attention | gyuricky

eighteen.

Gyuvin doesn't see Ricky that night, or the night after. It's not uncommon for his roommate to be home late, since he picks up extra shifts at the club when he doesn't have morning classes the next day, but even then he always comes home, and Gyuvin's gotten used to seeing him still asleep in his bed at eight in the morning when he gets up to attend his History of Architecture classes, and when he wakes up to Ricky's bed completely untouched for the second day in a row it strikes him that something might be wrong.

He picks up a bottle of iced coffee from the vending machine in the lobby as a substitute for stopping at the cafe for breakfast and walks the opposite way, up the hill towards Junhyeon's dormitory block. He's still a little apologetic about getting Zhanghao in trouble with Ricky, but his moral compass insists it was for a good reason. Plus, he tries to convince himself it was Zhanghao's choice to bring it up to Ricky; he had nothing to do with that.

Zhanghao answering the door brings the wafting aroma of scrambled eggs, and he looks a little surprised to see Gyuvin at this timing of the day. "Hey. What's up?"

"Do you have any idea where Ricky's gone?" Gyuvin asks, staunchly ignoring how good the eggs smell on an empty stomach. "I haven't seen him in two days and he hasn't been sleeping at our dorm. I don't think he has any other friends so I'm a little worried about where he is if he isn't with you."

"Did you guys have a fight?" Zhanghao asks, a concerned furrow appearing in his brow.

"When are we not fighting?" Gyuvin answers despairingly. "But it's never been this bad before. He was really mad at me for telling you about his nightmares, and I got kinda worked up and said a bunch of stuff I shouldn't have. I think some of it really got to him."

"What kind of stuff did you say?" Zhanghao looks even more worried now, standing away from the door to gesture for him to come in.

Gyuvin runs his hand over his face with a somewhat appropriate measure of shame as he thinks back to last night. "Ah, I feel awful now, seriously..."

"You like to do this thing where you make things sound terrible and get me really concerned," Zhanghao gives him a questioning look as he stirs at the pan of scrambled eggs with a wooden spatula. "It's alright, just say it."

"I said something about how he was terrified of getting close to people and how he keeps even you at arm's length because you remind him of what happened to your friend," Gyuvin says, the words falling out of his mouth, as if the faster he speaks the less awful they sound. "I'm sorry, really. I know I didn't say it to you but it just- I'm sorry."

"My friend?" Zhanghao asks. "You're talking about Yujin, aren't you? How'd you even know about him?"

"That's not really important," Gyuvin answers quickly. He's done enough damage without implicating Yunseo, too. "I don't want to get anyone else into trouble. Just tell me how badly I messed up, please."

Zhanghao puts a plate in front of him, loaded with what looks to be cheese scrambled eggs and two pieces of buttered toast. "Eat. You look hungry."

Gyuvin digs in without a single protest; Zhanghao's not wrong and apparently is also one of the best breakfast chefs he's ever met because the eggs and toast are so delicious he almost forgets his guilt as he eats. "Please answer my question. I need to decide how big of an apology bouquet I need to get Ricky," he tacks on at the end just to keep it lighthearted, but there's none of his usual good humour in it.

Zhanghao sits down opposite him with a similar plate of food. "I suppose you're not that far off the mark," he says, poking at a corner of toast with his fork. "Ricky took Yujin's death really hard, though I never really understood why. I didn't bother asking though, I know him. He's the kind of person who won't tell you anything once he's made up his mind not to tell you."

"So he was mad because I was right?"

Zhanghao smiles. "Don't be too proud of yourself."

"Right, I'm sorry."

They continue eating in silence; Gyuvin because he's back to wallowing in guilt and can no longer keep up the guise of nonchalance, Zhanghao because he's absorbed in thought.

"Maybe it's true," he says slowly. "He was never really the same after Yujin died. Our band broke up because he refused to come for practices anymore and there was just too much tension for us to play together comfortably. There were five of us back then, and they all said he'd stopped talking to them completely after we graduated. I was always the one who was closest to him, but even I can tell he's put a wall between us. I guess I just didn't want to admit it to myself."

"But if that's true, then that means he has nobody to go to," Gyuvin says. "He shouldn't have to deal with whatever he's dealing with alone..."

"Maybe he thinks he's better off that way," Zhanghao sighs. "There was a time when I knew him better than I knew myself, you know? But lately it's like I'm shouting through a door and just praying the person on the other side is still listening. I wish I could get through to him, but he just shuts me out every time."

"So where do you think he's gone now?" Gyuvin brings his plate over to the sink and begins washing it without thinking. "I'm sure he's smart enough to be somewhere safe, but I'm just worried about what's going to happen to him regardless."

"I think I might have an idea," Zhanghao answers, semi-decisively. "How open are you to skipping classes?"