all the things we never said
chapter 8: old habits die hard
genre: coming-of-age, mystery, slice-of-life, drama, slow burn, youth
chapter summary: after a quiet, ordinary saturday leads the friend group to the arcade, a series of small, seemingly insignificant and surface-level moments quietly deepen the bond between sieun and suho. sometimes, the simplest gestures are the hardest to make.
the basketball struck the pavement with a familiar rhythm.
the chain-link fence rattled faintly as a breeze swept across the empty court, carrying with it the distant chatter of children playing somewhere past the neighborhood.
suho barely noticed any of it.
his attention stayed fixed on the ball beneath his fingertips, each movement practiced enough that he no longer needed to think about it. a routine, almost.
years of repetition had turned it into muscle memory.
suho couldn’t remember when saturday mornings had started looking like this, or why he’d kept coming back.
the basketball left his fingertips, struck the backboard, clipped the rim, and bounced away.
he clicked his tongue under his breath before jogging after it. as he bent to pick it up, another ball rolled lazily across the court and nudged the side of his shoe.
the voice reached him before he had the chance to look up.
sieun stood just beyond the three-point line, one hand tucked into the pocket of his hoodie while the other rested loosely at his side. the morning breeze stirred a few loose strands of his hair, and he looked so effortlessly at ease—as though ending up here had never required a reason in the first place.
before he knew it, a smile had already found its way onto suho’s face.
their eyes met for only a second before suho bent to retrieve his basketball.
neither of them asked why the other was there.
somewhere between quiet weekends, shared walks home, and afternoons spent doing nothing in particular, they’d stopped needing invitations.
one of them would show up.
the other always would too.
before either of them realized it, they’d already slipped into their usual rhythm.
somehow, suho always ended up on offense, leaving sieun to play defense without so much as a discussion. it wasn’t an official rule. it had simply happened often enough that neither of them questioned it anymore.
if there was one thing suho would never pass up an opportunity to brag about, it was basketball.
he feinted left, then darted right before sieun could react. by the time sieun reached out to block him, suho had already slipped past his shoulder. with an easy jump, he released the ball.
it kissed the backboard, circled the rim once…
then dropped cleanly through the net.
the ball bounced back onto the court with a soft, hollow thud.
suho landed with a grin, looking far too pleased with himself.
“…again,” he muttered under his breath.
sieun watched the ball roll away before turning back to him.
“why am i always the one playing defense?”
there was no accusation in his voice, only quiet curiosity.
“… i want to try offense today.”
suho stared at sieun as though he’d just said the most unbelievable thing imaginable.
slowly, he lifted a finger.
his brows climbed a little higher.
sieun answered with a simple nod, as though there was nothing unusual about the request.
suho looked genuinely conflicted.
“…you’re going to ruin my winning streak.”
despite the complaint, the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth gave him away.
“the one i’ve been maintaining.”
suho pressed his lips together, clearly holding back another argument that neither of them believed would go anywhere.
instead, he let out an exaggerated sigh and rolled his eyes toward the sky before dragging himself over to the basketball resting beneath the hoop with staged reluctance.
he bent down, scooped up the ball, then spun it effortlessly on the tip of one finger.
he pointed accusingly at sieun with his free hand.
“for being surprisingly good at playing offense.”
suho caught the ball against his hip before flashing him a crooked grin.
“let me teach you how to actually throw a ball.”
before long, suho had somehow turned a simple game of basketball into what felt like a professional coaching session.
he talked about footwork, balance, the right angle to release the ball, the importance of timing, even which pair of shoes gave the best lift on a jump.
but somewhere between suho’s explanation of shooting form and the proper way to plant his feet…
he stopped hearing the words altogether.
his attention settled elsewhere.
the morning sun spilled across suho’s face, soft enough to catch the edges of his features without washing them out. the breeze stirred the strands of hair hanging over his forehead, lifting them just enough to reveal a glimpse of the skin beneath before they fell back into place.
gesturing absentmindedly with the basketball tucked beneath one arm, laughing softly at his own terrible explanation before immediately trying again.
the words blurred together.
he couldn’t remember the last thing suho had said.
or the sentence before that.
all he knew was that, for reasons he couldn’t quite explain, everything around them seemed to fade into the background.
the squeak of shoes against the pavement.
the distant hum of traffic beyond the fence.
they all drifted somewhere out of reach.
and the strange, unfamiliar tightness settling quietly beneath his ribs.
“…and that’s why you always follow through with your wrist.”
suho lowered his hand, waiting for the usual response.
his brows drew together almost immediately.
sieun’s eyes rested on him, but there was something distant about them. his gaze never wandered, never blinked, yet it carried that unmistakable look of someone whose thoughts had drifted somewhere else entirely.
suho followed his line of sight for a second before looking back.
he waved a hand in front of his face.
a quiet laugh escaped him.
he took another step forward, close enough to catch whatever had stolen sieun’s attention.
the words finally reached him.
sieun blinked slowly, his focus returning piece by piece before settling back where it belonged.
“welcome back. i thought you were stuck on another planet or something.”
the relief in suho’s voice slipped out before he had the chance to catch it.
he laughed it off almost immediately, throwing an arm over sieun’s shoulder as he doubled over.
“i’ve been explaining this for, like, five minutes.”
he straightened, rubbing the back of his neck.
“…i’m actually a little offended.”
“then tell me what i just said.”
he’d already prepared himself for one of sieun’s usual responses—a dry excuse, a sarcastic remark, something clever enough to dodge the question.
the apology came so quietly that, for a second, suho wondered if he’d imagined it.
the words caught in his throat.
he turned back so quickly he almost lost his footing.
sieun looked almost… embarrassed.
“…i really wasn’t listening.”
there wasn’t an ounce of defensiveness in his voice.
no attempt to explain himself.
it would’ve been easier if sieun had argued back.
he could tease him, roll his eyes, complain until sieun inevitably fired something back.
the silence stretched between them, awkward only because neither of them seemed to know what belonged there.
then, without meaning to, suho’s shoulders loosened.
the annoyance he’d been ready to hold onto slipped away as quietly as it’d arrived.
the words lacked any real bite.
they sounded closer to fond than frustrated.
before he could think too much about that, he sighed through his nose and dragged a hand over his face.
“…stop looking at me like that.”
“…like i’ve just kicked a puppy or something.”
another laugh escaped him.
he bent to pick up the basketball resting near his feet.
for a moment, he simply turned it between his hands, his thumbs tracing absent circles across the worn leather.
close enough that he no longer had to raise his voice.
“…if explaining isn’t getting through…”
he placed the basketball gently against sieun’s hands.
his fingers lingered only until he was sure sieun had a firm grip.
he took a few steps back before stopping just outside arm’s reach.
he pointed toward the hoop.
“show me how you’d shoot.”
sieun glanced down at the basketball in his hands before settling into position.
he bent his knees, lifted the ball, and released a slow breath.
before he could even finish the motion—
the answer came immediately.
the question slipped out quieter than he’d intended.
it sounded so unlike sieun that, under any other circumstance, suho would’ve teased him for it.
the opportunity was right there.
his attention had already shifted elsewhere.
“…you’re thinking too much.”
“…i’m standing the way everyone else does.”
a small huff escaped suho.
one corner of his mouth lifted.
“…that’s exactly the problem.”
he closed the distance between them, stopping only when the basketball rested between them like an unspoken boundary.
“…you’re trying to remember everything i just said.”
he nodded toward the ball in sieun’s hands.
“…you’re holding it like you’re afraid to make a mistake.”
sieun lowered his eyes again.
he hadn’t realized how obvious it’d become.
“…basketball doesn’t work like that.”
suho reached forward, not to take the ball, but simply to adjust it.
his fingertips nudged sieun’s shooting hand a little lower.
he then lightly tapped the underside of the ball.
with a small turn of his wrist, he rotated the ball until sieun’s fingers settled naturally across the seams.
sieun followed every movement without taking his eyes off the ball.
his hand hovered for the briefest second before falling back to his side.
sieun answered with a single nod.
without another word, suho stepped around behind him.
not close enough to crowd him.
just close enough to see the angle of his shoulders.
his hand settled lightly beneath sieun’s elbow.
he waited until sieun adjusted before reaching for his wrist.
his fingers stayed only long enough to ease the tension from the joint.
there was no teasing now.
no exaggerated complaints about ruining his winning streak.
only quiet concentration.
the morning breeze slipped between them, carrying with it the faint rustle of leaves beyond the fence.
a breathless silence anchored them right where they stood.
suho studied the way sieun stood.
the way his shoulders finally loosened.
only then did his hand fall away.
the words came softer than he’d meant them to.
sieun drew in a slow breath.
the ball settled comfortably against his fingertips.
his eyes lifted toward the rim.
the basketball left sieun’s hands.
for one suspended moment, everything else seemed to fall away. the morning breeze, the rustle of leaves beyond the fence, even the steady rhythm of their breathing—all of it faded as the world narrowed to the hoop waiting several feet ahead.
the ball climbed in a clean arc against the pale morning sky.
it struck the back of the rim with a dull clang.
then rolled along the iron edge just long enough to make both of them lean forward without realizing it.
for a heartbeat, it could have gone either way.
the net rippled softly as the ball dropped through, landing against the pavement with a hollow thump before rolling lazily across the court.
sieun’s eyes remained fixed on the hoop, as though he needed another second to convince himself it had actually happened.
the words escaped almost under his breath, sounding less like a celebration and more like quiet confirmation.
beside him, a laugh burst free.
before sieun could so much as look over, suho grabbed him by the shoulder, giving him an enthusiastic shake that nearly knocked him off balance.
there wasn’t a hint of smugness in his voice.
the kind that spilled out before he could contain it.
caught off guard, sieun found himself looking at suho instead of the hoop.
his smile reached all the way to his eyes, softening them until they nearly disappeared. the morning sun caught against the loose strands of his hair every time he laughed, and the closer suho leaned, the harder it became to focus on anything he was saying.
and for reasons he couldn’t articulate…
almost absentmindedly, sieun rolled his shoulder.
suho’s hand slipped away with the motion.
neither of them commented on it.
there was no awkwardness.
suho simply let his arm fall back to his side, as though he’d expected it.
“…that was one shot,” sieun said after a moment.
“…so one shot doesn’t prove anything.”
suho followed the basketball as it rolled to a stop near the baseline.
a grin tugged at one corner of his mouth.
he wandered a step closer, lightly nudging sieun’s shoulder with his own before tipping his head back to look at the sky, as though the thought had only just occurred to him.
“…maybe i should let you play offense more often.”
“because i’m generous, duh.”
a quiet huff escaped sieun before he looked away again.
the basketball rested a few feet away, forgotten.
above them, the trees swayed gently in the breeze, scattering shifting patches of sunlight across the court.
for a long beat, they stayed quiet.
the silence ceased to feel like a gap that needed closing.
both sieun and suho looked up at the sudden shout.
or rather, at baku’s voice bulldozing straight through the quiet that had settled over the court.
“I KNEW YOU TWO WOULD BE HERE!”
suho pinched the bridge of his nose.
a second later, baku came sprinting across the court with the grace of an overexcited golden retriever.
“WE’VE BEEN LOOKING EVERYWHERE!”
“this was literally the first place we checked,” gotak called from behind.
baku didn’t even look back.
“…then why’d you say ‘everywhere’?”
“because you made us stop by the convenience store first.”
“completely different thing.”
by then, gotak and juntae had caught up, neither of them nearly as winded as baku, who looked ready to collapse despite having run for all of thirty seconds.
almost without thinking, the five of them slipped back into their familiar circle, as though standing together like this had become second nature.
juntae’s eyes flicked from the basketball resting near the baseline to sieun and suho.
a knowing smile tugged at his lips.
“…looks like we interrupted something.”
he paused just long enough to make it suspicious.
the answer came so quickly that even suho seemed to realize it.
“…we were just playing basketball while waiting for you guys.”
he gestured vaguely toward the hoop.
“…which, by the way, took forever.”
he pointed dramatically between the two of them. “…why do i feel like we just walked in on something?”
“because you’re weird,” suho replied without missing a beat.
“he’s got you there,” juntae nodded thoughtfully.
“i wasn’t taking your side.”
“that might be the fastest i’ve ever seen baku lose an argument.”
“i was choosing to retreat.”
“strategically retreating.”
baku clicked his tongue and spun toward sieun instead.
“…we’ve known each other for three years.”
baku placed a hand over his chest.
“…this betrayal hurts even more.”
gotak snorted, looking at baku as though he genuinely couldn’t believe that this still had to be explained. “you’ve known him for years. you should’ve seen this coming.”
baku mimicked a sniffle, wiping away an imaginary tear before letting out an exaggerated sigh. “yeah, well… i expected better.”
gotak rolled his eyes. “you’ll live. stop being so over-the-top.”
a beat passed before something visibly clicked inside baku’s head. “…wait.” everyone instinctively looked at him. gotak looked the most concerned. “…no.”
“you don’t even know what i’m gonna say.”
baku ignored him altogether. “…it’s saturday.”
“…yeah?” suho replied cautiously.
baku snapped his fingers. “we should go to the arcade.”
“the arcade,” baku repeated, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “we haven’t gone in forever.”
“because the last time we went,” gotak reminded him, “you spent half your allowance trying to win that sakuragi figure.”
“I’M OVER THAT.” baku pointed at himself dramatically. “that was a different version of me.”
“…that was three weeks ago.”
“…you didn’t even win it.”
gotak let out the longest sigh of his life.
“COME ON!” baku clapped his hands together and was already halfway to the gate before anyone could answer. “LET’S GO!”
“…he’s already leaving,” juntae observed.
“he always does,” gotak muttered.
suho laughed quietly before nudging sieun’s side with his elbow. “…so? you coming?”
sieun glanced at him before briefly looking toward the others, as though making sure nobody else had already answered for him. “…yeah. sure.”
every head slowly turned toward sieun.
sieun bristled almost immediately, looking between all four of them. “…what?”
baku slowly raised a finger, pointing back and forth between the two of them. “…did… did you just ask sieun for permission?”
“…what are you talking about?” suho asked, a subtle trace of defensiveness in his voice, his arms crossing over his chest.
“you literally went, ‘…so? you coming?’” baku lowered his voice into an exaggerated impression before immediately switching back to his normal one. “’…yeah. sure.’”
gotak nodded solemnly. “…that’s exactly how it happened.”
“that is not what happened.”
“i simply asked if he wanted to come.”
“…and then you waited for his answer.”
“…because that’s how conversations work.”
“no.” baku crossed his arms. “that’s how married couples come to an agreement.”
juntae quickly hid his smile behind his sleeve while gotak outright snorted. suho looked genuinely offended.
“…you even did the elbow nudge,” gotak added.
“…I DO THAT TO EVERYONE.”
“by everyone, you mean sieun.”
“…what does that even mean?”
instead, all four of them looked at sieun again.
sieun looked back, visibly more confused than before. “…seriously. what?”
“…he really doesn’t get it,” gotak muttered.
“…not even a little,” baku sighed.
suho let out one final, defeated sigh.
“…can we just go already?”
before anyone could change their minds, baku spun on his feel and bolted through the gate.
“LAST ONE THERE BUYS THE TOKENS!”
“…that’s not how this works,” gotak called after him.
“…he just makes up rules whenever he starts losing.”
gotak let out another long, mildly exasperated sigh before following him at a far more reasonable pace. “come on. before he somehow ends up bankrupt again.”
juntae laughed under his breath as he adjusted the strap of his bag. “…you say that like it’s actually going to happen.”
gotak didn’t even look back. “trust me, you have no idea how reckless he gets with money.”
the five of them filtered out through the gate one after another, the basketball court slowly disappearing behind them as their conversation drifted from one meaningless topic to the next.
baku insisted he’d definitely win something this time.
gotak reminded him he’d said the exact same thing three weeks ago.
baku argued that he’d “grown as a person.”
juntae, somehow, found both of them entertaining enough to keep listening.
the argument continued all the way down the sidewalk.
somewhere along the way, suho found himself walking beside sieun.
the distance between them had simply disappeared somewhere between conversations and footsteps, until they were side by side before either of them thought to question it—and neither made a move to change it.
before long, the familiar neon sign came into view.
bright lights spilled across the pavement beneath it while the muffled chorus of arcade machines and distant laughter drifted through the automatic doors every time someone stepped inside.
baku’s eyes lit up instantly.
the moment the doors slid open, a familiar wall of sound washed over them.
electronic jingles overlapped with victory fanfares, racing engines roared from somewhere deeper inside the arcade, and every few seconds another claw machine erupted into celebratory music.
lights flashed from every direction. children darted between machines. a nearby couple was occupying the photobooth.
before anyone could stop him, he was already weaving through the crowd.
gotak barely had time to react before baku grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him across the arcade.
“we’re settling this once and for all!”
“which one of us is the better driver!”
“none of us even have a license.”
gotak sighed so deeply it bordered on impressive.
“…i hate that i’m going with him.”
“you say that every time,” juntae called after them.
“…and every time i regret it.”
their voices disappeared into the sea of flashing arcade machines.
only the three of them remained.
juntae looked around thoughtfully before spotting a rhythm game tucked against the far wall.
“don’t go too hard on me.”
the two wandered off together, their conversation gradually dissolving beneath the constant noise of the arcade.
suho found himself alone.
he lingered where he’d been left standing, watching the others disappear into different corners of the arcade.
a quiet laugh escaped him.
“guess that’s one way to split up.”
he shoved both hands into the pockets of his hoodie before beginning to wander, without any particular destination in mind.
his eyes drifted lazily from one machine to the next.
a pair of middle school kids celebrated wildly after clearing a rhythm game together.
somewhere nearby, a claw machine erupted into cheerful victory music.
an older couple stood shoulder to shoulder at an air hockey table, arguing over whether the puck had actually crossed the line.
the arcade hadn’t changed much.
same prizes hanging just out of reach.
a capsule machine sat tucked quietly between two larger cabinets, almost hidden from the rest of the room.
unlike the others, it wasn’t flashing. didn’t play music.
it simply stood there, filled with rows of colorful plastic capsules waiting behind the clear display.
his gaze drifted across them absentmindedly.
its tiny embroidered face peeked out through the clear plastic shell, its tail curled neatly around its paws.
he crouched slightly, studying the display more closely.
he reached into his pocket, fingertips brushing against the fabric before fishing out a few coins.
the coin disappeared into the machine with a metallic clink. he wrapped his fingers around the handle and gave it a firm twist. the mechanism clicked in protest before a plastic capsule tumbled down the chute, rattling softly until it landed in his waiting palm.
he pressed his thumb against the seam, twisting the capsule apart.
nestled inside was a tiny black cat keychain.
smaller than he’d expected.
it rested neatly in the center of his palm, light enough that he almost forgot it was there.
he turned it over once, watching it catch the arcade lights.
then, almost absentmindedly, his gaze wandered.
past the rows of flashing machines.
past a group of students crowding around a claw machine, cheering over an absurdly oversized bear plush.
sieun stood quietly beside juntae, watching the screen with the same calm concentration he seemed to bring into almost everything.
the bright lights reflected faintly across his face.
he looked completely unaware that anyone was watching him.
before suho had the chance to think too hard about it…
“he’d probably like this.”
he blinked, looking back down at the tiny black cat resting in his palm.
“…why am i thinking that?”
he blinked, looking back down at the tiny black cat resting in his palm.
“…why am i thinking that?”
his thumb traced absent circles over the smooth plastic.
his grip tightened ever so slightly.
for giving him a keychain?
he let out a quiet breath through his nose.
it’s literally just a keychain.
then why are you making such a big deal out of it?
he didn’t have an answer.
instead, he slipped the little black cat into the pocket of his hoodie.
another sigh escaped him.
the thought surfaced before he could push it away.
he closed his eyes briefly.
almost against his own better judgment…
he slipped the keychain into the pocket of his hoodie before making his way toward sieun.
he meant to keep it casual.
somehow, the closer he got, the less convincing that idea became.
every bit of confidence he’d been carrying around all morning chose this exact moment to disappear. the easy grin that usually came so naturally was nowhere to be found, replaced instead by an unfamiliar hesitation that made him second-guess every step.
now’s when you decide to get nervous?
he resisted the urge to turn around.
his feet, unfortunately, seemed to have other plans.
he almost laughed at himself.
if there was ever a time for his confidence to come back, it was now.
before he could convince himself to turn around—or better yet, shove the keychain back into the machine and pretend this had never happened—his feet had already made the decision for him.
as though they already knew where they wanted to go.
a moment later, he found himself standing in front of sieun.
sieun looked up from the game, his body still angled toward the machine in front of him, though his attention had already shifted entirely to suho.
it should’ve been an easy question to answer.
all at once, the tiny keychain tucked safely inside his hoodie pocket felt impossibly heavy.
almost on instinct, his hand slipped into the pocket, his fingers finding the small plastic charm and curling around it.
what are you waiting for?
suho drew in a quiet breath.
his fingers tightened around the keychain.
the words dissolved before they ever reached the air.
across from him, sieun simply waited.
if anything, his expression seemed to soften ever so slightly, patient in a way that only made suho’s thoughts scatter even more.
this was enough to make him hesitate?
after everything he’d been through?
he’d faced debt collectors without flinching. gotten into fights without thinking twice. yet handing over a tiny keychain somehow felt infinitely harder.
before suho could force the words out—
the shout cut cleanly through the arcade.
loud enough to make half the machines seem quiet by comparison.
instinctively, they both looked over.
across the room, baku was frantically waving both arms in the air like he was a flight deck director.
suho jerked slightly, his hand slipping by reflex back out of his hoodie pocket.
the tiny keychain remained hidden inside.
“…they’re calling us,” sieun said quietly.
“…unless you plan on spending the next three hours trying to win baku this plush—“
the answer left him almost too quickly.
he rubbed the back of his neck before letting out an awkward laugh.
the ghost of the conversation they almost had trailed behind them.
abandoned and left to simmer.
“where have you two been?” baku’s voice sliced through the steady hum of the arcade as he jogged toward them.
his gaze bounced between suho and sieun before lingering for just a moment on the suspiciously little distance separating them.
gotak’s hand landed squarely on the back of his head before he could finish.
just enough to interrupt whatever nonsense he was about to say.
baku winced dramatically before reaching up to retaliate, ruthlessly ruffling gotak’s hair until it stood in every direction.
with gotak momentarily distracted trying to smooth down his hair again, baku seized the opportunity.
he caught suho by the wrist and dragged him through the maze of flashing machines without another word, only slowing once they reached a machine tucked near the back of the arcade.
“…okay, so win that thing for me,” he blurted, pointing toward the fox plush perched beneath the claw machine’s blinking lights.
the words came out in one rush, partly because he was still catching his breath from running all the way here.
suho stared at him. “…what? you dragged me all the way here just to tell me that?”
baku nodded without a hint of shame.
he pointed at the glass case again.
“i’ve been trying to win it for, like, fifteen minutes.”
“safe to say, i gave up.”
by then, gotak, juntae, and sieun had caught up with them.
gotak took one look at the machine before letting out a knowing huff.
“…how many times do i have to tell you?”
he pointed toward the controls.
“…that isn’t a normal claw machine. they make the prizes look irresistible for a reason.”
beside him, juntae nodded in agreement, still a little breathless from jogging over. “yeah. it’s a business tactic.”
sieun’s gaze drifted to the fox plush behind the glass before settling on the claw itself, quietly studying its position.
“actually… you could probably get it if you use the right angle and rotate the claw exactly ninety deg—”
“then you help him,” baku cut in immediately.
the three of them fell silent.
sieun stepped closer to the machine, his gaze fixed on the claw. for several long seconds, he said nothing. he simply watched.
“…the claw isn’t supposed to grab it.”
sieun pointed toward the fox.
“…look. it’s sitting too close to the edge.”
his finger shifted to the claw.
“if you try to pick it up,” he paused, eyes narrowing slightly.
suho leaned in, following the line of his finger.
“…then how are you supposed to get it?”
sieun pointed to the empty space beside the plush.
“…move it closer to the chute…”
gotak stared at the machine for a moment before giving a slow nod.
“that actually makes sense.”
baku looked between the machine and sieun, as though connecting invisible dots.
then he deliberately raised a finger…
and pointed it straight at suho.
“now do whatever he just said.”
suho looked at him flatly.
“this has nothing to do with gaming.”
deciding there was no point arguing, suho turned back to the machine.
he wrapped a hand around the joystick.
how hard could this possibly be?
he nudged it to the left.
the answer came without a second’s hesitation.
without questioning him, suho eased the joystick the other way.
for a brief moment, neither of them spoke.
they simply studied the claw together, quietly judging the angle.
behind them, the other three exchanged a look.
baku leaned toward gotak just enough to whisper, “…they’re doing it again.”
gotak watched them figure out the machine, their shoulders nearly pressed together as they leaned in—standing just a little too close to be called accidental.
“but it’s awfully suspicious.”
juntae hid a smile behind his sleeve.
oblivious to the commentary behind them, neither suho nor sieun looked away from the machine.
“…then what?” suho asked.
sieun traced the claw’s path one last time.
“…you sound weirdly confident.”
the corners of suho’s mouth curled into a slow grin.
with the flair of someone about to enter a championship match, he cracked his knuckles.
“…guess i’ve got one shot.”
suho rested a finger over the glowing button before drawing in a quiet breath.
sieun didn’t answer right away. his eyes remained fixed on the claw, studying its position one last time before giving the smallest nod.
suho nudged the joystick.
the machine accepted the input with a soft beep.
the claw descended with perfect timing. all five of them watched without blinking as it brushed the fox’s ear before catching the edge of its head. instead of lifting it, the claw nudged the plush sideways.
suho glanced at sieun. “..you meant to do that, right?”
sieun nodded once, calm as ever.
this time, sieun reached over, his hand settling lightly over suho’s as he guided the joystick. the touch was brief—just enough to steer it into place. the coolness of sieun’s palm barely registered against suho’s warm hand, his attention already fixed on the machine.
the claw descended once more.
this time, the metal prongs closed neatly around the fox’s body.
behind them, baku had both hands plastered against the glass, leaving faint palm prints as he leaned in.
the claw reached the prize chute.
the fox vanished into the collection bin.
before suho could even reach for it, a scream ripped through the arcade, loud enough to bounce off every machine in sight.
baku exploded into motion, practically vibrating with excitement as he lunged toward the prize chute. in his haste, he nearly crashes straight into both suho and sieun, only barely managing to dodge them before scooping the fox plush into his arms.
he held it up, staring at it in complete disbelief.
the four of them quietly looked at one another.
then, without a shred of dignity, baku hugged it so tightly its ears folded flat against its head.
“THAT WAS SUCH AN AURA MOMENT!”
baku tucked the fox securely beneath one arm and immediately started toward the exit, half expecting the others to follow, half not really caring whether they did or not.
“me!” juntae called almost instantly, raising a hand as though someone had actually asked for volunteers.
gotak let out an amused huff before falling into step behind baku.
suho and sieun lingered by the claw machine for a moment longer.
the arcade buzzed around them, though it somehow felt quieter than before.
almost absentmindedly, suho slipped both hands into the pockets of his hoodie.
his fingers found the tiny black cat keychain again.
suho nodded toward the claw machine behind them.
“…i never knew you were so good at these things.”
“…i just watched someone do it once.”
almost instinctively, suho fell into step beside him.
“you did the hard part,” sieun added after a moment.
without thinking, suho lightly bumped his shoulder against sieun’s.
the contact lasted only a fraction of a second before he drifted away again.
just enough to leave a comfortable space between them.
“…i would’ve wasted my money if you hadn’t helped me.”
sieun kept his eyes on the sidewalk ahead.
before long, the automatic doors slid open.
the familiar chorus of arcade machines faded behind them, replaced by the cool evening air and the distant hum of passing traffic.
bright neon lights spilled across the pavement, stretching long reflections over the sidewalk before slowly disappearing behind them as they walked.
by now, the others had wandered several steps ahead.
baku was still animatedly talking to the fox plush tucked beneath his arm.
gotak kept telling him to stop introducing himself to stuffed animals.
juntae, caught somewhere in the middle, laughed quietly every few seconds.
their voices drifted farther down the sidewalk, thinning out until they were just a faint, distant hum in the evening air.
silence settled over them, quiet and lingering.
neither sieun nor suho broke it.
they strolled along the street, their strides dropping into an unhurried, effortless rhythm.
suho’s fingers brushed against the keychain tucked inside his hoodie pocket.
the familiar knot in his chest returned almost immediately.
the others were already crossing the street.
none of them had noticed they’d fallen behind.
before he could think himself out of it again—
sieun turned, his head tilting the slightest bit.
suho forgot every word he’d planned to say.
he rubbed the back of his neck, filling the silence with a soft, nearly breathless chuckle.
“…this is gonna sound kinda random.”
his other hand slipped into his hoodie pocket.
he pulled out the tiny black cat keychain, letting it swing gently from between his fingers.
sieun looked at suho for a long moment, the afternoon light catching in his eyes. his gaze lingered there for a short while before dropping to the little black cat, only to find its way back to suho again.
another awkward laugh escaped him.
he stole a glance away, just for a second, before his gaze found sieun’s again.
suho took a slow breath, gathering what little courage he had to say the next words. with every passing second, holding sieun’s steady, unwavering gaze became harder. somehow, though, the words found their way out anyway.
he scratched the back of his neck again.
“…i thought you’d like it.”
sieun held out his hand, silently inviting suho to hand it over.
suho hesitated for the briefest moment before placing the keychain into his open palm. as he let go, the tips of their fingers brushed—fleeting enough to have been an accident, yet neither of them pulled away quite as quickly as they probably should have.
only then did sieun lower his gaze to the keychain.
the contrast caught his eye immediately.
from head to toe, the little cat was dressed in black, save for a tiny pink nose and a pair of closed eyes stitched with just enough detail to hint at the soft green hidden beneath them. it looked peacefully asleep.
it reminded sieun of himself.
oddly enough, that single word had wedged itself into suho’s mind, stubborn enough that it refused to leave.
funny how something so simple could stick.
a small, genuine smile tugged at the corner of his lips before he looked ahead, pretending none of it had happened. that he hadn’t just so casually—painfully so—placed the keychain into sieun’s hand. that his fingertips hadn’t lingered for the briefest moment, clinging to the excuse of passing it over when, in truth…
maybe he just wanted one more reason to touch him.
“ARE YOU TWO COMING OR WHAT?”
baku’s voice carried from a few steps ahead, loud enough to break whatever quiet had settled between them.
suho dipped his head, a quiet laugh slipping past his lips.
he quickened his pace until he caught up with the others, effortlessly slipping back into the familiar rhythm of their laughter, their teasing, their endless back-and-forth.
as though nothing had happened.
as though his heart hadn’t nearly beaten itself out of his chest over a tiny keychain.
behind him, sieun lingered for just a moment longer.
his thumb brushed absentmindedly over the little black cat resting in his palm.
he clipped it onto the zipper of his backpack.
only after hearing it click into place did he continue walking.
by the time he caught up with the others…
the keychain swayed gently with every step.
exactly where it belonged.
