hdriyan

[hdriyan]

(kimfox0624)

[hdriyan]

he doesn't look away. doesn't joke, not right away - not even when avery calls him silly in that tone that's halfway between fond and afraid of being fond.

he just watches him. quiet. like his whole body is listening.

their fingers barely touch, but it sends a ripple through riyan's whole system, subtle and electrifying. his breath hitches again, and this time it shows. not much. just the slightest shift in his shoulders, like he's trying not to lean in.

avery's thank you lands right behind his ribs. a soft hit. a velvet kind of ache.

"you're welcome," riyan says, just as quiet, the edges of his voice catching like fabric on a nail. his eyes flicker to where their fingers had touched, then back to avery's, slow. reverent. "and yeah. maybe i missed you a little."

he grins, lazy and lopsided, but something about it is different now - less armor, more truth. more i see you.

and when avery steps into his space instead of away from it, riyan doesn't flinch. doesn't tease. just lets it happen, lets him close the distance.

then that tiny, whisper-soft question comes, and riyan blinks, the sound of it like a thread tugging at the center of his chest.

he doesn't answer right away. instead, he raises a hand, gentle and deliberate, and fixes a strand of hair that had fallen over avery's forehead, fingers lingering just a second longer than necessary.

"not yet," he murmurs. "but i will, if you come with me."

and there it is again - that thing riyan doesn't say outright. that invitation. that don't disappear on me either. all wrapped up in a shared meal and a look that says everything else.

if avery was surprised, he did not show it, there seemed to be an understanding growing between the both of them, and maybe he hadn't needed to keep people away to so much lengths. he bit at his lower lip, wanting to force down the smile that had threatened to bubble up, lips twitching upwards, he failed to hide how pleased he felt. vulnerability was an odd thing, riyan seemed to wear it without a thought before him, and he turned his head away to let out a small laugh, his voice soft as he spoke next, "are you sure you hadn't missed me?"

the other boy's words repeat in his mind, ricocheting in his cranium, his parents had always told him that though he was a bright child, his downfall would be his stubbornness, he supposed he agreed. if words were a bullet, this one would have been loaded with kindness, and he felt the walls that he had built up and had frozen over as the seasons passed slowly melt away. 

"you're silly." 

was what avery offered, a quiet thing, his gaze staring at the wall beside him, but not for long as he peeked through the corner of his eyes, gaze falling once more in riyan. his expression turned into something softer, much more genuine as he reached out, albeit hesitantly, to touch his fingertips against the other's; it was a small thing, a quiet reassurance, words he wasn't sure he could express or make out, not yet, not when communicating could be such a terrifying thing, "thank you." is what avery settled on instead, the words filled with quiet warmth, his fingertips lingered against the others before slowly pulling away, and instead of fleeing, he stepped closer into the trainee's orbit.

'are you tired? will you spend time with me and show me what i have missed out on? please don't leave me.'

there are many more words he could say, many that could easily slip past his lips, instead, he whispered shyly, words barely even heard, "have you eaten?"

[hdriyan]

riyan clicks his tongue, fake-offended but too entertained to commit. "flames were in three seasons ago," he drawls, dragging a chair out with his foot and dropping into it like he's claiming a throne. "but i guess you're a late adopter. tragic." his tank top shifts as he leans forward, collarbone catching the kitchen light like it's trying to flirt back.

he props his chin on one hand, elbow on the table, eyes fixed on seungho like he's trying to solve a particularly hot riddle. "and no, i don't rehearse," he adds, lips curving into something feline. "i live like this."

his gaze lingers again - longer this time. the hoodie slouch. the unapologetic slump. the don't-give-a-shit energy so thick it's almost aesthetic. it grates against something in riyan that wants things just so, but it also draws him in like a moth too proud to admit it likes the flame.

"you do that on purpose," he mutters, almost to himself. "you're like… curated mess. a pinterest board that acts like it doesn't know it's a pinterest board." he pulls a hair tie off his wrist, tying his hair up with slow fingers. then, with a glance that's half dare, half something softer - "fine. pick your poison. but if we're twinning, we're matching rings too. dealbreaker."

his boot taps once against seungho's, light. playful. territorial. "and i do like how you look," he says finally, gaze steady now. "just hate how smug you are about it."

seungho doesn't look up right away. just keeps peeling the edge of a peach sticker off his thumb like it's more important than riyan's whole monologue. his knee bounces under the table, nervous energy or boredom, who the fuck knows, but when he finally lifts his eyes, there's that grin again. sharp. slow. "damn," he says, voice low, almost bored. "you rehearsed that?"

he lets the silence drag for effect, eyes flicking up and down riyan's outfit like he's appraising an overhyped art piece. then, shrugs. he slouches further into the chair, hoodie slipping off one shoulder in that annoyingly perfect way he doesn’t try to fix. his fingers finally give up on the sticker. "you talk too much," he adds, tone almost affectionate, but not quite. "just admit you like how i look and let's pick the fits."

then, because he can't help it, a smirk pulls at his mouth, lopsided, lazy, lethal. "and flames are in, by the way. suffer fashionably."

[hdriyan]

know about me.

DEBUT 2K25, LOS ANGELES VARSITY VILLA — AN EVENT THREAD

riyan's sprawled upside-down across the futon in the wardrobe room, hair spilling, phone dangling, half-finished latte sweating on the floor. he's scrolling through the shared doc where everyone's staked claims: main dance, rap line, center, visual-whatever. neon hum from the LED racks paints his bare shins electric. he taps the cursor next to face of the group / main vocal and types his name, smirks, thinks: easy. it's what the camera wants anyway.

but twenty minutes later the doc's still open, cursor blinking like judgment. the villa's too quiet; rehearsal ended ages ago, the others crashed in gamer-den glow. riyan can't settle. every hallway echoes with that episode-four chaos, sub-units fracturing, decisions spiraling because no one wanted to steer. near tried; still, something frayed. riyan replayed it in his head all week: how he'd stand front and center, voice sharp, but didn't reach out to glue the edges.

he flips upright, heart prickling. leader. the word's a jacket that might fit if he yanks hard enough. responsible, grounded, none of the things he sells onstage, but maybe the show needs a surprise drop.

3 a.m. finds him ghosting to the coaches' lounge, hoodie over mesh, pearl dagger winking. coach ji-hoon is dead-eyed over spreadsheets; riyan bows anyway, voice hushed but steady. "sunbaenim, hear me out, i think i should gun for leader." he spills the logic: multilingual, bridge-builder, reads the room like a fox and better than he lets on. the coach raises a brow, scribbles something that looks suspiciously like possible.

outside, cold air bites. he lights nothing, just flicks the lighter for comfort. leader. he rolls it on his tongue with the burnt-orange skyline. means late-night crisis calls, means shielding softer trainees, means being the villain to be the hero. can he wear that? he straightens, cinches the hoodie drawstrings. of course he can. couture is about silhouette; attitude makes the fit. tomorrow he'll corner @hdnear during conditioning, slide in between burpees, say, "hyung, don't choke, but i'm challenging for the L patch." near's logical; he'll weigh it and this isn't final, the coaches could very well keep near. he re-opens the doc on his phone. deletes face of group / main vocal beside his name, leaves the line blank. scrolls to the bottom, adds a new header: leader (proposed). types moon riyan. adds a note—let's talk—coffee on me. uploads a selfie: half-lit grin, sweat-mess hair, caption "some crowns aren't handed, they're hijacked x"

[hdriyan]

got to get my heart back.

DEBUT 2K25, LOS ANGELES VARSITY VILLA — AN EVENT THREAD

riyan ghosts down the hallway at 3 a.m., shirt still damp from rehearsal, city lights bleeding neon through the glass panels like someone left the future on pause. the villa hums with sleeping bodies and half-edited beats, but he moves quiet, cat-stepping past rows of sneakers and trophy dreams toward his private ritual: the balcony, the skyline, the cigarette he never lights - just turns between lacquered nails for a little taste of rebellion.

episode 4 is still looping in his skull. the challenge stage. sixty seconds of freedom dressed up as responsibility. split into sub-units, no trainers holding their hands. riyan remembers the first production meeting, him sketching outfit silhouettes on a napkin, arguing chord progressions with a kid who only speaks in 808s. everyone buzzing on possibility, sugar, and terror. he loved it, the rawness. loved being the one who said, "no, sharper - think 2000s shibuya meets paris couture," then demoing a vocal run that made the camera guy swear under his breath. but between shots he'd slip away, balance on the edge of the infinity pool, whisper lines of the chorus to the water. practicing how to sound effortless when the world airs in HD.

he pops the balcony door now, cool draft licking sweat off collarbones. LA below is an ocean of halogen promises; he tells himself he'll own it one day: a brand, runway, headlines. he palms the cigarette again, vows to quit the prop habit after debut. maybe.

episode 6 turned them into kaleidoscopes of tears and stickers. riyan's was the one of the few still mostly blank, save for a polaroid of him and @hdmiru in ridiculous sunglasses and a swatch of blue mesh he swears is lucky. no call came from noho. his father's approach to parenting is the same as his father's approach to art collection: acquire, display, forget. riyan tells the diary-cam crew it's fine, "mystery is chic, babes." but tonight, alone, he edits the lie.

he sets the unlit cigarette on the railing, drops into a plank: three minutes, viparita karani remix, per the conditioning sheet. arms shake, core burns, mind goes somewhere hollow and bright. he times it to his music blasting from the phone speaker: personal torture meets self-made music video. sweat hits concrete like tiny applause. by the final chorus he flips, lies on his back, legs up the wall, lungs heaving, skyline upside down. thinks: homesick is a boring word; 'i'm city-sick, stage-sick, spotlight-sick.'

[hdriyan]

his breath catches - not that he lets it show. not in the way that matters. he just watches avery with that same half-lidded gaze, like he's trying to decide whether to step closer or pretend none of this is happening.

"damn," he exhales, the word light but not careless, the kind of thing you say when you're not sure whether to make a joke or take someone's hand. "okay, well. fuck mirrors and nightmares both, i guess."

he shifts his weight, rings clinking as he scratches the back of his neck, too cool to fidget but too human not to. there's something raw in avery's voice, and it touches something in him that riyan usually keeps padlocked. he knows that place. the stuck-in-your-own-head place. the bed-is-a-trap place. he knows it too well.

he shrugs, lazy, like he's trying to smooth the edges of the moment down to something easier. "if it helps," he says, tone flipping casual again, "i definitely would've distracted the hell out of you in that state. you dodged a bullet."

but then he quiets, for real this time. meets avery's eyes with something stripped down. no mascara. no armor. "you don't have to show up for everyone, every time," riyan says, gently, like it costs him something to admit it. "just… don't disappear on me, okay?"

he says it too quickly. too much. too soon. and he immediately makes a face, steps back, runs a hand through his hair like that’ll erase it. "ugh. gross. i sounded like a k-drama lead."

but he doesn’t take it back. doesn't leave. just stands there, glowing soft in the hallway fluorescence.

'why do you care?' the words almost escape his lips, it would be easy to push riyan away, it was somewhat of a habit he had cultivated all these years, only letting his family close, and after the passing of his father, even his mother felt quite far away. his cellphone that was charging in his dorm, far away, was probably alit with an other notification from his worried mother, and it would go left unread, his hands tremble at the thought of reaching out to her and replying, asking for help.

his eyes stayed on riyan, the way his lips moved as he spoke, and then they dropped, taking in the movement of the fabric of his shirt, he wondered about the thread count, was it uncomfortable- or was it breathable- and there was an expanse of skin, smooth, yet firm, and he blinked once, and then twice. his expression would have been unreadable, impassive if not for the flush that tinged the tip of his ears pink, colouring the high of his cheekbones. he scoffed, eyes darting to the side, his lips curling upwards into something softer and more real, "so he made you rely on your mind's eye for practice?" his lips twitched, a laugh escaped them only to quieten a few seconds later. avery shifted from where he had stood, if he had really wanted, he would have turned around and walked away, but he didn't, he stayed. if diamonds are formed under extreme pressure, maybe one day he would become one too, or maybe he would crumble and become dust. would riyan leave him there, or would he help him back up? "i dreamed again." his voice was soft, quiet as he spoke, hands trembling, his fingers curled into his palms to get better control, "a nightmare. it haunts me every day. i couldn't show up. not when i was like that."

[hdriyan]

he catches it. the twitch of a grimace that doesn't quite land, the way avery's mouth almost says what he's thinking. riyan's eyes narrow, but his smile stays, syrupy sweet and just a little sharp around the edges.

"harsh," he says, mock-wounded, letting the word hang in the air like perfume. "and here i was thinking you missed me." he steps back, finally giving avery some space, arms stretching overhead in a lazy arch that shows a little too much of his stomach... not accidental. not ever.

"yeah, he did," riyan admits, tone shifting like a tide - quieter, a little more real. "made us freestyle with no mirrors. said 'the only reflection that matters is the one in your head.''" he tilts his head, eyes flicking over avery's face like he's reading something scribbled in the margins. "deep, right? i hated it." a pause. then - "you okay?" it slips out softer than he meant. too soft, maybe. like he noticed the shadows under avery's eyes, the static in his voice. like he cares. gross. he adds, quickly, deflecting—"or did your ghost self just phase through another all-nighter again?"

"thanks." avery spoke quietly, his voice filling the air around them, and it was something nearly too loud, too jarring for his ears. he didn't offer an explanation, and wouldn't explain how he had stayed up too late, the night melting and wrapping around him, something tight, something suffocating that would forever haunt him, instead, he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and offered an other reply, something easy, something that didn't make him want to grit his teeth, "something like that." he tried not to grimace when he noticed the sweat, and the way riyan's clothing stuck onto his skin, it made him want to scrunch up his nose in distaste, maybe even cringe, instead, he cooled his expression, barely even blinking at their closeness despite how much he wanted to crawl out of his skin and die- "you always get scolded, though. i don't see how it's any different." avery paused, hesitating, his voice softening into something kinder, friendlier, or at least, trying to, "did he teach anything new?"

[hdriyan]

©

[hdriyan]

riyan hums, soft and amused, dragging a hand through his hair like he's smoothing something invisible. "effortless hot is ironic hot," he says, like it’s obvious, like it’s gospel. his rings catch the light when he gestures, careless. "you think i rolled out of bed like this?" he gestures vaguely at himself - cropped tank, slouchy pants, boots with a bit too much bite for daytime.

but his eyes linger. not just on seungho's grin, but on the whole picture - hoodie, sticker-picking fingers, that dangerous kind of ease. it's giving unbothered in a way that’s not performative, and riyan doesn't know if he likes that or wants to undo it.

he crosses the kitchen, slow, the sound of his boots muffled against the floor. "you’ve got that thing," he says, tone unreadable. "like, you don't care, but you do. just enough. enough to make it work."

there’s a pause as he stops a step too close... close enough to count freckles, if there were any. "let’s try both," riyan adds with a lilt, "but if you make me wear something with flames on it, i’m walking." then a smirk, knife-edge playful. "unless it's vintage. then i'll suffer."

seungho doesn't move at first. just watches him, the way you watch something on fire from a rooftop. not scared, not impressed, just interested. he huffs a breath, barely a laugh, tongue pressing into his cheek as he tilts his head. hoodie half-zipped, hair messy. the kind of look that says i didn't try, and somehow that makes it worse. or better. he doesn't know, he doesn't care. "nah," he says, finally. voice low, rough around the edges like he's been up too long. "i just grab shit that doesn't make me look like a mall mannequin."

he toes the door shut behind riyan with the heel of his boot, slinking further into the apartment like he owns it. not cocky, very at ease. "ugly's subjective anyway," he shrugs, eyes flicking to riyan's jacket, then the nails. not mocking, more like he's memorized. "but you? you don't seem the type to mind attention."

he leans against the kitchen counter, all bones and slouch, picking at a leftover sticker on the surface. "so," he drawls, eyes finally meeting riyan's again. "we going for ironic hot or effortless hot?" and just like that, he grins, crooked, lazy, no teeth.

[hdriyan]

that's my attitude.

SIMPLE RUN-IN, OUTSIDE PRACTICE ROOMS ☆ W/ AVERY CHAE @averyxhd

riyan's in the hallway barefoot again, mesh top clinging like a bad idea, sweat still slick in the crease of his back from rehearsals that ran too long and got too personal. the building hums with recycled air and ambition, cameras nowhere but he's still lit like he’s being watched. he rounds the corner too fast and nearly smacks into avery—"god," he breathes out, chest rising, "you always pop up like a ghost with good cheekbones."

his mouth curls. he leans in just a little, like he's about to whisper something scandalous, but all he says is: "you ditch warmups or just fashionably late to everything? you missed it, though. coach was in rare form." he drags his fingers through his damp hair, flicks water behind him like it’s part of the act. "i nearly got scolded for existing too confidently."

[hdriyan]

too much too late

EPISODE 02, LOS ANGELES VARSILY VILLA ☆ W/ NEAR PEERANAT @hdnear

Riyan wakes up sticky with sweat and last night's eyeliner, stretched like a starfish across the bed. His tank top's on the floor. His boots are still on. There's a lipgloss-stained Evian bottle on the nightstand and Near's chain tangled in his headphones.

He's up before the others because he never really went down. Just played their pre-release song on loop until the sun sliced through the blinds like an attitude problem. Near's still asleep on the top bunk, breathing soft and pretty, eyelashes fluttering like he's dreaming in 808s. Riyan kicks the frame, not hard, just enough to jolt the mattress. "Rise and grind, superstar," he drawls, voice scratchy and sugarcoated in sarcasm but still sweet. He somehow misses him early in the morning. "Your fans are waiting~."

[hdriyan]

[hdriyan]

He didn't answer right away. Just gave Seungho a once-over - sharp, unreadable, with a flick of his gaze that skimmed past the hoodie, the posture, the careful cool. That look had undone people before, but Seungho didn't flinch. Not bad.

"Depends," Riyan finally said, leaning against the open doorframe like it was built for him. His nails were painted a matte navy, matching the stripe on his vintage Members Only jacket. "You the type to take three hours picking a graphic tee? Or do you just grab whatever matches your vibe and call it a day?"

His voice had that slick, lazy charm - like velvet over blade. But there was curiosity under it, too. Not warm, not yet. Just… tuned in.

Riyan pushed off the frame and stepped inside, light on his feet, every move calculated to look effortless. "I'm down," he said, finally. "But I'm not carrying anything ugly."

He tossed Seungho a grin - flashing, fleeting, full of teeth. "Let's see if your taste's as chill as your entrance."

𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒏 —

written for 𝐫𝐢𝐲𝐚𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 ( @hdriyan ) ♡

The villa smelled like new money and chlorine.

Seungho barely had time to peel his hoodie off before a camera operator swung around the corner like they were chasing an Oscar. He gave a slight nod, polite, camera-friendly, and stepped into their living room like he belonged there. He didn't. Not really. Not yet. But faking it? That, he could do.

Los Angeles air had this weird kind of weightlessness to it. The kind that made you forget how heavy the next few weeks were about to be. Trainee showcase. Challenges. Everything on steroids. He dropped his bag by the couch and clocked the other arrivals in quick glances. Everyone looked either jetlagged or desperate not to show it. He could respect that.

A glass door slid open with a clack behind him; cue Riyan, looking like someone peeled him off the cover of a fashion mag and dropped him in California sun. Seungho had only seen clips, profiles, a little too-perfect highlight reel. Seeing him now, in real-time, in real space, was… disarming. The dude had swag. "Yo." Seungho gave a nod, easygoing, careful not to stare too long. "They told us we're supposed to go shopping soon. Room stuff. Personality or whatever. You down to come with?"

[hdriyan]

Riyan hums thoughtfully, tilting his head as he swirls the liquid in his glass, watching how it catches the low light before glancing back at Junmyeon with a flicker of amusement. "Mm, maybe I'll let you keep that prince thing going a little longer," Riyan says, eyes sliding down to the half-buttoned shirt. "But don't think I didn't notice the wardrobe choice. You're working really hard for that attention tonight."

Riyan leans in a little, his smirk playful - teasing, flirtatious, but still just out of reach. "Sharing the spotlight's cute and all, but are you sure you're ready for what happens when I take center stage?" His voice is light, airy with mock innocence, but there's weight under it, that quiet kind of confidence that doesn't need permission to exist.

His gaze flicks across the room again, to the blur of movement, of bodies, laughter, and clinking glasses. The softest smile touches his lips. "It's a good look, though. All of this," he says, motioning with his glass now. "Feels like something real. Finally."

Then, with a shrug and a lazy kind of toast, Riyan lifts his drink. "To the beginning of interesting."

there's that usual chuckle that he gives living his lips as the glasses clink together. his head shaking a bit, "ah, is that what it is?" he says, nodding his head a bit. really, it was just a joke, a bit of a banter that they'd do about shining. though, everyone always seemed quite serious with junmyeon about just how good he is; he's sure it's serious, but it really almost seemed to inflate some type of an ego, almost. but, he was never one to be egoistic or anything of that nature.

he chuckles again, taking a sip of his wine to sort of mask the chuckle. "hm?" he says. though, he nodded his head towards the words, understanding. "ah, i have to give everyone the spotlight too, right? i'm okay with sharing," he says, another smirk against his lips. "does it? i don't think i've seen it, so i can't say," he teases. another smirk against his lips, another sip of his beverage.

his eyes seemingly looking around himself once more, looking upon the others enjoying themselves; having conversations, and everything like that. his free hand fixing his button up a bit, which happens to really only be buttoned up about halfway. it almost feeds into that prince thing he always had going on; though, a bit hotter considering you could see his chest, after all.

his smirks again, nodding his head. "ah, you think?" he says, head tilted just a bit. "thought it was the right thing to considering i'm one of the beginning hydra labels trainees," he says, another smirk. "least my parents could do was paying for the drinks, food, music, and decor, and getting my aunt to let us have the space for the evening" he says, a firm nod.

"it's going to be interesting."

[hdriyan]

Riyan lets out an airy, almost disbelieving laugh as he clinks his glass lightly against Junmyeon's. "Oh, please, you’ve always outshone me. I'm just the glitter trail that makes you look good," he says with a smirk, eyes flicking sideways. The words land somewhere between playful and deflective, like he's not quite ready to show all his cards.

His gaze lifts toward the ceiling, letting the moment settle in his chest. The bass of the music pulses faintly through him. "I might be ready," he teases, dragging out the word just enough to sound unserious. "But don't get too cocky - I'm not about to let you take the spotlight every time." He raises a brow, a knowing glint in his eye. "And for the record? My stage wink still wins. hands down."

He adjusted the fall of his sapphire mesh top, sheer enough to catch the low light in waves, tucked just carelessly enough into low-rise trousers that hung from his hips like a statement. Silver hardware glinted at his belt loops and from the chain linking his ear to a cuff. Riyan looked every bit the enigma he wanted to be - alluring but just out of reach.

He takes a slow sip from his drink, his voice softening just slightly. "You did alright, though. This?" he gestures vaguely around them. "It’s a solid sendoff."

His smile lingers - a touch crooked, not quite revealing how much he means it. "Guess we’ll see what happens when the curtain goes up."

blast off! with @hdriyan. ┈

it's really something that kind of felt surreal. celebrating heading off to debut essentially was almost unexpected, in a sort of way. but, junmyeon did seemingly have a good feeling that it was something that was coming, after all. it really was just nice to be announced as part of the lineup of sorts; considering he was really ready to take it on, to go after what he wanted. he felt this sudden rush in his veins, ready to take on the upcoming life and challenge. he's no longer stuck in some constant stillness.

but, first, obviously, a celebration was needed. so, junmyeon had put together a bit of a shindig, so to speak. he didn't even have to rent out a place because it was a place that his mom's sister owned, so she had given him the ability to have it for free; of course, his parents didn't care about paying for all the food and drinks - so, junmyeon was sure to spoil the others with meats and whatever else they could desire. it was just how junmyeon's parents were; buying his love, instead of actually spending any time to get to fully get to know him. but, that's not something to ever get into.

his eyes look upon the others, taking a sip from his glass. he smirks a bit, making his way over to riyan, whom he nudges with his elbow. "are you ready to take on the world?" he asked the other. "promise i won't outshine ya this time," he says teasingly.

[hdriyan]

@hdrookies instagram update !

back to brown.

[hdriyan]

Riyan smirked slowly and deliberately, as if the city moved for him and not the other way around. Her kiss hits his cheek - one, two - and he closes his eyes for a second to soak in the attention.

"Emergency?" he echoes, sipping the word like it’s overpriced wine. "Please. I just needed someone who wasn't trying to book me, date me, or fix me."

His phone buzzes again. Riyan flips it face-down with a flick, then sighs - loud enough for her to notice, but not enough to invite pity.

"So," he says, twirling the straw in his latte again, still not drinking it. "Father dearest has returned to New York. Brought him with him - perfect son, teeth like capitalism. They're throwing a gala this weekend. Real elite nonsense."

Riyan leans forward, dropping his voice like he's about to spill a conspiracy. "I got the invite yesterday. Forwarded. No name, no plus-one, just 'we'd love to see you… If you can behave." He laughs, bitter-smooth. "They always say that like it's a real option."

He takes off his sunglasses, hooks them onto the front of his mesh shirt, and locks eyes with her. "So I thought - why not build something better? Something messier. Something us."

A dramatic pause. "Tell me you're in, Chaeyeon. I need a co-conspirator. Preferably one with good shoes and zero moral compass."

Chaeyeon hears the voice before she sees him, all silky, arrogant, but familiar in a way that makes her roll her eyes. Chaeyeon laughs, a quiet little ha that barely lifts her shoulders. Still, she leans in across the table just enough to brush a kiss against his cheek (mwah, then another, more exaggerated mwah) on the other side, just to be obnoxious.

"You flirt with the barista and suddenly it's my fault?" she says, sauntering over in chunky white platform sandals that click lazily on the pavement. "He was this close to spitting in your drink, Riyan. You're lucky I showed up when I did."

She drops into the seat across from him, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back with a stretch. Her phone, glittery, cracked at the corner, buzzes once in her lap. She ignores it.

"I was on time, by the way. Fashionably so." A glance at his latte. She grins, sharp and sugar-sweet. "So? What's the emergency that had you summoning me like some caffeinated bat signal?"