attention | gyuricky

twenty.

Zhanghao's car is, as far as Gyuvin can tell, some expensive model of Tesla with a navigation system that's fortunately reliable. It charts him a path that weaves out of the city, which takes a little longer than expected considering he's driven right into the dinnertime rush hour traffic, but as soon as he leaves the more densely populated area of the city behind, the roads empty out fast and he picks up speed, admiring the smoothness of the car's mechanics while simultaneously wondering how much he'll owe Zhanghao if he somehow ends up crashing it into one of the massive evergreen trees that dot the sides of the roads.

The path up the mountains is winding and the conspicuous lack of streetlights worries Gyuvin just the slightest bit, but between the fading light of the evening sun and his headlights turned up, he supposes he'll manage. The mountain plateaus at some point about twenty minutes into his ascent, and the little flag on the navigation screen tells him he's almost reached his destination. He follows the map down a rocky path lined by low oak trees on either side and pulls to a stop in front of a big cabin, next to another car ─ ah, Ricky's. So Zhanghao was right, after all.

Gyuvin kills the engine and gets out of the car, pulling his jacket on as an afterthought, as the combination of nighttime chill and altitude hits him all at once. He can't tell if Ricky can hear his car driving up from inside the house, but it doesn't matter anymore; in ten seconds he's at the front door, and he gives three polite knocks and waits.

The door opens, and Ricky doesn't look at all surprised to see him.

"I really can't get away from you anywhere I go, huh?"

Ricky stares him down from inside the doorway and Gyuvin stands his ground, steeling himself. "I'm not here to bother you or make things any worse," he says carefully, gauging the other boy's reactions. "I just want to apologise."

"You do that a lot."

"Yeah, I do stupid stuff a lot. You'll get used to it," Gyuvin answers lightly, though his heart's still beating fast enough he can feel it thrumming in his veins.

The boy in the doorway sighs. "What are you apologising for this time?"

"For saying all those things. It was cruel and it hurt you and I wish I could take them back, but I can't," Gyuvin says. "I'm sorry. I don't want to be that kind of person in your eyes."

"You aren't."

"Oh," Gyuvin brightens up considerably at the unexpectedly non-hostile answer. "Does that mean I'm forgiven?"

Ricky raises one eyebrow at him. "No."

"Oh."

Ricky stands back from the entryway to the lake house. "Come in."

"What? It's okay, I can g-"

"It's dark out and there aren't any streetlights on the roads," Ricky says, already turning away to head into the house. "You'll get killed trying to drive back in this kind of condition. Suit yourself."

Gyuvin gives in and enters, closing the door behind him. The cabin's warm; there's a small fireplace in the corner burning brightly. He walks further into the house and peeks down the lit corridor. Though he's been invited in, it's a little awkward doing anything with the owner of the house not around, and he lingers hesitantly around the entrance to the corridor until Ricky reappears.

"Did you eat?" Ricky asks, breezing past him.

"What? Oh, no."

"Are you allergic to anything?"

Gyuvin blanks out at the sudden question for just a second. "Um, I'm allergic to turpentine."

Ricky looks at him like he can't really decide if he wants to shake Gyuvin or not. "I knew that. Food. Are you allergic to any foods?"

"Oh, I'm not. Why?"

"I'll make you something to eat."

Gyuvin gets up and starts to say some variation of no, it's okay and you don't have to, but Ricky largely ignores him, reaching up into a cupboard to take out a pack of instant ramen, then into the fridge for an egg. Gyuvin idly wonders how often Ricky's family comes by to stay in this cabin; either someone was always keeping the fridge here refreshed, or Ricky had gotten himself groceries on the drive up, which on second thought seemed a more plausible answer.

"I can help," Gyuvin offers, feeling a little bad watching from the sidelines. "Is there anything I can do?"

"You just recovered," Ricky says, cracking the egg into the pot of boiling water smoothly with one hand. "Go sit down."

It's not an entirely untrue statement; Gyuvin had just been back at the hospital earlier during the week to have a final review done and his cast removed after six weeks, but since then he'd been cleared by the doctors for having fully recovered and sent home with the instruction that it was fine to return to doing all his activities, though not without some extra caution.

"I'm not made of glass, Ricky," Gyuvin answers lightheartedly, walking over to clear the plastic packaging and empty eggshell off the countertop and into the trash can. "I won't break so easily."

"I'd rather not drive you to the hospital in the middle of the night again."

"Fair enough. What if I promise to drive myself this time?" Gyuvin retorts.

Ricky doesn't look up from where he's stirring at the pot of noodles with a pair of chopsticks, but Gyuvin thinks he can see a hint of a smile cross the other boy's face. "Just go sit down. It'll be done in a moment."

Gyuvin obliges and heads out of the kitchen, sitting at one of the chairs at the dining table, admiring the interior of the house as he waits. It's a typical log cabin; dark wood-paneled walls and floors, a big comfy-looking couch and a coffee table littered with a few magazines and a blown-glass sculpture centrepiece, framed photos of family dotting the open living room. He reaches over to the centre of the dining table to pick up a picture frame of a little boy and someone who looked like the younger version of Ricky's mother standing next to a massive statue of a dinosaur at some amusement park and he can't help but smile.

He tries to remember if he's ever seen Ricky smile as wide as he had in that picture. He tries to remember if he's ever seen Ricky smile at all.

"Don't be creepy."

Ricky sets down two bowls of ramen on the table and gives Gyuvin a look, though Gyuvin can tell he doesn't really mean it.

"You were really cute," Gyuvin says, taking up a pair of chopsticks. "In the pictures, I mean. And your mom looks like she's barely aged."

Ricky's chopstickful of noodles freezes on its way out of the bowl. "How do you know what my mom looks like?"

Gyuvin looks up like a deer caught in the headlights. "Zhanghao and I went to your house. Sorry, it was his first guess as to where you had gone."

"I need to take his security clearance out of the gate system," Ricky sighs. "So you met my mom?"

"Yeah, she was really nice and gave us cookies."

The other boy nods slowly, resuming eating. "She's good at baking."

Gyuvin continues eating too and lets the silence drag on for a good couple of minutes before the pressure to speak again gets to him. "I hope you know I really am sorry. I know things between us were never good and it always bothered me but that isn't an excuse."

"I know you are. Don't worry about it anymore."

As Gyuvin scrubs at the empty ramen bowl with a sponge at the sink later, he wonders if this newfound peace between them is here to stay.

He finds himself hoping it will be.