Gyuvin walked through the streets, his hands in his pockets, his thoughts circling back to the morning. The way Ricky had looked at him before walking awayâsharp, disappointedâlingered in his mind, making his stomach twist. He knew he messed up. Knew he had to make it right. But how?
As he turned a corner, something caught his eyeâa jewelry shop, its display glittering under the soft evening lights.
Ricky loves jewelry.
Without thinking twice, Gyuvin stepped inside.
The store was sleek and quiet, glass cases filled with silver and gold, rings and chains reflecting the dim, warm lighting. A consultant approached, smiling politely.
"Looking for something specific?"
Gyuvin hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Yeah... it's for someone. He likes silver. Edgy, but not too much. Somethingâ" He paused, trying to find the right word. "Something that suits him."
The consultant nodded knowingly and started showing him optionsâbold chains, intricate rings, a few statement pieces. But nothing felt right.
Gyuvin frowned, shaking his head at each one. Too bulky. Too plain. Too much.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw it.
A silver necklace, delicate, with a thin, refined chain that led to a small, crescent moon pendant. It wasn't overly detailed, just a sleek curve of polished silver, but it caught the light in a way that made it look almost aliveâlike a sliver of moonlight resting on the skin.
Something about it felt perfect.
"I'll take this one," he said without hesitation.
As the consultant packed it up, Gyuvin ran his fingers over the cool metal one last time, imagining how it would look on Ricky's skin.
This was it. His way of making things right.
Or at least, he hoped so.
Gyuvin stood at Ricky's doorstep, heart pounding with anticipation. He clutched the small gift bag in his hand, ready to apologize, ready to fix everything. He had spent the entire walk over rehearsing what he would sayâhow he'd explain, how he'd make Ricky smile again.
The door opened.
Ricky stood there, but something was off.
His hair was slightly messy, like he had been running his hands through it too many times. His eyes were red, puffy, like he had been crying.
Gyuvin's smile wavered instantly. "Ricky?"
Ricky didn't answer at first. He blinked at Gyuvin, slow and tired, before stepping aside to let him in without a word.
Gyuvin hesitated before stepping in, his stomach twisting uncomfortably. "Hey... Iâ"
"I know," Ricky interrupted, voice quiet.
Gyuvin stopped. "You know what?"
Ricky sighed, rubbing at his temple as he walked further inside. "The messages."
Gyuvin's breath hitched. "What messages?" he tried.
Ricky let out a hollow chuckle. "Don't do that." His voice wasn't sharp or angry. It was calm. Controlled. But that somehow made it worse.
Gyuvin swallowed. "Ricky, Iâ"
"You think I wouldn't figure it out?" Ricky finally looked at him, eyes unreadable. "You think I wouldn't notice?"
Gyuvin suddenly felt too warm. "I was justâ"
Ricky didn't yell. He didn't accuse. He didn't even sound angry. Instead, he just let out a quiet sigh, shaking his head. "I don't even know what to say to you right now."
That was worse. That was so much worse.
Gyuvin felt his stomach twist. "I didn't meanâ"
"You didn't mean what?" Ricky asked, tilting his head slightly. "Didn't mean to ruin things? Didn't mean to lie? Didn't mean to make me look like a complete idiot?"
Gyuvin clenched his jaw. "It wasn't like that."
"Then what was it like?" Ricky asked.
Gyuvin opened his mouth, then shut it. He didn't have an answer. At least, not one that wouldn't make him sound even worse.
Ricky let out another soft, almost tired laugh before shaking his head. "God, I really was so stupid, huh?"
"Ricky, stopâ"
"No, really." Ricky exhaled slowly, looking past Gyuvin toward the window. "I actually thought we were something real. That I could trust you."
Gyuvin's chest tightened painfully. "You can."
Ricky finally looked back at him. "Can I?"
The silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.
Gyuvin wanted to reach for him. To grab his hands, to tell him he was sorry, to fix everything. But Ricky just stared at him, waiting for an answer that Gyuvin didn't have.
Gyuvin exhaled shakily, his grip tightening around the small gift bag. "I got you something," he said suddenly, voice quieter.
Ricky's expression didn't change. "What?"
Gyuvin hesitated before holding out the bag. "It's... a necklace."
Ricky didn't take it. He just stared at it, then at Gyuvin. "You think a necklace is going to fix this?"
Gyuvin's stomach sank. "No, I justâ"
Ricky exhaled slowly, stepping back. "Wait here."
Gyuvin frowned. "Rickyâ"
Ricky disappeared into the other room without another word. Gyuvin stood there, gripping the necklace bag, heartbeat thudding in his ears. He didn't know what was happening, but he knew it wasn't good.
And then Ricky returned. And in his hand was a black bag.
He handed it to Gyuvin without looking at him. "Your stuff."
Gyuvin's throat tightened. "Rickyâ"
"You should go."
Gyuvin stared at him, waiting, searching for something in his expression. Gyuvin felt his fingers curl around the black bag's straps, his chest aching in a way he didn't know how to fix.
He could fight it. He could beg. He could say something, anything, to stop this.
But Ricky had already turned away.
So Gyuvin did the only thing he could.
He left.
Gyuvin stepped into his house and was immediately hit by the familiar scent of home-cooked foodâsomething warm, comforting, and nostalgic. It had been so long since he had come home at a normal hour, since he had been around for dinner. But even now, standing in the hallway, his chest felt tight, his mind replaying Ricky's cold stare, the way he had quietly handed over the black bag without a hint of hesitation.
"Gyuvin?"
His mother's voice pulled him from his thoughts. She stood in the kitchen doorway, looking surprisedâalmost like she wasn't expecting to see him. Which, honestly, made sense. He hadn't exactly been around much lately.
"You're home early," she said, wiping her hands on a towel as she stepped closer. "Everything okay?"
Gyuvin forced a smile, even though it felt unnatural on his face. "Yeah, just... thought I'd come home today."
Her eyes softened, and she reached up, brushing his hair back like she used to when he was a kid. "You barely come home anymore. We've missed you."
Guilt settled heavily in his stomach. He had never really noticed how much time he had spent away. Or maybe he had, but he didn't careânot when being with Ricky felt like the only thing that mattered. And now, standing here, hearing his mom say it outright, it stung in a way he wasn't ready to deal with.
A sudden force slammed into his side, nearly knocking him off balance.
"Gyuvin!"
His little sister clung to him, her small arms wrapped around his waist. He looked down in surprise before ruffling her hair. "Hey, kid. Missed me?"
She pouted up at him. "You never come home anymore! You don't even play with me!"
"Hey, that's not true," he protested, though even as he said it, he realized he didn't actually remember the last time he had spent any real time with her.
His mother sighed, shaking her head. "Let your brother breathe."
He didn't know how to respond, so he did the only thing he could think ofâhe scooped his sister up, spinning her around until she was giggling. "Alright, fine. I owe you some quality time. What do you wanna do?"
Her face lit up. "Can we play a game?"
Gyuvin laughed, setting her down. "Yeah, yeah. Let's do it."
For the next few hours, he let himself get lost in his family again. He played games with his sister, laughed at his mom's nagging about his unhealthy eating habits, even helped set the table for dinner like he used to. And it felt good. Familiar. Safe.
But the moment he was alone in his room, the weight of everything crashed down on him.
He sat on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, his mind replaying the events of the day. Ricky's expression. The way his voice had been so eerily calm, so detached. The black bag. The realization that he had ruined everything.
Gyuvin clenched his jaw, gripping the sheets beneath him. He had been so stupid. Why did he send these messages?
He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair.
All he wanted to do was grab his phone and call Ricky, to apologize, to fix things, to make it all go back to the way it was.
The next morning, Gyuvin woke up to an unfamiliar sense of quiet. No sound of Ricky's voice telling him to get up, no shared scramble to get ready, no stolen kisses before heading out the door. It was just him, in his own bed, in his own home, and for the first time in a long while, everything felt uncomfortably peaceful.
As he sluggishly got out of bed and dressed for school, the house already smelled like breakfast. When he stepped into the kitchen, his mom greeted him with a warm smile, setting a plate of food in front of him.
"I made breakfast for you," she said. "It's probably been a while since you ate properly. You look too skinny."
Gyuvin hesitated before sitting down. There was something in her voiceâsomething gentle, but also filled with meaning. He picked up his chopsticks and started eating, but he couldn't shake the feeling that she had noticed how absent he'd been.
As he ate, his little sister wandered into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes sleepily. The moment she saw him, her face lit up.
"Oppa!" she exclaimed, running over to hug him.
Gyuvin chuckled, ruffling her hair. "Hi, princess!"
After a quiet but comforting meal, he grabbed his bag and left for school.
The moment he arrived, reality hit him hard. His first class of the day had barely started when the teacher called him out.
"Gyuvin, see me after class."
He swallowed and nodded. He already knew what it was about. And sure enough, when he stood in front of the teacher's desk after the bell rang, she wasted no time.
"You haven't submitted your last three assignments," she said sternly, flipping through her papers. "Your last test score was abysmal, and you have another one next week. If this continues and your academic performance will keep declining, I'll have no choice but to involve your parents."
Gyuvin felt a lump in his throat.
"I'll do better," he said before rushing out of the room.
He could feel the weight of everything crashing down on himâthings he hadn't even realized were slipping through his fingers.
His friendships, too, had suffered without him noticing.
During lunch, he hesitated before approaching the table where Gunwook, Junhyeon, and Yujin sat. The moment they noticed him, the conversation briefly died down. It was a beat too long before Gunwook finally spoke.
"Well, well, look who decided to join us today."
"I always sit here," Gyuvin muttered, taking a seat.
"You've been a ghost lately," Junhyeon said with a smirk.
Yujin nodded, leaning forward. "You got kidnapped or something?"
"I've been busy," Gyuvin said, focusing on his food.
Gunwook scoffed. "Busy with what?"
"Just... stuff," he muttered.
Another silence stretched between them. The tension was uncomfortable. He used to fit here so easily, used to banter with them without thinking twice. Now, he wasn't sure what to say.
"Anyway," Yujin finally broke the awkward pause. "We have football practice after school. You coming?"
Gyuvin hesitated. He had skipped so many practices already, he wasn't sure if he'd even be welcomed back.
"Yeah," he said. "I'll go."
Gunwook nearly choked on his drink. "You serious?"
"Since when do you actually come to practice?" Junhyeon added, smirking.
Yujin laughed. "Damn, I guess miracles do happen."
Gyuvin rolled his eyes at their teasing, but he couldn't deny the way his chest felt lighter at their reaction.
After school, he followed them to the field, the familiar scent of grass and the sound of sneakers against turf bringing back memories. As soon as he stepped onto the field, the coach spotted him and immediately called him out.
"Gyuvin! You finally decided to show up, huh?"
He winced. "Uh... yeah?"
"Skipping practices right before the competition?" The coach crossed his arms. "You better make up for it today."
Gyuvin nodded sheepishly. Before he could even process the situation, his teammates surrounded him, patting him on the back, playfully shoving him, and throwing comments his way.
"Damn, look who's back from the dead!"
"Thought you quit on us, man."
"We missed you, dude."
Despite the scolding, despite the teasing, Gyuvin couldn't help but smile. He had missed this tooâmore than he realized. As they started practice, the movement felt natural, his body falling back into rhythm. The drills, the sweat, the adrenalineâit felt good. Like something he had lost and was just now regaining.
By the time they were done, he was exhausted but satisfied. His muscles ached, but in a way that reminded him why he had loved this in the first place.
As they packed up, he turned to his friends and hesitated before speaking. "Wanna walk home together?"
Gunwook, Junhyeon, and Yujin exchanged surprised glances.
"...You actually wanna hang out with us?" Junhyeon asked, half-joking.
Gyuvin rolled his eyes. "Forget it."
"No, no, we're in," Yujin quickly said, grinning.
The four of them walked home together, laughing and joking around like old times. They talked about school, football, and random dumb things, pushing and shoving each other playfully. For the first time in a long time, Gyuvin felt like he belonged again.
When they reached the intersection where
Junhyeon and Yujin had to turn off, they exchanged goodbyes before leaving Gyuvin and Gunwook alone to continue walking.
For a moment, there was silence between them, the lingering echoes of laughter fading.
Then Gunwook sighed. "You know, we were kinda worried about you."
Gyuvin glanced at him. "What?"
"You just... disappeared, man. No explanation, no nothing." Gunwook shoved his hands into his pockets. "It's like you didn't even want to be around us anymore."
Gyuvin hesitated, guilt gnawing at him. "It wasn't like that," he said quietly.
"Then what was it like?"
He didn't have an answer for that. Or maybe he did, but he wasn't ready to say it. Instead, he looked down at his feet as they walked, the weight of everything pressing down on him.
Gunwook didn't push. He just sighed again before clapping a hand on Gyuvin's shoulder. "Whatever it is, just... don't shut us out next time, alright? We're your friends. You don't have to go through stuff alone."
Gyuvin swallowed, something warm settling in his chest. He nodded. "Yeah. Got it."
Gunwook gave him a lopsided grin. "Good. Now let's get home before my mom kills me."
They continued walking, the conversation shifting to something lighter, the tension easing. And as they laughed about something stupid again, Gyuvin realized just how much he had missed thisâmissed them. And despite everything, it felt good to be back.
A few weeks had passed. Life had started to regain some sense of normalcy, or at least that's what Gyuvin told himself.
He had just returned home from a baseball game with Gunwook, Yujin, and Junhyeon. The night had been fun. He felt lighter, in a way he hadn't in months. But beneath that lightness, there was something elseâsomething lingering, something he refused to acknowledge.
As he stepped through the front door, his little sister immediately ran up to him, her face lighting up. "You're home! Mom made your favorite for dinner, but you took too long, so I ate your share."
Gyuvin chuckled, ruffling her hair. "Wow, thanks. Guess I'll just starve then."
She stuck her tongue out at him and ran off, giggling. He shook his head, amused, before making his way to the kitchen, where his mom was cleaning up.
"You're back," she said warmly, setting down a dish. "Did you have fun?"
"Yeah, it was a good game," he replied, slipping off his jacket. Then, with a small, proud smile, he reached into his bag and pulled out a test paper, an 'A' written in red ink at the top. "And, I closed this term without any Cs."
His mom's eyes widened in surprise before she broke into a beaming smile. "Gyuvin! That's amazing!" She took the paper from him, looking at it like it was the most precious thing in the world. "I'm so proud of you."
Before he could protest, she had already stuck it onto the fridge with a magnet. He shook his head but couldn't hide his small smile.
After dinner, he retreated to his room. He was about to collapse onto his bed when his eyes landed on itâthe black bag sitting untouched in the corner. The same bag Ricky had given him the night everything fell apart.
For two weeks, he had ignored it, refused to even look at it longer than a few seconds. But tonight, something in him cracked.
Slowly, he walked over and knelt down, fingers hesitating over the zipper before finally pulling it open.
The scent of Ricky's cologne hit him instantly, sharp and familiar, and for a moment, he closed his eyes, breathing it in. His chest ached. He carefully pulled out his belongingsâfolded clothes, a book, his old braceletâeach item a reminder of the time he had spent in Ricky's space, of the life they had shared.
And then, at the very bottom, beneath everything else, he saw it.
A drawing.
His breath caught in his throat.
It was the garden. The one Ricky had sketched two years ago. The one Gyuvin had returned to him.
His fingers traced the edges as glimpses of their conversation echoed in his mind:
"You said you wanted to go somewhere like this one day. Somewhere quiet, where you could breathe."
Gyuvin's grip tightened around the paper. His heart pounded, his mind spinning.
Before he even realized what he was doing, he was lying on the floor, the drawing in one hand, the sweatshirt he had given Ricky in the other. He buried his face in the fabric, inhaling deeply, desperately, as if trying to hold onto something slipping through his fingers.
His life had improved since they broke up. His grades, his friendships, even his relationship with his familyâeverything had gotten better. But none of it mattered. None of it filled the space Ricky had left.
Because it wasn't just Ricky who was gone. It was the version of himself that existed only in Ricky's presenceâthe one who felt invincible in the dark, who found poetry in silence, who believed, for a fleeting moment, that he was enough to make the world bearable.
He exhaled sharply, sitting up.
Something clicked in his head. He didn't thinkâhe just moved.
Throwing on the hoodie, he grabbed the bag, shoved the drawing and everything else inside, and walked to his door. He cracked it open just enough to call out, "Mom, I'm going to sleep."
"Goodnight, sweetheart," she called back.
He waited a beat, then shut the door and locked it.
Quietly, he climbed onto his desk, pushed open his window, and hoisted himself outside. The night air was cold, biting against his skin, but he barely noticed. His heart was pounding too hard, adrenaline buzzing in his veins.
Because the truth was, peace had never suited him. He didn't need comfort. He didn't need quiet.
He needed Ricky.