Take my hand, let's see where we wake up tomorrow
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“Isn’t it pretty?” Sunoo asked, looking over at Sunghoon. He took a deep breath of salty air, willing himself the strength.
“Gorgeous,” he finally uttered, breathing out and bringing his gaze back to Sunoo’s face, praying the boy couldn’t see the blush on his cheeks as he pointedly looked him up and down, before looking back into his sparkling eyes.
Wherein: Their last summer before going off to university, Sunghoon spends a whirlwind weekend trip on the West coast with his best friends, and ends up finding himself utterly entranced by a local carnival worker with a penchant for glitter and cinnamon sugar. Naturally, flirting and existential crisis ensues.
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Yes, his and Sunoo’s friendship was very different from others, for many reasons. They shared lunch, and clothes, and they held hands no matter how much the older kids laughed at them. They were always together—except when they weren’t. And the times they weren’t, was when Riki felt this difference the most.
Because he didn’t think other kids spent all of their nights worrying that each time they said ‘see you later’ to their best friend could be the last time they ever would.
(Snapshots of a tale of growing up a little too quickly, a little too recklessly, but very much together—til the very end.)Series
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It happened so fast that Sunghoon could hardly recall unlocking the truck, but of course, that’s how it always went. They’d go weeks—months at times, without speaking. Then one of them would message the other, they’d meet up, they’d fight, they’d fuck. They'd make up, get back together. Until the distance, or time, or insecurity, maybe all of it set in again, and they'd break up again. Rinse, and repeat.
For the past two and a half years. It was like clockwork.Wherein: Sunghoon spends his last winter break before graduating university wedding planning with his friends, putting his therapy lessons to the test, and trying to mend what's been broken maybe one too many times. Meanwhile, Sunoo has been treading water for far too long, surviving, but not living, and it's taken its toll. Naturally, nostalgia and complicated resurfaced feelings ensue.
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“Do you ever get lost, Riki?” he asked, unfazed by the way a stranger was touching him so casually, staring up at Riki with those eyes. They were practically glittering—like tiny galaxies existed in his irises, endless and ever-expanding.
All the time, his mind supplied, as he slowly shook his head, everything about this scene starting to throw him for a loop. He couldn’t shake his nerves, or the overwhelming deja vu washing over him, as tiny-Sunoo looked up at him with nothing but hope and the promise of adventure in his big eyes, his palms full of dandelion petals.
(Or: Sunoo will always lead Riki back home, one way or another, the best way he knows how—and Riki will always follow.)
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In many ways, Jongseong thinks he’d been preparing himself for this moment for his whole life. In other ways, he thinks he was extremely unprepared—not at all expecting the rapid-fire of emotions coursing through him as he sat his boyfriend down on the couch in his parents’ living room, right beside their ornate Christmas tree, and knelt down in front of him on one knee.
More simply: Five times Jongseong proposed, plus the one time it finally worked out for him.
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But these small hours, still remain. by darlingriki
Fandoms: TOMORROW X TOGETHER | TXT (Korea Band), ENHYPEN (Band)
30 Oct 2025
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There wasn’t much use in categorizing most things in life, Yeonjun figured. What was good could always turn bad, what was bad could always turn around and become good. Something about silver linings. Something about lemons and lemonade. Something about disguised blessings. Et cetera.
Beomgyu flipped the waffle maker as he squirted a bit of the canned whipped cream onto his scarred finger, eating it happily before properly topping one of the cooling waffles with a quick, even spread. He was four years old once again for a fleeting, shining, beautiful moment in Yeonjun’s eyes: bright-eyed and puffy-cheeked, bouncing on his heels with his small fists clenched into their mother’s long pleated skirt as he begged her for extra whipped cream on his waffles.
He doesn’t know yet that if he falls, it will hurt.
(Or: Time is often merciless and cruel, but there are still some moments that Yeonjun reveres as Timeless. This is just a small handful of them, broken gears of a clock, perfectly preserved. A dusty time capsule for the heart.
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