Chapter Text
Lindenford seemed pretty normal from the outside, but living there felt really special. The cobblestone streets, the cafés that closed way too early, and the river that twisted like a ribbon through the city. These little, quiet things made up Ricky Shen’s life.
In that life, his window always looked out at Kim Gyuvin’s.
It had been like that since middle school when Ricky’s family moved into the townhouse across the street. His older brother teased him for years“lucky you, free entertainment every night” because Gyuvin’s house was always so loud. With siblings and soccer friends constantly coming and going, the Kim family made Ricky’s calm life seem like background noise.
But Ricky didn’t mind. If anything, it made him feel less alone.
“Ricky! Breakfast!” his mom called from downstairs.
Ricky fixed his uniform tie in the mirror, letting out a sigh. His reflection looked back at him: neat, maybe too neat, with dark hair that always fell into his eyes no matter how hard he tried to push it away. He should’ve been rushing, but his eyes wandered automatically, helplessly toward the window.
Across the street, Gyuvin’s curtain was half open, showing a mess.
Gyuvin was in his uniform shirt, his tie loose and not quite right, one sock missing as he hopped around his room searching for it. His little brother barged in with a soccer ball, only for Gyuvin to chase him out, shouting. Ricky stifled a laugh, covering his mouth with his hand even though no one could hear him.
Then, as if he sensed Ricky watching, Gyuvin looked up.
Their eyes connected.
Ricky’s stomach did a flip. Too quick, too sudden he yanked his curtain shut, his heart racing like he’d been caught doing something wrong. Which, technically, he hadn’t. But it wasn’t normal to watch your best friend from across the street every morning, right?
He grabbed his bag, mumbling to himself, “Stupid.”
They met at the crosswalk like they always did.
“You’re late,” Ricky said, even though Gyuvin was just three minutes behind.
Gyuvin smiled, his hair still wet from a quick shower. “You looked, didn’t you?”
Ricky stumbled over nothing. “W–What?”
“My window. I noticed your curtain move. Don’t pretend you don’t check me out every morning.”
Ricky felt heat rush to his ears. He struggled to find the right words, finally saying, “It’s just looking outside. People do that.”
“Mmhm,” Gyuvin teased, putting an arm around Ricky’s shoulder as they headed to Lindenford Academy. “You just happen to look outside right when I’m doing my morning routine. What a coincidence.”
Ricky pushed his arm away, trying not to grin. “You’re so full of yourself.”
But that was Kim Gyuvin, full of himself, full of energy, and full of something Ricky couldn’t quite name without feeling tight in his chest.
Lindenford Academy was at the edge of the city’s historic area, with tall brick walls covered in ivy. Students poured through the gates, their voices blending into a familiar morning buzz.
The thing about being friends with Gyuvin: you were never unnoticed.
“Gyuvin!” someone yelled from the soccer field. A few girls waved. One of the third years patted him on the back as they walked by. He was like a magnet; people were drawn to him without even trying.
Ricky, on the other hand, preferred to be unnoticed. He walked beside Gyuvin, keeping his head down as whispers floated around them.
“Did you hear? He hooked up with someone again last weekend.”
“Of course he did, he’s Kim Gyuvin.”
“His ex still goes here, right? Imagine the drama.”
Ricky tightened his jaw. He hated hearing that stuff not just because it hurt, but because it didn’t match the Gyuvin he knew. The one who came over at midnight when Ricky couldn’t sleep, who shared snacks over their windowsills, who once cried during a movie and made Ricky promise to never tell anyone.
But he didn’t say anything. He never did.
The first period went by in a blur. Ricky was sitting by the window, doodling in the margins of his notebook while the teacher droned on and on. Gyuvin, who was two rows back, wasn’t paying attention either, he was drawing something silly on his worksheet and poking Hao with his pen.
Normal. Predictable. Safe.
Then a note landed on Ricky’s desk.
He looked around. Gyuvin tilted his head with a smirk. Ricky opened the paper under his desk.
Wanna grab lunch on the roof today? Just us.
Ricky’s heart skipped a beat. Just us. His pen almost slipped from his fingers. He quickly wrote back, Why?
A moment later, Gyuvin’s messy handwriting showed up: Why not?
The rooftop was technically off limits, but rules didn’t really matter when Gyuvin was around. They had lunch sitting against the wall, the wind messing with their uniforms. From up there, Lindenford spread out in layers of rooftops, the river shining like glass.
“You’ve been quiet,” Gyuvin said while munching on kimbap.
Ricky blinked. “I’m always quiet.”
“Yeah, but not with me.”
Those words felt heavier than they should have. Ricky looked down at his food, trying to cool the heat rising in his face. “You’re imagining things.”
Gyuvin leaned in closer, grinning. “You’re blushing.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.” He poked Ricky’s cheek, and Ricky almost dropped his chopsticks. “Cute.”
Ricky felt a squeeze in his chest. He forced a frown. “Do you flirt with everyone like this?”
Gyuvin didn’t reply right away. His smile faded for just a moment before he shrugged. “Maybe. Does it bother you?”
Ricky froze. He wanted to say yes. He wanted to say stop. But he couldn’t get the words out.
“...Forget it,” Gyuvin said lightly, stretching his arms behind his head. “Don’t look so serious. I was just joking.”
But Ricky wasn’t so sure.
After school, Ricky had art club. He stayed behind, painting quietly while the room emptied. The light outside turned golden, casting shadows across the canvas. It was peaceful until his phone buzzed.
A message from Gyuvin: Practice is done. I’m waiting for you at the gate. Hurry up before I get super bored.
Ricky let out a sigh as he packed his things. Sure enough, Gyuvin was leaning against the school gate, his soccer bag hanging over his shoulder. He looked a bit tired but still cheerful, with sweat sticking to his hairline.
“Took you long enough,” Gyuvin said, walking alongside him. “What do you even do in art club? Just stare at paint?”
“It’s better than running around chasing a ball.”
“Hey,” Gyuvin nudged him with his shoulder, pretending to be offended. “Soccer is an art form. You just don’t understand.”
Ricky rolled his eyes. “If you say so.”
But deep down, he did understand. He had watched Gyuvin play enough to realize that soccer was more than just running and kicking, it was Gyuvin shining, full of life, giving his all on the field. And Ricky… he enjoyed watching him like that. Maybe a little too much.
They arrived at their street just as the sky turned a soft pink. Their houses faced each other, warm lights glowing from the windows.
“See you tomorrow,” Gyuvin said, adjusting his bag.
“Yeah.”
Ricky crossed the street, unlocked his door, and went inside. But later, when he went upstairs, he found himself standing by the window again.
Gyuvin’s room was lit, curtains open. He was lying on his bed, phone in hand, laughing at something. Then, just like before, he looked up. Their eyes met through the glass and distance.
Ricky’s breath caught in his throat.
Gyuvin waved, his fingers moving in a friendly gesture.
Ricky hesitated then waved back, shyly, his hand small.
The corners of Gyuvin’s mouth turned up in a smile.
And Ricky realized, maybe for the hundredth time but more clearly now, that his world wasn’t just Lindenford or the river or the cobblestones.
It was this.
It was Gyuvin.