Chapter Text
From: [emailprotected]
To: [emailprotected]
Draft #1 — Nishimura Riki November 2024 Spread for Yonsei Weekly
Hi hyung!
Please see attached first draft as requested at the end of August. Please note, it’s only got around two pages of actual information. I’ll complete it by the end of September for proofing before October :]
Regards,
Jungwon
[riki_draft_1.doc] [riki_draft_1.pdf]
Jungwon hyung!
Happy Tuesday! I hope you have a good day! No stress, I figured it would be better to leave these instead of directly texting you and making it awkward if you felt like it was awkward?
I feel like, in my half-asleep, half-awake and drunk on Feeling for Yang Jungwon stupor, I may have made the error of wishing for things I want, which. Not exactly fair, to be honest.
So, because this has been weighing on me since I left last night, here is me rephrasing this, because in no way whatsoever do I wish to pressure you, y’know?
Hyung, will you let me be your boyfriend?
Take breaks! Eat lunch! Don’t overthink! Relax and don’t let them overwork you at your internship. I have practice today, will be back late :(
Tentatively Yours,
Riki 🧡
🏀
Riki-yah,
I truly respect that you don’t want us to speak and the answer will be given to you, as you’ve requested, when we meet again on Friday after practice. In any case, I’m writing you a response and leaving it outside your apartment door because this is really cute!
My heart did a few somersaults; who knew you were such a romanticist at heart, Nishimura Riki?
This reminds me of high school. I’d often see other people passing around paper in class while saem’s back was turned, writing on the whiteboard, as wondered what it would be like to be on the reciprocal end of those teenage love notes. Look at me now, getting my very own love letters—I think younger Jungwon would be impressed that I’ve lived life well enough to have reached this point.
Thank you, Riki. Three weeks may not seem like a lot in the grand scheme of time, but you’ve opened doors to me actively considering living a little different from the sort of strict routine I’ve made myself adhere to.
I’ll miss you a lot this week. Play your KEY album whenever you miss me, alright? You’re a good kind of something, Riki-yah. I’m glad we stumbled upon each other. Right person, wrong place.
This was before.
Now?
Everything feels right where it’s supposed to be.
Have a good day, too!
Love,
Jungwonie hyung 🧡
🏀
To my favorite person!
(Don’t tell Jongseong hyung I called you that, please. He might cry.)
Happy Wednesday, Jungwon hyung!
After being notably dead on my feet after practice, I was honestly so, so happy to come home and find your version of a message in a bottle sitting on the door handle. Hyung’s cute, regardless of whether or not you want to hear it.
For some reason, the last game before the Chuseok break is next Tuesday, so Coach is making us grind extra hard these days. Luckily it isn’t this weekend — my weekend is booked and busy, being with you! Come to my game next Tuesday, please? Need my cute lucky charm present, Jungwonie hyung.
Ah, right. Meant to ask. Are we wearing… similar colors? I’ve never actually been to a music festival before; this is more hyung’s terrain and expertise, knowledge-wise, at least, so I’ll wait for your call on how this is done. Are we meant to wear white? Are we going to play with colors? Is this an outdoor event? I could search this, but I wanna hear it from you!
Also, is there a dress code for the cup sleeve event? You need to educate me, please. Thanking you in advance. Never been to any of these before, either. How wonderful is it that I get to have so many of my first experiences with you, Jungwon hyung. I can think of no one better.
Two more days until I get to see you! Sort of nervous to hear the reply in person.
I also have a meeting with the vice president of the Lakers and my new manager. Joshua Hong, that’s his name. He’s a sports agent Coach Choi recommended, he lives in LA and is Korean, imagine my luck! I’ve spoken to him a few times so far, he’s like ten years older than me, but he’s pretty cool and seems to know what he’s doing, so I’m choosing to trust him.
I sat up thinking about what me moving across the world would mean for us, if you decide there’s going to be an us. Personally, my gut says we’ll be okay. Don’t worry about things that aren’t in our control—focus on the today that’s in our hands.
Have a good day, my favorite person in the whole world!
Hopefully Yours,
Riki 🧡
🏀
Happy Wednesday, Riki-yah!
Before detailing a response to everything you scripted out, the funniest thing happened at work today, and I wanted to tell you about it before anyone posts it anonymously on a forum!
I got sent out to the Entertainment Department and it was a Music Bank this time, they were short-staffed and needed some assistance with the artists. Ran into TWICE. Wanted to absolutely scream and cry because Nayeon-ssi considered me worthy enough to accidentally dash into and end the lifespan of her coffee. I’ve been honored for life, Riki-yah. I even thanked her… And it made her laugh! Best Day Ever, maybe.
(The only thing that could ever beat this is if I were to ever meet Jungkook or any member of BTS. I’m a big dreamer, aren’t I?)
She felt so bad that she gave me a cat plush keyring as an apology. That’s a family heirloom, now!
Okay, onto your pressing and adorable letter <3
Duly noted about not mentioning the dethronement to Jongseong hyung! Actually, you giving me the position is very flattering. I will work hard to ensure the role remains mine for the foreseeable future; where do I need to take my oath?
Well, we need a way to talk. I might lose my mind if we don’t. This is as close as we can get to communicating before we see each other, but this is also one of the most romantic exchanges I have ever had out of, honestly, not a lot. Look at you, raising my standards so high, Riki-yah. You’re sort of untouchable at this point.
Of course! I’ll attend your game and the jersey shall be worn. Perhaps I need to take a keener interest in basketball now that… Well! I won’t be obtuse about it, in any case! Hyung promises. Sometimes, I try to remember the crash course you gave me, but a periodic refresher would be much appreciated, please :(
As for the festival, I’ll raid your closet on Friday evening after practice! We can coordinate if you want, which I know you’d love to! For a fact! That’s :D The :D Cutest :D Thing :D Ever :D
(Great to know fulfill the Cute Criteria, too, Nishimura Riki!!!)
Right, the cup sleeve event. Right, right—I have a question.
When we go there on Sunday, would you like me to lend you one of my Jungkook photocards?
Be warned, you will need to guard it with your whole life and mine, actually. All my BTS PCs are extremely important to me, but people have tried to steal my Jungkook one before. One, I understand, it’s Jungkook, but—and this is so valid—stealing is wrong. His photocards are some of the most expensive because—ridiculous, all of them are so precious to me, but people are horrible with prices—well, it’s Jungkook.
So, you’ll have to guard him with your life. I’ll lend MOTS: Persona Version 2 Jungkook. I’m trusting you, Nishimura Riki. The answer to your question will be evaluated based on the birthday cup sleeve date we’re going on.
This is so exciting. I love that I get to share the things that make me happy with you.
And, no, no dress code! Just regular date clothes, if you will!
What I want to say about this, I think it’s better if we discuss it in person. Just know I’m happy things are working out and falling into place for you, and I’m glad I get to be here and support you in whatever capacity I can!
I have a quiz tomorrow! I’m going to go back to revising now! I’ll look forward to another letter tomorrow, no pressure :D
Love,
Jungwon hyung
🏀
Jungwon hyung,
Look at you, rubbing shoulders with the stars! Don’t forget me when you’re famous, hyung! A TWICE member is sort of insane. Hyung, your work is huge, and honestly, whenever I read what you write or notice you talk about your internship, your eyes beam in a way even the sun wishes to learn — the spark you have for your passion is so commendable. One day, I’m going to see you with your name on the TV as news anchor and my shoulders will rise, chest puffing out in pride. Then? I’m gonna tell everyone that the person on the screen is my Jungwon hyung. As simple as that!
I will tell you all about that oath tomorrow… Tomorrow, the day I get to see you after waiting a whole week because of our busy schedules :(
The plan is to raise your standards so high, you’ll only look at me for the rest of your life! Baby steps, though. I’m going to take baby steps to get through this in order to reach the endgame.
I’ll tell you anything you need to know about basketball, hyung. Any time, any place. For you, I’ll make myself available, always.
I admit I have the ability to be cute and I’m happy about it—unlike some people, I do not detest cute culture, but this is the part where you’re supposed to say, my culture is not your costume, etc, etc, etc.
You are the living, breathing manifestation of everything cute in this world, Yang Jungwon-ssi, but you’re also extremely hot at times and it makes me fear for my life. Be still my beating heart.
You’re honoring me by showing me trust with your Jungkook photocard that you have introduced by Full Government Name. Trust that it will be guarded with this life and my next, hyung.
Regular date clothes…. OKAY :D
Yes, we’ll definitely talk about it in person when you’re ready.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow.
I get to see you tomorrow.
The hours couldn’t go by faster.
Yours (in 24 hours),
Riki
🏀
Riki,
I miss you.
Tomorrow, I see you.
Tomorrow, you get your answer in person.
By now, I’m sure you already have an inkling of what it’s going to be.
While I’ve loved exchanging these, I want to speak to you in person, so I’m keeping this succinct.
Sweet boy, I’ll see you after class tomorrow.
Yours,
Jungwon hyung
🏀
As normally done after most late nights at KBS, Jungwon finds himself seated in front of the coffee table in Sunghoon and Heeseung’s apartment, cracked open can of Milkis and a takeaway bowl of half-eaten jajangmyeon with disposable chopsticks in front of his chest.
At 10:30 p.m, they were finally calling it a night, capping rehearsal off at a reasonable time.
Reasonable is questionable, though.
Jungwon wonders if Heeseung and Sunghoon have an arrangement with their neighbors during the pre-festival period for practice, or whether, in their haste, the couple ended up soundproofing the apartment walls. He doesn’t put it past them; they tend to be loud in other departments, even though one would not be able to tell at first glance from how quiet they tend to be in their daily lives.
Good for them, honestly. Good for them.
In a way, Jungwon feels like he has returned to regular programing, wires recrossing to form the original circuit.
“So, is your setlist for Saturday finalized? Those four songs, right, Heeseung hyung?” Jungwon cradles the can in his palm, tipping the opening into his mouth for a sip.
Around the table, scattered on the couches behind, his hyungs have collapsed in a mess of sweaty hair and fatigued limbs. Jungwon folds one knee to his chest, the other foot tucked around the pillow seated on. His clothes are wrinkled after a long day, neck knotted along the sides. Sighing, Jungwon takes another sip, thinking of ways to convince Jongseong to get him a bottle of Pocari Sweat without moving an inch.
Jungwon’s hyung collector privileges — it comes part and parcel of it, after all.
“We’ve actually been asked to play one more,” Sunghoon informs him, massaging his temples. In the adjacent seat, Jaeyun collapses onto the backrest, sliding down until his weight presses into Sunghoon’s shoulder. “Seriously, get off me, seaweed brain, or I’ll use your skull as the new cymbal on my drum kit.”
“Love makes one perform acts of insanity, or so they say,” Jaeyun nods sagely in understanding.
“I don’t love you, oh my goodness,” Sunghoon whines, attempting, and failing, to push him away. Exhaustion anchors them; metal to seabed, Jaeyun to Sunghoon.
“One more song,” Jongseong ignores their usual antics. “We finished it earlier today, we’ll spend the rest of tomorrow doing our last minute polishing.”
Worriedly, Jungwon returns the can to the table top. “Are they allowed to do that on such short notice?” He asks. “Isn’t that against the rules? How did you guys figure out what the new song would be so quickly?”
Rhetorical questions through and through, but Jungwon excuses them, slightly drunk on sleep deprivation and mid-term brain rot. His head is pounding with textbook paragraphs from his Media Communication class. Additionally, his reference bibliographies are imprinted on the back of his eyelids. Then, there’s also the issue of work also giving him the opportunity to cover the ColorBomb Festival next week Monday as a live segment on air.
Thirty seconds to make a lifetime impression. No pressure, really.
“We had a song we’d been working on before the festival came up, but we were so focused on creating new ones, we sort of forgot about it,” Jaeyun answers, mildly sheepish. He reaches out, grasping Jongseong’s hand, and fidgets with his fingers, seemingly massaging the roughness of his pulps with a content sigh.
On the other side, his Jongseong hyung is blinking rapidly, trying to figure out how breathing works.
“Let it be a surprise for you, Jungwon-ah,” Heeseung teases. “No more exclusives for now, not until you tell us what’s the deal with you and Riki.”
“I told you before!” Jungwon exclaims, affronted. “We’re dating.”
“Were you not trying to convince yourself of that?” Heeseung pokes fun, seeing right through Jungwon’s pensive boba ball eyes, wide from the accusation. “Are you confident enough to say it, hm?”
“I was confident then,” Jungwon counters, slurping a particularly large bite of jajangmyeon loudly to spite Heeseung’s doubt. His hyung is wonderful, but he does know how to push all of Jungwon’s buttons in the right way when he runs a certain agenda. “Answer isn’t changing,” He confirms. “I’m dating Riki. We’ve been exchanging letters all week.”
“You’ve been what?!” Jaeyun, suddenly brimming with energy, shoots up, scrambling with a shriek when Sunghoon mirrors his actions, falling forward on the floor. That’s certainly going to leave a nasty carpet bruise behind the denim of their jeans, but Jungwon is but a boy eating his late dinner.
They have boyfriends (and a pending boyfriend) to soothe their burns.
By tomorrow, so will he. Again, it’s the principle, really.
Jungwon looks up, then, slowly, speaks. “Letters,” He repeats. “Like, the thing you write when pen is put to paper? That sort of thing? It’s not that ancient, hyung. Digitalization should not erase your roots!”
“Look at you trying to be smart with us,” Jongseong clicks his tongue, amused. “Don’t stray from the topic. How cute, you’re writing letters to Riki. Remember when you didn’t know who he was almost a month ago?”
“And now he’s practically your boyfriend,” Jaeyun pipes in, agreeing. “How fast they grow! You were basically taking your first steps yesterday!” Annoyingly, he pretends to flick an invisible tear off his cheek.
“Not yet,” Jungwon chews quietly, lowering his gaze to the table. Tapping the surface in a nervous pattern, fingers adjust around the chopsticks, picking at the vegetables at the bottom of the bowl, hidden by sauce and bite-sized noodle pieces. “Tomorrow, yes. He asked me to be his boyfriend on Monday, and we agreed that I’d respond in person when we meet on Friday, which is… tomorrow.”
The room is ensconced by a draft of silence floating in from an open window. A late summer night breeze cools the air. Fall will blend in soon, seasonal change less than forty-eight hours away.
Consciously, Jungwon tries to think about anything besides his hyungs’ aggravating silence; the condensation forming on the Milkis can, the height at which the jajangmyeon sauce stains the wooden chopsticks, the A+ grade he’d gotten on his quiz from yesterday, the sheen of Jongseong’s cherry electric beauty reflecting along the border of the TV.
Nothing works. His hyungs being driven to silence around him is the equivalent of the death row. Their background twittering is a comfort, and Jungwon wriggles with discomfort, scraping the bottom of his now empty takeout bowl with the tip of the chopsticks.
It isn’t as newsworthy as they were currently making it out to be. If anything, his four hyungs are being a little silly, acting as if Jungwon had done the unthinkable by announcing a horror headline.
It’s just Jungwon.
It’s just Riki.
It’s just Jungwon and Riki.
“Oh, wow,” Heeseung whistles, low. “Our Jungwonie is growing up right before our eyes, can you believe that?”
“Riki too,” Jaeyun sighs, pouting. “Seems like it was only yesterday that he took his first steps right into my arms!”
At this, Jongseong snorts unbecomingly at the love of his life. “You are not his father, get a grip.”
“Bold words coming from you, Jongseongie,” Jaeyun wiggles his eyebrows.
“Have you ever seen me act like a parent? If I had been, trust that Jungwon would have attended my basketball games last year by hook it by crook!” Mildly affronted, Jongseong turns his face to the side, trying to hide the small pout forming over his lips.
“If we’re being fair, I knew you guys,” Jungwon begins his confession by pointing between Heeseung and Jongseong, “played a sport, I genuinely didn’t have any idea what it was though. For the longest time, I thought it was baseball.”
The tips of his ears color red by the admission, fueled by the lack of response to his unintentional oblivious. Truthfully, Jungwon barely had to time to juggle things on his own agenda; it isn’t him being selfish, but all he was trying to do was cope without succumbing to the influx of treacherous tides.
Luckily, Sunghoon, as always, jumps to his defense. “Jungwonie’s not great with sport, it’s fine, seriously! You weren’t missing out on much! Jongseong was an okay camptain compared to Heeseung hyung—”
“Hey, Jay was a great captain! Take that back, Sunghoon!” Jaeyun squawks, appalled. His distress is punctuated by a finger poking into Sunghoon’s chest, blinking back a little dazed.
“If he was such a great captain, why didn’t you never wear his jersey? I wore Heeseung’s all the time, and Jungwonie wasn’t even dating Riki when he started wearing his! What’s your excuse, seaweed brain? Huh?” One perfectly shaped eyebrow raises in accusation, not a hair out of place. To match, Sunghoon’s arms cross in fully blown judgement.
“Are you guys talking about the BAG Nation thing?” asks Jungwon, curiousiy piqued.
How will his Jongseong hyung be able to survive this one, he wonders.
“WAG Nation, Jungwonie,” Sunghoon corrects him with a kind smile, vanishing the moment he turns back to Jaeyun. “I’m waiting for an answer, Jaeyun-ah. You’re not being let off the hook this time—”
“He doesn’t have to answer that,” Jongseong chokes out, painfully struggling for air. Then, as if relieved, his attention focuses on Jungwon with a strained laugh, tension stiffened over his shoulders. “And baseball, really, Jungwon-ah?”
“Basketball, baseball, I thought they were interchangeable,” Jungwon shrugs, guilty, opting to take the final few sips of his Milkis can. “How was I supposed to know you were on the basketball team?”
Jongseong looks like he might pop an aneurysm, struggling to find the words to give Jungwon a sane response. “Those are two…” He chokes out. Again. He’s going through so much today, Jungwon feels terrible about it. “Extremely different sports.”
Sighing, Jungwon nods. “I know that now!” He confirms. Then, fulfilling his duty as the bane of Jongseong’s existence when it comes to all things Jaeyun, he sing-songs, “And, he should answer that! If hyung can make endless playlists and drive Jaeyunie hyung around, write songs with him and about him into the night, and listen to him whenever he yaps about something—I mean that so respectfully, Jaeyun hyung, you’re a wonderful person and I love you—then, pray tell, why didn’t he wear your jersey when you were on the team?”
“Hey!” Jongseong is approximately two seconds from tearing his hair out or bursting into tears. If Jungwon had to bet, he would put money on both. “I’m not on the team anymore, and stop changing the topic! This was literally about you and your soon-to-be boyfriend, Yang Jungwon!”
And yet, it does not stop an answer from gracing the room regardless.
“Jongseong never asked,” Jaeyun mumbles quietly, playing with the string on his hoodie. A pin could fall and everyone would startle from impact — ice and surprise seeps into the walls. His voice is tinged with quiet hurt, pangs of pain knifing into the ribs. “How could I do that if he never asked, y’know? I didn’t want to overstep.”
“You don’t have to do things you aren’t comfortable with,” Jongseong shakes his head, biting down his real thoughts. “Me asking is essentially forcing you in a way, and I didn’t want to do that.”
“I wouldn’t have minded, considering we’re, y’know, like… Anyway, it’s fine, why did this even become a topic?” Jaeyun deadpans, pointedly attempting to change the topic. To emphasize his remark, he stands up, crossing the span of the living room area to scavenge in the fridge for a probably late-night snack.
How oblivious are they going to be with how far they are letting this drag on, Jungwon can only wonder.
“So,” Sunghoon clears his throat, shattering the suffocating air of pure awkward punching each of their lungs. “Boyfriend tomorrow, huh? Congratulations, little one.”
“Hyung, I’m not little!” whines Jungwon, leaning away from the incoming barrage of head pats waiting like vultures. Defending himself, Jungwon cries out, “Riki is technically younger than I am by a year, he’s the little one!”
“Realistically, do you think Riki is going to let us call him little one?” Heeseung asks.
Maybe not you guys, Jungwon decides, but me? Yeah. He would let me call him that. I think he’d let me say and do anything, and purely according to me, this works vice versa.
“You and I have different Riki privileges,” Jungwon informs them, unable to suppress the upward dip of his lips. Not quite a smirk, but close enough to brag. “You and I are not the same. Dare I say, I’m the new favorite hyung.”
Wrong, that’s Jongseong, Jungwon internally battles a sigh at the model answer, watching Heeseung and Jongseong’s spines shift into a rim-rod straight posture, torso perpendicular to legs. Seeing them feeling threatened was a hilarious sight.
Nonchalant, Heeseung pretends to inspect his cuticles, peering at Jungwon with a tiny speck of concerned highlighted by softly furrowed brows. “Did he say that?” He pouts.
“You’re a little sh*t sometimes when you lie, Yang Jungwon, but you are adored, nevertheless.”
Jongseong grabs Jungwon’s earlobe, tugging it at it gently.
“Hyung, I’m just being realistic, it’s only a matter of time before I dethrone you,” Jungwon grins, sticking his tongue out.
“It’s good to see you like this,” Sunghoon chirps in, tilting his head in observation. “When was the last time you actually let yourself have anything you wanted that wasn’t in your plans?”
The correct answer to this is never. Everyone currently seated in this room knows it for a fact. One thing Jungwon is prone to is overthinking; he’s long given up on critically dissecting his happiness and all associated factors to the point of watching it slip through his fingers.
Riki had not been in his original plans, but Jungwon can work on them. Perhaps, if he allowed it, some aspects of future do not have to be as set in stone as previously presumed.
“Not sure,” He answers truthfully. Toying with the metal tab on the can of Milkis, Jungwon feels himself smile. “But, I’m letting myself have this, hyung. I’m letting myself have Riki.”
🏀
🏀
Walking into the Yonsei Sports Centre on Friday afternoons is becoming a tradition of sorts to Jungwon.
He doesn’t wonder past the midnight blue and lavender color scheme in awe, but with a more attuned sense of familiarity prompting a skip in his step. Once his feet step through the threshold leading him into the basketball court, Jungwon no longer flounders like a stranger out of place, seeking a safety zone out of sight.
Instead, he hightails it straight towards the benches where most of the team is currently stationed, lifting an index finger to his lips to indicate they keep his arrival under wraps until he announces it to Riki himself.
Jaehyun catches on quickly, diverting his gaze away when Riki groans, waving at the elder to pay attention. “Hyung, this is really important,” He says, referring to something haphazardly drawn on an A4 page. “If you stick to their number three on Tuesday, it might make the game easier for us. You’re fast and light on your feet, so stealing and escaping, then slipping back into our regular formation will be no issue for you. What do you think?”
All the breaths in Jungwon’s lungs are stolen from the base upwards. Who he hears, seated at the helm, gently steering his ship in the right direction, is Nishimura Riki, Captain of Yonsei’s basketball team — under no circ*mstances is this the same person who has been leaving messages in bottles on the handle of his door throughout the week.
And yet.
Stealthily, Jungwon can only move from behind. His hands reach out first, fingers slowly moving around Riki’s cheeks right until the flat of his palms are pressed against the muscle, cushioning the skin. He smushes the area in his fingers, grinning. The rest of the team break into a fit of laughter with the main victim tilting his head up immediately to identify the culprit. When his head falls back, it nestles into the soft of Jungwon’s tummy, breaking the whiplash impact.
Fingers tap delicately under Riki’s chin in a soothing pattern to the best of Jungwon’s frantically booming heart, bold and thunderously gushing with pools of blood in his ears.
“Riki-yah,” Jungwon exhales, breathless. “Hi.”
The prettiest, shyest smile blooms across Riki’s face, rose dusting over the rounds of his cheeks. Tension bleeds out from the high rises of his shoulders, rolling them back with ease, content to let Jungwon hold the weight of his head. Jungwon’s thumbs stroke carefully, precisely, roving over the contour of his cheeks, dabbing over the areas splotched with faint blush.
Immediately, Riki lets go of the strategy notes on his lap, choosing to envelope the hands over his face whole.
“Jungwon hyung,” He murmurs, “hello.”
“Should we leave?” From the benches in front of them, Ricky calls out, followed by a chorus of similar sentiments from the rest of his teammates. “Captain seems a little… occupied?”
“Leave him alone,” Jaehyun calls out, bringing everyone’s chattering to a low rumble. Then, turning against his own tide, he grins mischievously, leaning into his boyfriend. Shinyu only shakes his head, moving back to give him more space. “Take a look fellas, this is what being successful with your first love looks like!”
“As if we don’t see enough of it from you guys, give it a rest. Gyuvin hyung is not to be excluded, especially when it comes to Ricky hyung,” Jungwon’s Riki rolls his eyes, talking over them, eyes trained on Jungwon.
If he had an ounce of shame, Jungwon supposes he would be shy, too, but now that he is committed to seeing this through, he will lead by example and allow himself to be the silly one if it means Riki is comfortable in his own skin.
Clearing his throat, Jungwon attracts their sudden attention. “If you guys have any spare time after midterms, do you mind meeting up with me for an interview regarding Ni-ki’s spread in Yonsei Weekly? I spoke to Junghwan—I mean, Shinyu-ssi about it before, so if any of you are also game to give me an account of your captain, let me know.”
“Definitely,” Jaehyun concedes quickly. “We’ll communicate the details to you via captain, if that’s okay?”
“Works for me, thank you!” Jungwon smiles brightly. “Okay, I won’t disturb you anymore. I’ll head to the bleachers and study. Enjoy your practice, everyone.”
“Bye Jungwon!” An entire crowd calls to him in unison, surprisingly articulate. He blinks, nodding with a tiny bow in their direction before the rest of Riki’s team breaks off onto the court to warm up before their three hour practice kicks off.
Only Riki and Jungwon remain, still in the same position from before, Jungwon’s hands cupping over Riki’s cheeks, then covered in turn by Riki’s slender fingers.
“Hi, again,” Jungwon chuckles, booping the tip of Riki’s nose. “I’ve clearly disturbed you, I’m sorry.”
“No, not at all,” Riki denies the insinuation, finally letting up by moving away from Jungwon. The loss of contact lasts for all of five seconds before he turns, intertwining their fingers together in a tight bind.
Sneaking a glance at the rest of the court for safety, Riki ensures the coast is clear, dipping down until his lips peck Jungwon’s cheek cutely. He moves away, the rouge covering the arch of his own cheeks heightening by the second. Jungwon can only blink, brain blanking in a buzz of white noise and pulsing blood, taking note of the hand holding him.
“Too much?” Riki asks, unsure of how to proceed.
“No, not at all,” Jungwon assures him, echoing his own words. “Riki-yah, do you remember what hyung told you that night? Anything is fine if it’s you.”
Seemingly satisfied with the positive response, Riki hums, elated. “Let me leave you at the bleachers before practice starts. C’mon, hyung.”
The walk is shorter than Jungwon remembers, already arriving at his usual space.
“Stay after practice?” requests Riki. Volume lowered, head ducked down, his shyness sinks into Jungwon’s sink like a brand new layer. How is he so cute, being this way as if he hadn’t been writing letters leaving Jungwon’s heart soaring for the last four days? “I’ll teach you how to play, if you’d like.”
“I’d love,” Jungwon admits.
This feels brand new.
A good type of something swirling through his chest, butterflies flapping delicately against the tendons of his heart urging them to pump blood more furiously. Describing it is an impossible task, mostly because Jungwon knows nothing he ever utters in summary will be able to encapsulate the true depth of emotions rushing through his mind.
“Keep this safe for me.”
In the blink of an eye, Jungwon feels Riki’s jacket cover his shoulders, sitting neatly over the denim already across his upper body.
“I’ll be back soon!”
This is how he goes, and for the next three hours, Jungwon’s time consists of alternating between reviewing topics for midterms, opening up the document for Riki’s spread to type in a few new sentences, and observing the way Riki plays basketball — sleek, elegant. Art can be found in each movement; every dribble, every pass, every shoot made with a slant of his wrist.
No wonder someone like him was scouted at such a young age. Nishimura Riki is the definition of a diamond in the rough, extracted, polished and refined, meant for something greater than his current circ*mstances.
Soon arrives quicker than expected.
nishimura riki 🏀
jungwon-ssi, everyone’s gone
come meet me on the court now
(read 19:37)
Jungwon looks up from his iPad.
Sure enough, Riki is the only person remaining behind after practice. Even Coach Choi has left the court. Perhaps engulfing himself in work for the last hour had worked against him, yet Jungwon does not have a stitch of regret coursing through him as all the items he used in the last three hours are packed away.
Two at a time, the stairs are taken until the courtside benches are reached. There, his bad is dropped next to Riki’s sports duffel bag.
“Alright, Captain Riki, what do you have in store for me?” Jungwon teases.
A singular pivot on his behalf finds Riki’s lower body splayed on the court, chest upright, palms balancing behind his back while enjoying the view of Jungwon preparing to join him on the court. Relaxed, he smiles, small, soft, and waits patiently.
“How about I teach you how to shoot, hyung?”
“Really? Think you can handle my stellar basketball skills, Nishimura Riki?” Eyebrows wiggle, determination brought to life. “What if I end up being better than you? What will you do?”
Riki feigns a pout, pretending to think of the consequences. “I would do nothing but be very proud of you. You’d see me in the crowd with a huge poster saying GO YANG JUNGWON, THAT’S MY BOY—”
Abruptly, he cuts himself off with a hazardous stop, eyes flickering all over the room to quiet his hammering heart. The light from the windows stream in, arching into highlights over blush-kissed cheeks. It’s unlike anything Jungwon has ever seen on Riki, eyes closing in pure complacency. A full eye smile that could be missed if one so much as blinked, to snooze and lose the moment.
Jungwon takes a moment to steady his own heart beat.
“If you completed that, you wouldn’t be incorrect,” says Jungwon, a few tentative steps in his direction taken at a bunny-hop pace, mimicking the state of his heart. “You were about to say that’s my boyfriend, right? It’s a one hundred percent factual statement.”
And, Jungwon ponders if this is correct moment to extend his hand out to assist Riki with standing up, so he does so, except.
At the exact second, Riki accepts his hand, Jungwon goes crashing down straight into the younger’s chest instead of using his stamina to pull his weight up. Anticipating it based on his less than wholesome intentions, Riki manages to wrap an arm around Jungwon’s waist just in time, skin-on-skin breaking the fall.
How he lands is slightly awkward, knee sandwiched between Riki’s legs, palms balancing over his shoulders. A stuttered exhale escapes his lips, faces a breath apart, the tips of their noses tenderly brushing against each other. Like strokes against a canvas, art hung in a gallery in the middle of the night — undisturbed, serene.
“So,” Riki murmurs, the air in the space between them mingling. Fingers grip into shoulders, tight. It’s become an inverse of the night at the party; this time Jungwon has become putty in Riki’s hands. “What if you called me your boyfriend? Still true?”
“More than true,” Jungwon nods.
Slowly, Jungwon’s hands roam from where they sit on his shoulders until the pair reaches the base of Riki’s neck, fingers curling into his hair covering the nape.
“Hey, by any chance, can I kiss my boyfriend?”
Inside, Jungwon bursts into a million particles, each atom colliding with air, infusing into the atmosphere, and reshaping into a form of boundless affection for the person holding him firmly, yet delicate, porcelain skinned. All of them, those scattered pieces, call to Riki.
“I don’t know.” Contemplation is sweet, honey-divine. Riki drinks it all in, lapping it up with hopeful eyes. “Can you?”
“Wow,” Riki chuckles sheepishly. “That really is terrible. May I kiss my boyfriend, then?”
“Your boyfriend would be really upset if you didn’t,” Jungwon exhales, meeting his lips in the middle.
With a soft-mouthed bite, Jungwon loses himself. As if the edge of an anchor hooks into him, sinking him straight into Riki. His arms wind carefully around the younger, lips slow and subtle in their movement. Riki kisses gently, at first, undoing all of Jungwon’s remaining preservations from the inside out.
It’s the sort of weight that one welcomes with open arms — a gust of spring breeze, hints of cherry blossom petals splitting mid-air. He feels Riki beneath him, against him. Holding him close, tender, a fragile sheet of glass that comes with no warning signs.
Not particularly subscribing to that notion, Jungwon swings his knees until both sides come to straddle Riki’s hips in the middle of the basketball court. The difference in height works in their favor; Jungwon is perfectly sized to fit into the frame of Riki’s body. Hands trail around Riki’s neck, tracing over skin and bones until both hands sit flush under the younger’s jaw. Jungwon feels Riki’s breath hitch, so he swallows it, working his tongue between his lips.
Somehow, whenever they kiss, there is always an element of it being similar, yet nothing alike. The first time, under neon lights and smudged passion, had been like feeding a starved man, or watering a wilted plant on the verge of death. The second, in the comfort of Jungwon’s apartment, had been smooth, playful, tethering their bones together with plain cotton string — something like an affirmation, minus the words — only action.
Now?
Jungwon isn’t exactly sure how to describe it.
He kisses to feel whole, to feel. There are parts of himself Riki has a knack of coloring in without knowing, the blank spaces Jungwon has never batted an eyelid towards.
Here’s the one thing he does know: he doesn’t want Riki to treat him like a sheet of glass. He wants to be able to experience a range of things, to bend, to break, to be marked and loved and everything encompassed in between. So, with this in mind, Jungwon tips his boyfriend’s head back, licking into his teeth, grazing over his tongue with his own. He presses into Riki, encouraging him to hold on tighter.
Finally getting the hint, Riki squeezes his waist, lifting him a little higher up his lap. Even through this, Jungwon refuses to break apart, knuckles drawing patterns up Riki’s mandible, down the column of his neck, and over tiny hills of clavicle bumping into him along the way.
He can hear Riki’s soft chuckle into his mouth, hear somersaulting over how the thought of it makes him feel. To be comfortable enough. To like Jungwon enough to be silly like that. To trust Jungwon to hold his heart without letting it shatter. What a huge risk they were both about to leap into, yet Jungwon would have it no other way.
“I like you so much, Jungwon hyung,” Riki confesses breathily, dropping a bomb straight into Jungwon’s mouth, striking his heart dead center. All Jungwon can do is kiss him back, a little harder, a little deeper, unable to help himself.
Riki kisses back with equal fervor, ripping the scale to pieces. It didn’t matter in the long run, Jungwon realizes, because they would have to create their own definition of normal, not follow what others assume should be normal.
In hindsight, it’s ridiculous, to be making out with his boyfriend, the captain of the basketball team, in the middle of the basketball court, both of them on the floor. Slightly unhygienic, too, but Jungwon is going to chuck himself in the shower as soon as he gets home to remedy this. Until then, sanitizer and soap will suffice.
However, neither Jungwon nor Riki seem to care about it, if the way they are unable to keep their hands off each other has anything to say.
“Hey, Ni-ki-yah, I forgot to ask if you wanted a ride to ColorBomb tomorrow—” Jaehyun’s voice, much like his sneakers, skid to a stop on the side of the court when he spots exactly what he has walked in on. “—sh*t, I’m sorry—damn, continue! Put a sock on the door neck time, geez!”
Jungwon freezes as footsteps pad away into a faint tap, a door slamming closed to indicate they are back to being the only two on the court once more.
Nothing seems to deter Riki, though, who finally pulls away, albeit unwillingly, pressing their cheeks together as he embraces Jungwon tightly, both arms encircling his waist, tucking himself into Jungwon’s chest until they slot into each other, Riki’s face fitting into the crook of his neck. A lazy smirk sears into his neck, bold, blazing.
“I’ll text him to tell him I’m going with my boyfriend,” Riki huns happily. “And, don’t worry about him. I’ve seen him and Junghwan—wait, Shinyu hyung do worse in the locker room. Don’t mind him.”
“Is that meant to console me?” Jungwon, incredulously, asks, tugging Riki’s hair lightly.
“Something like that,” Riki shrugs. “Let me teach you how to shoot now, hyung. Every time you net it, I’ll kiss you as a reward.”
Jungwon has never scrambled to his feet faster — slightly embarrassing, if he’s being honest. He feels like Jongseong treading on thin ice in front of Jaeyun.
Then, he stops, because there is something he cannot deny: Riki’s full body laugh is absolutely worth it.
Nishimura Riki, Captain of Yonsei’s Basketball team, prodigy player scouted by the American NBA League, and now, Yang Jungwon’s Official Boyfriend.
