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🍦☀️🍦

Ricky’s résumé isn’t long, but there’s a few things he would never include on it, even with a gun pointed to his head. Because—god forbid—some old schmuck in a suit asks him about any of it in an interview and he has to explain who Kim Gyuvin is. 

Number 1: The job they took right after junior year selling sodas and other drinks to unsuspecting tourists on the beach.

Because, after only two weeks of slinging cans, Gyuvin had already run out of ‘bits’ to do: Had pretended to be British, had told people the soda was actually mixed with cough syrup, had told customers he was distant cousins with Pitbull and was raising funds for his next world tour. So, when those all ran dry, Gyuvin had secretly stole all of Ricky’s drinks and shook them so hard that there was a mass explosion of sugary drinks across the sand.

Their boss had been so angry that his whole face had gotten all red and pinched like an angry tomato, and Gyuvin had shrugged and said “Dude, chill out, Pitbull will still make it to the tour.” They were fired on the spot.

Number 2: Being Vice President of the student council.

Because, somehow, Gyuvin had convinced him to run.

“C’mon,” He had pouted, tugged on his arm, “I’ll run for president and you’ll be VP. And then we can do whatever we want.” 

Ricky was pretty sure that’s not how that worked in the slightest, but he went along with it anyways, because unfortunately, he could never say no to Gyuvin’s schemes. Gyuvin’s first school decree as president was ‘FREE THE RACCOONS’, because, well, their school had a raccoon problem. And there were always caught raccoons trapped in sad little cages around the school that made Ricky frown whenever he saw them in there. So in a matter of a week, Gyuvin had rallied the whole school into letting them free to scamper around the school grounds and various foods were left for their new raccoon mascots.

“That’s really not your job as student council president and vice president,” The principal had explained with her fingers on her temples. 

“Then what is our job?” Gyuvin had asked. 

“Be nice to people. Plan the prom,” The principal was clearly exasperated. 

“Planning the prom is boring. Well, actually…”

“On second thought, perhaps the swim team should plan prom this year.”

Ricky doesn’t think their principal will have the most glowing reference of their term in council office.

Number 3: The current job they have as ‘Scoop Specialists’ in the dinky ice cream shop that sits right along the beachfront, where they have to wear stupid sailor outfits and freeze their asses off while kids screams and poke their grubby little fingers at the glass display, while their exhausted and sunburnt parents pointedly ignore the tip jar on the counter. Because-

“Sir, here are your two giant pink balls in a sugar cone.”

The customer looks baffled and Ricky groans. “Please stop calling the ice cream balls. They’re scoops.”

He might actually kill him.

“Fine,” Gyuvin bites back, smiles widely, looks at Ricky, “Ricky, please suck my scoops!”

The customer looks affronted, his eyebrows furrowing in distaste.

“He’s talking about the ice cream,” Ricky turns to the man, reassures him. 

The customer looks unconvinced.

“I’m really not!” Gyuvin is grinning from ear to ear, the man cautiously taking the cone from his hand. 

The customer shakes his head as he leaves, the door slamming and the little bell jingling as it closes.

“Dude,” Ricky whines out, “You’re fucking with our tips.”

Ricky glances at their sad little tip jar, which besides a few coins and a gum wrapper, could practically have tumbleweeds rolling around inside of it. 

Gyuvin scoffs, “There’s no way that guy would’ve tipped us either way. So might as well fuck with him.”

“You say that about every customer,” Ricky complains. 

“Is it my fault that no customers tip?”

Ricky thinks about every demented way Gyuvin has messed with customers in the last week. “Well, yes actually.”

“If you like tips so bad, I can think of another tip that I could give you-”

Ricky whips around, “Do not finish that sentence, Kim Gyuvin. If you want to live.”

Gyuvin is still smirking as the next customers walks in. 

It’s a group of girls, who instantly start messing with their hair and whispering to each other excitedly when they spot Gyuvin in his stupid sailor outfit behind the counter. Little do they know.

Ricky is used to it by now, being best friends with him, at how people turn and openly stare at Gyuvin’s soft brown hair, tall body, and handsome features. He’s used to people shamelessly flirting with him, even when all Ricky can think is how dumb he looks with his sailor hat askew, and he already knows that this will end in Gyuvin stringing together a jumble of words that no sane person could ever predict. 

Ricky might be a little insane.

“What flavors do you have?” One of the girls asks liltingly, eyes set on Gyuvin, like he’s prey for her to catch.

“Well, as you can see, the flavors all have these neat little signs that tell you what they are,” Gyuvin answers sarcastically, but the girl doesn’t seem to pick up on it, leans her hands on the counter to look closely. 

“But do you have anything special, just for me?” She pushes. Ricky crosses his arms across his chest, grimaces because this poor girl doesn’t know the can of worms she’s opening by allowing Gyuvin to speak.

Gyuvin pretends to think, taps his finger on his chin, “Now that you mention it, we do have some secret flavors in the back freezer.”

The girl giggles, “Are you gonna show me?”

“I would, but,” Gyuvin takes an exaggerated sigh, “The freezer is where we keep all the ice cream addicts.”

“Ice cream addicts?”

Gyuvin lowers his voice, “It’s more common than you think. It starts off small, just a single scoop of vanilla or chocolate here and there. And then it gets worse, slowly. Sundaes. Banana splits. Turtle Fudge Brownie Explosions. Next thing you know they’re tweaking out over us being sold out of Cookie Surprise Sundae and they’re jumping over the counter like a rabid dog.”

“What?” The girls all have matching shocked looks on their faces.

“Yeah. It’s bad. I have to drag them into the freezer and lock them in there until they freeze or calm down.”

As if on cue, the pipes shift in the walk-in freezer, resulting in a loud banging sound coming from the door and making the girls jump.

“And then my friend Ricky here,” Gyuvin gestures to him, “He used to be a Boy Scout. So he’s good at tying knots. Ties them up and leaves them as a sacrifice to the ocean gods.”

The shop is silent except for the hum of the coolers and the weird EDM mix that Gyuvin insists on playing on a loop during business hours.

“Um.” The girls glance at him now. He really shouldn’t play into it, but it’s so easy. He grips the jaunty bow that is on the front of his sailor shirt and pulls the knot more taut.

“So yeah, I would show you the freezer and the secret flavors but you might get attacked by a rabid ice cream fiend. What flavor can I get you all?” Gyuvin smiles innocently. 

The girls glance at each other, “I’m not really hungry anymore.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

They’re out the door in record speed.

“Dude,” Ricky admonishes again.

Gyuvin cackles, “C’mon, you know it was a little funny.”

Ricky narrows his eyes, “One day, I’m gonna leave your ass and get like $200 in tips.”

The smirk that graces Gyuvin’s face is lethal, “No you won’t.”

He won’t. But he would never admit that.

“What do you think would happen if we put the bad batch of the Caramel Ribbon Crunch ice cream and fuck-ton of marshmallows in the blender?”

🍦☀️🍦

“It’s true!” Gunwook shouts around a mouthful of chips.

“What’s true?” Gyuvin asks, plopping down on the sand next to him.

“Ah, if it isn’t my two favorite sailors,” Taerae comments teasingly, as the pair approach. They’ve both shed their hats and neck ties, but their uniform shirts still remain, and it’s been a point of endless mockery this whole summer. “Did you catch any scallywags today? Mermaids?”

“I don’t wanna hear it from the dude who dressed up as Carl the Crab and stood in front of The Boiling Crab all last year,” Gyuvin jabs back.

“You’d be surprised,” Taerae smirks, “The ladies loved my claws.”

Gunwook nearly spits out his drink.

“Did they love it when you gave them crabs also?” Ricky adds in.

Gyuvin barks with laughter, falls into Ricky’s side with his whole body.

“Ew,” Yujin wrinkles his nose, swirls his coke around in disgust.

“Is no one going to comment on the fact he said ladies?” Gunwook continues.

“Hey!” Taerae shouts.

Gunwook hides his smile behind his hand, “Because I’m pretty sure the most pussy Taerae has seen is that mangy cat that lives under the pier. Maybe you should work at The Chicken Barn next year so you can dress up as a chicken…or as some may call it a cock-”

“Fuck you, Park Gunwook!” And Taerae tackles Gunwook into the sand.

Gyuvin is still in his space, dying of laughter, and it’s probably the bonfire that the boys put way too much kindling on that’s making Ricky sweat a little.

He’s not really sure when the tradition started. Probably when Gunwook moved to their seaside town at the end of eighth-grade and their little pack was formed fully. But they always met here, their little hidden copse of beach beyond the rocky cliffs that tourists seemed to avoid. Like clockwork, they would all gather around the bonfire after their part-time gigs and swap stories and sneak beers and generally get into trouble.

“As I was saying,” Gunwook circles back to his conversation, once Taerae is done trying to bury Gunwook’s head in the sand. “The panda bear is gone.”

“Why would someone steal a panda bear?” Yujin asks.

“Wait,” Gyuvin looks over wide-eyed, “You mean the panda bear statue dressed up as a ballerina in the window of Mr. Chen’s gift shop?”

“Yes!” Gunwook points at Gyuvin, “And I don’t know why it was stolen but Mr. Chen almost cried. He loves that damn panda…”

“Seems silly to me,” Taerae is drawing shapes in the sand with his finger, “How do we know it was even stolen. It could’ve just gotten…lost.”

Gunwook shakes his head, “No way. Mr. Chen brings it down and dusts it every day, he would’ve noticed. It was definitely stolen. And get this-” Gunwook leans in for dramatic effect.

Ricky finds himself leaning in too, even if it’s about a stupid panda bear statue.

“The panda isn’t the first thing that’s gone missing. That fake fortune teller woman who scams tourists—her crystal ball went missing two weeks ago. Started telling people she was going to curse their bloodline if it wasn’t returned. And the week after that, the big, neon ‘H’ at Hungry Hugh was there when everyone left for the night but it was gone by morning. Now it says ‘Ungry Ugh’. Hugh swears he’s losing business because of it.”

The fire crackles ominously. 

“So?” Taerae shrugs.

“So?” Gunwook flaps his arms wildly in astonishment, “There’s a serial burglar on the loose!”

Taerae rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, you don’t really have any proof,” Yujin adds in, “Could all just be coincidence.”

“Haters,” Gunwook mumbles under his breath. “The only reason there’s no proof is ‘cuz the cops refused to investigate. Said they’re too busy to deal with petty crimes. Mr. Chen almost lost it. Said the only things the cops are busy with is jerking each other off.”

Gyuvin perks up at this, slides his big eyes over to Ricky.

No way. Ricky says it with his eyes when Gyuvin makes his pleading face at him, because he knows exactly what Gyuvin is thinking without even uttering a word.

Please? Gyuvin says back with a jut of his lip.

No! Ricky replies with a forceful tilt of his head.

“They’re doing it again,” Yujin complains with disgust at their silent conversation. 

Taerae makes a gagging sound and Gunwook smirks over at them, as if he knows something.

“You guys can’t act all weird like that tomorrow,” Taerae instructs. 

Their friends always complain about them, their unexplainable connection, the way they are attached at the hip and seem to understand each other telepathically. It’s not really a superpower, just a side effect of spending his whole life next to Gyuvin’s side.

“Why not?” Gyuvin pouts, wraps his hand around Ricky’s wrist and grips tightly.

“Because,” Taerae draws the words out, scratches at the back of his neck, “Because I invited Zhang Hao to hang out with us tomorrow.”

Gyuvin and Ricky glance at each other, use their telepathy for evil this time, because after a pause they repeat “Zhang Hao” in unison, in an exaggerated version of the sugary-sweet way the name had come off of Taerae’s tongue, doubling over in laughter when Taerae’s ears turn pink at their teasing. 

“Shut up!”

“Isn’t Zhang Hao’s family citiots?” Gunwook asks, “Why are you trying so hard for him?”

Yujin scoffs, “I hate citiots.”

“Zhang Hao is different, I swear,” Taerae pouts.

“We’ll be on our best behavior,” Gyuvin promises, draws a cross over his heart with his finger, “Scouts honor.” 

“Scouts?” Yujin asks in confusion. 

Gyuvin ignores Yujin, turns to Ricky, “Do your Boy Scout promise.” His hand is still around Ricky’s wrist. 

Ricky pushes him away, “You know I wasn’t actually in Boy Scouts, right? You literally are the person who made that up.”

Gyuvin pushes him back, “Just do it.” Why can he never say no to him?

“Fine. Scouts honor.” He says it so sardonically that Taerae can only shake his head.

“That means absolutely nothing to me but I guess it will do,” Taerae sighs.

“Anyways,” Gyuvin jumps up from the sand, pulling Ricky with him, “We would love to stick around, but I just remembered we have something super important to do!”

The other boys boo and catcall as they kick sand behind them, Gyuvin’s hand circled around his wrist as they run.

🍦☀️🍦

“This is a terrible idea!” Ricky shouts as Gyuvin pedals down main street.

“It’s such a good mystery, though!” Gyuvin calls back.

Ricky is sat behind Gyuvin on his bike, his arms circled around the other boy’s waist as they race through the empty streets of their town. 

“We’re not Scooby Doo and Shaggy, you know!” Ricky argues back.

Gyuvin laughs, “Yeah, we’re more like Daphne and Fred!”

Ricky swings his arm back and punches Gyuvin on the shoulder, hard. Gyuvin letting out a shrill “Ow!” in response. Because he knows, Gyuvin is implying that Ricky is Daphne and he is Fred, just like he knew as soon as Gunwook said no one had investigated the shop that Gyuvin would want to do it himself. 

The bike comes to a screeching halt in front of Mr. Chen’s store, which sits dark, empty, and panda-less.

“Now what?” Ricky asks, as they approach the front door, which is secured with a chain and padlock.

“This way,” Gyuvin waves him over with unbridled confidence, as if he’s broken into Mr. Chen’s shop before, which Ricky knows for a fact, he hasn’t.

Unfortunately for both Mr. Chen and Gyuvin’s already unkempt ego, Gyuvin easily finds a small window that he can pry open, Gyuvin giving him a knowing look, saying “See?” as if this was part of the plan all along. Gyuvin wasn’t smart. Their town just wasn’t known for the most advanced security. 

“This is dumb,” Ricky comments as Gyuvin wiggles his overly-long body through the small window. He lands on the other side with a thump, his head popping up to grin at Ricky.

“Less complaining, more crawling,” Gyuvin instructs, holding out his hand for Ricky to grab as leverage to get through the tiny opening. 

He should really just let Gyuvin go on his stupid mission alone. But as always, he seems to rationalize doing things with Gyuvin easily, convincing himself that letting the boy go solo would result in the whole store being destroyed or set on fire, so really, he was doing the world a favor by following his best friend. 

Gyuvin yanks him inside unceremoniously, Ricky falling onto the ground in a heap.

“Oops,” Gyuvin replies when Ricky groans out, “Dude, your waist is like, really small. Like, your shoulders are wide so I was pulling hard, but then when it got to your middle you just slipped right through.”

Ricky frowns, brushing himself off, “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“Just an observation.”

The store is eerily quiet, and well—dusty. Ricky coughs at the dust they kicked up from their entrance. It’s not exactly a high-class shopping experience. The store is full of the usual touristy crap, t-shirts that say ‘What a beach!’ and clocks with no hands that say ‘I’m on island time’.

But Ricky does remember the ballerina panda. It was a decent size statue that sat atop a floating ledge so it could be seen front and center from the tall, outside window of the store. It wore a lei most of the year, but during Christmas time, Mr. Chen would add a Santa hat. Now, as Ricky looks up to where the panda should sit, the space is empty. 

“It really is gone,” Ricky comments, the pair making their way to the front of the store and the scene of the crime.

Gyuvin snorts, “Did you think Gunwook was lying or something?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.” 

(Ricky recalls the time Gunwook had convinced them that swallowing mentos and coke in quick succession would result in a geyser coming out of their mouths like the trick they’d seen. Which, he hadn’t really lied, now that he thinks about it, it was just more like vomiting all over the beach while Gunwook rolled around laughing. Either way, Ricky and Gyuvin had both felt a little duped.)

“We need to get up there.” Gyuvin points to the ledge where the panda once stood on its ballerina paws. 

“How?” The ledge was out of arm’s length, even if they jumped as high as they could. 

“I’ll throw you up there,” Gyuvin says casually, like that’s not crazy.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re not that heavy,” Gyuvin shrugs, “And I’m pretty strong.”

Ricky scoffs, “You’re not throwing me. Let’s look around for a ladder first.”

Gyuvin grumbles to himself, but agrees. Alas, after searching high and low, no ladder is found to reach the panda ledge.

“C’mon,” Gyuvin convinces, “I can do it.”

“It’s not if you can do it,” Ricky argues back, “It’s whether I’m willing to do it.”

“Please,” Gyuvin draws out the word longingly, gives Ricky his best puppy-dog look. “I’ll buy you snacks for a week. I’ll let you pick the playlist at work.”

Ricky thinks about the EDM noise that still rattled around in his head even hours after he leaves work and the turtle chips he wouldn’t mind munching on during break.

“Fine. But if you drop me, you’re dead.”

“I won’t!”

They still can’t quite reach the ledge, even with Gyuvin lifting Ricky on his tiptoes and Ricky stretching his arms as far as he can.

Gyuvin drags a chair from the back counter, standing on the rickety seat, Ricky scrambling after him. The chair is small, Ricky almost toppling over to stand on it with Gyuvin, the boy putting both his hands on Ricky’s waist to steady him. 

“See? Small,” Gyuvin comments.

“Weirdo.”

With the added height, Gyuvin hoists Ricky up, and his fingers are able to graze the ledge.

“Almost there,” Ricky calls down, Gyuvin grunting in exertion.

“Your ass is in my face,” Gyuvin complains, but continues pushing the boy upward.

“Consider yourself lucky then,” Ricky bites back.

With a final push, Ricky is able to crawl on top of the ledge which creaks precariously.

“Are you sure this can hold my weight?” Ricky asks nervously.

Gyuvin shrugs, “Guess we’ll find out!”

Motherfucker.

“Hurry up and look for clues!”

Ricky looks around. The ledge, just like the rest of the store, is dusty. There’s a spot in the center that’s a different color than the rest of the wood, unbleached from the sun and where the panda once twirled in its tutu. 

“What exactly am I supposed to be looking for? It’s just a ledge.”

“Fingerprints, blood-splatters, shoe tread marks,” Gyuvin offers. 

“It’s a panda statue, not a murder mystery.”

Gyuvin begins getting exasperated, “It’s a kidnapping to Mr. Chen! Just look harder!”

Ricky huffs in annoyance, but actually looks around to the best of his ability. 

He’s about to give up, tell Gyuvin that the dust bunnies must’ve taken the panda hostage, when he spots a bit of color peeking from the corner of his eye. Wedged between the ledge and the window, Ricky pulls out a red-patterned scarf.

It would be easy to chalk it up to another trinket that had been shoved haphazardly while decorating the store, however, unlike the rest of the store’s items, it’s fresh, not a speck dust on it, like it had been left recently.

“I found something,” Ricky turns, waving the red scarf at Gyuvin who lights up at the found clue.

“A scarf,” He observes stringently, making Ricky roll his eyes, but stays silent, “It must be the culprit’s!”

“Or, it was left by a random person and got trapped up here,” Ricky rebuts.

“Who else would’ve been up there besides Mr. Chen and the thief? It must be the culprit’s.”

“Sure,” Ricky dismisses him, despite his own suspicion at the lack of dust clinging to the scarf. He would rather die than let Gyuvin know he might be a bit right. “Can I get down now? I think this ledge is about to crumble beneath me.”

“Go ahead, jump down,” Gyuvin says easily, outstretches his arms ready to catch Ricky. 

Now, Ricky is lighter than Gyuvin, but he’s not that light. And that old chair seems one good kick away from breaking, and if Ricky jumps down he’s sure they’ll end up a heap on the floor.

“Get off the chair,” Ricky commands, Gyuvin easily obeying. 

With Gyuvin on the ground level, the height suddenly seems a lot longer. He’s not exactly a full story above ground, but it’s high enough that Ricky gulps nervously. He’s always been a bit afraid of heights.

Gyuvin is smiling up at him, pearly-white teeth on display, and his arms waiting for him. “Don’t worry, I’ll catch you.”

Ricky closes his eyes and jumps.

And in Gyuvin’s defense—he does catch him—circles his arms around him and holds him tight to his chest. However, the miscalculation comes when Gyuvin stumbles backwards and knocks into the shelf behind him from Ricky’s momentum, and that shelf knocks into the shelf behind it and so on…

They both stare at each other in horror as crash after crash rings through the store, Ricky still cradled in Gyuvin’s arms. 

When the crashing ceases, they both turn their heads slowly, the destroyed store laid out in front of them in total disarray.

“Pretend this never happened?” Gyuvin offers.

“Yup!”

They both scramble back out the window at lightning speed, hopping onto Gyuvin’s bike without a second glance, the red scarf tucked safely in Ricky’s pocket. 

🍦☀️🍦

“Yo, there’s sand in my ice cream.”

Ricky is really not in the mood. After breaking into (and slightly destroying) Mr. Chen’s shop the night before, Ricky had barely gotten a wink of sleep, and Gyuvin, who admittedly never did much of the work, was even less helpful than usual as he sat around pondering the stupid red scarf.

Ricky turns to the customer, who had come up to the small sliding glass window that allowed customers to come up and order right from the beach, and rapped his knuckles against the pane until he got Ricky’s attention. 

“My apologies,” Ricky takes the ice cream from the man’s waiting hand. “I didn’t know you were blind. Or else, I would’ve warned you that you’re on a beach. You know, with sand.”

“Are you sassing me?” The man asks, oblivious, Gyuvin snorting at the overheard conversation. 

Ricky scoops him a new ice cream, adding a special ingredient on top. 

“Here you go,” He hands it over, “Coconut ice cream with extra sand!”

The ‘sand’ was just crushed graham crackers, but the annoying man didn’t need to know that. Ricky closes the window before the man can protest. 

“Hey!” The man knocks on the window harder, and this finally gets Gyuvin’s attention, especially when he sees Ricky’s frustrated face.

Gyuvin opens the glass again, sticks his head out, “Go away, dude.”

“Not until I get my money back! Or an apology from your rude friend,” The man argues. 

“Never gonna happen,” Gyuvin laughs right in his face, “So I would just leave if I were you.”

The man is about to twist his face in anger, when his expression is replaced with recognition instead. “Wait a minute. Aren’t you the weird guy who grabbed my hot dog from my hand on a bike last week?”

“Oh, uh…”

It was definitely Gyuvin. He called it ‘wiener snatching'. 

Instead of answering though, Gyuvin slowly slides the window shut, the man staring back in confusion. 

“I can still see you,” The man shouts muffled through the window, “It’s a glass window, idiot.”

Gyuvin pointedly ignores him, looks over at Ricky instead, “You might want to lock the front doors.”

Ricky runs and clicks the locks, but surprisingly the man doesn’t try to further confront them, just stomps back to his spot on the beach angrily.

“The scarf,” Gyuvin returns to his fixation of the day, “It looks familiar, doesn’t it?” He’s been staring at it for hours, as if the answer will magically pop itself out of the fabric if he looks long enough.

“Not really.” Although the niggling part of the back of his mind tells him that it is familiar. He just can’t place it either. “You’re never gonna figure it out by just ogling it,” Ricky complains, “C’mon let’s practice our game.”

Their ‘game’ was flinging ice cream from one side of the store to the other, the boys taking turns throwing and catching the balled ice cream into a waiting cup. They were actually getting pretty good at it, and while Gyuvin did it because he thought it was funny, Ricky figured if they got good enough at it they could do it for customers and get the kind of tips Ricky needed if he wanted some spending money at school in the fall.

Gyuvin smirks, “If you insist.”

They pass the ice cream ball back and forth a few times, a simple warm-up, before they start getting into the crazier tricks.

Gyuvin takes his sailor hat off in preparation, as if the offending item stops him from performing at his top form, his brown hair flopping down messily. Ricky likes Gyuvin’s hair. Its fluffiness, how soft it feels under his fingers, the way it frames his eyes perfectly like angel wings. He pulls himself back to reality. 

“Did I ever tell you, you look stupid in that sailor hat?” An easy jab to bring him back to Earth.

“No,” Gyuvin scrunches up his face, “But you look stupider.”

Gyuvin winds up his arm, lobs the ice cream in a high arc, the scoop splatting on the ground next to Ricky’s feet and all over Ricky’s converse. 

“Asshole, you did that on purpose,” Ricky sneers. 

“Noo,” Gyuvin shakes his head, “I didn’t mean to.” But his shit-eating grin says otherwise.

“Well, I didn’t mean this either,” Ricky snarls, his own ice cream scoop flashing through the air and careening into Gyuvin’s stupidly beautiful face. 

He had actually been aiming for Gyuvin’s chest, but Gyuvin’s look of astonishment with chocolate ice cream smothered over his face was much better.

Ricky can’t help the barking laughter that escapes him as Gyuvin charges at him like an angry bull. 

“You’re gonna pay for that, Kim Ricky!” Gyuvin shouts, swatting at Ricky as he tries to run away.

He finally catches up to him behind the counter, wrapping his arms around his torso to stop him and then punching him repeatedly on the shoulder until they both tire.

“Nice lipstick,” Ricky comments, the chocolate ice cream still smeared across his lips and cheek. Ricky has his back pressed against the counter, Gyuvin’s arms caging him in, and this close, Ricky can see the light freckles that only dust over Gyuvin’s cheeks during summer.

He puckers his lips teasingly at Ricky, “Kiss it off for me?”

Ricky’s heart pounds in his chest, “In your dreams.”

🍦☀️🍦

But, Gyuvin doesn’t have to dream. Because he had kissed Gyuvin, once. Stupidly.

It was one summer ago, Ricky laying in their favorite hidden sea cave with his shirt hung out to dry and his legs stretched out in the sand. 

Gyuvin had become a bit obsessed with sea glass that year, was rummaging around looking for pieces of it in the shoreline.

“Minjee broke up with me,” Ricky admits suddenly, and because it was on his mind.

Gyuvin doesn’t seem surprised, “I thought you already broke up. You barely even spoke to her.”

Ricky grunts, but admits to it, “Okay maybe I ignored her a bit. It just became…awkward.”

Gyuvin smirks, “Did you guys…” wiggles his eyebrows in suggestion.

“No way,” Ricky scoffs, blushes slightly, “We kissed though and it was…bad.”

“Bad?” Gyuvin cocks his head, “But kissing is fun.”

Gyuvin had kissed three people. Not that Ricky was keeping count, or that he was judging him, but Gyuvin just happened to tell him everything, including where his tongue had and hadn’t been.

“I dunno,” Ricky wriggles his toes in the sand, “I didn’t like it. And she could tell. She didn’t say that’s why she broke up with me, but it definitely was the reason.”

He didn’t really even like Minjee, had only dated her because she asked, and just went along with it because he figured it was about time he started dating so he didn’t look like a loser. 

Gyuvin marches over to him, his shirt also had been discarded, his tan skin glowing under the afternoon sun, his pant legs rolled up so he could wade in the water.

“For you,” Gyuvin says happily, dropping a piece of sea glass into Ricky’s palm.

It was a blue piece of glass, smooth and cold in Ricky’s hand, the years of ocean waves shaping this particular piece into a lopsided heart.

“Thanks,” He says simply, tucks the glass into his pocket. 

“She probably didn’t kiss you right. That’s why it was bad,” Gyuvin continues, sits down next to Ricky.

“Well, it’s not like I exactly knew what I was doing either,” Ricky confesses. Although, Gyuvin already knows that too, knows all of Ricky’s secrets.

“I’ll teach you,” Gyuvin replies easily.

“What?”

Gyuvin rolls over next to him, looks down at Ricky laying in the sand with a smile. “I’ll teach you. Free of charge, just for you.”

Ricky swallows deeply, “Isn’t that weird or something?”

“Only if you make it weird.”

Gyuvin cups Ricky’s face in his hand delicately, cocks his head to the side, one of their silent conversations.

So?

Ricky blinks back. Yeah, okay.

Their noses brush, Ricky fluttering his eyes closed when he feels Gyuvin’s breath fan across his mouth. It’s tentative at first, a ghost of lips over Ricky’s, but he feels breathless.

Then, he kisses him for real. Slots their lips together, his mouth as soft and warm as it looks. Gyuvin tastes like sea salt and the watermelon snow cone he ate earlier, and Ricky opens his mouth slightly when Gyuvin’s tongue pokes out to enter. 

Ricky reaches up and cups Gyuvin’s back, feels the sun-warmed skin under his fingertips and pulls until they’re chest to chest. Gyuvin smiles into his mouth, bites down on Ricky’s bottom lip and tugs, a small noise escaping Ricky’s throat. 

His first kiss definitely wasn’t like this. It was awkward and dry and Ricky hadn’t known what to do with his hands, but with Gyuvin it’s easy. Maybe because he’s known him as long as he’s known how to breathe or because it’s Gyuvin, the kiss easily becomes heated. Messy and wet, his tongue tracing into Gyuvin’s mouth and goosebumps erupting on his skin when Gyuvin smooths his hands down the planes of Ricky’s chest, despite the summer heat.

When Gyuvin pulls away, they’re both panting, and Ricky is sure he’s flushed red all over. He should be embarrassed, or it should be weird, but it’s not because it’s Gyuvin, whose hair is a mess from the ocean breeze and mouth is swollen from Ricky’s lips.

“See? You’re not a bad kisser,” Gyuvin says when their breathing evens out.

“Yeah. Thanks, dude,” Ricky grimacing when he realizes that he just called the boy he made out with, dude. 

But Gyuvin doesn’t seem to notice, or care, “No problem. Although next time I will charge.”

🍦☀️🍦

“It was slow as fuck today,” Gyuvin observes as they finish cleaning the store. (It took some extra time after their ice cream shootout.)

“Yeah, for real, it was so slow I was kinda hoping some freak would come in and bother you to spice it up.”

It’s only when they’re leaving, that they realize.

“Um,” Ricky pulls on the door, the bell rattling but not moving, “Did you ever unlock the door after that dude you wiener snatched came by?”

Gyuvin’s eyes grow wide in realization, “Uh, no I didn’t.”

“I didn’t either.”

The damn door was locked for half the day.

Gyuvin seems unphased though, unlocks the door so they can go through it and then promptly locking it again, “Good thing we’re paid by the hour!”

“How have we not gotten fired?” Ricky groans, “Really, Gyuvin, we can’t get fired because then our only option is working at Hungry Hugh and if you think this uniform is bad you should see-”

He cuts off his own train of thought. Wait.

“Gyuvin, the scarf-”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence because Gunwook comes flying down the street towards them. 

“The surf shop,” Gunwook gasps out, his hands on his knees at the exertion of running, “They stole the snow cone machine.”

“No!” Gyuvin squawks, immediately grabs Ricky’s arm and starts his tirade towards the surf shop.

Gyuvin really likes the surf shop snow cone machine. It was meant to be used for free snow cones for surfers—come and get your board waxed and get a free snow cone while you wait! But it was also free if you knew the surf shop cashier (Gunwook), so Gyuvin was probably the most frequent surf shop snow cone not-customer.

“Oh, it’s personal now,” Gyuvin grits out, when he bursts into the surf shop, and sure enough, the counter where the snow cone machine once sat was now desolate.

Gunwook catches up behind them, still out of breath.

“How did they even steal it,” Gyuvin is gripping onto his arm a little too tightly, “It’s broad daylight! You were here!” He points an accusatory finger at Gunwook.

Gunwook raises his hands up in innocence, “I swear, it wasn’t me! I went outside for one second to take out the trash, and when I came back it was gone!”

Gyuvin narrows his eyes, pulls Ricky closer to him, “Likely story.”

“Please, I swear, why would I come and get you if it was me? Shit, it really looks like I did it…” Gunwook trails off, “We have to figure this out, because I can’t get fired! I’ll have to work at Hungry Hugh if I do!” Gunwook is shrill, desperate. No one wants to work at Hungry Hugh. 

“About that,” Ricky interjects, reaches over and pulls the scarf out of Gyuvin’s pocket, “This is part of the Hungry Hugh uniform, isn’t it?”

Gyuvin’s eyes light up, elated, he cups Ricky’s face in his hands, “Ricky, you’re a genius!”

“Not ‘weally,” Ricky tries to reply, but it’s hard to speak with his cheeks squeezed together by Gyuvin’s large hands.

“Why does that matter?” Gunwook questions.

“Because,” Gyuvin lets go of Ricky’s cheeks so he can lecture Gunwook instead, “We found this scarf at the scene of the panda crime.”

“Wait a minute,” It’s Gunwook’s turn to narrow his eyes, “Were you two the ones who broke into Mr. Chen’s store and knocked down a bunch of displays? He was totally pissed.”

Gyuvin waves him off, “That’s unimportant. What matters is that this proves that the crimes are connected! The ‘H’ goes missing from Hungry Hugh, and then one of their scarves turns up at where the panda is stolen.”

“That doesn’t exactly prove it,” Gunwook points out, Gyuvin glaring at him. 

“You should be thanking us,” Gyuvin accuses, “Because if the crimes are connected, and if you have an alibi for the other robberies, then you can’t be accused of stealing the snow cone machine.”

If Gyuvin is good at anything, it’s creating a narrative out of nothing.

“Oh my god, you’re right,” Gunwook says.

And he’s good at bullshitting people. And making people believe him. Motherfucker.

“Exactly. So if we can find another clue here, I bet we can get even closer to figure out who's doing this.”

Ricky ends his suspension of disbelief there. “Why would the person leave a clue behind twice?”

Gyuvin grins wickedly, “Because secretly, all criminals want to be sniffed out.”

Ricky frowns, “You’ve been watching way too much Law & Order.”

“Remind me not to invite you to my next marathon, asshole.” Gyuvin walks over to where the snow cone machine once lived and starts snooping around. 

“I really don’t think they would leave another clue, the first one was an accident.”

He eats his words almost immediately.

“Aha!” Gyuvin exclaims in triumph, although he’s holding up what looks like just a crumpled sticky note. 

“A clue!” Gunwook screams out, way too enthusiastically for what seems to be trash from someone’s pocket. 

Nevertheless, Gyuvin grabs Ricky by the arm and manhandles him into their little huddle with their heads ducked together to examine the piece of paper.

Just as Ricky suspected, it is just a crumpled scrap of paper, but there is something written on it. 

“Um,” Gunwook hesitates when he sees it, “Isn’t that some demonic shit or something? I really don’t fuck with that.”

On the sticky note is a five pointed star with a circle around it.

“It’s not necessarily demonic,” Ricky tries to defend, although it was looking vaguely pentagram-y, “It could just be a star that happens to be circled.”

Gyuvin furrows his eyebrows together, deep in thought, “But what does it mean?”

“I don’t know and I don’t wanna know,” Gunwook steps away from the circle, looking pale, like a demon itself had possessed the crumpled sticky note. “I’ll let you guys fuck with the demons, just tell me when you figure it out.”

And Gunwook exits the store at a near sprint.

“We don’t even know if that was left by the thief,” Ricky tries to rationalize. 

“But it could’ve been,” Gyuvin’s eyes are gleaming, slips the note into his pocket. “And I’ll be pissed if I don’t get any snowcones the rest of summer.”

Gyuvin is pedaling them home when Ricky’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He answers the call and puts it on speaker, Taerae’s voice coming through shrilly.

“Why the fuck did you guys not come to bonfire?”

Gyuvin laughs, “Didn’t you tell us not to be weird? If we don’t come, you don’t have to deal with our weirdness.”

Ricky hides his smile into Gyuvin’s back.

“I said don’t be weird, not don’t come altogether! Zhang Hao was here! And it was even weirder that I told him to come hang out with my friends and it was only me and Yujin! He probably thinks I’m a friendless loser!”

“Well,” Ricky giggles, “That wouldn’t be a totally wrong assumption.”

There’s a string of muffled expletives down the line, Ricky feeling the gentle vibrations of Gyuvin’s laughter with his hands wrapped around his torso. 

“Where the hell were you guys?” Taerae interrogates.

“We had an important mission,” Gyuvin explains cryptically.

“Let me guess, you realized it's $1 corndog week at the pier,” Taerae sighs.

“It’s $1 corndog week?” Gyuvin shouts, nearly knocks them off balance of the bike. “But no, way more important than that.”

“Damn, more important than corndogs? It really is serious…” Taerae trails off.

“Yeah, so stop bothering us and go makeout with your citiot!” Gyuvin barks back, Taerae cursing before cutting the line. 

They’re a couple streets from Ricky’s house now, where Gyuvin will drop him off before pedaling just down the block to his own house. It’s almost midnight, but the air is still warm and humid, and he can feel the damp sweat on Gyuvin’s back, but somehow he doesn’t mind it, because it’s Gyuvin’s.

“Why do you think this is so important?” Ricky asks, because maybe it was the snow cone machine, or just a usual Gyuvin scheme at first, but he was way more dedicated to this than his normal demeanor.

“Because,” Gyuvin’s voice grows serious, the muscles in his back tightening, “This might be the last summer, I want it to be memorable.”

“The last summer?” Ricky questions, “Do you know some world-ending news that I don’t?”

“No,” Gyuvin huffs out, “I mean the last summer of, like this.”

“What do you mean?” Ricky doesn’t know why his heart beat is increasing, but it’s rising, can feel it bumping in his chest.

“You’re going to college in the fall. And I’m staying here.”

It’s something that they’ve known for a while—that Ricky would go to the university down the road while Gyuvin would start working for his dad, but it doesn’t really hit Ricky until that moment. 

“I’m just going to school, it’s not that far,” Ricky tries to brush it off, the clawing in his chest, “I’ll still be around.”

Gyuvin is silent for a moment, “I dunno, things are gonna change.”

“But, you and me. We never change.”

Even though he says the words, a part of him wishes they weren’t true. That he and Gyuvin always stay how they are—best friends. Wishes for something more, something different.

Gyuvin sighs, “I guess you’re right.”

Ricky hums, rests his cheek on Gyuvin’s shoulder, “Do you remember in 4th grade, you fell out of a tree and broke your leg?”

Gyuvin snorts, “Yeah.”

“You had to be flown to the hospital in the city, so they could treat you. You were gone for like two weeks,” Ricky continues, swears he can feel Gyuvin’s own heartbeat under his palms. “It was terrible. I was so bored, didn’t have anyone to talk to or hang out with. Worst two weeks of my life, seriously.”

Gyuvin laughs, and he doesn’t have to turn around for Ricky to know the exact way his mouth shapes into a smile, had memorized it long ago.

“When you came back, I was so happy. I don’t think I left your side for a month. Even during recess when you couldn’t do anything but sit, we would just sit on the swings and talk. Even if I wanted to go play basketball with the others.”

“Is this another one of your stories where you swear you could’ve been a pro-basketball player if only?” Gyuvin teases lightly.

“No,” Ricky clenches around Gyuvin tighter, “I’m saying it would take a lot more than a school or some distance to get rid of me, a lot more for me to not want to always be by your side.”

And this time, Ricky knows he’s not imagining it when he feels the steady thump of Gyuvin’s heart soaring in his chest.

🍦☀️🍦

“The hot fudge is clogged again,” Gyuvin whines. His sailor hat is off-center, again. Ricky wants to reach over and fix it.

“Lemme see,” Ricky examines the hot fudge pump critically, “The chocolate probably hardened and needs to be cleared out,” Ricky determines. 

“No,” Gyuvin argues, “I just cleaned it.”

“‘Just’ as in, this morning? Or ‘just’ as in you did it once in a dream?” Because Kim Gyuvin rarely ever did actual work while at work.

“The fuck does that mean,” Gyuvin bites back, shoves Ricky away, “Lemme try again.”

“No, let me fix it!” Ricky fights, while Gyuvin furiously slaps the pump up and down. “You’re gonna break it!”

“Just wait a sec, bossy!”

They’re both shoving at each other, and so Ricky has no time to react when a large SPLAT! echoes through the ice cream shop followed by a canon of hot fudge shooting all over Ricky’s pants.

“Nice going, asshole,” Ricky groans.

“It’s not my fault,” Gyuvin instantly deflects, “If you hadn’t been pushing me it wouldn’t have shot out like that.”

“Whatever,” Ricky grumbles, goes in search of napkins to try and save his soiled pants.

Even after vigorous wiping, the brown patch only seemed to grow.

“Dude,” Gyuvin looks down at Ricky’s pants as he emerges from the bathroom after a third round of cleaning, “No offense, but it looks like you shat yourself.”

“And whose fault is that?” Ricky squawks in exasperation.

“...My bad.”

It’s the best apology he’s going to get from Gyuvin.

“I think they store some extra uniforms in the back of the pantry,” Gyuvin offers, jabbing his thumb in its direction.

Ricky marches to the back of the pantry. There’s sailor shirts, sailor scarves, way too many sailor hats, but no pants. However, there is something else—and Ricky picks it up appraisingly.

He shouldn’t do it. Should just suck it up and look like a shit stain until the end of his shift, or call Gunwook to bring him a pair of overly priced pants from one of the tourist shops. But this is clean and free—and Ricky’s curiosity is peaked.

When Ricky emerges from the bathroom this time, Gyuvin’s jaw nearly hits the floor.

“Holy shit. I mean—dude. I mean—bro. I mean—fuck.”

Ricky narrows his eyes at him, “None of that was a sentence.”

Gyuvin clears his throat, his hands hovering around his face like he doesn’t know what to do with them, “I mean —dude. You’re uh, wearing a skirt.”

It was the uniform they provided for the girls. A navy blue sailor skirt with white trim, and it had fit Ricky perfectly.

“Yes. And again, whose fault is that?”

Gyuvin’s entire face was red, even the tips of his ears. 

“Mine. My fault. That you. You’re in a skirt.” He stumbles over his words, his eyes darting around the ceiling, looking anywhere but at Ricky.

“At least you admit it now,” Ricky sighs, opens up the ice cream case and bends over to scoop the last of the cotton candy flavor so he can replace it with a new one.

Gyuvin scrambles up behind him, “Your skirt,” Gyuvin says quickly, tugs at the hem of the skirt, “It’s riding up.”

“It’s fine,” Ricky replies. It’s only Gyuvin behind him, so what does it matter if it rides up a bit?

He continues scooping the ice cream, when suddenly he feels a large hand on his ass, followed by a gentle squeeze.

Ricky whips around, ice cream scoop wielded in his hand like a weapon, “Did you just grope my ass?”

“No, I mean, yes?” Gyuvin is staring down at his hand like he’s surprised he did it also.

He’s never seen Gyuvin like this. Embarrassed and tripping over his own tongue, fidgeting at Ricky’s every movement, shy. It makes him feel kinda powerful, and he likes it. 

“Creep.” Ricky exits to go retrieve the new batch of cotton candy ice cream from the walk-in freezer, Gyuvin only making a choking noise from the back of his throat in response. 

When Ricky returns, Gyuvin is scratching the back of his neck sheepish, “The skirt. It uh–looks nice. On you.”

“Thanks,” Ricky says simply, but smiles into his hand when Gyuvin isn’t looking. 

Ricky may go a little overboard with teasing Gyuvin the rest of their shift. Bends over more than necessary, sticks his ass out way further than he usually does, pretends he can’t quite reach items on the top shelf and hops up and down a little until Gyuvin does it for him. 

And Gyuvin is a mess. Trips over a table, spills waffle cones all over the ground, forgets to stop filling the water jug and it overflows. 

At the end of the night, Ricky sits on the counter while Gyuvin finishes mopping up. Ricky was swinging his legs back and forth absent-mindedly, checking his missed notifications on his phone, when Gyuvin pauses mid-mop.

“Do you shave your legs?”

Ricky looks down at his bare calves. “Sometimes.”

He likes the feeling of shaven legs, will rub his legs together under freshly washed sheets and feel satisfied at how smooth it feels. Maybe one of the few things he had never shared with Gyuvin. 

“Oh…I didn’t know that.”

Ricky stretches his legs in front of him, “Do you wanna touch?”

Gyuvin looks dumbfounded, props his mop carefully against the wall, “Um. Sure.”

He crowds into his space, takes a deep gulp before circling a hand around his ankle. He moves his hand up slowly, caressing his ankle, shin, and then thigh, his hand stopping when his fingers graze the edge of the skirt.

Ricky watches his face the whole time. Watches how his lips press together in concentration, watches how his eyes widen as his hand moves higher, watches how his throat bobs when his hand reaches the top.

“Smooth,” Gyuvin says quietly, like Ricky is some kind of dolphin at those exotic animal meet and greets, and it startles a laugh out of Ricky.

“Astute observation.” Ricky covers Gyuvin’s hand with his own, and Gyuvin finally looks Ricky in the eye. 

He reaches up and straightens Gyuvin’s sailor hat on his head and Gyuvin gives him a strange look. 

At the bonfire, they finally meet Zhang Hao, or Hao as he tells them to call him.

“I like your skirt,” Hao compliments, smiles at him warmly.

“Thanks, it’s part of our uniform for work,” Ricky explains, “Or usually it’s pants, but someone spilled hot fudge all over my pants today.”

Gyuvin doesn’t react. Had flopped down on the sand and instantly grabbed for one of the beers Gunwook had provided for them today and drank most of it in one go.

“Well, it looks nice either way,” Hao replies.

“So, did you guys find the demon thief?” Gunwook cuts in.

Taerae’s eyes widen, “Where’s a demon?”

Yujin points his finger at Gyuvin, “It’s right there!”

Gyuvin hurls his empty beer can at Yujin, the boy ducking just in time, while the rest of them screech at the supposed demon.

“We didn’t figure it out yet,” Gyuvin sighs. On a usual day, Gyuvin would’ve pored over the crumpled demon note his whole shift, but he had been a bit distracted the majority of the day.

“Can you hurry up,” Gunwook complains, “I’m afraid I’m gonna get haunted or something.”

“You can’t get haunted by a demon. That’s ghosts,” Hao chimes in. Ricky already likes this guy.

“Okay, well. I don’t want to get exercised, or whatever, by the spirit of the snow cone machine.” Gunwook pouts.

“It’s exorcised, you’re not running a marathon,” Taerae corrects him again. 

Gunwook glares at him, “I’ll exorcise this fist into your-”

“What are we talking about though, exactly?” Hao interrupts the brewing fight, effectively saving Taerae from being smothered by Gunwook.

“There’s been a bunch of burglaries in town,” Gyuvin explains, “Me and Ricky have been trying to solve it,” He hands Hao the sticky note, “This is the most recent clue we found.”

Hao examines it with a concentrated pout, but hands it back to Gyuvin with a shrug, “Beats me.”

The topic of conversation turns to Taerae’s new employment at Hungry Hugh, which leads to a never-ending barrage of taunts that they all happily join in on.

Ricky shivers, he’s not used to having his legs exposed, and the sea air is blowing cold air tonight. He drapes his legs onto Gyuvin’s lap, presses closer to him to try and steal some of his body warmth. 

Cold? Gyuvin asks silently, doesn’t miss the way he glances down at Ricky’s legs pressed against him.

A little bit. Ricky stares at his searching eyes. 

Tentatively, he circles his arms around Ricky’s legs, pulls them close to his chest to warm them, his hand on the underside of Ricky’s thigh. 

It’s nice, Gyuvin’s hands are warm and his thumb presses into his skin with just the right amount of pressure. 

As they’re leaving, Gyuvin stops him before they hop onto his bike. 

“Sit in front of me,” Gyuvin growls. 

“Hm?” Ricky cocks his head to the side, “But you said it’s hard to steer like that.”

“Yeah, but,” Gyuvin is flushing embarrassed again, “Your skirt. If you ride in the back it might fly up.”

It’s sweet. In a way that only Ricky can find Gyuvin sweet.

“Okay,” Ricky agrees easily, figures he’s teased the boy enough for today. 

It’s been a while since they’ve rode like this—once Ricky hit his growth spurt and they were practically the same height, it was standard for Ricky to ride on the back of the bike. It’s different, Ricky’s back pressed to Gyuvin’s front, his arms caging Ricky in. A nice different, but he misses being able to smell Gyuvin’s citrus shampoo.

“You’re different today, quieter,” Ricky commentates. He's still Gyuvin, still him, but different, more. 

Gyuvin mumbles something indiscernible under his breath.

“I never thought I would say this, but I miss you yapping my ear off,” Ricky sighs. 

Gyuvin deflates, but then takes a turn around a corner too sharp and makes Ricky yelp and grab onto Gyuvin’s arm.

“Sorry,” Gyuvin apologizes, “Hard to see.”

“Did I make you uncomfortable?” Ricky asks, because maybe he did push it a little too far.

“No!” Gyuvin says it quickly, “Just. Had a lot on my mind.”

“Who knew there was anything going on up there?” Ricky teases, knocks his knuckles against Gyuvin’s skull.

Gyuvin snorts, “Thought I’d shake things up a bit.”

Ricky hums, “It’s fine if you have a lot of thoughts going on, just share them with me?”

“Maybe,” Gyuvin concedes, but Ricky can tell he’s keeping something close to his chest, hidden from sight and from Ricky. 

🍦☀️🍦

It is $1 corndog week. So naturally, they end up at the pier the next night, where the carnival is in full swing, and Gyuvin is mostly back to normal now that Ricky’s legs aren’t on display. 

“I’m gonna win it,” Gyuvin declares, takes aim at the stack of milk jugs and hurls the ball with all his might. Two stay standing up.

“You know it’s rigged, right?” Ricky admonishes, turns to the brace-faced teenager that’s running the booth, “Please tell him it’s rigged.”

“I just work here, dude,” The guy shrugs, defeated. Gyuvin slams another dollar on the table. 

“Just watch.”

Ricky groans, “You’re gonna waste all your money.”

Gyuvin throws the weighted ball, and this time three jugs remain. The teenager sighs as he re-stacks them again.

Ricky laughs, “You kinda suck at this.”

Gyuvin gasps, “You’re the one who said it’s rigged, pick a side!”

“Rigged or not, you suck,” Ricky sticks his tongue out at him.

Gyuvin points at him, blows an exaggerated kiss at him, “This one's for you, baby.”

He throws the ball and somehow completely misses all the jugs.

Ricky claps slowly, sarcastically, gives him his most teasing smile.

After Gyuvin’s twentieth try, it becomes kinda sad and Ricky intervenes. 

“Woah, look at the ass on that girl!” Ricky exclaims, points vaguely in the distance, the teen working the booth whipping his head around to take a gander. While he’s distracted, Ricky throws a second ball, effectively knocking down the jugs Gyuvin had missed. 

“I did it!” Gyuvin exclaims with no shame in the obvious cheating. 

The teenager looks unconvinced, they weren’t exactly sly, but he’s probably tired of them terrorizing his booth so he allows Gyuvin to pick a prize. 

“Which one do you want?” Gyuvin asks.

It’s silly, but Ricky smiles shyly. “That one.” He points to a patchwork cat stuffed animal with yellow and black ears. The plushie is handed to him, and Ricky hugs it close to his arms, Gyuvin beaming in triumph. 

They had already stuffed themselves full of corndogs, and with Gyuvin wasting most of his money on the games, they wander around the pier aimlessly. 

“Should we go on the ferris wheel?”

Ricky shakes his head. Gyuvin was an absolute terror on that thing, rocking the car on purpose and possibly founding Ricky’s small fear of heights.

“C’mon, I promise I won’t shake it this time,” Gyuvin pouts. 

It’s not only the heights thing though, or Gyuvin being a menace, it’s also that Ricky is suddenly feeling shy around Gyuvin, has been avoiding looking him straight in the eye since morning, and a crammed ferris wheel car wasn’t exactly conducive to avoidance.

It’s weird, because Ricky is never shy around Gyuvin. If anything, Gyuvin usually makes him bolder and more sure of himself, so he tries to shake the feeling off as Gyuvin drags him over to the ferris wheel line. 

When they load into the ferris wheel car, Gyuvin sprawls his limbs out, his arms stretched across the back of the seat, and Ricky has no choice but to tuck himself into the crook of his arm.

“See? This isn’t so bad.” Gyuvin pokes Ricky’s side as their car starts moving upward. 

“It was never bad, it was only bad because you almost tipped the car over and let me fall to my death,” Ricky argues back. 

“That was one time!” Gyuvin defends. “I’m a new man now.”

It’s stupid. Gyuvin turns his head to look at him, his smile bright and dazzling, and for a moment, Ricky thinks he’s going to kiss him. But he doesn’t—just smiles sweetly and something plummets in Ricky’s stomach. 

Maybe it’s been nestled in his ribcage for a while now, wanting to burst out, but something finally clicks in Ricky’s mind and it’s clear now: Gyuvin wasn’t going to kiss him—it was Ricky who wanted Gyuvin to kiss him.

He suddenly wishes the ferris wheel would rock him out of his seat. 

“The stars are super clear tonight,” Gyuvin is looking up, their car finally at the top of the wheel.

“Yeah,” Ricky gulps, tugs the cat toy tighter. 

“It’s crazy that old people saw all those dots and decided they connected into shapes,” Gyuvin laughs, “Like, that looks nothing like a lion, be for real.”

Stars. Connected. 

Ricky gasps. “Gyuvin, I know what it is.”

“The constellation? I didn’t know you were into that.”

“Not that, idiot. The robberies–give me the note. I know where they’ll steal next, or I can figure it out.”

Gyuvin looks shocked, but reaches into his pocket and hands over the scrawled out star. He pulls out his phone to bring up a map, Gyuvin still watching in confusion.

“Look,” Ricky explains, marking each of the robbery sites on the map. “First the fortune teller, then Hungry Hugh,” Ricky traces invisible lines connecting them, “Then Mr. Chen’s and the surf shop.”

Gyuvin understands then, the shape forming under Ricky’s fingers, the points of a star—connecting all the different places.

“And the last point of the star,” Ricky finishes, both of them pointing to the same spot on the map where the last line would intersect, and they both stare at each other wide-eyed.

“The ice cream shop!” They yell in unison.

“Holy shit, we need to get there right now, we might be able to catch them in the act!” Gyuvin shakes excitedly.

Ricky places a placating hand on Gyuvin’s shoulder, tries to calm him down but to no avail.

“Can you make this thing go any faster?” Gyuvin yells down to the ride operator, who looks back in confusion. 

🍦☀️🍦

When they enter the ice cream shop, the only sound is the ringing of the bell on the door and the gentle hum of the freezers.

“Do you think they already came?” Ricky asks.

The shop is a little creepy at night, not that Ricky would admit that he’s scared, but he finds himself moving towards Gyuvin to grasp his arm.

“No, we would’ve noticed something missing.”

Ricky frowns. Would they though? They’re not exactly the most exemplary employees. 

“You would be able to feel the presence of an intruder in our sacred home,” Gyuvin continues, “Like a lingering fart.”

“You always have such a way with words,” Ricky snorts. 

After it’s clear that they’re alone, they devise a plan to catch the thief.

“Shouldn’t we like, call the cops and tell them what we know?”

Gyuvin glares at him, “Fuck the cops. They don’t know shit.”

The plan is pretty simple. They’ll both hide behind the counter, and when the thief enters, Ricky will throw a blanket over them to distract them, and Gyuvin will kick them into the walk-in freezer and slam the door shut. Or it would be simple if they didn’t argue about it. 

“That makes zero sense,” Ricky retorts in a terse whisper, but crouched behind the counter anyways, “If they see me with the blanket, they’ll know it’s a trap and run away.”

“No, see, that’s why you gotta duck your head real low like this,” Gyuvin demonstrates, “That way they don’t see you until it’s too late.”

“And what if the blanket doesn’t confuse them all, then what?”

Gyuvin rolls his eyes, “I’ll still be here to kick them, it will work!”

“Okay, but what if they have, like, a weapon?” Ricky glances around nervously.

Gyuvin puffs up his chest, “I’ll protect you.” Ricky sighs deeply.

They’re so fucked. 

“If you’re that worried,” Gyuvin continues, “We can practice so you can see how it will work.”

“Fine,” Ricky agrees, if only to show Gyuvin that his plan is stupid.

“You pretend to be the robber,” Gyuvin instructs, “And I’ll show you how it will go down.”

Ricky begrudgingly stands, Gyuvin taking the blanket from his hand and taking his place.

If anything, Ricky will get into character, “Oh my!” He says exaggeratedly, tiptoeing around the counter, “What a wonderful ice cream shop! It would be a pity if someone were to steal from it!”

“This is serious, stop joking around,” Gyuvin chides but snorts with laughter. “Come around the counter.”

Ricky obeys, takes his assigned spot as the fake burglar.

“Okay, and then you throw the blanket,” Gyuvin explains, a dark blanket draping over Ricky and blinding him.

He can’t see, so Gyuvin’s hands come up to Ricky’s waist to steady him, moving him to his next position.

“Now this is my part, I use my super strength to kick them,” Gyuvin demonstrates by raising his foot and gently nudging Ricky behind, “And then I—oops.”

Gyuvin loses his balance on one foot, or Ricky assumes he does since he’s covered in darkness, but there’s a stumbling noise and the crashing of boxes as Gyuvin tries to regain his balance, and then slipping, and suddenly Ricky is knocked back onto the floor with Gyuvin’s body weight on top of him and the sound of door slamming shut.

The floor is cold, too cold.

“Kim Gyuvin!” Ricky screeches, whips the blanket off his head, and sure enough, they’re splayed out on the floor of the walk-in freezer. “Please tell me you didn’t set the lock on the freezer.”

Gyuvin looks around nervously, “Well, you see. I wanted to be prepared for the thief to come in at any moment.”

They’re locked in the freezer.

Ricky pushes Gyuvin off of him, seething, “I’m gonna fucking kill you.”

“It was an accident! Someone will notice we’re missing soon and come get us!”

Ricky frantically makes his way over to the door, tries pushing it open anyways, even though he knows it will be pointless. It doesn’t budge. They had both stupidly left their phones in the pantry as well, Gyuvin claiming that if they went off and the burglar heard them, it would give away their scheme. 

“Our friends are all idiots, do you think any of them are really gonna notice?”

Ricky can see Gyuvin mentally going through the short list of their mutual friends.

“Okay, yeah we’re completely fucked.”

Ricky starts spiraling, pounds on the door and howls for someone to come get them. 

“There, there,” Gyuvin says placatingly, drapes the blanket intended for Gyuvin’s stupid plan over Ricky’s shoulders to comfort him, “It’s gonna be okay.”

“Don’t you get it, Gyuvin? We are going to be trapped in here forever until we slowly freeze to death, each of our body parts falling off one by one from the hypothermia and then when they recover our bodies they’re gonna have to bury our mangled frozen pieces!”

Gyuvin seems to come to a realization at this, frowns,  “My dick is gonna freeze off. I like my dick.”

Ricky glares at him.

Gyuvin smiles, raises his finger next to his head like he just had a genius idea, “Well actually, I can think of one way you could keep my dick warm.”

Ricky kicks him in the shin. “Do not finish that thought.”

“Ow,” Gyuvin pouts, “So, no head?”

They sit on opposite sides of the freezer, because Ricky is pointedly mad at Gyuvin and is trying to ignore him. 

They’ve been stuck for about an hour now, with no sign of any of their friends coming to find them or the thief coming to rob the place for that matter. 

Ricky is huddled under the blanket, but it’s still freezing, shivers as he tries not to think about his numb fingers. There’s a sound of slurping coming from Gyuvin’s direction, and he tries to ignore it at first, but he caves and looks at the other boy.

“Are you eating the fucking ice cream?”

Gyuvin looks up wide-eyed from the carton of ice cream he was stooped over, caught red-handed. “I was hungry.”

He’s eating ice cream with his bare hands, a bit stuck to the corner of his lip, and he’s shivering profusely under his thin t-shirt. And Ricky melts for him like always.

“You’re shivering,” Ricky observes. “Come over here before you freeze to death.”

Gyuvin crawls over to him, Ricky draping the blanket over both their shoulders so they’re huddled together. With their bodies this close, it’s a little more bearable.

“Are you actually mad at me?” Gyuvin pouts.

Ricky sighs, “No.”

They fight a lot. But never stay mad long.

“Okay, good.” Gyuvin rests his head on Ricky’s shoulder, his hair tickling Ricky’s cheek.

“I can never stay mad at you, it’s annoying,” Ricky complains. They’re both stubborn, hold grudges, but even then, with each other they never last more than a few days.

“I think I’ve only ever been actually mad at you once,” Gyuvin admits, suddenly.

Ricky furrows his brow, trying to recall what that moment was. “The time I pantsed you during the school assembly?”

Gyuvin laughs prettily against his side, “No, but fuck you for that. I’m gonna get you back one day.”

 “What was it then?”

Gyuvin hesitates, shifts his body uncomfortably, “You told everyone else before me. That you got into university.”

He remembers why. Wasn’t sure how to tell Gyuvin—that for the first time they might not be within walking distance of each other, that for the first time they might not be in easy grasp. He wasn’t even sure at the time if he was going to go.

“Oh.”

“Didn’t like that I found out through the others talking about it. I thought you would’ve told me first. I was so mad at you for that.”

It’s usually pretty easy to tell when Gyuvin was angry or upset. He wasn’t exactly subtle about it, pinched lips and drawn together brows, vocal about his distaste of situations. But he doesn’t remember Gyuvin being angry then. 

It burns deep in Ricky’s throat. He had wanted to tell Gyuvin so badly, but he was scared. Scared, because he knew as soon as he told him it would become real.

“I’m sorry,” Ricky says softly.

“You’re my most important friend, you know?”

It didn’t need to be said, but maybe it did, because Ricky can feel his heart burn brightly at the words. 

Ricky nods, “I should’ve told you first. I was just scared…because, I don’t think I’m ready.”

He remembers he was about to deny his acceptance, was too scared to jump off the cliff and test his wings, but Gyuvin had confronted him right before he did. 

Gyuvin had stood on his front porch, looking down at him with soft brown eyes. “You got into university?”

“Yeah, but-”

“You should go,” Gyuvin had declared hastily.

Ricky had stared at him in shock, “You think so?”

Gyuvin had nodded, laced their fingers together.

Now, trapped in the freezer, Gyuvin laces their fingers together again, turns to look at Ricky, “You are ready. And if you’re not, we’ll figure out how to be ready together.”

Ricky can feel tears pricking at his eyes, sliding down his cheeks slowly and dripping onto Gyuvin’s shirt.

“I was mad at you, for not telling me. But then I was happy that you got in. And now I’m excited that we have a new adventure to explore.”

Ricky wipes his tears away, looks over at Gyuvin, “It’s gonna be hard, being far away from you.”

Gyuvin smiles, “It’ll be different, and hard. But I know we’re ready.”

Most of the time, you don’t notice you’re growing up. You just look around one day and the toys you used to find cool are lame, and your classmates care more about dating than dodgeball, and the boy you used to make sandcastles with gives you butterflies. 

Gyuvin cups Ricky’s cheeks between his hands, “We’ve always been best friends, but now we get to choose to be.”

The moment is interrupted by the sound of the front door bell ringing as someone enters the ice cream shop.

“Holy fu-”

Ricky slaps a hand over Gyuvin’s mouth, signaling with his eyes to shut up.

He slowly removes his hand from Gyuvin’s mouth, grips onto Gyuvin’s upper arm instead as they listen to the thief rummaging through the store.

We have to get out of here! Ricky silently screams.

I have an idea, Gyuvin raises his eyebrows. 

For once, Gyuvin’s plan isn’t the most insane bullshit Ricky has ever seen. He pulls his keychain from his pocket, jams his bottle opener into the screws holding the door hinges of the freezer, and begins twisting. 

It takes some finagling, but the first hinge pops off after a few good twists, the door creaking slightly. He hopes the thief hasn’t heard them, it’s gone oddly silently outside.

The second hinge comes off and then the third, and with a final good kick, the door slams to the ground in a heavy thud.

They stumble out of the freezer, the stale air of the ice cream shop like a tropical paradise compared to the freezing temperatures they endured, so refreshing that they almost forget who was waiting for them on the other side. 

Taerae stares at them in shock, his arms cradling their precious tip jar, and he seems to have helped himself to an ice cream while he was at it, a sugar cone topped with a mint-chocolate scoop.

“Taerae?” They both shout.

“I can explain!” Taerae holds his hands up innocently, a little too fast, as his ice cream scoop plops on the ground. 

Gyuvin crosses his arms, “Oh, this better be good.”

🍦☀️🍦

Their boss is inside the store when they arrive at work the next day, and they both nervously glance at each other as they enter. 

No way someone figured it out that fast. 

“Gunmin! Mickey!” Their boss calls them over. He can never seem to remember their names. 

He’s a short man with wire-rimmed glasses who, for some reason, wears a button-up shirt and tie year round, and Gyuvin swears he’s a part of the mafia. Which, seemed kinda crazy first, but the longer Ricky works for him the more he’s convinced. 

It’s not often their boss stops by, usually just every two weeks to hand them their paychecks, which is how Gyuvin became convinced the whole shop was just a money laundering scheme in the first place. 

“The store got broken into last night,” He explains, gesturing to the mess on the ground. 

“Oh, no,” Gyuvin says in the most unconvincing voice of fake disappointment.

Their boss somehow also doesn’t seem very upset by the whole situation, “Yeah, it’s odd because they didn’t seem to take anything. Just broke the freezer door and left.”

“How, odd,” Gyuvin adds in again and Ricky elbows him to be quiet.

“Unfortunately, with the freezer door gone it looks like all the ice cream melted overnight so we might have to close up shop for the day.”

“Oh, darn,” Gyuvin snaps his fingers. 

The man laughs jovially, “Well, no matter! We’ve made plenty of money from the two of yours excellent customer service this summer, so we can take the day off!” 

Mafia, Gyuvin mouths at him when their boss isn’t looking. Which, even Ricky has to admit, that being backed by the mafia is the only reasonable explanation to how this place is turning a profit.

Their boss pats them both on the shoulder as he leaves, “Don’t get into too much trouble kids!”

“Thank you, sir!” Gyuvin salutes him enthusiastically, the door slamming shut.

Gyuvin turns to him, “Do you think he would be more mad if he found out we broke the freezer or found out we’ve been eating half of the inventory.”

“Neither,” Ricky shrugs, “Mafia doesn’t pay him enough to care.”

Pearls of laughter fall from his soft lips. 

With their day now free and clear, they bike to the sea cave, the one where you can find sea glass and stolen kisses, where they can pretend the world doesn’t exist a little longer.

Ricky sits in front of Gyuvin on the bike, even though there’s no skirt to be blown up, even though Ricky is too tall for Gyuvin to see. It’s different, but the same, and Ricky likes it. 

Gyuvin holds his hand as they make their way down the rocky cliffs, making sure he doesn’t misstep and fall, and Ricky wonders if it's always been like this, or if one day it changed and he didn’t even notice. 

“Ricky,” Gyuvin says suddenly, “I like you.”

They’re laying in the sand, side by side, and his body freezes at the words. 

“If you were my friend for this long and didn’t like me I would be kinda mad,” Ricky deflects, tries to play it off, give Gyuvin an out. 

Gyuvin sits up though, looks down at him seriously, “Ricky. You know what I mean.”

Ricky swallows. 

And he does—know what he means. Because they can speak without words, can fit together like puzzle pieces, can feel each other’s heart beats from across the room.

The sound of the waves lapping onto the shore fills the cave, and Gyuvin is still staring at him, searching for an answer, an answer Ricky is not sure he knows himself.

“Gyuvin,” he says simply, because that’s all he needs to say, reaches up and brushes the soft brown hair away from Gyuvin’s face. 

Ricky calls Gyuvin his best friend, but it’s not enough anymore, not a big enough word to contain it anymore. Gyuvin is everything.

“Can I kiss you?” Gyuvin asks. 

He doesn’t remember meeting Gyuvin, he just always was there, like the moment he blinked his eyes open into the world the first thing he saw was Gyuvin. There were moments where he didn’t like that people saw them as a set, two halves of a whole, would want to kick and scream that he’s his own person. But Gyuvin never saw him that way—a half—he always saw him as a whole, and maybe that was most important. They were intertwined, in every way, but Gyuvin didn’t steal half of him, he gave him a second whole, two heartbeats, two bodies beating as one.

He doesn’t answer, just pulls Gyuvin down by the neck into a searing kiss. Gyuvin makes a surprised noise into his mouth, but responds right away, kisses back earnestly.

He loves the way Gyuvin kisses him, open-mouthed and wet, his tongue tracing every place he can find. His hands are perfect too, traces his fingers down his arms, down his chest, places his hand at the top of his neck with his thumb right over the pulse point. 

He never really understood the sentiment that time flows differently when you’re close to the ocean, thought it was just another one of those corny tourist sayings they use as an excuse to get drunk at 10am. But he gets it a bit now, the ocean waves lapping, and Gyuvin kissing him so sweetly, he could stay like this forever, could be washed away under Gyuvin’s gentle mouth and never notice the passing time. 

Gyuvin reaches down and grasps Ricky’s thigh, and with a final squeeze, he pulls back to breathe. Their noses are still touching and Gyuvin’s eyes are still closed, so Ricky drinks Gyuvin’s pretty face so close to his. 

“It was the skirt, wasn’t it?” Ricky asks teasingly, plays with the soft hair on the nape of Gyuvin’s neck.

“No,” Gyuvin pouts, “Or maybe a little.”

Ricky laughs, “Weirdo.”

“Like you’re always kinda hot, but that definitely didn’t help,” Gyuvin confesses. 

“Hm,” Ricky contemplates, “I guess I’ll have to wear it again.”

Gyuvin groans, hides his face in the crook of Ricky’s neck, can feel Gyuvin’s lips ghost over the skin as he speaks, “You’re gonna kill me, like actually. Like one day you’re gonna find my dead corpse on the ground. And you’ll have to go to my funeral and be like ‘here lies Kim Gyuvin. He died because he saw Shen Ricky in a skirt. Popped a boner so hard his dick exploded’.”

Ricky giggles, gives Gyuvin’s shoulder a shove, “You’re so nasty.”

Gyuvin doesn’t seem to care though, smirks and closes his eyes as he cuddles closer into Ricky’s space, hands around his waist.

“At the end of the summer,” Ricky asks, and Gyuvin tenses, knows the passing of time is still sensitive spot for both of them, “You’ll keep that sailor hat, right?”

Gyuvin’s eyes pop open and he shifts his head up to look at Ricky’s face. “Ricky. There’s no fucking way you like that stupid hat.”

Oh, he likes it so fucking much. 

“Fuck you!” His cheeks flush pink, embarrassed.

“Oh my god,” Gyuvin is way too giddy, “He likes me in a sailor hat. He wants to board my ship and call me captain.” He continues like he’s speaking to an imaginary audience. 

“I never said any of that,” Ricky protests. But it’s too late, Gyuvin is smiling so brightly it may rival the summer sun.

“I’ll keep the hat,” Gyuvin grins, “But only if you use sailor terms on me.”

Ricky groans, “Nevermind, please burn that fucking hat.”

“Sailor, the flag is at half-mast. Captain, fire the cannons.”

Ricky grabs him by the shirt collar, kisses him again, effectively shutting him up. Gyuvin eagerly kisses him back, nips at his collarbones and under his jaw.

“Sailor, I must report the flag is at full-mast now,” Gyuvin teases, flops over when Ricky pushes him harshly.

🍦☀️🍦

It’s all there, glowing in the light of the bonfire. A crystal ball. A neon ‘H’. A ballerina panda. A snow cone machine. A tip jar.

“This better work,” Yujin says sourly, “I had to bail out on my League clan for this.”

Taerae ignores him, “Are you all at your stations? Do you know your line?”

Ricky is sitting in front of the tip jar, pats it appreciatively. Gyuvin is next to him in their star-patterned seating arrangement, the snow cone machine placed carefully in front of him.

“If you don’t start already I’m gonna start doing a different kind of line,” Gunwook yells from across the bonfire.

When they had found Taerae in the ice cream store it had all come out. The love spell he had found discarded in the fortune teller shop, the subsequent chain of events that followed after. 

Five places forming a star, five items the one you seek touched. On the clearest night under the stars, give over the five items to make the final star and repeat the magic words. The stars will grant you your wish.

Gyuvin leans over to him, “There’s no way this will work, right?”

Ricky shrugs, “Weirder things have happened here.”

“True, but you wouldn’t even know if I used a love spell on you,” Gyuvin teases. 

Ricky flicks some sand in his direction, Gyuvin covering the snow cone machine protectively. 

“Okay, let’s start,” Taerae declares. Taerae reaches his hand forward, rests his hand on the crystal ball, “Oh great stars, how you gleam.”

Gunwook snorts out a laugh, Taerae giving him a death stare, then motions for him to go next.

He reaches out, places his hand on the ‘H’, says his line in a grumble, “Your cosmic stardust will fall to form a dream.”

Yujin goes next, his hand atop the panda’s head, “And if these gifts please the orbs of light.”

“Um,” Gunwook says nervously.

“Shh,” Taerae hisses.

Gyuvin smiles at him as he says his line, “A wish can be granted in your might.”

Ricky opens his mouth to say his line but doesn’t get to complete it, because Gunwook interrupts.

“Um, there’s someone coming.”

They all turn to look, and sure enough, Hugh, owner of Hungry Hugh is marching towards them in an angry trot, his face contorted in rage. 

“Mr. Janus!” Taerae exclaims nervously, “What are you doing here?”

“Taking back what’s mine, thief,” Hugh swipes the ‘H’ from the sand, glaring at Taerae. 

“I was going to give it back, I swear,” Taerae pleads.

“Sure, kid,” Hugh huffs, “Also, you’re fired.”

Taerae deflates, Hugh stalking off with his sign.

“Dude,” Gunwook laughs, “You just got fired from Hungry Hugh. That’s a new low, even for you.”

“Fuck, it’s not gonna work now,” Taerae whines, unconcerned with his lack of employment, flops down in the sand in defeat. 

“No offense,” Yujin starts, which in Yujin-speak, means full offense, “I don’t think it was gonna work anyways.”

Taerae grumbles, “I had no other choice.”

“What the hell are you guys doing?” The voice startles them all, as Zhang Hao had somehow snuck up behind them without anyone noticing. 

“Hao!” Taerae jumps up, his whole face blushing, “What’re you doing here?”

“I figured you guys would be hanging out here…” Hao explains, “But this looks weird as fuck.”

“I can explain!” Taerae shouts, kneels in front of Hao, who has his hands on his hips in defense. 

“Can you?” Gyuvin chimes in. Because the truth was, Taerae was performing some weird love spell on the off-chance it would work and Zhang Hao would agree to go on a date with him. 

Ricky adds in too, “Yeah, tell him the truth or we’re gonna tell him our side of the story.”

Taerae visibly deflates, accepts defeat.

“Do you remember when we got our fortunes read together?” He asks Hao.

“Yes.”

“And had a hotdog at Hungry Hugh?”

“Yes.”

“And shopped for mugs at the gift store?”

“Yes.”

“And got snow cones from the surf shop?”

“Yes, again?”

“And we got ice cream and gave Ricky and Gyuvin a tip despite them having the worst customer service of all time.”

“Hey!” Gyuvin protests.

“Yes, I remember all of that?” Hao looks absolutely puzzled.

“Okay, well, I planned all those trips so you would touch something and I could steal the item after. Because I found a spell that I could use the items for and get granted a wish. And I was gonna wish to go on a date with you.”

It’s awkwardly silent for a moment, the fire crackling and a large wave crashing in the distance.

And then, Hao bursts into laughter, so strong that he doubles over and his eyes begin to tear up. 

Gyuvin snorts, and then they all break, laughing in the sand with Hao.

“It’s not funny!” Taerae protests, the only one not joining in on the chorus of giggles.

When Hao finally contains his laughter, he moves over to Taerae and grabs both of his hands in his, a wide smile still spread across his face, “Taerae, you’re so stupid, you realize all those things you named—things we did together, those were already dates?”

Taerae looks dumbfounded, “Huh?”

Hao kisses him once on the cheek, “Maybe we’re both a little bit stupid, because I thought we were dating this whole time?”

Taerae is a complete mess, Gunwook hooting at his sheepish face.

“Well, if that’s what you already thought, I would like that too.”

Hao smiles, “Good. And next time you want to ask me on a date, you can just tell me. Instead of possibly summoning a demon.”

“Fuck,” Taerae buries his face in Hao’s chest.

“Your next date better be cheap as fuck because Taerae just got fired,” Yujin adds in.

Gyuvin scoots up to Ricky in the meantime, while everyone is distracted, places his legs around Ricky and pulls so Ricky’s back is leaned against Gyuvin’s chest, Gyuvin’s arms secured around his waist.

“Mm,” Ricky makes a small noise when Gyuvin noses under his jaw and leaves a small kiss right on his pulse point.

They still haven’t told their friends exactly, how they’re the same but different, a little secret between just the two of them. It’s okay, because there’s still the rest of summer for them to find out.

“I’m taking that tip jar back and I’m gonna make $200 tomorrow,” Ricky declares. 

Gyuvin snorts, “Sure you will.”

“I will,” Ricky doubles-down, “Even if it means tying you up and locking you in the freezer.”

“Kinky,” Gyuvin smirks. Ricky elbows him in the ribs, the boy making a soft ‘oof’.

“Do you think I could eat $200 worth of ice cream?” Gyuvin asks, one of his never ending questions with no right answer.

“No, you would throw up. And I’d have to clean it up.”

“I think I could do it,” Gyuvin defends, his usual unfounded confidence.

“And you’ll make $200 tomorrow,” Gyuvin adds, “Because, when you really want something Ricky, you always are able to do it. You do it no matter what. And I’m always behind you, every step of the way.”

Ricky turns in his arms, leaves a small kiss on Gyuvin’s cheek.

“Yuck,” Ricky complains, “You’re so sickly sweet now. Like double chocolate ice cream with extra chocolate fudge.”

“You didn’t let me finish!” Gyuvin yelps, “You’ll make $200 and then you’ll spend it all buying me ice cream so I can prove you wrong, asshole.”

Ricky laughs, melts back into Gyuvin’s chest, “You’re on.”

“And get used to it,” Gyuvin adds, “Because I’m gonna be sweeter than every ice cream flavor you’ve ever tasted. With whipped cream and a cherry on top.”

🍦☀️🍦