attention | gyuricky

twenty-five

They head back in the direction they came from, tracing their path back up the slope towards their dorm. Gyuvin doesn't have his phone with him, but as they reenter the apartment he glances towards the digital clock on the kitchen counter. 3:19AM.

He locks the door behind them. The lights in the apartment are off other than one single hanging light over the kitchen area, the way it normally is at night.

"Can I ask you something else?"

"Yeah, sure. What is it?"

"The nightmare you had tonight," Gyuvin begins. "You said it was different. You said it was me."

"Yeah."

"What was it about?"

"You, in the middle of the street. It was dark, and there was a truck. No headlights. I found you the next morning, but I was too late." Ricky says it slowly, impersonally, almost clinical, as if pretending it happened to someone else instead of him could make it hurt any less. "Your blood was on the soles of my shoes."

"Why did you care so much?" Gyuvin asks in return.

"You know why."

"Say it."

"Go to sleep."

Ricky looks worn, and something unreadable ghosts across his face for just a second, and Gyuvin almost feels bad he asked the question in the first place. "Do you think you'll be able to?"

The other boy shakes his head. "I'll just get some work done or something. Go get some rest."

"Is it that bad?" Gyuvin persists, frowning. "I can go get Hao. I know it's late but I'm sure he wouldn't mind."

"I know he wouldn't," Ricky answers. "Can't rely on him forever, can I?"

"Rely on me," Gyuvin says. "I don't care if you wake me up every night, I'll sit with you till you fall asleep. Won't you let me?"

Ricky smiles, so faintly Gyuvin wonders if he's imagining it. "Why do you care so much?"

"I'll answer that tomorrow if you come and sleep."

"...fine."

"I knew you'd come around."

Gyuvin takes off the sweatshirt he'd put on earlier so he's back in regular pajamas again, and he sits down on the unoccupied side of the bed. Ricky runs a hand through his hair to smooth it down before getting in, and they remain in stillness and silence for a few minutes before he flips up the other end of the comforter.

"Lie down. You'll get a backache sitting like that."

"Can't," Gyuvin mumbles. "I'm tired. I'll just fall asleep if I lie down."

"Then fall asleep. It's late."

Gyuvin knows there's probably a million reasons he shouldn't, but as the darkness in the bedroom lulls him back into drowsiness again he just can't seem to think of a single one or find the clearheadedness to care. He's momentarily startled by how familiar Ricky's bed feels under him, but he remembers a second later they both have the same standard dorm bed.

"Goodnight, Ricky." His voice is heavy with sleep.

"Goodnight."

When he reawakens the sun is high enough in the sky it pours over Gyuvin's face as his eyes open. He almost instinctively flinches away before remembering where he is, and he freezes where he is as his bearings begin to return to him.

Ricky's still asleep; the bed's big enough they're not pressed against each other, but nevertheless they're close enough he can feel the warmth Ricky radiates under the comforter, and he's sure if he moves his hand just the slightest bit they would touch.

He wonders if he wants to. He wonders why he's even asking himself that.

Ricky looks so exhausted when he sleeps. Gyuvin gets that it's kind of an ironic statement to make, but there's just something about the way Ricky is that makes his heart break a little. As if he's holding tight to every moment of peace that comes by because he doesn't have enough.

Gyuvin decides not to wake him up. It's a Friday and he has classes, but he knows Ricky doesn't, at least not until later in the day, and he needs all the sleep he can get. By the time he's back from his Conservation Philosophy class at half past ten in the morning, Ricky's awake, and Gyuvin shakes a brown paper bag at him before setting it down on the kitchen counter.

"I got you a muffin. Don't skip breakfast."

"It's almost eleven," Ricky counters. "Hardly breakfast anymore."

"Don't skip it anyway."

"Thanks."

Gyuvin hums a noncommittal reply, setting his bag down on one of the chairs to dig around for his notes inside. "How'd you sleep?"

Ricky turns from where he's just finished washing a glass in the sink, leaning against the countertop. "Better than usual. And you?"

"Awful. You kick a lot."

Ricky laughs, taking the brown bag and peering into it. "How'd you know I like lemon muffins?"

"Because I'm always right."

"Then I hate lemon muffins."

"Just shut up and eat."