doesn’t care.
Instead, he just mumbles halfassed apologies to the people he harshly shoves at to get past, trying to get his feet to move faster where the soles of his shoes stick to the floor. Eventually, though, he gets there and–
Nicholas yelps as he grabs hold of his shoulder and twists him to look at him. He looks shocked, blinking like he can’t see properly.
“Let’s dance,” Euijoo chokes out, just loud enough for Nicholas to be able to hear. Nicholas just frowns, furrowing brows like he can’t hear him. Euijoo pulls him closer.
“Euijoo, wha–” He begins, cutting himself off with a huff when he bumps into Euijoo.
“Let’s dance,” Euijoo repeats, louder. A little more urgent. Tugs at the sleeve of his mesh shirt, trying to pull him along. “C’mon, let’s go,”
Nicholas pulls back just far enough from Euijoo to be able to see his face, brows still furrowed when he glances back at Ricky. Ricky just stands there, gaze unreadable as he shrugs, nodding his head. Like he has any say in the matter.
Whatever.
Euijoo tugs at Nicholas’ shirt again, growing a little impatient when all Nicholas does is stare at Ricky, seemingly sharing something Euijoo’s not allowed to be part of.
Once he looks back at Euijoo, it’s with a smile. It sits a little tight, but still a smile, nonetheless. Euijoo deems it good enough and lets go of his shirt, intertwining their hands together as he tugs him along. Nicholas helplessly follows, unable to do otherwise.
It’s easier to push past all the people when there’s two of you, it would seem — something Euijoo notices as they squeeze their way into the sea of bodies. One Direction has started playing now, a nostalgic rhythm that if it wasn’t for how much Euijoo hates dancing, he’d feel a little compelled to do so anyways. He is going to dance, but only because he has to. To hopefully fix whatever the fuck this is.
Because that has to be it, right? Dancing with Nicholas. God, of course it is. He can’t tell you why, he just knows that it is. It has to be. There's nothing else he can think of, nothing that particularly stands out to him when he tries looking for things that keep repeating despite him doing things differently. He’s the one asking Nicholas to dance tonight, sure, but that shouldn’t matter. Right?
Right. It shouldn’t. It won’t.
He twists around to face Nicholas once he finds a spot he deems good enough, where they won’t be getting pushed and shoved at with every step they take. Nicholas looks a little dazed, like he’s still trying to figure out what’s going on when Euijoo lets go of his hand. It feels oddly empty, now.
“C’mon,” he yells over the music. Flashes him his best attempt at a grin. “Let’s dance, Nichol,”
Nicholas stares at him for one, two beats, then laughs. Like truly laughs. Teeth and all as his lips curl upwards, eyes creasing. Euijoo doesn’t let it get to him.
“Are you drunk?” He yells back, taking a step closer so that Euijoo will hear him better. Brushes their fingers together. “You never dance. Why are you dancing?”
Euijoo shrugs, still grinning. It feels a little more genuine, now. “Why? You don’t want to?”
Nicholas drapes both arms over his shoulders, slightly bobbing his head to the beat. Euijoo thinks he might die. This is an awful idea. “Of course I do,” Nicholas hums, leaning closer. Euijoo has no idea what to do with his hands. “I love dancing.”
“I know.” He ends up settling them on the small of his back, a light touch that doesn’t mean more than it should. The mesh of his shirt feels weird beneath his palms. Hot. Warm. “Why d’you think I asked?”
Nicholas is slightly swaying his hips, now. Euijoo hates this. Nicholas seems to pick up on it, and slithers one hand into his hair. “So dance, Juju,” he says, low despite the loud music that’s playing. Euijoo hates this. Hates everything about it. “Dance with me.”
And all Euijoo’s even been, is a sucker for Nicholas.
So he does.
It’s a little awkward, the way he moves his hips — his legs feel too tall, too lanky whenever he goes to take a step — but at least it pulls a laugh out of Nicholas, so he doesn’t think too hard about it. Nicholas keeps his hand in his hair for a while longer, lightly scratching the skin of his scalp as he bops his head, trying to get Euijoo to follow him. Once he does, he slips them lower, down his chest, all the way down to his waist where they then stay.
Hadn’t Euijoo known better, he’d even go as far as saying that it’s kind of nice.
Dancing, having Nicholas like this.
It’s the first time in a long time that he gets to actually look at him, really take in the curve of his jaw and the crease of his eyes whenever he smiles. He dressed in the same outfit as always, a tight, black mesh top and heavy jeans, silver jewelry clinking together every time he goes to move. He looks good. Really good. Euijoo briefly wonders who it’s for.
Himself, maybe. The strangers he knows will be watching. Ricky. Somebody else entirely. It doesn’t matter, because in the end, it’s Euijoo’s gaze he falls victim to.
At least right now, because now that he’s looked, he can’t look away. The silver hanging around his neck glistens beneath the flashing lights, mimicking the spark he finds lingering behind his eyes whenever they lock eyes for a little too long. He looks happy. Content. Like he’s meant to be here, beneath the strobe lights and pounding bass.
With Euijoo.
His hands slowly trail higher. Euijoo doesn’t notice it, too busy doing his best not to accidentally step on someone’s foot as he dances; only noticing it once they’re wrapped back around his shoulders, pulling him the slightest bit closer.
Euijoo looks up back at him from where he’s been keeping his gaze on his shoes, avoiding feet like they’re the plague. He still has his hands loosely placed against the small of his back, just enough to keep him in place and prevent him from getting lost in the crowd as they dance.
Nicholas is already staring up at him once their eyes meet, gaze unreadable.
“Juju,” he suddenly says. It sounds a little breathy over the music, a little dazed. He looks it, too. Shit. Maybe he’s had too much to drink. Euijoo wouldn’t put it past him. “Euijoo,”
“Huh?” Euijoo frowns as he realizes that he’s no longer dancing. He’s just standing there now, staring up at Euijoo. Something slowly begins to form in the back of Euijoo’s throat. “You okay? You wanna go back?”
Nicholas just shakes his head. Doesn’t say anything, at least not verbally. Euijoo bulldozes on, leaning closer so that he'll be able to hear him properly. “You want some water? I can go get you some, or do you want to step outside for some fresh a–“
“Euijoo,” Nicholas says, again. A little more urgent this time. His grip slightly tightens where his hands rest against his shoulders, like he’s scared of Euijoo disappearing. “Can we–”
Nicholas trails off. Like he doesn’t know what to say. He’s leaning back now, looking at Euijoo a little funny, too. There’s a sliver of hurt lingering behind his eyes if he looks close enough, clouded by something that looks oddly like both desire and adrenaline where it sits inside his blown out pupils — yet it’s still there.
Hurt. As if Euijoo’s done something wrong.
Euijoo’s frown deepens. He was just smiling, dancing. What happened? “... Can we what? Are you okay?”
Something shifts. Between them, around them. Euijoo thinks it might be the alcohol’s doing when Nicholas is suddenly right there, breathing against his cheek — but then Nicholas looks right at him, and shit.
He smells like vodka. RedBull. Perfume. Sweat. Something he can’t place, like faint tobacco. Nicholas doesn't smoke. Nicholas has never smoked. Euijoo feels a little dizzy, now. Nicholas isn’t saying anything. Just stares at him from where stands. Close. Too close. His breath fans against his cheek, down his neck. Euijoo feels sick. Euijoo can’t breathe. Euijoo–
For a moment, just a moment, Nicholas leans in like he’s going to kiss him.
Time can sometimes be a funny thing.
Euijoo has never really thought much about it, other than how incredibly fast it passes by sometimes, just as it sometimes passes by slowly. It feels like it was only yesterday that he graduated high school, nothing more than a mere adolescent teen that had no idea what the world had to bring — yet it feels so long ago, those few faithful years. It feels like an entire lifetime has passed since then, since he walked out of those doors and into new ones. Bigger ones. Greater ones.
In reality, only five or six years have passed. Sometimes, it feels like less. Other times, it feels like more. Way more. A lot has happened, after all.
One of those things, and perhaps the biggest thing out of all that's to come, is Nicholas.
Euijoo meets him during his first ever semester, around the same time he meets Yudai. Yudai is graduating, already done with all the bullshit Euijoo is only just starting to put up with — yet he takes Euijoo under like it’s all he’s ever meant to do. He guides him through his first year of college, helps him when things get difficult or when he simply doesn’t understand. He becomes Euijoo’s person, of sorts, before Nicholas does.
There’s a brief moment during his first year where Euijoo wonders if maybe he likes Yudai. Wonders if maybe, just maybe, they’d be good together. Yudai and him. Yudai could guide him through life with gentle hands, while Euijoo helplessly follows. He’s older, sure, but Euijoo has never really cared about things like that. If anything, he prefers it. When they’re more experienced. Smarter. Braver.
Yudai checks all those boxes for him. Euijoo, young and naive, thinks that yeah.
This could be it. This could be what he’s been waiting for.
Euijoo today looks back at it and wishes the ground could swallow him whole, because of course he didn’t like Yudai. It was nothing more than a fleeting crush in the end, fueled by Euijoo’s eagerness and Yudai’s gentleness — yet sometimes, he finds himself wondering.
What life could’ve been like, had his crush developed into something more. Had life been easier, having someone like Yudai by his side? To hold and love, to kiss and fuck. To share his past, present and future with. Maybe he’d be a different man compared to the one he is today, a braver one. A smarter one. One not controlled by his emotions. Would he still have found his way to Nicholas, had someone else gotten to him first?
He thinks about it. How things would be. Could’ve been.
Would he be happier? Sadder? Angrier? Would the world still turn, or would it end, hadn’t Nicholas gotten to him first? Had Euijoo allowed for his emotions to flourish, to grow and sprout and bloom into something beautiful; would he still be here today, chasing after something unattainable? Would Nicholas still be here with him, laughing and dancing and smiling — oblivious to the feelings Euijoo harbours?
The answer is painfully obvious. Of course he would.
Euijoo was always meant to find his way to Nicholas. Always. He thinks Nicholas has always been with him, even long before they even met. It’s sappy and it’s disgusting and it’s a little laughable, but it’s true.
Him and Nicholas. Written by the universe, never meant to be separated. It doesn’t matter if Yudai had gotten to him and his feelings first, because in the end, Nicholas got to the ones that matter.
Right now, he’s standing right in front of him, leaning in. The monster that has seemingly been asleep all night is roaring, now — clawing at his ribs and finally, finally making its way out. Euijoo curls his fingers into the fabric of Nicholas' shirt, hoping that maybe, just maybe, Nicholas will pick up on his desperete pleas and do what Euijoo has wanted all along. What he’s wanted for four years, now.
Nicholas, that is. With him. Always with him.
With Euijoo.
Nicholas’ breath fans against his lips. He’s close, closer than he’s ever been before. Euijoo can’t seem to breathe. He’s never had him like this. Never been so close to him in a way that matters, a way that feels so tangible. One more step, and he’ll be there. Suddenly, it’s all too much, it’s too much and it’s everything and–
Euijoo takes a step back.
Nicholas slightly stumbles, seemingly finding it difficult to stand up straight now that he no longer has Euijoo to lean against. He gazes down at his feet for a moment, swaying in place as he tries regaining his balance before he looks back up at Euijoo. Euijoo thinks he might throw up.
He suddenly feels a deep urge to get away. From the dance floor. From the crowd. From the loud bass of the music. He needs to get out, before he does something that he won’t be able to take back.
“Euijoo, what,” Nicholas breathes, sounding so confused it makes Euijoo feel slightly nauseous.
“I’m sorry,” Euijoo blurts out, already backing away. Nicholas goes to follow, reaching out. Euijoo shakes his head. No. “I just– I need to–”
“Euijoo,” If it wasn’t for the ringing in his ears, Euijoo probably would’ve picked up on how desperete he sounds. Looks. He doesn’t. All he can think about is how much he needs to leave. To get away. “Euijoo, wait, what’s ha–”
Away from Nicholas.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats, although he doesn’t think Nicholas hears it. The music is too high. He can’t see anything, anymore. Fuck. Fuck. “This isn’t– I’m sorry, I need to go,”
“What? Euijoo, no, wait,”
Nicholas reaches out for him again, fingers brushing against his arm in an attempt to make him stay. Euijoo retreats like he’s been burnt, shaking his head.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. This isn’t how it was supposed to go. There’s too many people, too much noise. He shouldn't be here. He shouldn’t have came to begin with, fuck, he shouldn’t be here, goddamnit, he should be at home preparing for his exam tomorrow and–
He turns around before Nicholas’ confused and hurt gaze gets the better of him. He pushes past all the people, arms desperately coming up to push at their backs when they refuse to budge, forcing his way towards the exit.
If Nicholas goes after him, he doesn’t catch up before Euijoo has already stumbled outside.
The world has never felt so unfair as it does right now.
___
Euijoo w–
Euijoo goes straight back to sleep.
___
nichol
jujuuuu
what are you wearing tonight????
are you excited to dance
(Delivered)
___
the pack
(12:10 PM)
yudai
yuma
kick euijoo out of the chat real quickyuma
????yudai
just do ityuma
what do i get out of ityudai
nothingyuma
ok
euijoo’s stayingjo
don’t kick juju out
i like having him hereyudai
oh my god yuma just do it
i’ll buy you a drink tonight if you doyuma
why didn’t u just lead with that
he would’ve been long gone already if u would’ve just started off with thatmaki
why are we kicking euijoo out
did he misbehaveyudai
kick nicholas out toonichol
why you say fuck me formaki
haha
50 cent
nice one dudeyuma
make that two drinks thenyudai
whateveryuma
🫡nichol
???
nichol was removed from this conversation.
You were removed from this conversation.
___
Okay. So.
Let’s talk about it.
First of all: it’s still Friday. Surprise! he’d love to say, but it’s not really a surprise, therefore he doesn’t. He thinks it’s safe to say that whatever he thought he was doing last time didn’t work out, nor was it ever supposed to. That’s okay. He’ll just try again. No big deal. It’s not like he’s running out of time, anyways.
So last time was a failure. A huge one. Again, that’s okay. At least he has somewhat of an idea of how to go about it, and is therefore certain it’ll go better this time around. He’s had three full days to think about it now, and while he has yet to come to a conclusion that makes somewhat sense, he’s sure it’ll come to him soon. Give him another hour or so, and it’ll come. All good things come in threes, after all. Isn’t that what they say?
Before we get into it, though, let’s talk about the past two days.
Friday (the fourth one, the one after what he would like to refer to as The Friday of Doom and Despair): he wakes up to his phone buzzing against his ribcage. He opens his eyes, realizes it’s still Friday, and goes straight back to sleep. He wakes up hours later, feeling both sick and groggy and kind of hungover despite not having anything to drink; then drags his sorry limbs to the shower. He sits there, on the floor, thinking about everything and nothing until the water runs cold, then gets out. He doesn’t check his phone, nor does he grab anything to eat. He thinks he would’ve just thrown it all back up, anyways. He goes back to bed, and doesn’t go to Dropkick.
Friday (the fifth one): he wakes up to his phone vibrating against his ribcage. He feels a little lighter, and therefore doesn’t reach for his scalp to pull all his hair out in frustration. Instead he gets up, makes coffee, and starts reading a new book. He doesn’t check his phone until sometime mid day. Yudai is trying to reach him, asking where he is. Euijoo doesn’t reply, and instead goes back to reading. He spends some time thinking, wondering what he should try next, and pointedly avoids the obvious. The monster inside his chest grows a little impatient, though, so he heads to bed. He doesn’t go to Dropkick, nor does he respond to any of Nicholas’ texts.
Friday (the sixth one): Today, today he–
“And it’s just,” Yudai gestures with his hands. Waves them around. Painting a picture Euijoo is no longer having trouble seeing. No, he kind of sees it now, actually. “Bizarre, you know? Like, do people actually like things like that?”
“Yeah, totally,” Euijoo says, discarding his stupid rant about coffee with eggs in it. Instead he parts his lips and asks, “Do you believe in time travel?”
Yudai stares at him through the corner of his eye. Where did that come from?, he doesn't say, nor does he need to. Euijoo hears it nonetheless, loud and clear where it’s written all over his face when he finally turns his gaze away from the screen of his laptop and to Yudai.
He raises an eyebrow when Yudai doesn't immediately respond, urging him on.
“I mean,” Yudai eventually says, looking a little suspicious. “Isn’t it more of a do you believe it’s possible or not type of question?”
“Does it matter?” Euijoo shrugs. Light. Oddly so. He’s been feeling like that lately. Light, like things will work out eventually. Optimistic. Taking one day at a time, as ironic as it sounds. “It’s a yes or no question. That’s all it is, who cares about the rest?”
Yudai frowns. He looks even more suspicious, now. Eyes narrowed and all. “Okay,” he says, dragging it out a little. “Why are you going all scientific on me? Are you planning on building a time machine or something?”
Euijoo shrugs, again. Maybe. Why the fuck not. And so he says. “Maybe,” he hums. “Would you help me?”
“No,” Yudai pointedly says, glaring at him. Offended. Like Euijoo has accused him of something unfathomable, like killing Euijoo’s cat or something. “I don’t want to mess with the concept of time and space, thank you very much.”
“Is that a no, then?”
“To what?”
“If you believe in time travel or not.”
“Well, I guess,”
Euijoo hums, looking back at the screen of his laptop. On the screen of it, the same document as always is pulled up, repeating the same words Euijoo has read more times than he can count by now. Technically, it’s Wednesday today — which means that if time had passed normally, then he’d already be done with his exam. He’d probably have it graded by now, too, the final grade he’d need to graduate. Then, in two days, he’d be doing just that.
Graduating.
Instead, he’s back to being seated on Yudai's couch and asking about time travel, reliving the same Friday for the sixth time.
It’s funny how life works sometimes. One day, you’re preparing for your final exam, and the next, you’re stuck doing the exact same thing again. At least Euijoo knows he’ll ace this exam once it comes to it, whenever that might be.
“Fair enough,” he mumbles when the screen of his laptop goes dark, blinking with a low battery indicator. This time, Euijoo actually brought his charger with him. Not that he’s planning on using it or anything, no; more so just for the sake of it. To prove the universe a point, that he, too, is capable of altering the timeline. That he has a say in this, too. “What about time loops?”
“Okay, what the fuck is going on here,” Yudai barks out beside him, a laugh filled to the brim with disbelief. “Did you change majors without me knowing? Are you studying to become the next Einstein or something? Because I’m having trouble seeing how you could ever put this to use in adver–”
“Hypthetically speaking,” he interrupts, using Yudai’s own words against him. God, it feels so fucking good to be the one saying it this time around. To be the one turning the tables for once. “Hypothetically speaking, Yudai.”
Yudai almost chokes where he’s now gaping at him. “What the fuck do you know about hypothetically speaking?”
Euijoo scoffs. If only he knew. “More than you’d know. So c’mon, humor me,”
“Oh my god, you’re so weird, you’re so fucking weird,” Yudai grumbles as he slumps back against the couch, crossing his arms over his chest. He glances over at the TV, furrowing his brows as he thinks about it. Euijoo just waits. Patiently so. “I mean, maybe? It feels impossible, though. Time doesn’t work like that. Actually, time isn’t even a real thing. It’s just a social construct created by us, for us so that we can work all day everyday. Capitalism at its finest, baby,”
Euijoo bites back a scowl. Of course he’s making it about capitalism when it has, quite frankly, nothing to do with that. Euijoo just thinks he’s getting tired of his job and is looking for someone to blame for his misery.
The worst part is that he can’t even blame him for it. Fuck capitalism.
“Let’s say you found yourself stuck in one, then,” he goes on to say anyways, disregarding Yudai’s sudden confession about how time is not real. “What would you do?”
Yudai is already staring at him when he twists his head to look at him. “Panic, probably.”
“Well, obviously,” Euijoo scoffs. That’s not what he’s looking for. “But what happens after that, then? You can’t just panic, you have to do something about it, too,”
“Why?” Yudai asks, so quickly it almost catches Euijoo off guard.
“What do you mean, why?” He frowns. “Of course you have to do something about it, otherwise you’ll just be stuck in the same time loop for all eternity and–”
“And what if I want to be stuck in the same time loop for all eternity?” Euijoo’s frown deepens. He can’t say he’s following. Not really. Not even when it seems so obvious to Yudai, who’s now staring at him like he’s the one who’s supposed to be answering. “What happens then?”
“Uh,” Euijoo chokes.
He hadn’t thought about that. Who even wants to be stuck living the same time loop for all eternity, anyways? Isn’t the whole point of being stuck in a time loop to get out of it?
“I mean, that’s not,”
“Actually, I guess it depends on whether or not it’s a good or a bad one. I wouldn’t mind being stuck reliving the same moment over and over again if it was a good one. If it was a bad one, however, then yeah. Maybe I’d do something about it then. But other than that, I think I’d be pretty content there. Stuck in an endless loop. Do I age? Or do I just stay as I am?”
Well. Euijoo doesn’t know — it’s not like he’s been stuck in this loop for long enough to notice if he is, in fact, aging — nor does it matter. Shit, that’s not the point. The point is to get Yudai to tell him what he’d do to get out, not for him to tell him he wouldn’t be getting out, goddamnit.
“Wha– okay, nevermind,” he grunts, waving his hands in the air as to erase whatever the fuck Yudai just said. “Scratch that. Let’s say it’s a bad one and you want to get out. What would you do?”
Yudai thinks about his question for a moment. The room falls silent as he does, nothing but the Pokémon outro playing on the TV getting left to bounce off his eardrums. Then, “I wouldn’t.”
Euijoo deadpans. “You wouldn’t what?”
Yudai shrugs. “Get out.”
“Why? You’d want to, right?”
“Yeah, probably,” Yudai says. “But I also believe there’s no way of doing it, so,”
Something heavy settles in the pit of Euijoo’s stomach. He swallows around it, trying to make his mouth feel less dry. “What do you mean?”
“Think about it,” Yudai hums. “If time has bent enough for you to be stuck in an endless loop, then who says it’s possible for it to bend back to the way it was? Maybe it isn’t. Maybe time is fragile like that, only bendable until it no longer is.”
Euijoo blinks. Once, then twice.
Whatever optimism he had felt is slowly starting to shatter, crumbling into small bits and pieces until it's nothing but dust left behind to decorate the floor of Yudai's living room.
Is that … is that what’s happening here? Is that why nothing he’s done has worked? Because time has already bent enough as it is, unable to snap back into place? If so, Euijoo thinks he might have a panic attack. It’s not supposed to work like that. Time is supposed to be fluid, or whatever the fuck that one Reddit comment had said, not firm and unbendable. It’s supposed to be able to bend again, Euijoo is supposed to be able to bend it again.
Oh, fuck. He regrets asking Yudai now, because while Yudai is usually the one putting him back together, he’s now the sole reason behind why Euijoo feels himself crumbling. Maybe he should’ve led with something else instead. Like what would you do if time was able to bend and break however you pleased, or something.
Anything that wouldn’t prompt that answer out of him. Fuck, where the fuck did he even get that from?
“Hey,” Yudai laughs, like, truly laughs. Euijoo can’t breathe. Euijoo thinks he might be dying. “Why do you look so serious? Are you scared time will bend and you won’t be able to get out?”
“Shut up,” he hisses, unable to stop himself. If he only knew. If he only fucking knew. Shit. “No, that’s not– are you serious? That’s actually the answer you’re going with?”
Yudai shrugs, still grinning from where he’s seated. Like Euijoo being close to dying is funny. Like Euijoo being stuck in a stupid fucking time loop is funny. He doesn’t know that he is, but still. Fuck, cues exist for a reason; why haven’t Yudai picked up on his yet? “Yeah. Seems the most plausible, I think.”
“And boring,” Euijoo hurries to say, desperete for another answer. “C’mon, that’s like, the most boring answer ever, nobody would ever want to watch a movie like that, give me something better,”
“Like what?” Yudai laughs. Euijoo wants to reach up and cover his ears. He feels a little nauseous, now. “Okay. I’m in a time loop, I panic, I decide to do something about it, I figure out, break the loop. Happy now?”
“But what?”
“What do you mean, what? I just told you,”
“What do you do to figure it out?” Euijoo bulldozes on. If Yudai notices the fact that he’s hanging by a thread, he only laughs instead of asking if he’s okay. Euijoo hates him for it. Hates everything about this, actually. “You have to do something, it’s not going to figure itself out,”
Yudai just shrugs. Light. Like the heaviness rooted into Euijoo’s chest means nothing. Then, “I don’t know. I’ve never been stuck in a time loop before.”
Euijoo’s heart plunges down into his stomach. Right.
He hasn’t. Only Euijoo has. He hasn’t been stuck in one and therefore has no idea how to get it out of one, either. Of course he doesn’t. Only ever Euijoo could know that, only he doesn’t.
He, quite frankly, has no fucking idea.
And Yudai’s semispeech about time not being bendable only makes it worse, because now Euijoo finds himself wondering if he’s right. If maybe, just maybe, time isn’t as bendable as he thought — and that every single one of his efforts to make it bend has been in vain.
Maybe it’s about time he accepts defeat. Accept the fact that the universe has been watching him all along, pointing and laughing with each and every try of him altering the timeline; just for him to always return to the same place in the end, just like the universe has intended for him to. Maybe this is truly all there is. Maybe he’s just meant to be stuck here, reliving the same day over and over again.
He just wishes the universe could’ve picked a better day. One with more purpose, because he can’t say this particular day holds much value. It’s just a regular day, after all, one he’s probably lived through more times than he can count without being stuck in a time loop.
He thinks back to two days ago. The Friday of Doom and Despair, as he would like to put it. The worst one so far, the one where he had both figured it out yet fumbled it at the same time.
The one where he almost kissed Nicholas.
He doesn’t want to talk about it, not really. He’s spent the past two days avoiding having to think about it, keeping himself busy by both sleeping and reading and avoiding everything that has to do with his phone and Dropkick; but it gets to a point. It really does.
In order to understand what went wrong that night, he has no other choice but to acknowledge it.
It feels easier now, anyways, considering the only other thing he has to think about is the fact that he might be stuck here for all eternity. Yeah.
It comes easily to him then, picking between the two.
So he almost kisses Nicholas. Or– not really, and this is where things get weird, because he could’ve sworn Nicholas was the one almost kissing him.
Yeah. Let’s actually talk about it, now.
There’s been many instances in Euijoo’s life where he’s found himself dreaming of what it’d be like, kissing Nicholas. In every single one of those dreams, Nicholas is the one kissing him. Euijoo would be too hesitant, too scared — unsure of what to do with his hands and too choked up to possibly move. Not because he hasn’t kissed anyone in the past, he has, he’s kissed many people in the past; but it’s different with Nicholas.
It always is. It always will be, too. Therefore it’s not weird that in his dreams, he finds himself unable to do just about anything until Nicholas has finally kisses him, because while he’s never been like that with anyone else, he’d be that way with Nicholas. He knows he would.
Nicholas has that effect on him, after all, leaving him feeling like a wolf in sheep's clothing — scared to take, but only until he’s been given. Only then can he take without feeling awful about it.
Point is: Euijoo has fantasized about Nicholas kissing him enough times to know exactly what it’d look like. What Nicholas would look like, both leading up to it and during. How it’d play out, all of it; which is why it scares him so bad when he has Nicholas right in front of him, looking just like he does in Euijoo’s wildest fantasies.
So he runs away. Of course he does. God, when does he not? It’s all he’s ever done, running away. It’s kind of the only thing he’s good at, if he’s being honest. Not because he thinks Nicholas might actually be close to kissing him, but because it’s just too much for him and his poor heart.
Seeing Nicholas like that, it … it felt surreal, in a way. Like this whole time loop thing might just be a dream, after all. One hell of a long dream, but still a dream, nonetheless. It’s kind of the only thing that explains it, the way Nicholas had looked at him and leaned in. All wide and pleading eyes, parted lips, slick with a mixture of alcohol and saliva. Like he, too, felt it.
Want, that is.
That deep rooted want that Euijoo has lived with for four years, now. The same want he feels whenever he looks at Nicholas, the same want he feels whenever someone as much as mentions Nicholas. The same want he’s felt every time he’s had to see Nicholas with someone else, Ricky included — it’s like it was there that night, in Nicholas eyes. Dull and clouded, sure, but still there as he had looked at Euijoo.
Like he wanted Euijoo, too. Like he could love him, if Euijoo let him. A heavy promise to make in the middle of a dance floor, but Nicholas has always been a little like that. Always taking Euijoo by surprise and hitting him right where it hurts.
Euijoo briefly wonders what would’ve happened had he stayed. If he hadn’t panicked and ran away. Would Nicholas have kissed him? Or even worse, would Euijoo have kissed Nicholas? He can handle Nicholas kissing him. It’d kill him, sure, but he can handle that. It doesn’t have to mean anything if Nicholas is the one kissing him. If Euijoo is the one kissing him, however?
It means too much, then. It becomes something else entirely, because Euijoo loves Nicholas. Euijoo loves Nicholas so much he thinks it might kill him one day, and kissing him would equal as him telling Nicholas just how much he loves him.
He can’t do that. He just can’t. Nicholas doesn’t deserve that.
Nicholas deserves something better. Something exciting, like himself. Something, or someone, who can keep up with his neverending need for speed. Someone who, at the end of the day, will hold him down against the sheets and fuck him like the entire world depends on it, just to sweetly kiss him afterwards. Euijoo could do that too, wants to do that too, but he can’t. He’d feel too much, say too much. Do too little.
Nicholas … Nicholas wants speed. Euijoo can’t give him that. Euijoo doesn’t have that. All Euijoo has is a bleeding heart and all the time in the world, both things equally worthless because what’s the point, if the one person he wants to give it to wants something entirely different?
Shit. Okay. Not the point. He’s getting ahead of himself, now. The point isn’t him and his deep rooted love for Nicholas, it’s about him and the want he feels for him. The same want he’s pretty sure saw inside Nicholas’ eyes, too.
So let’s say that is what he saw. What does that change? Nothing, it would seem, because Euijoo is still here.
It’s still Friday. June 5th, 2026. Euijoo is still 23 years old. 24 in approximately three months and two days. Nothing changed, even if he did find some of that want lingering behind Nicholas’ eyes.
He’s done all he can. He’s lived through the same day in a billion different ways, it feels like, and things have yet to change. The world is still spinning on an axis that shouldn’t exist, and Euijoo is still here.
He thinks it’s about time he accepts what he thinks he’s known all along, now.
That there’s no way of getting out, that is. And that no matter how strongly he feels for Nicholas, in the end, nothing will ever come out of it. He’s bound to be stuck here for the rest of his life, reliving the same day over and over again, just like he’s bound to never have Nicholas the way he so desperately wants to have him.
Yudai has moved on, now, talking about something Euijoo can’t bring himself to listen to. Instead he just stares at the TV, watching as the vibrant colors of it morph together until they’re nothing but one big blur of oddly shaped shapes.
He doesn't remember defeat ever looking so colorful before.
___
Tonight, Euijoo finds himself lingering by the exit.
The blinking sign above it has been calling his name for days now, therefore he decides that tonight, he’ll see what it’s all about. If its red flashing lights are actually calling his name, or if it’s just all in his head.
It doesn’t hurt to try, he figures. If it ends up being all in his head, then at least he’ll know it’s nothing when it’s back to blinking at him tomorrow.
So far, nothing interesting has happened. One girl mistakes him for security, asking him to help her find her missing purse — to which he just frowns and says why me?, to which the girl had replied with a because you’re the security, stupid — so he moves a little further away to avoid having it happening again. Does he really look that buff? It fuels his ego a little, to be honest. He mentally jots security guard down as one of his potential jobs in the future.
The point is, nothing has happened. Not really. He gets a few weird looks, a few people stopping to ask if he’s okay, to which he just shrugs. Had too much to drink, he says. In reality, he has had nothing to drink. Maybe he should. Maybe it’ll help the gears in his head to turn, help him figure out what the fuck he’s supposed to do.
He has no idea. He has no fucking idea what he’s supposed do. The exit sign remains silent even when he thinks it might start talking to him, which, yeah. Of course it does. It’s a sign, for fucks sake, not some magic entity that’ll randomly grow teeth and a tongue. Still, it’s a little disappointing. Somewhere he thought it really would.
In the distance, he spots Yuma dancing. He has the same stranger as always feeling up him, ghosting their greedy hands across the curve of his waist — nothing but a pink blur in the distance. A happy one. A drunk one. He can see Maki, too; leaning over to whisper something in Harua’s ear, laughing. Grinning. Happy. Incredibly so.
They all seem to be happy, Euijoo notices. Every single person he looks at seems to be smiling, grinning like this is the best night of their lives. Euijoo feels a little envious at the sight. He, too, wants to experience what that’s like.
What this night could feel like, had it been the best night of his life.
Instead he’s stuck by the exit, waiting for the sign hanging above it to start growing teeth and for it to spit out what he’s supposed to do. His head is slightly hurting, too, both from standing right by one of the many speakers and from the lights flashing at him every now and then, but also because he’s just so sick of it.
Of this, of everything. Of the stupid Nicki Minaj song that keeps playing. Of the strangers bumping into him and not even apologizing when he slightly stumbles. Of seeing everyone look so happy, so content — of no one seeing that Euijoo has lived through this night so many times that he’s lost count, now. Of being the only one in the entire world to have experienced something like this. Of being alone.
Because that’s what it all boils down to in the end, Euijoo and his stupid loneliness. God, he’s always felt a little lonely — so why does it have to feel like this? Why does it have to feel differently now, when he’s stuck in a place surrounded by tens, hundreds of people?
He’s not alone. He has so many people around him. So why does it feel like he is?
He catches a glimpse of what he thinks might be Nicholas’ blonde hair somewhere in the crowd. He– whoever it is, seems to be looking for something, pushing their way through the crowd. Determined. Focused where their head twists around, looking for something Euijoo can’t see.
Euijoo just turns around and pushes his way out the doors. Not tonight, he decides. Not tonight.
The cool air hits him like a bucket of water, rolling off him and his clammy skin in waves when he stumbles down the road. The summer heat is slowly creeping up on them now, leaving for the air to feel a little clammier than he’d like where it infiltrates its way through his lungs, filling them with something a little easier to breathe rather than the thick air lingering inside Dropkick. Still, it feels nice. Like he can actually breathe for once.
He slumps down against the curb with a huff, leaning in on himself. There’s a few people standing in the distance, sharing what Euijoo thinks might be a cigarette, but what does he know. Might be something else entirely. Taking a moment to calm down, maybe, before heading back inside. Back to the music, back to the crowd. Back to letting the night carry their loose limbs.
Euijoo pays them no mind when he feels them glance over at him. They probably think he’s had too much to drink, and that’s why he’s staring down at the ground like he hopes it’ll swallow him whole — which, to be honest, he kind of is. He just stares down at it, hoping that maybe, just maybe, today is the day it finally opens up and eats him alive.
It never does, of course, but it’s a nice thought.
Maybe that’s what’s supposed to happen. Maybe he’s meant to be swallowed by the street, have its greedy teeth sink into his flesh and chew him alive. That’d be an ideal way to go out, he thinks. Man killed by a street with teeth, he thinks — a banger headline for tomorrow’s news, whenever tomorrow comes.
Right now, it feels like it’ll never come. It feels like he’ll be stuck here, reliving the same Friday over and over again, until he eventually passes away by heart failure or something. But even then he thinks it’d continue being Friday, the universe resurrecting him just so that he can be here.
At Dropkick, staring down at the pavement.
There’s a few cracks in it, running along the curb, worn from years of usage. His fingers itch to reach out to trace them, dip the tips of them into the cracks. Let the ground sink its teeth into them. Pull him down under one limb at a time. Give the strangers staring at him a night worth remembering.
He never does. Instead he just stares down at them where they sit, wide and taunting. Like they’re laughing at him. Of course they are. Euijoo can’t even blame them for it.
He, too, would be laughing if he could.
Someone walks past him, grumbling something under their breath. Euijoo doesn’t look up to see who it is.
Another drunken stranger, probably, coming out here for the same reasons as Euijoo. To breathe, to calm their nervous system down a little before eventually returning back inside — looking for a cigarette to steal. Euijoo has nothing to offer them, anyways, therefore keeps his gaze on the ground.
A pair of shoes comes into his peripheral vision, stopping right by his hip.
“Fuck– sorry, do you,” the stranger says, muffled. Like they’re annoyed. “Do you have a lighter? I forgot mine inside, and I can’t be bothered to go back inside, so if you’d just–”
Euijoo rolls his head to look up at the stranger, blinking back the annoyance creeping up his spine. Fuck, can’t they see he’s busy? Can’t they see that he wants to be left alone? He thought it was obvious, by the way he’s curled in on himself. Stupid fucking stranger. Stupid fucking everything.
“Sorry,” he goes to say, “I don’t smoke, so try someone else inst–”
He blinks, cutting himself off. The stranger blinks back at him. Wait.
“Euijoo?” Ricky says, sounding just as dumbfounded as he looks. Euijoo thinks he might black out. “Holy shit, I’m so sorry, I didn’t see it was you,”
Euijoo blinks again. Once, then twice. Ricky is still staring down at him, lips parted like he can't believe it’s actually Euijoo seated in front of him — which, to be honest, Euijoo can’t believe it’s actually Ricky hovering above him, either.
Holy shit. Why is Ricky here?
Shouldn’t he be in there, with Nicholas? No, scratch that; why the fuck is he here, talking to Euijoo, out of all people?
“Uh,” he chokes out, doing nothing to cover up how surprised he sounds. He blinks again. Ricky is still there. Okay. So he’s not hallucinating. Great. Fantastic. “Sorry, why,”
His words fall flat. Why, what? Why are you here? He can’t ask that. Why are you talking to me? He can’t ask that, either. Ricky just blinks at him, seemingly unaware of the chaos unraveling inside of Euijoo’s mind; just as surprised as Euijoo is. If he thinks anything of how choked he sounds, he doesn’t mention it.
Instead, he just smiles. It looks a little uncertain, the way it twitches onto his lips, but at least it looks genuine. Kind of. Euijoo can’t really tell over the shock coursing through his body, past his ears and up to his brain. “Shit, why are you out here? Where’s the rest?”
This is the first time Ricky actually talks to him, he realizes. Not that Euijoo has ever tried talking to him first, but still. This is the first real conversation they share outside of mumbled hi’s and nice to see you’s, which now that he’s thinking about it, has always been initiated by Ricky. Euijoo has never been the one to initiate any of the interactions they’ve shared over the past month or so. Always Ricky.
He almost feels a little bad, now. Maybe Yudai was onto something, maybe he should just give the guy a chance.
“Needed some fresh air,” he finds it within himself to say, uselessly waving his hands in the air. Why, he doesn’t know. He just looks stupid. “Why are– why are you here?”
Where’s Nicholas?, he wants to say, but doesn’t. Shit, that’s like, the last thing he should be asking right now. He finally has a chance to actually speak to Ricky, and he’s taking it. Nicholas is irrelevant right now. Fuck Nicholas. Fuck Nicholas and fuck–
Ricky waves his cigarette where it sits between his fingers, smiling. “Smoking. Or, trying to, at least.”
Right. He asked Euijoo for a lighter. Of course he’s here to smoke, fuck, why else would he be asking for a lighter? Okay. Scratch that. Let’s try again.
“Right,” Euijoo chokes out, feeling so stupid he could die. “Right, uh, sorry, I don’t have a lighter,”
Ricky makes a noncommittal noise. “It’s fine, I should probably stop anyways,” he sighs through a grunt, slumping down beside Euijoo. Euijoo tries his best not to sense up at the sudden proximity, and fails miserably. “Are you drunk?”
Euijoo looks back down at his shoes. Back down at the cracks that run along the pavement. They seem even wider, now. Like he could really fit into them if he tried hard enough.
“No,” he mumbles. “Haven’t had anything to drink all night.”
Ricky chokes out a laugh beside him. “Really? How the fuck are you still alive?”
Euijoo bites back a scoff of his own. “Beats me,” he says, shrugging. “It’s brutal in there.”
“Tell me about it.” Ricky hums, casual. Like this is nothing. Like them having an actual conversation is nothing. Euijoo can’t say he particularly shares the same sentiment. “You thinking of leaving soon?”
Hadn’t Euijoo been so goddamn tired, he probably would’ve taken it as Ricky trying to get rid of him. By making him feel like he has to leave, only asking so he starts thinking about it. Right now, however, he doesn't.
No, instead he finds that Ricky sounds oddly curious — like he’s genuinely wondering, not because he’s trying to get rid of him.
Shit. Maybe Euijoo has been wrong about him this entire time. Again, Ricky has never said or done anything to make Euijoo dislike him — he just exists, hanging out with Nicholas. That’s not enough ground for Euijoo to actively dislike him, though. It never has been. Still, he has.
Maybe Euijoo is the problem here. Shocker — only it’s not, because of course he is. Euijoo is always the problem, wherever he goes. Him and his stupid big feelings he has no idea how to regulate nor carry, they’re always getting in the way of things that could possibly do him good; like liking Ricky, for example. Maybe life had been different had he given Ricky a chance, just like he could’ve been different. Better. Stronger. More honest with what he feels and what he doesn't.
It’s too late for that now, though. Ricky has already made his way into his life and Euijoo missed the starting mark by a small margin, settling for something cruel instead of something nice. Had he welcomed Ricky into his life the same way Nicholas had, then yeah. Maybe he wouldn’t be here.
Outside Dropkick, feet planted onto the ground. Staring down onto the pavement while the night rages on inside, reliving the same Friday over and over again. Maybe, just maybe, things could’ve been different for him, then.
“Maybe,” he mumbles. Honest, for what feels like the first time in his entire life. “I don’t think there’s much left for me here, anyways.”
“C’mon, don’t be like that,” Ricky snorts beside him, lightly bumping their shoulders together. Euijoo should probably hate it, but instead finds it kind of nice. He sounds oddly like Nicholas when he says it, too. Like Nicholas and his way of speaking has started rubbing off on him. “There’s so much left for you here. It’s Friday, after all. You’re free tomorrow, right?”
“Well, yeah,” Euijoo shrugs. “It’s Saturday. There’s no classes on Saturday’s.”
“Lucky you,” Ricky hums, slumping forward. Euijoo watches him through the corner of his eye as he leans forward to fiddle with a small rock right by his shoe. “I have work. Turns out people still work during the weekends and need somewhere to place their children while they’re gone. Horrible, right?”
Euijoo twists his head to look at him with enough speed for his neck to crackle. “You work with children?”
Ricky just shrugs. “Whenever school allows it, yeah. It’s nothing fancy, just your ordinary daycare. Just hoping they’ll hire me for real now that we’re graduating, y’know? It’d be nice to have one less thing to worry about.”
Euijoo eyes the tattoo trailing down his neck. He had no idea Ricky worked with children. His many late night stalking session has yet to tell him that, therefore there’s no way of him knowing that Ricky does, in fact, work in daycare — nor does he think he was supposed to know that, either. The only way of knowing is if Ricky tells him, which he now has.
Rolemodel, the tattoo reads. Holy shit.
Euijoo’s been so wrong about him. This entire time, he’s been so wrong about him.
”I’m sorry, it’s just,” he chokes out, trying to come with terms with the fact that he has, in fact, been living in a lie. Ricky isn’t awful. Ricky is nice. Ricky is kind of everything Euijoo wishes he himself could be. ”Nicholas hasn’t told me much about you, so,”
”Ah,” Ricky laughs where he’s still fidgeting with the rock, seemingly not bothered by Euijoo’s ignorance at all. ”Typical Yixiang, right? Wouldn’t surprise me if he doesn’t even remember what he had for breakfast this morning. He probably doesn’t even remember that I work in daycare, to be fair.”
Something inside of Euijoo withers and turns sour. Of course he calls him Yixiang. He’s quick to push it away before it has the chance to root itself into place, remembering that right. He’s not supposed to be bitter. Not anymore. He’s giving him a chance here, goddamnit; he can’t give him an honest chance if he’s feeling bitter about things that don't even matter.
”Right,” he mumbles. What the fuck is he supposed to say?
”Mmm,” Ricky hums, sitting back upright. Stretches his back out. Sighs. ”Shit, I should probably get back.”
Something along the lines of panic slowly settles in the pit of Euijoo’s stomach. ”Yeah, uh,”
Ricky is already wiping his hands on his jeans, getting ready to stand back up by the time Euijoo looks back at him. ”It was nice finally talking to you, Euijoo. Like, one on one. Without the others. I’ve heard so much about you,” he says, smiling. It looks genuine. Like the most genuine smile Euijoo has ever seen. ”Maybe I can get you a drink later, if you decide to stay?”
It’s not until Ricky is already standing up, fiddling to get his cigarette back into its box that the panic catches up to Euijoo. Shit. He’s here, talking to Euijoo. Euijoo would be stupid not to make the most of it now that he has the chance.
”Wait,” he chokes out, watching as Ricky raises his eyebrows at him. He tries finding the words, racks through his brain, trying to find something, anything, to say. ”Uh,”
Oh, fuck this, he thinks.
Fuck this.
”How long have you and Nicholas– you know, been seeing each other?”
Ricky stills where he was moments prior trying to nudge his cigarette back into place. He just stares down at Euijoo where he’s still sitting, hand limply hanging between his knees. He doesn’t say anything.
So Euijoo bulldozes on. ”I’m sorry, Nicholas just hasn’t told me anything, like at all, and I’m just–”
”We’re not.” Ricky suddenly says, cutting him off.
Euijoo blinks. Parts his lips. ”… Huh?”
Ricky nods. There’s a faint race of a smile on his lips, now. Like he’s amused. Like Euijoo’s sudden shock is funny to him. “Yeah,” he shrugs, casual. Too casual. Euijoo feels a little sick. Like he’s going to throw up. ”We’re not seeing each other.”
Whatever bullshit Yudai had been on when he had started talking about time not being bendable must’ve been nothing but exactly that — bullshit, because Euijoo is pretty sure the entire world just shifted. Tilted even more off-kilter. Reversed itself and started spinning on the opposite axis, because what?
And so he says. Choked and surprised and so incredibly relieved he almost feels a little sick with it, he parts his lips and says, ”What?”
”You’re funny, Euijoo,” Ricky smiles, looking as if he wants to offer him a firm pat on the back. Euijoo just blinks. “I see why Nicholas likes you so much. I’ll see you in there, yeah? Don’t stay out here for too long, the night won’t last forever, you know,”
Then he’s gone. Like he was never here to begin with. Euijoo just watches as he goes back the way he came, stealing a lighter out of an unsuspecting stranger’s fingers before he slips back inside the doors, leaving for Euijoo to once again sit on his own.
He blinks once. Twice. Tries getting his thoughts under control, which proves useless, because they’re running now. Tangling together, lumping together until they’re nothing but one big mess that Euijoo can’t sort his way through.
Like a ball of yarn left in the paws of a cat. Ruined and intangible. Useless.
This– this changes everything. This changes everything Euijoo thought he knew, because Euijoo was so sure, so, so sure, that Ricky and Nicholas were, in fact, seeing each other. It’s the only thing that makes sense to him and his tangled brain, the only thing that has ever made sense. Why else would Ricky become such a prominent figure in their lives, so fast? Nicholas doesn’t do that. Not when it comes to friends.
He’s never that quick to bring someone into their friend group. It took him half a year to even let them meet Maki. It took him a week to introduce them to Ricky. Nicholas doesn’t do that with friends.
Yet Ricky tells him they’re not seeing each other. What does that make them– friends? Are they just friends? This entire time, they’ve been friends? No. That doesn’t make sense. To Euijoo, who’s lived the past month of his life thinking they were dating, it doesn’t. None of it does.
Suddenly, he feels so overcome with emotion that he doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. Throw up, maybe, because holy shit. Holy fucking shit. This changes everything. How he views Ricky, how he views Nicholas. How he views himself, the world; everything. Every-fucking-thing.
What the fuck is he supposed to do now?
The answer comes easily to him. It always does in moments like this.
His legs feel like goo when he goes to stand up, ignoring the small pebbles digging into the heels of his palms as he pushes himself up and away from the curb. His feet feel a little loose when he drags them towards the doors, flashing the security what he thinks might be a smile before he pushes the doors open, although he’s not too sure he succeeds — it might be more of a grimace, but he doesn’t care.
All he cares about right now is getting his feet to properly work so that he can push his way through the crowd, grab his things, tell Fuma he’s leaving and that he’ll have to relay the message to the others, then running away.
Because isn’t that what he always does? Running away whenever things become too much. It’s the only thing he knows how to do. The only thing he’s ever been good at. His mother used to tell him he should get into track as a child, which he considered for a good week or two — then decided that it’d be no use. He’d probably run away from that too in the end, leaving it abandoned and unfinished.
Tonight is no different. Tonight he’s running away from much bigger things, sure, but he’s still running away. Far away. Back to his bed, where whatever this is can’t hurt him. Where it’s just him and nothing else. Where he’ll remain for the days that have yet to come, huddled up beneath his sheets and hoping that soon, it’ll come to an end.
Whatever this is, it has to end. He’s done. He’s had enough of it. Whatever lesson the universe wants him to learn, he’s learnt it, now. He doesn’t need to be put through it all over again. He knows now, and isn’t that all that matters? He knows, and therefore there’s no need for it all to happen again.
Tonight, it ends. Whatever the fuck this is, it ends now.
The heavy air inside the club hits him with such force he almost physically feels it the second he steps back inside, blinded by the flashing lights. He pushes the heavy feeling of it away, forcing his feet to head in the direction he knows the rest will be seated. Where Yudai will still be talking to the dumb blonde stranger Euijoo has yet to learn the name of, where Fuma will still be seated, staring at Yudai like he’s hung all the stars in the sky — where he Nicholas will be lingering, hovering around the table like a ghost.
Right now, he doesn’t care. Nicholas can linger all he wants. Right now, he doesn’t exist. Not to Euijoo.
The only thing that exists to Euijoo and his scrambled mind right now is the thought of getting his things and then getting the fuck out of here, therefore that’s exactly what’s going to happen.
He’s nearly there, so close that he can particularly taste it over the blood that’s rushing to his brain, when suddenly, someone bumps into him.
“Fuck,” he grunts, almost falling over with the force of it. He doesn’t have time for this. He’s so close, a few more steps and he’ll be there, closer to leaving and running away from all the things he desperately wishes he could go away from. “Watch where you’re fucking going, fuck, why does everyone ha–”
“Juju?” Nicholas breathes where’s now standing in front of him, grabbing hold of his arm in an attempt to stabilize himself. He’s smiling, Euijoo realizes. He’s fucking smiling. “Oh, I was just looking for you,”
Euijoo stares down at him. There’s something simmering beneath his skin, now. Something hot, something burning. It’s hot enough to boil the monster residing inside his chest alive, its ragged screeches echoing through his ribcage as it slowly withers away from the fire. It feels oddly like anger, in a way.
The raw, visceral kind. The kind Euijoo hasn’t felt in a long, long time, now.
“Let go,” he says, snatching his arm away. It sounds rotten, even over the lively bass thrumming through the room. “Nicholas, let go,”
Nicholas just tightens his grip, stumbling a little closer when Euijoo tries putting some space between them. He looks less drunk tonight, he notices; his eyes a little clearer form where he’s standing, breathing against Euijoo’s lips.
“Where are you going? Are you leaving?” He asks, seemingly oblivious to the rage that’s slowly forming inside of Euijoo. He just steps closer, like he’s waiting for Euijoo to respond, fingers tightly wrapped around the skin of his arm; nails sinking into the flesh of it. “Don’t go, Juju. We haven’t danced yet,”
All Euijoo has ever been, is patient.
As a kid, he was patient whenever his mother would take too long by the cash registers, and as a teen, he was patient when puberty seemed to catch up with everyone but himself. He’s been patient many times since then, like when he was waiting for his college acceptance letter, for example; he sat, day and night, waiting for it to arrive. Not once did he stress it. No, instead he just waited — patient, thinking that it’ll come whenever it comes.
He’s been patient now, too. With what’s been going on over the past couple of days. He’s let it unfold, let it play out the way it’s supposed to. Sure, he’s made some changes here and there, but in the end, he’s been patient. Incredibly so. Believing that somewhere, somehow, it’ll all straighten itself back out. He just needs to be patient.
Now he no longer wants to be patient. No, much like all things, it gets to a point — and for Euijoo, that point is tonight.
So he snaps. Lets it all overflow, lets it all come tumbling out of him in a way he’s never allowed it to before.
“I hate you,” he says, letting it tumble out of him. Honest. Nicholas’ smile slightly falters where he’s still staring up at him. “I hate you.”
“What?” Nicholas chokes out, surprised. He’s touching at the edges of laughter, now. Like this is funny.
“I hate you,” Euijoo repeats. Means it. Wants to mean it. “I hate you so much,”
“Why do you hate me?” Nicholas is full on laughing, now. Like he can’t believe the words that are coming out of Euijoo’s mouth, like Euijoo is trying to be funny and playing some sort of prank on him. Euijoo thinks he’s on the verge of throwing up, now. “Isn’t that a little too mean? Telling your best friend you hate him?”
“Because I love you,” he chokes out, blinking back the tears sitting at the corner of his eyes. He doesn’t even care if Nicholas sees them anymore.
He kind of needs him to see them, just so that he’ll know he means it. That he’s serious. That he does in fact hate him, just like he does in fact love him.
Nicholas, however, doesn’t seem to get it. His smile morphs into something softer, something not as amused. It looks more genuine, now. Euijoo wants to wipe it off. Wants to stomp on it. Yell at him for not getting it, for not seeing what he’s so obviously putting out there to be seen.
“I love you too, Juju, you know I do,”
“No,” Euijoo says, aspirated. He’s tired. He’s so, so tired. “You don’t get it, that’s not what I mean,”
Nicholas shuffles closer. Euijoo doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the irony of it all. “Explain it to me then, Juju,” he says, gentle over the pounding bass. Like Euijoo’s shaking hands don't faze him. “Explain it to me.”
Instead of actually explaining what he means, Euijoo just parts his lips and asks, “Why did you let me believe you and Ricky were together?”
Nicholas frowns. Furrows his brows together. Like he can’t understand what Euijoo is asking. “Me and Ricky?” He asks, confused. Euijoo just nods, scared that his voice will fail him if he tries to speak. “When did I ever say we were together?”
“Never,” he’s quick to retort. “That’s the whole point. You never told me you weren’t,”
“Was I supposed to?” Nicholas asks, still just as confused.
“Yes,” Euijoo breathes, aspirated where it leaves the bottom of his lungs. Annoyed. Angry, that no matter what he says, Nicholas is just not getting it. “Yes, you were. All of this could’ve been avoided if you had just told me, Nicholas, all of it,”
“All of what? Euijoo, what are you even talking about,” Nicholas says, sounding just as aspirated as Euijoo now. Like he’s the one struggling here, like Euijoo’s the one not getting it. “Why would that matter, anyways? If me and Ricky were seeing each other, why would that matter to you?”
“Because I love you, idiot,” Euijoo barks out. It feels raw where it claws its way up his throat, tastes like iron where it sits on his tongue. Yet he continues, lets it flow out of him. There’s no point in stopping now, anyways. It’s already out there. “I love you, okay? I love you,”
“And I just said I love you, too,” Nicholas barks back at him, only his words aren’t as tainted with blood and fear. They sound fluid, far from Euijoo’s own choked ones, the same ones that are tainted with something so bitter it leaves him shivering where he stands.
For a moment, he just looks at him. He should feel lighter, knowing that it’s out there now. He’s said it now, left it to hang in the heavy air around them — so why does he feel heavier?
Nicholas blinks at him. Euijoo sees it, then.
He still doesn't get it.
”Nevermind,” he breathes, defeated. There’s no storm raging inside of him anymore. It’s gone, leaving just as fast as it came, taking his heart with it. There’s no point. Nicholas won’t get it no matter what he says. ”Forget about it,”
He goes to pull away, to get away before the stubborn tears make their way down his cheekbones, but Nicholas stops him. Sinks his nails further into his flesh. ”Juju,” he tries when all Euijoo does is try to get away. Urgent. ”Euijoo, stop,”
Euijoo finally manages to snatch his arm away, shaking his head. “No, you stop,” he hisses, huffing when someone lightly bumps into him. Fuck. This is horrible. This is all so horrible. “Just stop it, Nicholas. Stop. You don’t g–”
”I love you, too,” Nicholas cuts him off, ragged around the edges. He sucks a choked breath through his teeth, dragging a hand through the blonde curls of his hair. “Okay? I love you.”
Euijoo shakily exhales. ”Yes, I know, but–”
”Euijoo, I love you.”
Oh.
Nicholas just stares up at him, watching as things finally fall into place inside of Euijoo’s head. He must see the way it happens, and that’s why there’s a smile threatening to twitch onto his lips despite his wavering eyes — warm, like he’s been waiting for this moment.
It takes a moment, but once it finally lands, it lands hard. He repeats it in his head, trying to get it to stick before it has the chance to get away, before Euijoo’s mind does what it does best and chases it away. It’s funny, because he’s pretty sure he should be feeling elevated right now, but he doesn’t.
If anything, he feels kind of … empty.
There’s no loud bang, no big explosion, like he expects there to be. In his dreams, the ones where Nicholas looks him in the eye and tells him that he loves him, there’s always one of those — a big explosion, blocking out everything else around them. Whatever or whoever might find their way to them gets obliterated by that initial blast, and left standing is Euijoo and Nicholas. Just him and Nicholas. Nobody else.
Somebody brushes against him. Accidentally steps on the heel of his shoe, reminding him that there is, in fact, other people around him. The music is still playing, too, loud and booming where it bounces off his eardrums — his view momentarily distorted every time one of the strobe lights flashes his way.
There is no explosion. Everyone is still dancing, singing. Laughing. Breathing.
In front of him, Nicholas still stands. Smiling. A little wider now, as if he finds it funny. Maybe it is, because yeah. Nicholas just told him he loves him.
Yet the world is still spinning. It doesn’t stop, nor does it pick up its pace. It spins like it always has, 465 metres per second; staying the exact same way, even when Euijoo expects it to change.
Maybe he should know better by now. Maybe, just maybe, he should've figured out by now that the world works in mysterious ways, and that there’s simply no way of him ever predicting what’s going to happen.
He knows that now, though. He only just learnt it.
It just took him a while to get here.
“Euijoo,” Nicholas says when Euijoo doesn’t respond, taking a step closer. Sneaks his arms around neck, pulls him close. Euijoo, blindsided by the normalcy of it all, does nothing to stop him. “Euijoo. Talk to me. You can’t go all quiet on me, not now,”
“Do you mean it?” Euijoo blurts out, unable to look away from where he has his eyes trained on the line of Nicholas’ lips.
He watches as they curl back into a faint smile. “Yeah,” he nods. Like Euijoo needs visual confirmation, too, not just a verbal one. To be fair, he kind of does. “I mean, I wasn’t going to tell you like this, but then you freaked out on me, so I kind of had no other choice,”
“Why haven’t you told me?” Euijoo bulldozes on, unable to stop himself now that he’s started. “You– there’s been so many moments, so many opportunities. Why haven’t you told me?”
Nicholas shrugs, a light movement of his shoulders. “For the same reasons you haven’t told me, I guess.”
The words hit Euijoo like a truck. Oh my god. Has this been a two way thing this entire time?
All the nights Euijoo has spent crying, desperete for someone to hear his silent pleas. All the times he’s looked at Nicholas, wondered if maybe, just maybe, this is it — the moment he lets it all tumble out of him, the moment he lets the monster residing inside his chest free — has Nicholas looked at him then too, dreaming of the same things?
This entire time, Euijoo has felt so alone. Was Nicholas there with him, feeling the same things?
“Euijoo,” Nicholas hums. Tugs at the hair covering the nape of his neck, pulls him out of his thoughts. This isn’t happening. “Stop thinking. You’re thinking too much.”
“I’m not,” Euijoo chokes out. His hands feel heavy where they’re limply hanging down his side, itching to reach out. Place themselves against the small of Nicholas' back. Pull him close, keep him there. Shield them from the world around them. Let it just be them. Him and Nicholas. Euijoo and Nicholas. “It’s just, I’m freaking out, I think, I’m freaking out Nicholas,”
Nicholas nods. Tug him closer. “That’s okay,” he says. Calm. “I’m going to kiss you now, though, okay?”
Something inside of Euijoo’s chest ignites, sizzling to life. Like it’s been waiting. It just needed a spark. “Yeah, yes, okay,”
Nicholas doesn’t wait for him to finish speaking before he’s already tugging at the back of his neck and bringing his face down, forcing him to meet him halfway. Then, like it so often is with Nicholas, he takes.
Their lips press together, and for once in his life, Euijoo doesn’t hesitate.
No, it comes rather easily to him, kissing Nicholas. It’s a little messy from the get-go, teeth threatening to clash together and hands a little too eager where they finally come up to wrap around Nicholas' waist. He pulls him closer, closer than ever before, until he’s pressed flush against him, already licking at the seams of Euijoo’s mouth.
Euijoo doesn’t mind. If anything he encourages it, parting his lips just enough for Nicholas to be able to slip his tongue inside. For a brief moment he wonders if perhaps they’re doing too much, especially when Nicholas fingers tangles themselves deeper into Euijoo’s hair, then completely disregards it as he realizes that right.
This has been a long time coming. Whoever gets to witness it should feel honored.
Nicholas is a messy kisser, he’s quick to learn. A vocal one, too — licking into his mouth and groaning whenever Euijoo dips his fingers into his lower back, pressing him closer. Most of it gets swallowed by the music, but Euijoo hears it nonetheless. Feels it where it gets left to vibrate up his chest and against his lips.
Hot, his brain registers over the blood rushing past it. Really fucking hot.
His hands slowly trail higher, taking in the curve of Nicholas’ waist before curling around his neck, cupping the sides of his jaw. Bites down onto his bottom lip just to hear the muffled sound it brings out of him, presses his thumb against his pulse point just to feel it jackhammer beneath the pad of it.
Nicholas just swallows it all down, taking what Euijoo has to offer, and Euijoo — Euijoo, well.
Euijoo gives.
It’s all he’s ever done with Nicholas. He gives, gives, gives; he gives until he has nothing left to give, to offer. Right now, it takes a slightly different form compared to what it usually looks like, but the basics of it all are still the same.
Euijoo gives, and Nicholas takes. Right now, it’s in the form of kissing Euijoo so hard he can’t breath, sinking his nails into his scalp, asking for more. Euijoo gives it to him, of course he does, by kissing him back with fervor and silently hoping that this moment is here to stay.
That maybe, just maybe, this will still be here tomorrow, too. That he’ll get to have Nicholas like this tomorrow, and the day after that, and the one after that, too.
“Juju,” Nicholas winces when Euijoo sinks his teeth into the flesh of his bottom lip. “Euijoo,”
Euijoo lets go of his bottom lip with a wet pop, panting against it once he leans back to look at him. He doesn’t go far, just far enough to be able to see the expression adorning his face, and feels all the more breathless once he does.
His pupils are blown wide, nothing but a vast darkness where he’s staring up at Euijoo. His lips are swollen, too, a result of Euijoo’s endless assault; looking a little drowsy where he stands. Still, he looks content. Happy. Eager for more, perhaps. Like this is just the start.
Euijoo presses his thumb back against his pulse point, just because he can. Because he’s allowed to.
“Hm?” he breathes, taking in the sight before him. Shit, he’s beautiful. He always is, but especially right now. “What? Are you okay?”
Nicholas nods, a quick movement of his head. His fingers tighten around the strands of his hair. “More than okay,” he breathes. Euijoo presses his forehead against his own. Shakily inhales, exhales. “Are you?”
Euijoo dips down to press the lips back together, hoping that Nicholas gets his answer in the way he parts his lips, asking for more.
Nicholas, ever so understanding, seems to understand and gives it to him.
Time passes by in a blur after that. He’s not sure just how long they spend out on the dance floor, bodies messily tangled up together as the world continues to turn around them — all he knows is that eventually, Nicholas’ hands grow restless, and therefore starts wandering.
Down his shoulders, down his back. Over his shoulderblades, tracing the knobs of his spine before finding their place by his hips. Uses the grip to push their hips together, something that brings a choked moan out of Euijoo, before they trail lower.
Past his hipbones, down the waistband of his jeans. Brushes his fingertips against the elastic of his underwear, dips just below it, leaving it to snap against his skin before pulling them back out. Rounds his hips, down his ass before sinking his fingers into it, harshly squeezing. Euijoo just lets himself melt into it, silently begging for more.
When they break apart once more, it’s Euijoo pulling away.
“Nichol,” he breathes, voice shaky and equally wet. Nicholas just pulls him impossibly closer, grounding his hips against his own.
“You wanna get out of here?” He asks, tongue coming out to lick away Euijoo’s left over spit where it sits against the corner of his lips. Euijoo almost passes out the sight, trying to ground himself by once again pressing their foreheads together.
“Fuck,” he groans, squeezing his eyes shut. Nicholas takes the opportunity to slip his hands back up, dipping beneath the waistband of his jeans where they sit against his lower back, letting the tips of his fingers dance across the elastic of his underwear. Euijoo wants them lower. “I mean, yeah, fuck, yes, it’s just,”
Nicholas is staring right at him, tongue still lingering in the corner of his lips when he opens his eyes. “It’s just what?”
“You’re drunk,” Euijoo deadpans. “I don’t think we should, you know, do … something, when you’re drunk. I haven’t– I haven’t had anything to drink tonight, so–”
“Euijoo,” Nicholas laughs. Euijoo just frowns. Nicholas runs his tongue across his bottom lip, sinking his teeth into it before letting go with a pop. “Juju, baby. I’ve had one drink. I’m not drunk. Tipsy, maybe, but not drunk. I can still make decisions for myself.”
Euijoo blinks. One drink? Nicholas on all the previous nights has been like, borderline black out drunk. He has trouble believing he only had one drink, then. But then again– something about him does seem different tonight. He looks a little clearer where he stands, more aware. Not as sloshed.
Huh. Maybe things truly are different today. Why or how, he doesn’t know. He won’t look too much into it, purely because he doesn’t care. Not really.
All he cares about is the fact he has Nicholas right here, right in front of him — staring up at him like he’s been waiting to ask. Like he’s been waiting for Euijoo.
“... Are you sure?” He breathes after a moment. There’s more people around them, now, pushing and pulling.
“Never been so sure in my entire life,” Nicholas breathes back at him, sinking his fingers into the flesh of his ass as to prove he’s telling the truth. “C’mon, take me home, Juju.”
And just who is Euijoo to say no to that, now that he’s finally allowed to?
“Okay,” he says, nodding. Not for Nicholas’ sake, more so for his own. Giving himself the confirmation he so badly needs. He nods again, pulling away. Okay. Okay. Yeah. Yeah, he thinks. “Okay, come on, let’s go,”
He hears Nicholas laugh behind him as Euijoo grabs hold of his hand, tugging him through the crowd. “Wait, Juju– our things, we have to get our things–”
“Fuck our things,” Euijoo yells over the music. He feels Nicholas squeezing his hand, a silent way of agreeing. Fuck their things. Euijoo couldn’t care less about them. “I’ll text Yudai later. He’ll bring them. C’mon,”
Nicholas just laughs, loud and bright where he trails behind him, allowing for Euijoo to drag him through the crowd and towards the exit. Euijoo’s heart is jackhammering inside his chest, going at a speed Euijoo didn’t know was possible as the exit sign blinks above them, calling their name.
The night air has never felt so warm as it does on their way home, although Euijoo suspects that might be Nicholas’ and his wandering hands’ doing.
___
When Euijoo first realizes he’s in love with Nicholas, he’s just shy of 21. He’s known Nicholas for months at that point, but much like it always does with Euijoo, it takes a while for it to settle.
What he feels for Nicholas, what said feelings might mean.
Not just for him, but for them as a whole; their still flourishing friendship, for what has yet to come. It’s a scary thought, realizing that you feel more than you perhaps should for someone who’s still a relatively new person in your life. Part of Euijoo wonders if he’s even allowed to feel the way he does, because Nicholas is still fresh.
They meet through a mutual friend whom none of them are no longer in contact with. Euijoo is quick to pick up on all the things Nicholas has that he doesn’t, what differentiates them; like the way they handle people, for example.
Nicholas is eager to meet Euijoo, dapping him up with a firm pat on the back and hey bro despite it being the first time they meet, while Euijoo is shy.
Incredibly so. Answering Nicholas’ eager greeting with a shy hi and nice to meet you, watching from the sidelines as Nicholas goes on to greet everyone else the same way. It seemingly comes easily to him, proximity and eagerness. Euijoo has never been like that. Euijoo handles the people around him with distance and carefulness, like he’ll get burnt if he lets them get too close too fast.
He handles Nicholas the same way. Not out of fear that he’ll feel too much, at least not in the beginning, but more so out of fear that he’ll accidentally say too much, or do too much. Scare him away before their friendship even has the chance to flourish. Therefore he remains seated on the sidelines, watching. Learning.
How Nicholas works. How he handles things. He learns a lot from it, many things which he still uses today — but perhaps most importantly, how to handle Nicholas.
Nicholas becomes a steady presence in his life after that. They keep running into each other, both at mutual friend’s parties and hangouts alike, but also in the most mundane places. Like at campus, for example. In the cafeteria. At the grocery store. Just outside his dorm. Wherever Euijoo goes, Nicholas seems to go, too.
So they become friends. Without Euijoo knowing at first, until Nicholas finds himself in his dorm without any of their mutual friends being there, and Euijoo realizes that right. Nicholas is his friend, now.
And for a long time, that’s all they are. Friends. Best friends, eventually.
Until one day, Euijoo slowly comes to the realization that maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t want Nicholas to be just his friend. It happens suddenly, but once it does, it’s hard to get rid of.
It creeps up on him like a virus would. At first he’s unsuspecting, unknowing to what’s silently brewing inside of him, then he feels the first tinge of that initial something’s wrong. Still, he just shrugs it off, the same way you’d shrug a semi-cold off. You don’t want to get sick, therefore you try telling yourself you’re not. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. In Euijoo’s case, it doesn’t.
The second tinge hits harder. It happens one night when Nicholas is spread out across his bed, laughing at something on his phone that Euijoo can’t see. He flips his phone, showing Euijoo whatever it is taking up the screen with a muffled look at this, isn’t it fucking ridiculous — and all Euijoo can bring himself to think is: I want to kiss you.
It hits him hard and fast, then it’s gone. It leaves with the same speed as it arrives, leaving for Euijoo to choke on the laugh that bubbles up his throat. He doesn’t acknowledge it, not really, yet something about it stays with him.
There’s many more instances after that, many which leaves Euijoo with the very same thought; but it’s not until one day, when Nicholas introduces him to who will soon become Nicholas’ first boyfriend, that he first acknowledges it.
He can’t remember his name, not anymore, nor does he need to. He had been kind, warm around the edges, matching Nicholas’ intense personality with one of his own; seemingly exactly what Nicholas had been looking for. Euijoo tries to like him, he truly does, but there’s just something about it that doesn’t sit right with him.
Not the guy himself, no. More so about Nicholas having a boyfriend.
He feels awful over it for a long time after that, doing everything he can to avoid having to be in the same room as them. More often than not he ends up being forced to anyways, so instead he settles for the next best thing.
Ignoring him all together.
It works for a while, until one night, Nicholas sits him down and asks — and Euijoo quotes — what the fuck is wrong with him. Euijoo understands despite his ragged tone, and feels so bad he could die when he can’t give him an answer worth something.
Instead, he finds himself thinking one thing and one thing only: I’m in love with you.
They break up soon after that. Euijoo feels better than he should about it, yet pretends to be heartbroken for him when Nicholas cries in his arms about it. He recovers quickly, and soon, he brings another man for Euijoo to meet. The cycle continues like that for the years to come, and Euijoo still finds himself thinking the very same thing.
I’m in love with you. I’m so in love with you that I think I might die. Can’t you see?
Euijoo has never allowed himself to fantasize what it could be like, had Nicholas loved him back. He dreams about it sometimes, when he no longer has control over where his brain goes and where it doesn’t — when his brain is allowed to wander places he’d never willingly go. More often than not, they play out the same way.
Nicholas, beneath him, shivering. Sometimes bare, other times clothed. Kissing the skin of his jaw, whispering sweet nothings Euijoo never picks up on. Sinking his nails into his back, pulling him impossibly closer until they’re one. Presses their lips together, then swallows him whole. Holds Euijoo through it all, shushing his desperete cries, kissing the saltiness of his tears away. Allows for Euijoo to take, take, take — then says he loves him.
Right now, however? Right now–
Euijoo slumps against the mattress with a choked huff. He didn’t make his bed this morning, and therefore his sheets are nothing but a hard pile beneath him where his back comes down to bounce against it. A dull pain shoots up his spine at the impact, then it’s gone as fast as it came.
Above him, he has Nicholas fumbling to climb across his lap.
“Shit,” Nicholas grunts, shoving at the sheets when they get in the way of him and his wandering hands. “What the fuck, why are they so–”
Euijoo just raises his leg and kicks them off the bed. Nicholas watches as they slump against the floor, before looking back at Euijoo. Euijoo just grins.
“Sorry,” he says, a little sheepish. “Didn’t have time to make the bed this morning.”
Nicholas looks at him for one, two beats before he snorts. “Whatever,” he mumbles, then he’s leaning forward, slotting their lips together.
Euijoo hums into it, letting his hands come up to rest against his thighs where he’s now seated on top of him. Runs his thumb across the course material, dancing across it until he has his fingers splayed out across his ass, sinking them into the flesh there and offering it a light squeeze. Nicholas just moans against his mouth in response.
The walk home is … a lot, to put it frankly.
Nicholas is eager, rightfully so, unable to keep his hands off Euijoo now that they’ve touched him. He nips at the exposed skin of his shoulder where his neckline has ridden down, sneaking one hand into the back pocket of his jeans just to grope and feel him. Euijoo tries shoving him off, just to moments later kiss him breathless against the front of some old bookstore.
They continue pushing and pulling at each other for the remainder of the walk, stopping every now and then just to get a taste of each other, before tugging one another along. Once they finally get in the elevator leading up to Euijoo’s apartment, Nicholas has grown impatient; hands racking up and down his chest, slipping beneath the fabric of his shirt just to feel his clammy skin as he kisses down his neck.
Euijoo, a slave to his own desires (and perhaps Nicholas, so sue him), encourages him by lolling his head to the side and moaning when the pads of his fingers brush against his nipples.
They enter his apartment attached, fumbling to kick their shoes off while still continuing to kiss — they must look stupid, the way they almost fall over while still attached by the mouth, yet none of them cares. It’s not like anyone is here to see them, anyways. Not anymore.
No, it’s just them, now. Him and Nicholas.
Something Nicholas proves when he in the middle of his hallway, right after they’ve gotten both their shoes off, reaches down and cups him through his pants.
Euijoo chokes back a moan where he still has Nicholas licking into his mouth, quivering and almost folding in double at the sudden sensation. Nicholas moans back at him, palm firmly pressing against him and his now hardening cock as he lightly kneads it, unaware of how desperete he makes Euijoo feel.
Shit, he always does, but this is different. Incredibly so. He almost makes Euijoo feel a little delirious with it, just how good it feels. To have Nicholas like this, on him. With him.
So he grabs hold of his wrist and tugs him towards the bedroom. Not without kissing him, of course, because now that he’s kissed him he just can’t stop — which Nicholas responds to by laughing into his mouth, slipping one hand around his neck, and kissing him so hard Euijoo fears he might pass out.
Which leads them to right now, with Euijoo’s loose limbs spread out across the sheets, Nicholas on top of him. He has both legs on either side of his hips, leaning down just enough for their chest to press together and for their lips to be able to meet in a messy kiss.
Euijoo feels good. Like, really good. Better than ever, really. His head feels a little light, like he can’t think straight when Nicholas sneaks one hand between their legs and presses his palm back against his now semi-hard cock. He just squeezes his ass through the fabric of his jeans, hoping it’ll relay how good he feels.
Nicholas shudders against him. “Juju,”
Euijoo tilts his head back with a sigh, letting it collide with the sheets beneath him. Nicholas goes to follow, lightly nipping at his kiss bitten lips. “Feels good,” he finds it within to breathe when Nicholas digs the heel of his palm into his crotch. “You feel good.”
Nicholas hums against his lips, kissing down his cheek. “Yeah? How good?”
“Really fucking good,” he grunts when Nicholas sinks his teeth into the skin right below his jawline. Slightly ruts against the palm of his hand. “Nichol,”
Nicholas presses a lingering kiss against the skin there, soothing the dull sting before coming back up to face him. “Yeah?” He grins.
“Yeah,” Euijoo says, breathless when the corners of his lips twitch into a grin of his own. Nicholas dips back down to kiss it away.
“How d’you want this?” Nicholas mumbles against his lips. Euijoo shudders as he lets up on his grip around his cock, trailing his finger across the bulge. “You wanna do me? Or you want me to do you?”
Euijoo mulls it over for a moment, letting Nicholas lick into his mouth while he thinks. In his dreams, he’s always the one on top of Nicholas. Taking him, kissing choked moans off his saliva coated lips. But there’s something about this, about having Nicholas on top of him that’s really doing it for him — leaving him to wonder what it would be like if he was the one taking.
His cock twitches against Nicholas’ dancing fingers. Shit. It’s been a while since he last bottomed, a very long while, but he thinks he’d be willing. For Nicholas, he would. Nicholas would probably take good care of him, all soft and careful until Euijoo asks for more. Would probably spend more time working him open than needed, then laugh at him when he says he likes the sting that comes with not being properly prepped. He’d probably fuck him good, too, hard and rough, had Euijoo asked for it.
Nicholas pulls away with a wet sound. His hand comes up to tap against his hip once, then twice. “Don’t think too hard about it, Juju. Just tell me how you want it, and I’ll give it to you.”
Euijoo shudders where he lies limp against the sheets. “How do you want it?” He blurts out, searching for Nicholas’ gaze.
Nicholas just hums, pressing a chaste kiss against the corner of his lips. “Doesn’t matter,” he says, rolling his hips. Euijoo almost chokes on the moan that rumbles through his chest at the feeling of Nicholas’ hard cock pressing against his abdomen. “I’m fine with whatever. I’m getting a little impatient, though,”
“I want you,” Euijoo chokes out before he has the chance to think about it. It comes naturally to him, after all. Doesn’t have to think about it, just needs to speak it into existence. “Want you to fuck me,”
Nicholas stares at him for one, then two beats, before dipping down to kiss him. Euijoo just moans into it, a fragile sound that sounds more desperete than it should when one of Nicholas’ hands comes up wrap around his throat, keeping his head in place while applying the slightest bit of pressure.
Euijoo almost tells him more when Nicholas is suddenly pulling away, a string of saliva connecting their lips together. “Fuck, you’re so hot,” he grunts. “You’re going to kill me, Juju, you’re so fucking hot,”
A choked laugh leaves the back of his throat when Nicholas sits up straight, allowing for Euijoo to see him in his entirety. The mesh top he’s been wearing all night has slightly ridden up his stomach, most likely a result of Euijoo and his curious hands, showing off the tanned skin that sits beneath it. His jeans hang low on his hips now, too, the waistband of his underwear peaking through.
Chrome Hearts, the elastic reads. Euijoo can’t wait to sink his teeth into it and pull them off his body.
You’re going to be the death of me, he goes to say, but Nicholas beats him to it. “Where’s the lube?”
Right. The lube. Of course. “Uh,” he says, sitting up on his arms. “It should be in the top drawer, look behind the–”
Nicholas leans over to open the drawer, rummaging through it before looking back at Euijoo. “There’s no lube here.”
Euijoo frowns. “Are you sure?” He says, trying to peek into the now open drawer. He can’t see anything from here. “It should be, you just have to,”
It hits him the moment he manages to get himself up enough to peek into the drawer. Right.
There is no lube, because he fucking ran out. Oh my god.
He’s out of fucking lube.
He slumps back against the sheets with a groan, placing both hands over his face. Drags them down it. “Oh my god,”
“What?” Nicholas asks, confused as he leans back, closing the drawer. “Euijoo, don’t do that, you’re scaring me, why are you–”
“I ran out,” he mumbles behind the palms of his hands, feeling both so embarrassed and disappointed he could die. Fuck. He really wanted Nicholas to fuck him tonight. “I fucking ran out, like, the other day. I meant to go get more, but then school happened, and I just forgot about it,”
Above him, Nicholas laughs. Euijoo bites back the urge to kick him out. “You ran out? Fuck, who the fuck doesn’t have lube at home? Do you like, never jerk off?”
“I do,” Euijoo barks out, still hiding beneath the palm of his hands. “Why do you think I ran out? Ran out, Nichol, not I’ve never owned a bottle of lube in my entire life,”
Nicholas just hums as he leans back down, amused as he wraps his fingers around Euijoo’s wrists. He lightly tugs at them with a soft c’mon, look at me, allowing for them to fall away from Euijoo’s face and down onto the sheets.
“That’s okay, Juju,” he mumbles from where he’s seated on top of him. Euijoo just frowns, resisting the urge to nibble on his bottom lip. “I can fuck you some other day. We have time, no need to stress it,”
“Can’t you fuck me anyways?” He tries, blinking up at Nicholas in an attempt to hopefully persuade him.
Nicholas just laughs. “Are you insane?” He asks, leaning down to press a light kiss against his lips. Euijoo almost chases after him when he pulls away. “I’m not fucking you without any lube, Euijoo. You’ll never let me fuck you again if I do.”
Euijoo goes to argue, to tell him that he likes the pain, just to fall silent as he realizes that he’s probably right. He’s tried getting fucked once without any lube, just a whole lot of spit and a dream, and yeah. It wasn’t very good, to say the least. Painful. Incredibly so. He didn’t enjoy a single second of it, if he’s being honest.
Still. Still. He really wants Nicholas. He really, really wants Nicholas. So much that he’d be willing to give it a chance, had Nicholas agreed.
“Okay,” he mumbles, a little defeated. Nicholas tells him they have time, that he’ll fuck him eventually. That’s enough for him. At least right now it is. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, lightly nibbling on it. “What do you want to do, then?”
Nicholas hums like he’s thinking about it, trailing his fingers down his stomach. Euijoo shivers at the lightness of it, the pads of his fingers slightly tickling his sides where they continue ghosting downwards. “I mean,” he eventually mumbles. “I could still make you feel good, without fucking you.”
Euijoo swallows around the lump perched in the back of his throat. “Yeah?” He breathes, airy despite the heaviness lingering behind it. Nicholas nods.
“Yeah,” he says, toying with the zipper of Euijoo’s jeans. “Wanna give it a try?”
A laugh bubbles up Euijoo’s throat. Does he want to give it a try? Does he want to give it a try? Fuck, what does he look like? Of course he wants to give it a fucking try, whatever it might be.
“Yeah,” he rushes to say, eager to find out. “Fuck, yeah,”
Nicholas just scoffs, then pulls his zipper down in one smooth move. If Euijoo wasn’t hard before, then he definitely is now. “Impatient fuck,” Nicholas mumbles as he scoots down his legs, placing himself between his thighs. There’s no real bite behind it. “C’mon, up,”
He taps against his skin where he has his fingers hooked beneath the waistband of his jeans, urging him on. Euijoo raises them, just high enough for Nicholas to be able to pull them down his legs, then lets his ass come back down with a low creak of the bed as he’s managed to pull them down to his knees.
Euijoo thinks he might be seeing stars the moment Nicholas hooks his fingers beneath the waistband of his underwear, pulling them down in one swift move, allowing for his cock to spring free.
Look: Euijoo is by no means insecure about his size. No, Euijoo knows he has a decent cock, as self-absorbed as that sounds — but it’s true. It’s not too big, nor is it too small, just perfectly average, like everything else about Euijoo. It chubs up whenever he’s turned on, adding the length he lacks whenever he’s soft, just like it grows just the slightest bit thicker. Not by an impressive amount, just enough for it to be considered average.
But it feels different, now. He feels different. Nicholas is still fiddling with his underwear, and therefore has yet to even acknowledge the fact that Euijoo is, in fact, naked, but still. It feels a little embarrassing, in a way. Letting Nicholas see him like this.
Once his underwear joins his jeans where they’re bunched up by his feet, Nicholas redirects his attention to him. He settles back between his thighs, letting his hands ghosts up his now bare inner thighs, brushing against his cock.
It twitches where it lies uselessly against his abdomen, red and aching from Nicholas’ endless teasing. Nicholas just hums, wrapping a loose fist around it. Oh, god.
“Shit, Juju,” he hisses. “Look at you,”
“Don’t say that,” Euijoo breathes, watching as Nicholas experimentally flicks his wrist. Slow, like he’s trying it out. Euijoo resists the urge to thrust up into it, meeting him halfway. “What does that even mean?”
“That you’re pretty,” Nicholas hums, running the pad of his thumb across his slit, spreading the pre-cum that’s starting to pearl at the tip of it. “And big.”
Euijoo slumps his head back with a groan. “Nichol,”
“What?” Nicholas muses beneath him, sounding so amused by Euijoo’s embarrassment that it makes Euijoo feel a little sick with it. “It’s true. Shit, I would’ve done this earlier if I knew you were this big,”
“Nichol,” Euijoo warns, voice wavering.
“I’m kidding, Juju. C’mon,” Nicholas purrs, slotting further down the bed. “Relax, yeah? Let me take care of you.”
Euijoo lolls his head to the side, glancing down at him where he’s still slowly working his fist. He’s looking up at him now, like he’s waiting for Euijoo to give him permission to go further. Euijoo would laugh at the irony of it all if it wasn’t for how turned on he is.
So instead he just nods, and watches as Nicholas props himself up on both elbows, then brings the tip of his cock to his lips.
By all means, Euijoo should've known Nicholas likes giving head. It’s kind of obvious, now that he’s thinking about it — Nicholas and his constant need to have his lips wrapped around something, keeping his mouth busy — it only makes sense that that part of him translates into the bedroom, too. Euijoo just hasn’t given himself permission to think about it before, what Nicholas might be like in the bedroom.
Right now, he doesn’t need permission to think about it. Instead, he gets to experience it first hand, by watching with heavy eyes as Nicholas takes him into his mouth, wrapping his lips around him and yeah.
If Euijoo dies tonight, he’s making them put Nicholas as the cause of death. Because he’s not too sure he’s going to survive this, if he’s being honest.
Nicholas drags his tongue against the underside of his cock as he sinks lower, humming around it when Euijoo groans. There’s something about it, the way he looks as he takes Euijoo further down, that makes Euijoo almost feel a little nostalgic. Like he can’t believe this is happening. That he’s here, with Nicholas. That they’re here.
When Nicholas pulls off of him, it’s with a content hum. His fist comes up to slowly jerk him off, spreading the left over saliva down his length before coming back up again. His tongue comes out to lick at the corner of his mouth, gathering the spit that sits there, before letting drop down onto Euijoo’s cock in one big glob.
“Shit, what the fuck,” Euijoo groans, lolling his head back to rest against the sheets. Nicholas just takes him back into his mouth. “Fuck, Nichol, that’s,”
If Nicholas makes a noise in response, Euijoo doesn’t hear it. Instead he just moans when Nicholas starts bobbing his head, swirling his tongue around the tip of it as he does, curling his toes into the sheets. Holy shit.
His hands scramble to grab hold of something, anything, as Nicholas takes him deeper. He settles for sinking his fingers into the sheets, while his other hand finds its way to Nicholas’ hair — threading his shaking fingers into the curly strands of hair. Nicholas makes a noise in approval around his cock, leaving for the sound of it to vibrate around him.
Nicholas usually hates it whenever someone touches his hair. That part of him doesn’t translate into the bedroom, it would seem. Shit. Euijoo is learning so many new things about him today.
And he wasn’t lying when he said he’d make Euijoo feel good, either, because Euijoo is feeling good — really fucking good, at that, better than any other time he’s gotten head. There haven't been many moments where that has happened, but still enough for him to be able to say that yeah. This is by far the best head he’s ever gotten. The best head he ever will get, unless Nicholas wants to suck him again some other time, then maybe there’ll be times even better than th–
Nicholas pulls off, just for a moment, to lick against the pad of his thumb. Euijoo glances down at him, only catching his lingering tongue before his hand disappears back between his legs, then he’s back to sucking him off.
Euijoo is just about to part his lips, to tell him how good he feels, how hot he is, how much he loves him, when he feels it.
A cold touch to the inside of his thigh, trailing lower until it’s lingering right by his ass. Nicholas hums around him as he slightly tenses up, a silent attempt as saying relax, I got you — before he trails his thumbs down across his hole.
Euijoo shivers at the feeling, stomach tensing up. It’s cold from the saliva Nicholas has left to linger against the pad of it, yet Euijoo can’t bring himself to care as Nicholas presses it against his hole. It’s by no means hard enough for it to penetrate him, but it’s more than enough for Euijoo to feel that he is, in fact, there.
He looks up at Euijoo through hooded eyes as he draws light circles over it, spreading the saliva across it. Euijoo just stares down at him with parted lips, like he’s about to say something, yet nothing comes out. Okay? Nicholas doesn’t ask where he still has his lips wrapped around his cock, a question Euijoo hears nonetheless. He swallows around the dryness of his throat, and nods.
Nicholas takes him deeper, lightly gagging around him. His thumb continues drawing light circles over his hole, slow where the pad of it presses against him — still not hard enough for it to actually slip inside, more so just to work Euijoo open. Loosen him up a little. Make it feel good.
And Euijoo feels good, alright — so good he thinks he might come before Nicholas has even gotten properly started, and therefore tugs at the roots of Nicholas’ hair when he takes him all the way down, lightly sinking his teeth into the flushed flesh of his cock.
“Oh,” he chokes out, body twitching as Nicholas applies the slightest bit of pressure against this hole. The saliva has mostly dried up now, allowing for him to feel just how calloused the pad of Nicholas thumb is where it’s pressing against him, threatening to slip inside. “Shit, Nichol,”
Euijoo just pushes his hips down, hoping it’ll be enough for the tip of it to finally slip inside. Nicholas lightly gags around him as he does, the movement accidentally forcing his cock further down his throat — then allows for the tip of his thumb to slip past the tight ring of muscles.
Here’s the thing: Euijoo likes pain. Especially during sex. He likes the edge it brings him, that silver of something, mixing together with the pleasure. It doesn’t matter what it is, if it’s nails digging into the skin of his back or a pair of teeth sinking into the skin by his thigh. In the end, it causes electricity to jolt up his spine, momentarily bringing him out of his fuzzy state of mind, allowing him to fully relish in it.
Right now, that electricity that shoots up his spine with such force he almost tastes it. He doesn’t mean to, but can’t stop himself when his hips jerk, pushing himself further down Nicholas’ throat. Nicholas fully gags then, pulling off him with a sharp inhale.
Euijoo glances down at him, ready to apologize, when Nicholas moans.
“Fuck, Euijoo,” he groans, fist coming down to jerk him off. It’s faster now, a little more desperate. His thumb remains still where the tip of it now sits inside of him, nothing more than a reminder that he’s there. “Fuck, you’re so fucking hot,”
“Nichol,” Euijoo mewls, fucking up into his fist. All his shame went out the window the second Nicholas slipped inside of him, therefore he doesn’t care when it comes out sounding a little wet with urgency. “Yixiang, I–”
“Yeah?” Nicholas pants, licking at the corner of his lips. There’s saliva glistening all the way down to his chin, now. Euijoo wants to lean down and lick it off. “You feeling good, Juju?”
“So good,” Euijoo confirms, moaning when Nicholas tightens his grip around his cock. He’s almost being a little mean with it, now. “Fuck, too good,”
Nicholas hums, a low tremble that gets left to vibrate throughout the room. Euijoo thinks he might pass out before he even gets to come.
“I told you I’d make you feel good,” he mumbles, leaning down to lick at the tip of his cock. He’s slowly moving his thumb now, too, lightly fucking the tip of it in and out of him. Teasing him. Making Euijoo wither with want. “You need to have a little more faith in me, Euijoo.”
I never said you wouldn’t, Euijoo wants to say — but then Nicholas is pressing the entirety of his thumb inside of him, forcing past the tight ring of muscles until it’s fully seated inside of him, leaving for a sharp pain to shoot up his spine and–
Euijoo comes.
It happens faster than he’d like, but he can’t help it when suddenly Nicholas is right there, both around him and inside of him. It hits him hard and fast, washing over him in strong waves as he chases after Nicholas’ fist, still fucking it into when spurts of cum comes down to land against both his stomach and Nicholas’ fingers.
There’s a string of nonsense none of them can make out spilling past his lips as he does, a bunch of Yixiang’s and fuck’s and I love you’s morphing together until it’s nothing but unrecognizable rambling. Nicholas seems to hear it nonetheless, and mumbles a soft, “I love you, too.”
Euijoo can’t decipher what feels better, Nicholas telling him he loves him or coming so hard he thinks he might pass out.
Nicholas slowly slips his thumb out of him, leaving him feeling oddly empty as he lets go of his cock to climb back on top of him. Euijoo just pants where he lies against the sheets, blinking up at the ceiling when Nicholas places one hand against the side of his jaw.
”Euijoo, baby,” he mumbles once he’s back to hovering above him. ”Why are you crying?”
Euijoo blinks. He didn’t even realize that he was, fingers shakily coming up to feel the skin of his cheeks. The wetness he’s met with confirms that he was, in fact, crying, a salty taste left to drip onto the corner of his mouth.
He wipes at his now wet cheeks, letting out a breathy laugh. It comes out sounding a little shaky. ”It’s stupid,”
”No,” Nicholas says, dragging a thumb across the flushed skin of his cheek. Eyes him from where he’s hovering above him. “Don’t say that. What’s wrong, baby? Did you not like it?”
Something inside of Euijoo twists at the sound of his voice. He sounds uncertain, scared almost. Like he really believes Euijoo didn’t like it. “No,” he’s quick to say, shaking his head against Nicholas’ gentle embrace. “Fuck, that was like– the best thing ever, Nichol. I haven’t come that hard, ever,”
A faint smile twitches onto Nicholas’ lips. Euijoo wants to reach up and press a kiss against them. “I’m glad,” he mumbles, running the pad of his thumb across his lip. It tastes like cum and salt. “But that doesn’t explain why you’re crying, Juju.”
Euijoo sucks a shuddering breath through his nose. He hates this. He doesn’t want to be crying, not right now. Not ever. He’s sick of crying. He has Nicholas here, with him, above him, so why is he crying?
”I’m, like,” he shakily says. He tries covering it up with an equally shaky attempt at a laugh. ”Really scared you won’t be here when I wake up.”
Because that’s what it all boils down to in the end, Euijoo’s fear of waking up tomorrow and finding himself right back where he started. He’s managed to push it away for the entirety of the time he’s spent with Nicholas, but somewhere, it must’ve started seeping back. Tainting his brain an ugly color of grey, blocking everything else out.
Back to his phone buzzing against his chest, back to waking up to an oddly cold room. Earlier today, he wouldn’t have minded. Before all of this happened, back when there was nothing really waiting for him tomorrow other than the same Friday he’s lived through more times than he can count — something there now is.
He’s scared that he’ll wake up tomorrow, and all of this will have been for nothing. That the world will reset once again, and Euijoo will be left alone with the knowledge that he once had Nicholas, and now he no longer does. That he’ll wake up to find Nicholas nowhere to be found, back in his own room, unaware of how Euijoo feels. He wouldn’t survive that. He just wouldn't.
“Who do you take me for?” Nicholas laughs, leaning down to kiss the new set of tears that have dared fall away. “Of course I’ll be here, Juju. It’s not like I’m going to run away,”
“I know,” Euijoo chokes out, voice wet with unshed tears. “I know, it’s just,”
“Juju,” Nicholas hums, kissing his cheek. “Euijoo,” another kiss, this time by his jaw. “My Euijoo,” another soft kiss. ”I’ll be here. I promise I will. You’re not getting rid of me, not now, not ever. I’m here to stay, okay? Shit, you’d have to kill me if you wanted to get rid of me, which I know you're incapable of, so by all means, you’re not getting rid of me,”
It’s nothing but a lingering promise pressed against the skin by his ear, yet it makes Euijoo cry even harder. He thinks there might be laugh bubbling out of him, too, but he can’t be sure over the tears that refuse to stop falling. Nicholas just coos, wiping them away even when there’s new ones falling.
“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, hand coming up to wipe at his eyes. “I’m just emotional, I think, I didn’t mean to ruin the moment like that,”
Nicholas scoffs, although it comes out sounding warm. Not mocking, just warm. Kind. Understanding. “You didn’t ruin anything, Juju. I really liked that. Did you?”
Euijoo nods. “I loved that, Nichol. I’d love to do it again sometime, if you’re up for it,”
Nicholas swats him on the chest. Euijoo flashes him a wobbly smile. “Why are you talking about it like it’s some sort of business meeting? Stop, you’re ruining the mood,”
“I’m sorry,” Euijoo offers, sniffling. He glances down between their bodies, sinking his teeth into the flesh of his bottom lip before rolling his eyes back to look at Nicholas. He must look ridiculous, but he doesn’t care. His fingers come sup to lightly ghost down his sides, watching as Nicholas shivers above him. “Which, speaking of which, do you want me t–”
“Don’t,” Nicholas cuts him off, shaking his head. Drags his palm across Euijoo’s forehead, pushing his hair back and away from his face. “There’s no need.”
Euijoo frowns. “I want to, though,” he says, hooking his fingers into the belt loops of Nicholas’ jeans. “I’m sorry, did I ruin it by crying? I’m sorry, Nichol, I didn’t–”
“I already came, Juju,” Nicholas mumbles, leaning down to press a lingering kiss against the corner of his mouth. Oh. “You didn’t ruin anything. I just don’t think I have another one within me right now,”
“You came?” Euijoo asks, a little shocked. He’s pretty sure he would’ve noticed if Nicholas came. When would he have done that, anyways? Euijoo hasn’t even touched him, yet. “When? How?”
Nicholas shrugs where he hangs above him, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I like giving head.”
Holy shit, Euijoo thinks. Holy fucking shit. Nicholas just fiddles with the earring pierced through the lobe of Euijoo’s ear, and all Euijoo can think is: I love you.
And so he says. “I love you,” he blurts out. Honest. Brutally so. “I love you, Nicholas, I love you so fucking much,”
Nicholas rolls his eyes to meet his gaze, smile growing tenfold once their eyes meet. He wraps his fingers around his jaw, forcing him closer to his lips before he whispers, “I love you too, Euijoo. So much. More than you’ll ever know.”
This time, it’s Euijoo closing the distance between them, slotting their lips together. Nicholas practically melts into it, mewling into it as Euijoo fiddles to place a hand behind his neck, keeping him in place. Like he’s scared he’s going to disappear. Slip out of his grip, leave and never come back.
After a moment, Nicholas pulls away. “C’mon,” he grunts, pressing one final kiss against his lips before struggling to sit back up. “Let’s clean up. I feel disgusting.”
Euijoo hums, idly watching as Nicholas stretches his back out. He takes in the smooth skin of his stomach as he does, fingers reaching out to trace against it. He’s allowed to do that now, therefore he does. Can you blame him? “You wanna shower?”
Nicholas climbs off him with an aspirated huff, struggling to stand up straight. His legs must be killing him, Euijoo figures, from sitting back on them for too long. He feels a little bad now. Maybe he should be on top next time. “With you, yeah. Not on my own.”
“Who do you take me for,” Euijoo scoffs, sitting up on his arms. Nicholas is already stripping, pulling at the legs of his pants. Euijoo stares for a moment longer than needed. “Of course I’m showering with you, stupid.”
“Well, doesn’t look like it,” Nicholas bites, raising a brow at him and his spread out form. “C’mon, up,”
Euijoo just grins as he extends one of his hands, allowing for Nicholas to pull him back to his feet. They’re both half naked, now. Euijoo just leans down and kisses him. He’s never felt so content in his entire life.
Moments later, once they find themselves huddled up in his shower, Euijoo jerks Nicholas off until he comes. He did have another one in him, as it turns out — and so did Euijoo apparently, because moments later, he’s the one coming over the white tiles, quivering beneath the harsh stream of water. Nicholas is right there to kiss it away.
He finds his place in the crook of Nicholas' neck once they find their way back to bed, hooking their legs together. Nicholas whispers something he doesn’t quite catch into the dampness of his hair, sealing it off with a kiss pressed against the crown of his head. Whatever he says, he must really mean it, Euijoo figures.
When he eventually succumbs to the tiredness clinging onto his limbs, it’s with a hopeful heart.
May tomorrow come, and maybe Nicholas be there with him, he thinks.
___
The first thing Euijoo notices when his eyes flutter open is how warm everything feels.
The sun is peeking through the blinds, casting a warm hue across the bed. He squints at it, grunting at the intensity of it before turning around with a huff. He buries his head into the pillow, hoping it’ll shield him from the warmth. He’s too tired to deal with that right now. Shit, he should really get a new pair of blinds, ones that block out the sun a little better and doesn’t disrupt his sleep and–
And there’s no phone buzzing against his ribcage.
He blinks. Twists back around so that he’s lying on his back again, hands instinctively reaching down to search for it. Pats them down the front of his chest. Drags them down the sheets, runs them along the spring between the bed and the mattress.
It’s not here.
He blinks. Again. Lolls his head to the side, staring up at the drawer beside his bed.
There it is, dark and plugged into the charger. Euijoo just blinks. Again. And again. Did he–
“Juju?” Someone mumbles beside him, voice ragged with sleep. Familiar. A voice Euijoo has heard so many times before. Oh my god, Euijoo thinks. “Why are you– fuck, it’s bright,”
Oh my fucking god, Euijoo thinks. Oh my fucking god. He lolls his head back to the side, still blinking away the blurriness of his eyes when he comes face to face with a half-asleep Nicholas, squinting at him where he lies buried beneath the sheets. His hair is all messed up, now, the soft curls of it nothing more than unruly waves where they spill across the pillow; looking so beautiful Euijoo could throw up.
Which he might, by the way, because oh my god. Oh my god. He reaches for his phone, harshly tugging at the charger until it pulls out with a quiet pop, before bringing the now lit screen to his face.
9:10 AM, the clock reads. Just above it, today’s date sits.
Saturday, June 6th.
Euijoo doesn’t know whether to cry or laugh at the complete and utter disbelief that bubbles up his throat, tainting his otherwise grey ribcage with a vibrant mix of colors he’s never known before. It feels a little overwhelming, yet he can’t it within himself to care.
“Oh,” Nicholas grunts beside him, flipping over to lie on his back. Drags a hand through the unruly curls. “I plugged it in for you last night. I know you don’t like charging it while you’re sleeping, but it was almost dead so I thought I’d–”
Euijoo lets the phone bounce down onto the floor and turns around to kiss him.
Nicholas makes a surprised noise in the back of his throat, fingers coming up to wrap around Euijoo’s wrists where he’s now grabbing hold of his face. He goes to twist his head, to get away from Euijoo’s firm grip, but Euijoo doesn’t care. He just kisses him harder, a firm press of their lips — sinking his fingers into the hair behind his ears.
“Juju,” he laughs when Euijoo refuses to pull away, placing kiss after kiss against his chapped lips. “Juju, what are you–”
“You’re here,” Euijoo breathes as he pulls away, just enough to be able to trace his eyes down Nicholas’ face. His cheeks are a little squished together, his lips forming into a small pout where Euijoo has his cheeks between the palms of his hands. His eyes are still clouded with sleep, gaze heavy where he squints up at him. He’s here. He’s really here. “You’re still here,”
Nicholas huffs, pulling at his wrists. Euijoo still doesn’t let go. “I told you I would be,” he grunts, finally wriggling out of Euijoo’s firm grip. “You really think I’d get up to leave at, what– ass o’clock in the morning?”
Euijoo doesn’t respond, and instead lets his hand fall down to cup the sides of his neck instead. He feels his pulse beneath the palm of hand, a steady beat where it sits beneath his warm skin. Euijoo can’t believe he’s really here.
He can’t believe it’s not fucking Friday.
He dips down, burying his head in the crook of Nicholas’ neck. He smells faintly of Euijoo’s body wash and the laundry detergent he uses, mixed with the tiniest bit of sweat. He drags his nose along the curve of it, deeply inhaling. His hands are slightly shaking where they glide down to rest around his waist instead, pulling him impossibly closer.
Nicholas just laughs when his hands come up to tangle themselves into Euijoo’s hair, lightly tugging at it. “Stop, you’re being weird,”
“‘M not,” Euijoo mumbles against his skin, wondering if Nicholas can pick up on the relief behind his ragged voice. If he, too, feels just as happy to have Euijoo here. “Just happy you’re here.”
“Where else would I be, huh?” Nicholas hums, grazing his nails against his scalp. Euijoo sinks his finger further into the skin of his stomach, feeling the dips of his ribs. Nicholas huffs when it tickles. Sighs. “Let’s go back to sleep, it’s too early,”
“I love you,” Euijoo blurts out, craning his neck just enough for Nicholas to be able to see his face. He’s faintly smiling, now. Soft and warm. So Euijoo says it again. “I love you. I love you so much, Nicholas,”
“I know,” Nicholas hums, smile growing just the tiniest bit bigger. “You told me like, ten billion times yesterday,”
“Yeah, but I need you to like, really know,” Euijoo mumbles, dragging his thumb across the smooth skin of his stomach, relishing in the shaky breath it pulls out of Nicholas. “That I mean it. I really mean it, Nichol.”
He just shudders when Nicholas’ hand slips out of his hair and ghosts down the side of his face, gently cupping it. Drags a thumb across his cheek, dips the pad of his thumb into the skin, pressing down just hard enough for Euijoo to know that he’s there, listening. Euijoo wants to lean into it and stay there for all eternity.
“I know,” Nicholas says, softer. Warmer. Like he really means it. “I love you, too. You know I do.”
Something warm licks up Euijoo’s spine, rooting itself into place. Euijoo a week ago would have a difficult time believing him, ridden by something bitter and dark and just impossible to get past. It’s been with him for so long, that bitterness, that it should feel weird to not have it sitting inside his chest anymore, but it doesn’t.
No, if anything, Euijoo barely notices that it has, in fact, started to disperse. Instead it gets replaced by something warm, something colorful; replacing the previous dull and monotone tones with something so much more lively. Something that makes it easy for him to look at Nicholas and believe him when he says that he does, in fact, love him.
Gosh. Euijoo could write an entire essay about the effects of time and how it works, but no words will ever compare to having to live through it. Time, and its strange ways of passing. For Euijoo, it’s been passing in a different way, but it has still passed nonetheless; and with it, it has changed Euijoo.
Something the warmth blooming up his spine proves. Euijoo a week ago would’ve laughed you in the face if you told him he’d be here, with Nicholas, bare and naked. Euijoo now, however?
Euijoo now melts into it. Bathes in the knowledge that he’s here, alive and breathing. In the knowledge that time is still passing, it hasn’t stopped, nor does he think it ever will. It has a weird way of working, sure, but not once has it stopped. Just repeated, bent in ways that shouldn’t be possible, but not stopped.
Not even when he has Nicholas beside him, tired and sweaty from the summer heat and just here, does it stop. Euijoo a week ago would’ve begged it to, to let him bask in this moment for a while longer. Euijoo now just embraces it.
Wraps an arm around Nicholas’ waist, presses a firm palm against the middle of his back. Splays his fingers across it, feels his lung expand when he inhales. Feels the heat radiating off him. Feels his breath fan across his face when he exhales, sees the crack that runs along the middle off his bottom lip where he has them parted.
He doesn’t even have to reach up to kiss him. Nicholas does all the work for him, raising his head just enough for their lips to slot together
It’s a soft thing, the way their lips press together. Nicholas sinks his fingers into his hair as they do, nothing more than a light grip where they brush against his scalp — as to say I’m here, I’m not going anywhere. Euijoo just sinks the tips of his fingers into the skin of his back in response, hoping it’ll relay the very same message.
For a long time, that’s all they do. Kiss, slowly so, letting the passage of time pass them by. None of them try to deepen it, letting it stay as nothing but a wet and slow dance of their lips, pulling away every now and then to shakily inhale against kissbitten lips before pressing them back together.
Euijoo’s content that way. Happy, even. Happier than he’s ever been before, to be honest; content with what they have. He doesn’t long for more, at least not right now, and instead just takes what he’s given.
Nicholas, that is. God, how weird is that? Euijoo, getting to have Nicholas like this. He doesn’t want to think about it for too long, mostly out of fear that he’ll start crying again and scare Nicholas off, but also because he’s just so content with how things are.
(He wouldn’t scare Nicholas away. Nicholas would reach up, wipe his tears away, and tell him it’s okay to cry. He’s always been a little like that, encouraging Euijoo to feel what he feels. It just took a while for Euijoo to hear him and actually listen.)
When they eventually part, it’s with swollen lips and cloudy eyes. Nicholas looks a little more awake now where he lies, although his eyes are still swollen with interrupted sleep — still slightly squinting from the sun shining through the window. Euijoo would turn it off if he could. Make it go away, for Nicholas’ sake.
He can’t do that, though, and therefore settles for what he can. His hand comes up to push the messy curls of hair away from his face, letting it linger by his forehead to shield his eyes.
“You know,” Nicholas eventually mumbles, mindlessly tracing circles onto the skin of Euijoo’s cheek. “I was pretty offended by your assumption.”
Euijoo hums, coming down to nip at his bottom lip. “What assumption?”
“You know,” Nicholas hums back at him, pulling away so that Euijoo can’t reach him and his swollen lips. Euijoo almost chases after him. “The one where you assumed that I was dating Ricky.”
Euijoo blinks, then groans. Nicholas just laughs when he falls back against his side of the bed with a huff. “This is, like, the worst possible moment for you to bring up Ricky,”
“Why? Did you actually think I was seeing him?” Nicholas says, following him to the other side. Splays one hand across his chest, grins down at him. Euijoo just huffs.
“Well, yeah,” Euijoo mumbles, fighting the urge to wipe the stupid smile decorating Nicholas’ lips away. “I wouldn’t say I did if I didn’t, stupid.”
“Why, though? I never said we were dating,” Nicholas says, watching his fingers where they trail up and down Euijoo’s ribs. It slightly tickles. Euijoo does everything not to jolt at the feeling. “We’re just friends, y’know.”
“How was I supposed to know that, though?” Euijoo huffs. “You never told me otherwise.”
“Was I supposed to?” Nicholas huffs. “What, do you think I date every new person I bring into my life?”
“Of course not,” Euijoo mumbles, gesturing with his hands. “It’s just, the way you look at him,”
“Look at him?” Nicholas laughs. A new wave of warmth blooms inside Euijoo’s chest at the sound. “What does that even mean?”
“Just, the way you handle him,” Euijoo continues, still waving with his hands, trying to paint a picture that doesn't exist. “Talk to him, touch him. Just all of it. I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have assumed, I just–”
“Touch him? Oh my god, Euijoo,” Nicholas cuts him off, voice filled to the brim with disbelief and amusement mixed together. His hand comes down to shove at the sheets, peeling them off him before swinging one knee over his lap. “You can’t be serious,”
Euijoo just huffs, a steady flush spreading across his chest and up his neck as his hands come down to rest against Nicholas’ thighs where he’s now seated on top of him; both hands planted by his head. “Nichol,”
“Were you jealous?” Nicholas grins where he’s hanging above him, grinning. Menancingly so.
“Nichol,” Euijoo groans, again, feeling the flush spread all the way up to his ears. He hates this. He hates Nicholas. “Don’t,”
“You were, weren’t you?” Nicholas pokes, sitting back on his legs. Places one hand back against Euijoo’s chest, feels the warmth of his skin. Digs his nails into it. “Do you get jealous of all my friends, Euijoo?”
Euijoo sucks a shuddering breath through his teeth at the feeling. Shit. “No,” he mumbles, scared to look down at where Nicholas has his nails digging into his skin. “Just Ricky.”
Nicholas hums, trailing his hand back up his chest before it comes to rest against the pillow. “Well,” he says, dragging it out a little as he props himself up, hovering above Euijoo once more. Euijoo thinks he might die if he doesn’t kiss him within the next five seconds. “I can’t have that.”
“You can’t?” Euijoo breathes, eyes trailing down to watch where their bodies connect. They’re both naked, he remembers, something the heavy weight pressing against his abdomen proves. Warm and thick.
Nicholas shakes his head, tongue coming out to wet his lips. “No,” he hums, so close that Euijoo can feel it where it fans across his chin. “You wanna make it up to me?”
Euijoo just nods, maybe a little too eagerly. So sue him. “Yeah,” he says, heavy despite the airiness of it. “Fuck, yeah,”
Nicholas dips down just enough for his lips to brush against Euijoo’s own, lightly nipping at the flesh of it. Fuck what Euijoo said earlier. About being content and whatnot. He’s not content. Not in the slightest. Not anymore.
Now, he wants.
“C’mon then,” Nicholas breathes against his lips. “Make it up to me, Juju.”
For the first time in many days, Euijoo is no rush to get the morning over with as he grabs hold of Nicholas’ neck and forces their lips together.
Nicholas just mewls into his mouth as his hand slip lower.
___
As it turns out, graduating is nothing special. Not that Euijoo ever expected anything less.
Still, part of him expected for it to at least feel a little more exciting. Freeing, even, finally being free of the burden that is college — knowing that yeah, he did that. Which he did, by the way, he really did do that; it just feels a little more … monotone, than he expected.
He takes his final exam on Monday. Aces it, of course (He thanks the many mornings spent at Yudai’s house, staring at the same stupid document for that) — and still flips the door off on his way out, just for the sake of it. He then gets the result a mere two days later, gets showered in kisses and you did it’s by Nicholas; then gets fucked so hard he cries against the keyboard of his laptop, the result still pulled up on the screen of it. A final fuck you, really.
The rest of the week passes by in a blur. Suddenly, it's back to being Friday, and suddenly Euijoo is one major and an honor richer — because apparently he didn’t just do that, he really fucking did that. Yeah. Graduated with honors, baby. That’s Byun Euijoo for you.
Right now, he’s standing in the parking lot outside of his college– old college, thank you very much, desperately trying to fight off Yudai’s cradling hands.
He can’t say he’s particularly succeeding. “I can’t believe it,” Yudai blabbers where he has his arms wrapped around him, holding him in place. Euijoo just huffs. “Honors, Euijoo, oh my god, do you even know how insane that is,”
Yeah, Euijoo thinks. He kind of does. He just can’t bring himself to care, at least not right now. It’ll probably hit him later, once he’s back home and calling his parents who couldn’t be here; but for now, it’s still just floating around inside of him, still settling.
He would’ve seen it coming, had he looked at his GPA. He just never did. Why, he doesn’t know; out of fear, maybe. Of not succeeding. Of disappointing himself. There was nothing to be afraid of, of course (just look at his diploma), but still. Euijoo’s always been like that. Scared of things that he can’t predict.
In the corner of his eye, he can see Nicholas lingering. He’s shadowboxing with Maki, looking so stupid it makes Euijoo feel a little sick as he raises his hands over his face and pretends to block Maki’s flimsy moves. Still, he grins.
He can’t wait to get back home. He has a dinner to attend before that, and then a party, but still. Once it’s all over and done, he can’t wait to go home and cuddle up beneath his sheets. Put a movie on, let the night pull over him like a big, warm blanket. Sleep for the next foreseeable future, never leave the house until he has to. Just him, his bed, and the silence of his apartment.
And Nicholas, of course.
Always Nicholas. “I’m so proud, you’re so cool, Euijoo, the fucking coolest,”
Euijoo just grunts as Yudai presses a wet kiss against his cheek, feigning faux disgust as he finally manages to pull away. “Yeah, whatever,” he groans, wiping at the now wet skin. Yudai just coos at him in response. “Jesus,”
“What?” Yudai hums, fingers still lingering by his face. Euijoo swats them away before they have the chance to grab onto it again. “Can’t I express my love anymore?”
“You can,” Euijoo scoffs, tightening his grip around his diploma where it presses against his chest. It’s slowly starting to settle, now. The fact that it’s real. That it’s all over. “Not just like that. Why does Fuma even put up with y–”
“Alright,” someone sing-songs beside them, placing a firm palm over Euijoo’s shoulder. “Fun’s over, go bother someone else. I want to congratulate my boyfriend. Alone,”
Euijoo doesn’t have to twist his head to know who it is, yet he does anyways. Of course he does. Who is he to pass up on an opportunity to look at Nicholas?
In front of him, Yudai snorts. Takes a step back, waving his hand in the air. “Whatever. You guys disgust me, anyways,”
“That’s not what you said two days ago,” Nicholas yells after him when he turns on his heels, heading back to where the rest stands a little further away. Euijoo bites back the grin threatening to twitch onto his lips as Nicholas’ hand slips lower, finding its place against the small of his back. “Man, who does he think he is,”
Euijoo just hums as he twists around, fully facing him. He’s grinning despite the bitterness lingering behind his words, shaking his head where he has his gaze trained on Yudai’s retreating figure. Euijoo places his hand against his chest, feels the steady beat of his heart.
“Hi,” he says, a little shy when Nicholas looks back at him. Nicholas’ grin grows tenfold, grip tightening where it resides against the small of his back.
“Hi,” he breathes back, far from shy. Excited. Happy. “Crazy day, huh? How do you feel?”
A sigh leaves Euijoo’s lips, nothing but a shallow exhale into the thick summer air. How does he feel? “I don’t know,” he mumbles, fingers mindlessly toying with the necklace hanging off Nicholas’ neck. “Weird?”
“Tell me about it,” Nicholas snorts, gaze trailing down to look where Euijoo’s fingers fiddle with the silver pendant. “It’s a good type of weird, though, right? Not bad one?”
“I think so? I don’t know,” Euijoo shrugs. “I think I just need time to process it. That it’s all over, you know? That I’ll have to get a job, now. A real one. Shit, Nichol, I don’t want to get a job,”
Nicholas chuckles in front of him, hand coming up to wrap around Euijoo’s fidgeting fingers. Brings them down his side. Intertwines their fingers together.
“Nobody does, baby,” he hums, offering his hand a light squeeze. Euijoo just watches where they hang limply down their side, nibbling on his bottom lip. “C’mon, up here,”
He taps his thumb against the back of his hand, urging Euijoo to look up at him. And so he does, just to be met with the widest smile he thinks he’s ever seen Nicholas wear. “That’s okay, though. We’ll figure something out. Right?”
We, something echoes in the back of Euijoo’s head. It still feels a little weird, referring to them as we. Not Euijoo and Nicholas, as two separate things, no. Just them. As one. Birds of a feather, really. Always meant to be one, never separated. It just took a while for them to get there.
Now that they have, however, Euijoo wouldn’t have it any other way. Part of him thinks it’s always been them, they’ve just been too blind to see it until now. Now that they have, neither of them are willing to look away.
Warmth swells inside of him, like it so often does whenever he looks at Nicholas. He wears his hair down today, straight — barely styled despite the occasion. Euijoo doesn’t mind. He’s always liked him better like that anyways, when he’s just Nicholas. No make up, no hairspray, no nothing. Just Nicholas. Yixiang.
His Yixiang. His Yixiang, whom he loves so much he could die.
“Right,” he finds it within himself to breathe, and also finds that he means it. Right. They’ll figure it out. They always do. “We will.”
“Good,” Nicholas hums, tugging him closer. “Honors is crazy, by the way.”
Euijoo just scoffs. “Are you going to kiss me, or are you just here to tell me how insane I am, too?”
“I mean,” Nicholas shrugs, a little sheepish where his hand comes up to rest against Euijoo’s neck. Presses his thumb against his pulse point. A reminder that they’re here, alive. Breathing. Together. Euijoo feels so full of love he thinks he might explode. “I was planning on doing both, but since you’re a–”
Euijoo cuts him off by leaning forward and slotting their lips together. Nicholas just laughs into it, grinning where their lips meet; a grin Euijoo can’t help but reciprocate.
“C’mon,” someone yells somewhere in the background when Nicholas curls his hand around Euijoo’s jaw, keeping him close. Euijoo just hums, content. Utterly so. “Fuck, you can do that later, we have a reservation to catch,”
Nicholas pulls away with a grunt, pressing his forehead against Euijoo’s own. Euijoo wants to chase after him, then realizes that right. They’re in public. All of their friends are watching. They can do this later, when it’s just them again. Still, Euijoo wants to do it now. Fuck, when does he not? “Can’t we just go home?”
Euijoo scoffs when Nicholas’ hand slowly trails lower, reaching down to grab hold of it before it wanders places forbidden. At least right now they are. “No,” he hums, shaking his head. Nicholas just groans. “We will later, though. After dinner.”
“After Dropkick,” Nicholas corrects. “Which is like, a hundred years from now. I can’t wait that long, Juju,”
“We’re going to Dropkick?” Euijoo frowns, pulling away.
Nicholas just nods, tangling their fingers back together. “Yuma’s request, of course. To celebrate his resurrection, or whatever,”
“Didn’t we do that last weekend?”
“No,” Nicholas pointedly says. “That was to celebrate his eventual resurrection. Think of it as Good Friday, while today is Easter. God, do you not listen to what your friends tell you, Euijoo?”
“Good Friday?” Euijoo barks out, voice touching at the edges of laughter. “What do you know about religion, anyways?”
Nicholas just shrugs, grinning where he stands, lightly tugging at his hand. “Not a lot, to be honest. C’mon, lets go before they start throwing rocks at us,”
Euijoo just scoffs and lets himself get dragged along, grinning so hard his cheeks hurt as Nicholas guides them back to their friends. They’re all there, watching with sour faces as they approach, harshly shoving at their shoulders with muffled I wish you never figured anything out’s and when are you going to break up’s spilling past their lips. Nicholas just tightens his grip around Euijoo’s hand and shoves back at them.
Never, he thinks he might catch him saying to Yuma over all the chatter. He’s mine, now.
Euijoo just looks down at their intertwined hands and grins for no one to see. Yeah, he thinks. He likes the sound of that.
From across the parking lot, he spots Ricky. He’s surrounded by people Euijoo doesn’t know, laughing and smiling as they pat him on the back — yet he looks right at Euijoo.
He smiles, and offers him a small wave.
Euijoo smiles back.
___
It’s dark out. The sun has long since settled, leaving for nothing but the distant sound of cars passing by and birds chirping outside the window to be heard.
“Do you believe in time travel?”
Nicholas scoffs where he lies, cheek pressed against Euijoo’s chest. “No. Why?”
Euijoo shrugs. Tangles his fingers further into Nicholas’ matted hair. “I do.”
“You do?”
“Yeah.”
“Explain.”
“What is there to explain?”
“Like,” Nicholas says, gesturing with his hands. “The physics of it. How it’d work. Why you think it’d work.”
Euijoo hums. “I mean, time isn’t linear, right? So technically, it should be possible. Both going back in time and into it. Did you know some people say we’re living in the past, future and present? All at the same time?”
“No,” Nicholas laughs. “I did not know that. How do you know that?”
“Reddit is a weird place.” Euijoo shrugs. “Don’t go there. It’s scary.”
“Roger that,” Silence. “... Would you do it?”
“Do what?”
Nicholas gestures with his hands once more. He does that a lot, Euijoo has noticed. He’s always noticed it, he’s only just admitting to it. “Go back in time.”
Euijoo takes a moment to think about it, even when the answer sits at the tip of his tongue. Runs his fingers through Nicholas’ hair. “No.” He eventually says. Light. Certain.
Nicholas frowns. “Why?”
“Why would I?”
“I mean, isn’t there anything you’d do differently, if given the chance? Like, cheating on a test, or something, if it meant your grades would’ve gone up. Or prevent something embarrassing from happening,”
Euijoo lets out a light scoff. “The answer is still no, Nichol.”
“You’re weird,” Nicholas mumbles against his chest. “Anyone else would’ve said yes, by the way.”
“Well, not me. Would you?”
“Me?”
“Yeah,”
“Mmm,” Nicholas hums. Then, "Probably not.”
“Why?”
Nicholas shrugs. “I’m happy with the way things have played out. I wouldn’t want to change anything.”
“Even if it meant getting something faster?”
“No.”
“Even if it meant getting me faster?”
Nicholas laughs, tilting his head to look up at him. Places a warm palm against the side of his face. Euijoo just grins. “Not even if it meant getting you faster, Juju.”
“Bummer,”
“Not really,” Nicholas shrugs. “It worked out in the end, didn’t it?”
Euijoo exhales. Yeah, he thinks. It did. Somehow, it did. Just look at them now, bare and naked, spread out across Euijoo’s sheets. Just them, and the darkness of the night. Together.
“Yeah,” he eventually breathes. Meets Nicholas’ faint smile with a smile of his own. “It did.”
“Plus,” Nicholas is quick to add, “It’s not like we’re running out of time. We still have tomorrow, and the day after that, to make up for whatever the fuck we were doing before. We don’t need a time machine to make up for lost time, Juju,”
So it would seem, Euijoo thinks when a laugh rumbles through his chest, slipping his fingers out of Nicholas’ hair just to grab hold of his jaw so that he can kiss him. So it would seem.
It’s funny. Euijoo briefly thinks as their lips slot together, how time works. Maybe one day he’ll understand, but that day isn’t today. Time will still pass, even if Euijoo doesn't understand how or why, and they will still be them. Euijoo and Nicholas. Nicholas and Euijoo. Just the two of them, going through the motions of the world, together.
Always together.