attention | gyuricky

three.

They spend the rest of the night talking and laughing amongst themselves, tucked away in their little corner, none of them really caring about fraternizing with the girls there or anyone else, really. It's two in the morning by the time they decide to head back to their dorms, though the club's still mostly full when they leave. It's a club located near the university campus, clearly targeted towards the students there and the younger population in the area, and it's just one train stop and a five minute walk away from the dormitory buildings.

"You sober enough to remember your room number?" Taerae asks witheringly, Junhyeon weighing down his shoulder with how much he's falling over his own feet. "I can't believe you'd drink so much if you couldn't handle it."

"I remember it!" Junhyeon insists, his voice ringing loud in the quiet corridors. "It starts with 5-"

Taerae sends him a despairing look. "Forget it, seriously. I'll take him, I know the way. Gunwook, Gyuvin, get back safe, alright?"

"Thanks, Taerae," Gyuvin salutes him lightheartedly. "We'll get going then. See you guys on Monday for the first day of orientation."

"Let's be real, we'll probably see each other over the weekend," Gunwook interjects, laughing. "Goodnight, guys."

The dorm room assignments aren't arranged by major, though it seems to hold true that the film and theater students were the furthest away from campus, the music and literature students somewhere in between, and the architecture, painting and sculpture students in the blocks directly facing the school. Gyuvin heads up to the second floor and looks for the door with a black backpack resting on the doorstep; he'd left it there before rushing off to meet the others at the club because he hadn't been able to find his keys in the mess that was the inside of his bag.

It doesn't matter, though, the door is cracked ajar, and he slings his bag over one shoulder before stepping inside. He's never seen the inside of the room before. It's a medium-sized but fairly cozy room, a small living area and dining table, a door on each side that opens up to a bedroom and a bathroom respectively. The place looks surprisingly lived in, and for a second he steps back out to make sure he hasn't gone into someone else's room. There's keys on the countertop and plates and cups in the drying rack over the sink, and a blue varsity jacket draped over the arm of one of the chairs.

"Hello?" he calls, cautious, leaving his bag on one of the empty chairs as he heads over to peek into the bedroom. The lights are on inside, and there's a blonde-haired boy rifling through one of the closets who turns around at the sound of someone else's voice.

"Hey, it's you!" It's the bartender from the club, though he's out of his uniform and glasses and looks to be fresh out of the shower; his platinum hair's pushed back up and off his forehead, and there's a towel around his neck and nothing else on other than a pair of gray sweatpants. "Hi!"

The boy, Ricky, rearranges two of the hangers in his closet before closing the door. "Hey. Do I know you?"

"I met you earlier at the club," Gyuvin explains quickly. "I'm the one who ordered the grape crush sangria, remember?"

"You didn't exactly order it," Ricky answers, his voice expressionless, a deadpan. "You gave vague instructions, and I made it."

"Oh, yeah sure," Gyuvin answers. "Nice to meet you. I'm Kim Gyuvin, what's your name?"

"I'm Ricky."

Gyuvin's a little thrown off by the unexpected shortness of the other boy's answers, considering the friendly way he'd acted earlier at the bar. "Okay...well, I guess we're going to be roommates. I hope you're not the kind to throw loud parties at night," he adds, trying to keep the conversation lighthearted.

"I get enough of it at work," Ricky answers, pulling a black shirt on. He doesn't elaborate, and Gyuvin stares after him as he turns to head back into the living area without saying anything more.

He fiddles with the zipper of his jacket, the tense atmosphere in the room making him a little anxious. He'd expected to be good friends with his roommate at least, hoping for someone he could talk to freely and play video games with and drag outside for convenience store runs at midnight. As it is, Gyuvin can't imagine that happening at all with Ricky.

Maybe he's just slow to warm up to people, he tells himself, as he hangs up his jacket on one of the hangers in the closet on his side of the room. Ricky had first choice of beds since he'd gotten here first and he'd taken the one on the left, leaving Gyuvin the one by the window, which he didn't mind.

Re-entering the living room to get his bag, he catches sight of Ricky holding something long and wooden with delicate fingers, snapping something into place. An easel?

"For painting?" Gyuvin asks, glancing over with curiosity.

Ricky looks up briefly from his task, his expression a mix of condescension and amusement. "It can't possibly be for eating, can it?"

"Could be, if you're creative."

It's difficult to keep a conversation going when you're the only one really trying, and Gyuvin gives up on that venture for tonight, heading into the bathroom for a quick shower. There's nothing much for him to unpack, there's only a towel, a change of clothes and a toothbrush in his backpack. The rest of his clothes and belongings will be sent over by delivery, his thick pile of sketchbooks, his pencils, the massive supply pack of ice-cream sticks and tape and assorted glues he'll need once the semester begins and he starts getting actual architecture assignments.

Rubbing at his dark hair with a towel, Gyuvin re-emerges from the bathroom, checking the time on his phone. It's just past three in the morning, but tomorrow's a Saturday and he doesn't have any plans in the morning, which means he has till afternoon to sleep off the hangover he's sure to have. The lights in the bedroom are off, which means his roommate's probably asleep, so he's mindful of his volume as he moves to the sink to get a glass of water before he sleeps.

The bed's comfortable. It's nothing compared to the comfort of his own well-worn bed at home, but it'll do. He's never been one to be picky about where he sleeps anyway; he's been known to be able to fall asleep standing up on the train.

He checks in with Taerae and Gunwook in the groupchat to make sure they've settled in fine. Junhyeon hasn't read any of their messages, no doubt because he's passed out somewhere; Gyuvin wonders with some amusement what kind of first impression his roommate will have of him.

Not that Gyuvin himself had much room to talk, really. Contrary to the deceptively friendly appearance Ricky had had earlier at the club, the version of him he'd met when he entered the room spoke in such a steady monotone Gyuvin wondered if there were any emotions under there. His face didn't help either; he was still as startlingly good looking as he'd been at the club, but without the smiles and twinkling eyes, he looked perpetually solemn, like a calm surface on a lake that never really saw any movement.

"I'm sleeping," Gyuvin calls softly. "Goodnight, Ricky." He can't tell if the other boy's asleep or simply ignoring him, but he's too tired to really care. Whatever the deal was with that guy, he could handle it tomorrow when he wasn't three seconds away from losing consciousness. Letting go of the thought, he slips into a dreamless, alcohol-fueled slumber and doesn't awaken till morning.