CIY CH 23

CIY CH 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

📍Pairing: detective ateez ot8 x detective afab reader 📍Summary: "Made for you" 📍WC: 3.1k 📍AU: detective/mafia 📍Genre: action, dark themes, poly romance 📍Warning(s): 18+ rating, some angst, suggestive 📍Nets: @pirateeznet | @mirohs-aurora-society 📍Beta readers (and sole motivation): @flurrys-creativity , @candypop1611 , @yourfatherlucifer , @skteezcursed and edited(usually) by the amazing: @daemour 📍dividers made by: @cafekitsune

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The two of you shared a moment before you pulled away, finding the spark of tenderness in his eyes alarming. Despite the trust you just spoke of, it was still hard to lean into it without anxiety.

Others had shown you tenderness.

“So, you said you wanted to know my feelings right? Now that everything is on the table.” You glanced down at your drink, only for your eyes to flicker up when you thought he flinched- but his expression was the same, just a new tilt to his head.

“Right right. Though I think I understand already, Angel. We're growing on you aren't we? But you're scared? After the way your last unit handled things, I can understand that-”

You sighed when he trailed off. “But not entirely huh?” At his nod, you know it's your turn to indulge some personal information. “It was more than just a betrayal of comrades. I was close with them, considered them family. Mingi didn't… he didn't tell you all?”

He shook his head, his undivided attention on you now, listening with encouragement that was making this talk a bit easier. “He said a few choice things about Captain Chan but otherwise didn't go into details why his negative feelings were so strong. We assumed he just felt that strongly about you, considering he admitted to punching him and pretending to be your boyfriend during an altercation.” The corners of his lips turned up vaguely, which you assumed was due to your own flustered expression.

You were touched by Mingi's feelings, remembering his many attempts to prove he did like you and wanted you. As well as the fact that he hadn’t seemed to give up details about your harsh rejection, just how he had stepped in and played the rough hero you hadn't wanted but needed. “I see… I owe him an apology then. I assumed he had told you all about what happened.”

“Camera in the hall. We have Mingi bring women there because we can get surveillance footage of it all up to when He takes them inside. So… Yeosang indulged a bit and we didn't give Mingi a choice. Though he didn't go into details…”

You sighed, somewhat appeased. “Yunho made a comment… So I assumed.”

“Ah, Yunho is a different story. Those two tell each other everything. They grew up together. Would you be comfortable telling me?” It was the fact he was asking, putting your comfort first, that eased your nerves enough.

So you told him, recounting the story with a detached tone to make it easier on yourself. You told him of how you confessed to Chan supposedly, how the next time you saw him he served you with the transfer papers. You told him of your outburst immediately after, demanding the others to tell you who agreed you should transfer since Chan said it was a team decision. Minho, you're best friend had agreed and he hasn't contacted you. And then there was Felix.

That's how you were banned from contact because of the hell you raised. Changbin had to remove you from the office with some uniforms, an ugly sight. The man had no doubt sported a bruise or two on his face afterwards.

You told him about Felix, how you were sure you had loved him, and that you couldn't have faulted him for it. He thought he was looking out for you. Always sweet intentions.

You ended the story with the altercation in front of your apartment, playing with the empty beverage cup and unable to keep the emotion in your tone as you told him of Chan's confession before Mingi stepped in.

Silence followed, the air heavy and weighing down on your shoulders. The longer it lasted, the more anxious you became until you finally sparred a glance at him. After pouring your heart out, figuratively, pure undiluted anger was not what you expected to see on his face.

“Angel… I-” He started off, gaping like a fish as he seemed to struggle with what to say. The way his expression hardened like cold steel, eyes still burning with that ire as he glanced behind you, had you shifting to turn. “Don't turn around. You have some bad luck it seems.”

You were quite confused until you heard it, heard them. “Chan, that's not what I'm saying at all.”

“Then what are you implying Minho?” The sound of chairs scraping behind you slid up your spine like nails on a chalkboard. “First her, then Hyunjin, now Felix. I'm losing the hold on the unit.” The familiar gruff voice told you just how stressed he was, and you knew he hadn't been sleeping again.

Guilt grabbed at you as if this was your fault, hands bracing on the table to stand up and leave because like hell you wanted to stick around and listen to this. To let them hurt you even more.

Yet Seonghwa's hand reached out and grabbed your wrist, shaking your head and bringing a finger to his lips. Whatever game he wanted to play, while it confused you, your hands relaxed and you stayed silent.

“Hyunjin will come around, he always does, he cares for Felix and the rest. He made it no secret he was unhappy about the transfer. And Felix… he'll listen to you. You just have to talk to him- properly this time.” Minho urged, his voice closest to you.

“Because I do that so fucking well. You told me everything would work out if I put in the transfer request, Min. But why haven't you talked to her either?” A beat of silence. “Yes I'm aware you haven't reached out. Hyunjin was loud about that when I pushed Felix for answers. You're her best friend, why are you silent? Did you fuck this up on purpose? I trusted you when you said I could have her this way.”

Panic surged through you at this revelation; is this why Minho hadn't talked to you? Your whole transfer was his idea? Why? You had believed he had known you best, that he would have been on your side. That, just maybe, he hadn't talked to you because he was just giving you space?

This betrayal hit harder than Chan's.

“I thought she would understand. You received enough warnings about her, they were going to take action against the whole unit at that rate.” Minho sneered out, the edge in his tone snapping you out of the dizzying spell the pain had you under.

Chan scoffed. “Please, you didn't want her to get in the way of your career. I know the higher ups talk down on you, even when they are bad mouthing her they still recognize her drive. You were in her shadow and-”

Seonghwa slammed his hands on the table, standing up now. He glared at the two behind you with such a menacing fury it snapped you out of the spiral in your mind and gave him all of your undivided attention. Especially when he growled out your name. 

He moved around the table and pulled you up by your waist. You were captivated by the wrath radiating off of him when you realized it was entirely on your behalf. “Vi-”

He shut you up with a harsh kiss, pulling you fully onto your feet with the motion. The sounds Chan and Minho made noticing your presence were distant noises to your own thoughts at Seonghwa's kiss. You could feel his anger, but also his desire for you with every harsh stroke of his lips. Heat flooded your body, drowning out the cold betrayal that had settled in the pit of your stomach a moment ago.

The groan he let out when you kissed back went right to your core. For a quick moment he deepened it, grip on your waist tightening enough to pull a moan out of your lips. It was that sound that had him pulling away, but only his lips to glare back at the other two. “Your trash, our treasure.”

It left you spinning, the emotion ringing in those words as he dragged you out of the cafe. You hadn't even bothered to look back at them, staring up at Seonghwa instead with a plethora of emotions on your open expression.

Seonghwa chuckled as he pulled you over to his motorbike; it was a dark and unhinged sound that added to the growing cotton in your head. He had just shown you how caring and sweet he could be: respectful even. And then the anger- you couldn't really untangle the mess of emotions that had you feeling, just that you didn't dislike it.

And there was a touch of horniness there. Well… that's interesting.

Seonghwa once more jostled you out of your thoughts as he lifted you up onto the bike facing him, stepping closer to slot himself between your open legs. You glanced up at him, once more with your thoughts and emotions worn on your features as you were still figuratively reeling. “Vice?”

“Call me by my name- no my nickname Angel.” He said as he leaned forward, pressing his lips to the apples of your cheeks, then the tip of your nose, forehead, and finally lips. “And tell me not to go in there and get violent.”

You couldn't help the gasp that left your lips, immediately getting swallowed by him in what felt like a desperate kiss. He had just told you he was a peacekeeper, a negotiator of sorts, so for him to say he wanted to be violent?

“Hwa-” It fell from your lips like a soft caress, your arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer against you, “-Don't go in there and get violent.”

Despite doing what he said, he protested with a pout, lips trailing along your jaw to your neck. “Why not? They hurt you. Absolute scum. Treated you like trash when you're so… so much more than them. They lost a good fucking thing.” His angry words were paired with little bites and nibbles, grip tight on your ass now As he pressed the length of his torso against yours.

It warmed your heart, and turned you on even more. “Th-they deserve your anger, Hwa. Would rather- ah fuck- rather have you like this.” He had found your sweet spot, melting you further against him as his lips attacked it once more with a soft bite. “Hwa~ please I-”

Tugging at his hair to pull away, you tugged on it harder when you heard those two familiar voices calling out to you. He delatched himself from you, quickly turning you on the bike and pulling the helmet on. “Time to go.” Voice still gruff as he pulled his own helmet on.

He started up the bike just as the two reached you, this time you allowed yourself to look. Chan looked pale, distraught, tears in his eyes you weren't going to acknowledge. But Minho- it was the first time you saw him in nearly two months and he too looked ragged… and angry. But he always looked angry when he was upset about something, even if it wasn't you, so you didn't think about that either.

Instead, as the bike beneath you roared to life drowning their words, you gave them the bird as you latched onto Seonghwa’s waist with your other arm. He drove off in the next second, speeding through the streets to leave them both behind. Both literally and figuratively.

They weren't your unit anymore, especially those two. 

Seonghwa dropped you off at the club soon enough, the bike still running as you got off and handed him the helmet. You used the ride to really think about what had happened, what Seonghwa proved to you. 

You tapped on his helmet, asking him in a roundabout way to take it off. He shook his head in reply. So with a bit of a pout, you kissed the visor where you guessed his cheek would be. “Thank you for today Hwa. I appreciate it. You'll be picking me up?”

He nodded.

Smiling, you fixed your hair. “Then I'd like to continue later if we can.” With a wink you turned and headed inside.

Minho's betrayal felt like a distant memory now, wrapping yourself into work and looking forward to seeing the Vice-Captain again. 

You had loved Chan, loved Felix, but neither of them, or anyone else you knew, made you feel like this.

Seen. Respected. Cared for. Supported. Wanted. All of that and genuinely. 

Well, no one before this unit. Wooyoung popped up in your head. So did Hongjoong. San, Yeosang, and Mingi too, to an extent. There were moments with them all that had you feeling like this.

As if you weren't fully alone. In those moments you had felt like you could let your walls down, let them in, and feel loved and accepted as a whole.

Seonghwa had you feeling like that again when he picked you up, quiet on the ride back but once he was parked in front of your apartment again, he was a gentleman. He took your helmet off first, then his, and immediately pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Were you okay today Angel?”

You knew he wasn't talking about the work, but what happened. “Surprisingly… yeah. And I think that's because of you.”

His eyes went wide as he cupped your face, pupils shining in the lowlight from the street lamp. “What do you mean?”

Suddenly flustered, you tried to look away. Ah, feelings and admitting them: two things you struggled with. “I mean… the way you reacted, to what I told you and to them, was uh… oddly comforting? I didn't feel… well it's kinda like-”

He chuckled softly, placing a hand on the small of your back. “Take a moment to think about that but I think I know what you mean.”

“You do?” You looked up at him as he lead you inside, letting you put in the code before stepping in. 

“Yeah. I uh, don't get along with my parents. Didn't follow in the family footsteps. It's a choice I made alone and it was scary, I didn't really have anyone who would understand my situation either… until I met Hongjoong. I told him about it, when I found out they are setting my sister up to be married off to, well, one of the underworld. He got angry, but not at me. It was the first time I saw him so furious as well.” He sighed, walking you up the stairs, taking his time to just talk with you.

You caught on to the vital piece of information he dropped, realizing that while Seonghwa’s parents had Golden Circle connections, he was working hard to take them down. He had something at stake here, making him the fourth- no fifth one in the unit who had some tie to the underworld. 

Your vendetta against Taejin Hwon felt so small in comparison.

But you also noticed the fondness that settled over his features at the memories he brought up, an adorable curve to his lips and a soft light in his eyes at the mention of Hongjoong's anger specifically.

He cared for Hongjoong deeply, and you admired that about them; felt a bit jealous even.

“He was angry for me, because it hurt me, and it was the first time in a while I didn't feel so alone. It was comforting, and the weight on my shoulders was a little less debilitating.” Stopping in front of your door, he turned to you fully. “And it seems this was that moment for you… am I right?”

“Y-yeah. I mean I've had people get angry for me before, to an extent but this felt… different.” You couldn't meet his eyes, feeling unnaturally shy for once. Perhaps it was due to the amount of vulnerable moments you've had with him today; opening up in a way that took even Hyunjin a while to get out of you. 

You couldn't forget Han and Felix, he'll even Changbin and the two younger ones- they all had moments you knew they genuinely cared. But this was different. Seonghwa, and this unit was different. You just couldn't put your finger on it.

“Talk with San tonight, maybe tell him what you told me?” Seonghwa offered, lifting your chin so you would meet his eyes again. “Can I have your permission to confide today with Hongjoong? Only the details you want told of course, I wouldn't-”

“You can tell him everything.” You blurted out, grasping onto the bravery and courage you usually had and pulling it to the surface. “I trust you Seonghwa, more than I'd like to admit right now but… if you trust Hongjoong enough you get all doe eyed when you talk about him, then I trust he is as trustworthy of this information as you are.” 

Seonghwa blushed at that, a beautiful sight to behold, before he buried his reddening cheeks against your shoulder. “You are… truly a treasure.”

Now it was your turn to get flustered. “Hwa… will you come inside?”

“Want to… but can't.”

“Why not?” Your fingers carded through his hair, pout in your tone.

He hummed softly, leaning in closer. “Because if I come in right now I won't leave so easily. And I have somewhere to be before the sun rises.” When you whined again, he pressed a soft kiss to your collarbone before stepping back. “Sorry Angel.”

He left a moment later, and nearly an hour later you were calling up San while laying in bed, freshly showered.

“Finally! I thought you forgot about me sweetcheeks.” His voice in your ear had you flustered. 

“I just needed a little extra courage to call. Are you doing okay?”

“I'm fine… Why the extra courage?”

“No reason in particular, just, wasn't ready to talk about what happened in the gym. Especially since I know they know.”

You heard him hiss, picturing him physically flinching at your words. “I'm sorry about that I-”

“It’s alright. I know it was Yeosang. I'll be talking to him later about it. For now. I miss you. Is it okay to just talk?”

And you did. You told him, surprisingly, everything. About Wooyoung, the job, Seonghwa, and of your old unit. He listened, even reacted much like Seonghwa did.

You felt it again. That sense you were loved, that you weren't alone… but this time you figured it out.

It felt like you were finally home. 

And as San said, once again, you were perfect for them- You thought it went both ways. They were made for you.

Taglist (Capped): @mingsolo | @wowie-hockey | @crispybaguettes | @tiny-apocalypse

| @philijack | @lelaleleb | @isiloiale | @vannabanana1995  | @piratequeen-queenofgames

| @starstruckforyou | @minheeskitten | @amphiroxx  | @cloudysannie | @sugarnspice630

| @sanhwalvr | @plutoneu |  @sousydive |  @fatalt | @iwishiwasrichasfuck

| @bitchwhytho | @st4rhwa | @thesafecafe | @alextheweeb7 | @ddaeing

Taglist will be continued in a reblog!!

𝑷𝒆𝒓𝒗𝒚 𝑵𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒃𝒐𝒓!𝒀𝒆𝒐𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒔

Imagine having Yeosang as your new neighbor, he's kind of shy at first, you develop a big crush on him. Everything in him is so attractive. And yet, you don't know that he's such a pervert, and that he also likes you back.

One day, your washing machine falls out of order, and you have to do your laundry at the laundromat down your apartment building

So, you go there, and do your laundry, and luckily for you, Yeosang get in the laundromat to do his own laundry

You say hello to each other, smiling softly, you discuss quietly with each other the time that your laundry is drying.

Later, you go out of the laundromat, not knowing you accidentally forgot one of your little panties in the dryer in the process of being kind of distracted by Yeosang.

Yeosang, like the horny pervert he is, get those panties back with him, not telling you he found them, a part of him wanting you to found out, because he always wanted you in his bed.

And later that night, he's sniffing your panties while stroking his hard red veiny dick, groaning and softly moaning into them, the smell of you and your nice detergent invading his senses.

He's imagining you under him, moaning his name, while he's pounding your little tight pussy, like he always wanted.

And then he comes on his hand, stomach and chest, ropes of cum coming out while he's bucking his hips in his hand, high pitched whines coming out of his mouth, wishing he came inside of you instead.

Days passed, and you don't know why you kept losing panties almost each time you went to the laundromat

Days passed, and Yeosang still touch himself with your panties in hand, coming so hard everytime, and sometimes he even comes in them, wishing he could cover you and fill you up with his cum.

And then, one day you return to the laundromat and you accidentally takes Yeosang's laundry instead of yours, and Yeosang finds himself with your laundry.

You discover all of your lost panties in his clean clothes, and so you get to his door to confront him

At first, he doesn't know what to say to you to explain himself, as you switch your clothes with his, his face red, knowing he was caught red handed.

His tent in his pants is evident, and you somehow notice it when he tries to hide it

He got turned on from the fact that you caught him, and you were also slightly turned on, knowing he was that horny just by being caught.

And so, one thing leads to another.

You find yourself in his bed, with him under you, and you are stroking slowly his big leaky red veiny cock, as his hips buck.

Groans and moans escape him, and he even whimper and whine, begging him to have more of you, to be inside you.

And after a while, you got tired of punishing him for being such a big pervert and a slut and you finally rode him hard.

He almost came when he felt your tight walls around his cock.

You rode him until he came inside of you

After that, he was still hungry for you, so he switched your positions, him now above you, pounding into you like a horny dog, as you were moaning loudly his name

And like that, the two of you had a long evening ahead of you.

"𝙁𝙪𝙘𝙠, 𝙄 𝙘𝙖𝙣'𝙩 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙚𝙣𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝 𝙤𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙮 𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙚 𝙥𝙪𝙨𝙨𝙮, 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙢𝙚 𝙨𝙤 𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙙. 𝙄'𝙢 𝙜𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙛𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙪𝙥 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙢𝙮 𝙘𝙪𝙢, 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡.."

A.N : Oh, I have such a big Yeosang brainrot, and earlier, i had to go to the laundromat to do my laundry, and so, it gave me inspiration. I hope your enjoy my horny content.

---

our leaves must fall before our flowers can bloom

genre: poly hockey team!ateez x coach fem!reader, enemies/strangers to lovers, athlete!au, slow burn, fluff, angst

length: 37.6k

c/w: sweaty and athletic ateez (warning well deserved), explicit profanity, themes of corruption and rocky family relationships, trauma, hurt/comfort, injuries, kissing, boys are in an established relationship, m x m interactions

synopsis: you become the new coach of the elite men's ice hockey team, the red devils. but with both yourself and the team carrying burdens of the past, you all find it difficult to see eye to eye. as you lead them to the championships in the korean ice hockey league, you discover that teamwork and trust is not as straightforward as it seems.

a/n: it has made me incredibly touched to see so many of my readers from the essence of youth come back to support this new oneshot. thank you from the bottom of my heart ♡ and as always, this fic would not have been possible without @sorryimananti-romantic and her undying support

if someone were to ask yunho–or anybody on the team–when he feels the most alive, his answer would be the same every single time: when he is on the ice, just like he is right now.

the air of the rink is already chilly, but with the added cold of emerging autumn, each rugged lungful he takes fills his chest with vigour. only his own heavy breathing can be heard as the rest of the players’ shouts become muffled into the background outside of his helmet. he tightens his grip on his stick, muscles locked and engaged with adrenaline. his vision narrows, an opening suddenly clearing itself through the tangle of sticks and jungle of skates–a golden opportunity for him to take.

“san!” he yells.

their usual goaltender glances upwards as he handles the puck rebounding off the boards. his jaw tightens and with a practised flick of his wrist, san chips the puck over an incoming stick’s attempt to block the pass. there’s a burst of explosive power as yunho speeds up along the opposite boards to receive the landing puck, hoping to break away from the opposing team’s offensive players before he passes it off.

the flash of a blue jersey appears in yunho’s vision with alarming momentum. they lower and widen their stance, shoulder positioned in front ready to knock him directly into the boards in an attempt to steal the puck, leaving yunho with no choice but to mirror their actions. he braces himself as the opponent rams into him with more force than a usual play, and in combination with their own towering height, yunho finds himself being pushed into the plexiglass panels as he loses possession of the puck.

involuntarily, he lets out a threatening growl of vexation. there is a teasing chuckle from the other player that still has him pinned against the wall despite the continuing game, which clearly tells him that the excessive body check was deliberate. yunho has half a mind to flip their positions, knowing he could easily overpower the other. but before he can adjust his stick out of the way to make good use of his hands, the opponent playfully knocks their helmets together.

“you’re hot when you get all competitive and riled up.”

all of the tension escapes yunho’s body, because he will never not find mingi’s attempts to flirt mid-game–with his mouthguard and resultant bumbling pronunciation–to be amusing. he endearingly rolls his eyes and sighs, “have you not heard of, ‘don’t poke the bear’?”

“you’re not a bear, though,” mingi squirms cheekily on the spot, still up in yunho’s personal space because he knows the older will never be truly annoyed by his antics. “you’re just a cute, harmless puppy.”

before mingi can blink, yunho grabs him by the shoulders and pins him against the wall. yunho smirks, “and they also say, ‘let sleeping dogs lie’.”

wooyoung tongues his cheek with mischief at the sight of the two, nice and cosy against the walls of the rink. he hands his stick off to seonghwa, who is starting to remove his helmet, and skates in their direction, ignoring the dull throb in his left ankle. wooyoung only bothers to slow himself down slightly, instead letting his trajectory be cushioned by something else.

mingi lets out a pathetic noise as the air is squeezed out of his chest from the impact of wooyoung and yunho’s added weight. the latter grunts out, a little breathless, “woo, please, you’re going to knock somebody out like this one day.”

it goes in one ear and out the other as wooyoung grins up at him to state, “seonghwa scored so we lost ‘cause you were too busy making out with mister mingles here.”

yunho pushes off the wall to free himself from the sandwich of bodies and pivots on his skates to jab wooyoung’s padded chest. “you and san were doing the exact same thing just five minutes ago.”

“we’re on the same team,” wooyoung shrugs, “whereas mingi is not, so you’re fraternising with the enemy. now come on losers, captain’s wrapping up practice.”

the three of them glide along the ice to rejoin the rest of the team, where they are stepping out of the rink to sit on the benches. they remove their helmets and start unlacing their skates as hongjoong gathers the attention of the team.

“great work from everybody today, especially you, jongho. your backhand wrist shots are improving–keep it up. now just a reminder to everyone that our regular games start next week so i want you all to make sure you are stretching and cooling down properly,” he emphasises. he pointedly looks at yeosang, who has already begun to wander his way off to the changerooms, at the same time that seonghwa scruffs him by the back of his jersey and gently tugs him back to the team.

jongho peels off his blue practice jersey as he scans the arena and absentmindedly asks, “is coach still not here? it’s already the end of practice.”

“he said he had something to sort out today, but would come round if everything went well,” seonghwa answers, also craning his neck to look for signs of their coach.

from where you and coach cho are watching from the designated scouting area in the arena, the team is unable to spot you two. you had come from the final negotiations of your contract with coach cho and had watched their team, the red devils, play the last period of their game. despite it only being a friendly match amongst the team’s players, you have already grasped a sense of their playing style–it is heavy on the offensive at the expense of defence, just like how you used to play. it is fast-paced, aggressive and…prone to injury.

“let’s go meet the team,” coach cho voices, making his way out of the viewing area as you follow beside him. all the players look up from their skates that they are still unlacing or from their stretches on the floor when you two near the arrangement of benches surrounding the rink. they greet coach cho enthusiastically and you can see why from the way the older man smiles at them like they are his own sons.

“y/n, this is the team, the red devils–my pride and joy. boys, this is y/n,” he introduces. “i had to miss practice to meet up with y/n and make sure she was happy to sign on as part of the red devils.”

said team gives you disinterested glances, a complete change from the receptivity with which they respond to coach cho. one of the red-jerseyed boys, who you recognise as wooyoung, utters sarcastically, “cute, but we don’t need a mascot or cheerleader.”

coach cho chuckles lightly, “she’s your new coach.”

“hold on, you were serious about–” “–are you coaching a different team–” “–you don’t want us anymore?”

some of the boys erupt into a barrage of questions, trying to make sense of the sudden announcement, whereas the others stay quiet, flickers of flashbacks stirring up from within the depths of their memories. their coach raises his hands to settle them as he apologises, “i didn’t want to say anything before i was one hundred percent sure that things would go ahead, and i wasn’t sure whether y/n would accept the offer.”

“is it because your wife is due soon?” san interrupts.

coach cho nods, “with twins, and i want to be present to help–as a husband and a father. but that just isn’t feasible as your coach, as much as i love you boys.”

training as professional athletes takes incredible perseverance, discipline and commitment. there are early mornings, late nights, weekends and public holidays. it takes sacrifices in the form of time and relationships, especially when they must travel away from home for up to weeks on end to compete in matches. and with the start of the regular season, the intensity is only going to ramp up. as hard as the athletes train, the coach works twice as hard to make it all possible.

the team needs somebody to be there for them to ensure they make it into the playoffs, and it just won’t be fair for anybody–the players and his own family–if coach cho were to keep his position. and the team gets it, they really do, but–

“she’s the new coach?” yunho frowns in confusion. “no offence, but we’re not a bunch of kids for her to practise being a soccer mum to.”

“she was the assistant coach for the grey eagles,” coach cho discloses.

“the grey eagles? the under-21 men’s championship team?” yeosang looks incredulous.

mingi sceptically comments, “the fact that we’ve never seen or heard of her before probably tells us enough.”

hongjoong’s lips purse sourly as he tries his hardest to analyse the situation with the professionalism of the team’s captain. but with the sudden change in coaches and the same critiquing doubts as mingi, hongjoong cannot help but feel his personal judgement webbing over his mind. over the team’s entire career as an elite ice hockey team thus far–five years, now well into their sixth–the red devils have only ever had two coaches. coach cho has been with them for the longest and whilst it took the team a while to eventually warm up to him, he has been with them for almost quadruple the amount of time it took to trust him.

the team’s alternate captain, seonghwa, speaks to you directly, “if you don’t mind me asking, why are you not playing as an athlete yourself? you’re clearly our age–nowhere near retiring.”

you knew from the very start that your age would make your credibility as a coach much lower, and your answer to seonghwa will not help your case either. “i stopped playing.”

“how come?”

the trigger of memories fills your nose with a sharp stinging smell. you blankly reveal, “i chose to stop playing.” you know exactly how it sounds like to somebody else, even more so to professional athletes. coach cho has also told you of the team’s hardheadedness and strong will when it comes to the passions of their career, so you are expecting the cold receptiveness that you are met with.

your response strikes the wrong chord within wooyoung. there was a point in his career not too long ago when the choice of continuing to play or not was at risk of becoming a forced decision. the way you answer so callously with those very words that had threatened to tear his world apart has his jaw grinding and eyes darkening, and he is not the only athlete in the arena who feels similarly.

“i would rather choose to die before i choose to stop playing. ice hockey is my entire life and without it, i am not living either,” hongjoong jabs and you cannot help but clench your fists because you know exactly what he means. still, you stay quiet as he continues, “sorry, but i can’t respect a ‘coach’ who chose to stop playing.”

at the captain’s words and subsequent move to leave for the changerooms, the rest of the team also gather their equipment and follow his steps. san’s feet falter in front of you, expression hesitant until he decides to voice, “our team needs a bit of time. it’s hard for us to warm up to…outsiders, and i know it might not mean much to say this but we have our reasons. don’t expect us to blindly trust you just because you’re a coach.”

the use of the word ‘outsider’ does not go unnoticed as you nod, “of course.”

san jogs off to rejoin the others and coach cho hums, “guess some things haven’t changed. they were just as prickly to me when i first became their coach.”

you raise an eyebrow, “prickly? to you?”

“yes, believe it or not,” he chuckles nostalgically. “we’ve come a long way because i’ve been their coach for years now. but it took me a while before i was able to break down their walls.”

you briefly mull over the information, then ask out of curiosity, “what would you have done if i didn’t sign the contract?”

“begged you to rethink your decision,” he jokes with a pleased chortle. “i would have to start looking for a different coach, i suppose. you were my only pick.”

“but why me, of all people? there are so many other experienced coaches that you can choose from.”

he looks at you, eyes glinting with intuition and confidence as he simply says, “you’re familiar with their playing style. they play just like you used to.” at your silent processing, coach cho probes, “why didn’t you tell them the real reason?”

you smile wistfully, “i didn't tell them because i’m not here to gain their pity.”

some of the boys’ voices grow louder as they emerge from the changerooms, changed into fresh clothes and their kit bags slung over their shoulders. you hear one of them ask, “captain, is she really going to be our new coach?”

they step out from the facility’s corridor and you accidentally make eye contact with hongjoong, yet neither of you look away. maintaining a steady gaze directly at you, he responds with a slight glower, “maybe, but she’s only the coach by title. i’m still the captain of the team, so let’s see who everyone listens to.”

as they exit the rink’s arena, you feel a fire of determination growing inside of you. you have won over your own demons and you have won the championships before–this is nothing in comparison. whether your next words are for coach cho or for yourself to hear, it does not matter.

“i may not play anymore but i was still once an athlete, and no athlete has ever, in their career, wanted pity. i’m here to earn the team’s respect and i will win over them, especially their captain.”

you watch the swing of the glass door as it shuts behind the players, catching a brief glimpse of the trees lining the arena’s perimeter. it is the first day of autumn when you meet the red devils for the first time and outside, the leaves are beginning to change their colours.

autumn, 2018: pre-season

hongjoong believes all coaches are to be respected. it does not matter what kind of team they coach, how many years of experience they have, or whether they have built up a reputation for themselves. to hongjoong, respect for coaches is not something earned nor negotiable–it is something well-deserved and expected, as is for anybody in a position that is higher in the chain of command.

he may be the captain of their unofficial team, but hongjoong knows that the way a team can place their blind trust in the coach is irreplaceable, regardless of how much the other players rely on him too.

hongjoong watches as his boys carry out the practice drill he has set up for them. yeosang handles the puck around the cones before passing it to wooyoung, primed offensively near the goal to make a quick shot, who groans when his shot rebounds off the post. as he retrieves the disc, yeosang takes over wooyoung’s position near the goal ready to receive yunho’s pass as he starts to work his way through the cones next.

they are limited in the type of drills they can practise because hongjoong was only able to rent half of the community rink for a measly two hours. the boys are not even in proper uniform, wearing only their shin guards under their sweatpants and gloves on their hands to prevent any injuries when the centre had stated very firmly they would not be allowed in with their bulky equipment.

and yet, none of this has dampened the boys’ spirits. san teasingly brags that it is his chance to show off his skills other than goaltending, and jongho thanks hongjoong quietly for renting the rink in the first place. their understanding nods and comforting hugs make hongjoong’s heart clench, even more so as the team eagerly and diligently practise the drills in mediocre conditions but with fiery determination to prove their worth as newly-signed athletes under the kq blue birds.

this is exactly why hongjoong is driven to find them a coach–any coach: to give his boys a solid pillar they can rely on, because he himself lacks the resources and strings to pull in order to fulfil their shared dreams. he needs to keep his boys as one team, instead of scattered into other teams as extra players like a gracious opportunity for the leftovers, since kq does not yet have a coach available for the eight of them.

“captain!”

the excitement in seonghwa’s voice startles hongjoong more than the speed at which the alternate captain skates towards him. seonghwa digs his skates into the ice at the last second, stopping himself just shy of knocking the other over as he exclaims, “he emailed back!”

“the coach you reached out to?” hongjoong clarifies, eyes growing wide.

having caught wind of his signed contract as a professional athlete, an acquaintance of seonghwa’s had reached out offering to pass on the contact of their acquaintance, who apparently knew somebody with coaching experience. it was rare for a coach to take on a rookie team unless there were incredible benefits, so he and hongjoong had drafted and sent an email with little to no expectations for a reply. but seonghwa’s furious nodding is telling otherwise, and his eyes sparkle as he shoves his phone in hongjoong’s face to show him the email.

dear mr park, thank you for your interest and for reaching out with your proposal. i have looked at your athlete profiles and it appears that you all have big dreams and extremely promising futures. it would be my utmost pleasure to help you all reach your true potential by coaching your team. if you would like to arrange a meeting in person to discuss expectations and conditions regarding training, competitions and future championships prior to finalising the contracts with your company, please let me know what times and dates best suit yourself and your team captain, mr kim. i look forward to working with you all. kind regards, coach yeon

“holy shit,” hongjoong steadies seonghwa’s giddy hand to read the email again. when he reaches the last line, he starts once more from the beginning to make sure his eyes are not lying to him. then he breathes out with finality, “holy shit. am i reading this right?”

“yeah, joong. you’re reading it right.”

hongjoong is not often one to be affectionate with the others, but yanking seonghwa into a bone-crushing hug as he repeats holy shit like a mantra is the only response he is able to muster. the older laughs wetly, throat constricting with overwhelming joy and he holds onto his captain until the other pulls back.

“you tell them, okay?” seonghwa does not wait for a response before he is raising his voice to gather the others, “boys! hongjoong has good news for us!”

like puppies responding to the call of food, their heads immediately perk up and they abandon the puck and the drill to speed towards their two captains. there is a clamour of questions as they enthusiastically predict what is going to be said.

“are they letting us use the rink for longer?”

wooyoung squeezes himself in between yunho and mingi to ask, “are we getting the whole rink?!”

“no way,” san gasps, “or did our practice jerseys arrive?”

hongjoong’s eyes soften at their guesses. his boys demand so little from him when he wants to give them everything they could never even think of asking for. he glances at seonghwa, who looks just about ready to burst from his own excitement, then reveals, “we’ve found a coach willing to take on our team.”

dead silence. yeosang blinks and wooyoung’s jaw drops. jongho, who had been lazily circling around the group, comically slows to a stop, joining the rest of the boys in frozen stupor. it is only broken when yunho dares to confirm, “does this mean we won’t be rostered as extras for other teams?”

everyone’s hopeful eyes look at hongjoong. he nods, “we’re staying together and playing as our own team.”

it is obvious the moment the information registers in their minds and the implications of what it means for the team’s future starts to sink in. they explode into a flurry of movement and hongjoong and seonghwa find themselves swept up into the middle of a clumsy group huddle as shouts are exchanged, uncaring of who is listening or talking.

“are we finally playing in championships with the big dogs?”

“we’re going to play interstate?”

“oh my god, what if we get into nationals?”

“nah, fuck that boys, let’s go international! we’re going to represent korea one day and become the best team in the world.”

the amount of voices overlapping one another are overwhelming, but it is overwhelming in the way that it makes hongjoong soar up into the clouds, wings stretched to their full span and carried by the hollers and cheers surrounding him in every direction. his cheeks hurt from smiling because these are the boys that he knows and loves.

they may only be a small team of eight, but they have dreams that are big enough to fill the entire universe.

“what’s the coaches name–” “–know if they’re a good coach–” “–teams have they coached before–”

seonghwa chuckles as the boys hound them with question after question and hongjoong appeases their curiosity dotingly, “we’ll find out when we meet him–coach yeon.”

but it does not matter what qualifications coach yeon has or does not have, and it does not matter what teams he has coached or has not coached before. what matters is that he is a coach and he is willing to be their coach, because it means that hongjoong and his boys are finally taking the next step towards their big dreams. 

and most importantly, they will be in this together…as the red devils.

autumn, present: regular season

“again.”

hongjoong grits his teeth, taking up his position as centre again in the marked circle for the practice drill. even during defensive faceoff plays, he and the team are accustomed to taking on an aggressive approach. when he wins possession of the puck, the wingers–usually yeosang and wooyoung, or jongho when substituted on–quickly breakaway and move forward with him into the offensive zone.

obviously, they have other strategic plays too to switch up the predictability of their tactics, such as moving the puck towards the board whilst yeosang covers him, or by passing the puck back to the mingi in defence. but overall, their team is capable of rapidly flipping from defensive to offensive play using the aggressive setup.

the practice drill you are currently running emphasises heavily on the defence–the reverse setup play. hongjoong is to pass backwards but in the direction of the boards whilst yeosang supports and wooyoung covers the area directly between the circle and san. mingi moves towards the boards to receive the puck, and their other defenceman, yunho, assists with covering the goal.

hongjoong does admit that this play is much safer and stabler, but it is also much slower and…cowardly. his team is called the red devils for a reason and their reputation as demons on ice is not something that he is going to throw away–not following years of blood, sweat and tears to stand back up after falling during their rookie year.

when he assumes his stance once again inside the faceoff circle opposite seonghwa, who is playing the centre position as the mock opponent, you drop the puck onto the centre dot. the moment it hits the ice, hongjoong clears it with his stick towards the right boards. it doesn’t go back far enough for mingi to receive though, so yeosang makes the split decision to burst sideways to retrieve the puck, all three forwards moving aggressively in synchronisation to advance offensively once he gains possession.

you stop them, shaking your head. “again.”

it has been a week since your first meeting with the team, and with the start of the regular season, training has focused on refining their strategies. the red devils are playing in the korean ice hockey league for the second time, an annual national championship with a singular men’s division.

teams from all over korea gather in seoul to compete in regular-season games at the gangneung ice arena against the other teams in rotation. depending on the number of participants, the red devils will need to play an average of three games a week for the next five to six months. then based on the outcome of the games, if your team scores within the top thirty two, they will be able to enter the playoffs.

last year, the red devils were only able to make it to the quarterfinals before they were knocked out. but considering it was their first time competing in a proper championship–as opposed to the rookie leagues and interstate competitions they competed in during the first four years of their career–making it into the top eight teams out of over a hundred or so teams was already impressive enough.

your team’s first regular-season game starts tomorrow, so it does not matter that this is the sixth time in a row that you have stopped them during this drill. you will make them restart until they perfect the play. with that in mind, you release the puck onto the centre dot of the circle once more, but this time seonghwa wins the faceoff, clearing it to the side where jongho is waiting as his left wing. seonghwa looks at you guiltily and anticipates the word that will come out of your mouth.

you bite your tongue, having sensed the rising tension amongst the team an hour ago, but now they are almost at their boiling point. closing your eyes briefly, you try reminding yourself to think about the situation from your players’ perspectives.

their career progression rides on this championship, and with their grit and determination, they will not settle for simply beating their own record in ranking. no, they vie for first place. only the top team secures a position in the international ice hockey league, the most coveted opportunity to represent korea in the championship between the world’s best teams.

and it is during this vital time–when the stress levels and stakes are as high as they can get–that the boys have suddenly had to change coaches. not only have they lost their most trusted support and guide, they have only had one week to adjust to their new one–you. in the grand scheme of things, one week is nowhere near enough time to develop any sort of meaningful relationship where they are able to listen to and rely on you.

taking a breath, you explain, “being so focused on offence leaves your team vulnerable if the opposing team also has aggressive forwards that you can’t break through. the faceoff play needs to be adjusted for those situations, otherwise it’ll be too difficult to control the puck and it will more than likely end up in chaos. it won’t be a game of professional skill anymore, but a circus of dirty play.”

your defence-focused coaching style has worked well for all the past teams you have taught, both men’s and women’s teams. you know that the boys play an offence-focused style; you are reminded too closely of your past self every time they rush head-on into every situation. and it is exactly because of that–because you know the dangers that come with their aggressive style–that you are making them adjust their play. their career comes first and if they suffer an injury, there may not be a career left.

so you will play the bad cop if you have to. they will come to understand you one day.

san bites down on his mouthguard as he listens from his position in the goal. he is able to see each and every play unfold, better than any other of his teammates, so he knows where you are coming from. whilst he has become used to the pressures that come with goaltending, no amount of training or competitions will ever fully eliminate the sudden spike in fear and anticipation the moment the opposing team’s forwards break past yunho and mingi.

san is the team’s last line of defence and the best outcome is that a game never comes down to just him, the opponent’s stick, and his goal. it is true that his team needs to work on their defensive plays, so when the others huff in defiance and reluctantly reset their positions, san simply lowers his centre of gravity in wait for your cue to restart the drill.

“again.”

outside the arena, the echo of sticks and scraping of skates sound faintly as the first leaf of autumn begins to fall to the ground. as time passes, the rest of the leaves will also succumb to a similar fate, only differing in how. some will fall in a slow and graceful descent, whilst others…

…a rapid and spiralling whirlwind downwards.

counting the heads and finding all eight of your players seated in the bus, you nod to the driver to close the door and start driving. most of the boys have chosen to sit on a two-seater by themselves, only yunho and mingi choosing to sit together. they share a set of wired earphones, eyebrows furrowed in concentration at one of their phones, likely monitoring one of their own matches or one of another team’s.

the rest of the boys sit alone, faces grim and tight as they stare out the window. they look exactly like you used to and it hits you with a wave of bittersweet nostalgia.

the ride to the competition venue–much less for the very first game of the season–is always the quietest, air strung tight with nerves as everyone prepares themselves psychologically for the inevitable pressures that the game will bring. being able to compose and centre one’s mindset is already half the battle won, and whilst nobody says it out loud, you all know that today’s results, despite it only being day one, will set the tone for the next four to five months as they fight to qualify for the playoffs.

as you make one final sweep from the back of the bus to the front whilst it pulls away from the curb, you accidentally make eye contact with yeosang. you give him a polite smile and he opens his mouth, closes it on second thought, then decides to ask anyway, “do you want to sit here?”

it is a lie to say that you are not surprised by the question, so you stumble over your response as you stammer, “oh, okay. thanks.”

yeosang reciprocates your noise of disorientation and when he fumbles to move his bag aside that had been occupying the space beside him, you belatedly realise he was only asking out of courtesy. but backtracking now and rejecting his offer would be a million times worse and you can only try to hide the flaming heat behind your cheeks as best as you can as you sit down in the seat.

he fiddles with the straps of his bag and you can feel his discomfort reeking off his hands. in an attempt to break the ice, you glance at him, “are you nervous for the game?”

he nods, “don’t think it gets any less nerve-wracking no matter how many games you play.”

“well this is a pretty big championship. you have every reason to feel nervous,” you hum.

yeosang levels you with a look. “are you trying to make me feel better or worse?”

you do not know him well enough to be able to discern whether he is joking with you or not. opting to clear your throat instead, you point out, “you have your teammates who you can trust.”

“yeah…teammates.”

and you have me, too, as your coach, you want to say.

the hopeful glimpse in the dark of your eyes is enough for yeosang to pick up on your thoughts. he swallows uncomfortably and looks away.

we don’t know that yet.

you bite the inside of your cheek, trying once more to extend the conversation after a pregnant pause. “did you guys have a coach before cho?” either you have a shitty sense of appropriate conversation starters or yeosang wants absolutely nothing to do with you (it is likely both, but one can be optimistic), because his shoulders tense almost immediately.

“we did…just one,” he starts off carefully. you think that that is going to be the end of it, but then he adds on, “we don’t really talk about him though.”

and there it is–the end of the conversation. it is his nice way of telling you that there is no more to be said, so you sit the rest of the ride in silence next to yeosang, pretending not to let the sheer awkwardness suffocate you.

when the bus arrives at the gangneung ice arena, you hurry to alight and only then do you feel like you are able to breathe again. you plaster on a smile and notify the boys, “your first game is in two hours against the panthers. you’ve been allocated locker room 3B.”

they make their way into the centre and you trail behind in wait as they find their designated space. warm-ups will be first so they will not be needing their full gear just yet, which means it should not take long for them to change.

inside the locker room, the red devils shrug off their bulky duffle bags and change into their game jerseys, lacing and relacing their skates to ensure the snuggest fits. hongjoong alerts, “boys, time to go out and start warming up,” receiving a chorus of acknowledgement as everyone grabs the rest of the gear that they need.

before jongho places his phone into his assigned locker, he habitually taps on the screen one last time to check for any notifications and finds a single text from his younger brother, jonghyuk. he knows he should not read it, much less right before his first game, but the smaller part inside him that yearns for his family’s recognition dares to hope for something. dragging the preview down to avoid opening it, jongho reads the text.

are you just going to keep pretending you haven’t read our messages?

jongho clenches his jaw and swipes the notification away as if that will also erase it from his mind. tossing his phone into the locker, he shuts it with a harsh swing, resting his forehead against the cool metal as he closes his eyes and breathes out shakily. this game–this championship–jongho has to win; he cannot afford to lose.

“captain.”

hongjoong turns around to see jongho striding up towards him, brows furrowed and voice troubled as he questions, “are we really not going to tell coach what our game plan is? shouldn’t we work together with her?”

“jongho,” the captain sighs, “we got lucky with coach cho, but we know better than anyone else that not all coaches are like him.”

from where he has been listening in on the conversation at the doors leading out of the locker room, seonghwa’s shoulders stiffen. there is a moment of silence; the rest of the team have already made their way to the ice rink.

“what if we lose?”

it is the way that his voice grows small and timid that hongjoong realises it is not his captain that jongho needs right now. hongjoong’s gaze softens as he searches the younger’s eyes, “did your family say something again?”

he receives no answer but it tells him more than enough. “you trust me?”

jongho’s almost imperceptible nod does not escape hongjoong’s observations, so he continues to reassure, “we’ll win. my boys are the best players, you included, and we already have experience playing in this competition.” he ducks down slightly to meet jongho’s gaze, “and even if we do lose? we lose because of our own skills–not because of anybody else.”

his words tug a small smile out of the corner of the youngest’s lips, and hongjoong returns it with a relieved smile. with a nudge, he sends jongho in the direction of the door, where seonghwa pretends to ruffle his hair affectionately knowing that it will be dodged. seonghwa chuckles lightly and watches him walk off, unbeknownst to his captain watching him.

“hey,” hongjoong calls out gently, “i know what you’re thinking, but that wasn’t what i meant.”

seonghwa looks back and winces, “i can’t help it.”

“and that’s why i will keep telling you no matter how many times you need to hear it. it is not your fault–never was, and never will be,” hongjoong cocks his head playfully as he raises an eyebrow.

“same goes to you then, captain,” seonghwa returns the banter, shoulders relaxing and head shaking, “not your fault either.”

“you’re right, so let’s get the fuck out there and smash our game, yeah?” hongjoong slings his arm around the other and leads them both out of the locker room to join the rest of the boys.

what he does not say, though, is that seonghwa is wrong. seonghwa may have been the one to reach out to coach yeon, but hongjoong was the one who made the executive decision to accept and trust coach yeon.

he is not going to make the same mistake twice this time, because it is not just about protecting his dreams, his career, or those of his teammates–it is about protecting the people he loves.

hongjoong will not let them fall…not again.

winter, 2018: regular season

jongho twirls his phone in his hand, intermittently turning the screen on and off. he sits in the corner of the locker room, away from the rest of the boys as they wait for coach yeon to return from checking in and filling out their required paperwork. only several competitions later will they realise that their locker room is small, cramped and dim, but to their fresh, bright-eyed excitement at competing in a professional league for the first time, they hardly have time to critique the assigned space.

the phone comes to a stop. making up his mind, jongho taps on the screen and navigates to the keypad. dialling his mother’s number, he brings the phone up to his ear and waits with bated breath as it is left to ring.

“what do you want,” comes her curt response when she finally picks up.

jongho’s words falter, “oh, nothing…i just wanted to tell you that we’re playing our first game today.”

“game? your little team doesn’t even have a coach,” his mother patronises.

shoulders curling in on themselves, jongho hesitantly voices, “i told you last month that we got a coach.”

“i forgot,” she brushes him off, “and it must not be a very important competition then, seeing as it isn’t worth remembering.”

“there’s prize money,” he reveals. maybe if he can bring some of it home for his parents, they will recognise his efforts.

she sceptically probes, “is it national? international?”

“no…regionals.”

“is it ranked at least?”

“it’s just an entry-level competition for rookie teams,” jongho trails off, discouraged and confidence in shambles.

his mother scoffs at his answers, none of which are the ones she wants to hear. “you have no excuse not to win this competition, then. this is child’s play. just look at jonghyuk. he’s two years younger than you, yet already has his eyes on the olympics. if you lose, i don’t want to hear about it–don’t bring shame to our family.”

“okay,” jongho mumbles, but his answer is only heard by the beeping dial of the ended call…and the rest of the boys it seems, if not apparent by the sombre hush that has settled over the room and the worried lips that he sees when he looks up.

yeosang’s mouth parts, the younger’s name on the tip of his tongue, but then coach yeon enters the locker room and calls for their attention. jongho gives them a reassuring smile before setting his phone beside him on the bench and directing his gaze to their coach, grateful for the distraction. it leaves yeosang and the others with no choice but to drop it for now.

coach yeon erases the old scribbles on the room’s whiteboard and replaces it with rough markings of the hockey rink. he drags the magnets into the different zones, each one representative of a player, as he goes over the final lineup and their respective positions based on the opposing team they have been pooled against.

“stay strong on the offensive and maintain a 2-1-2 formation where possible–yeosang, i want you up there with hongjoong and put pressure on the other team. if they gain puck possession, both of you fall back to where wooyoung is and maintain 3-2.”

the three forwards nod and coach yeon touches one of the magnets positioned on the player’s bench. “jongho, you’ll come on for your shift during the second period. whoever you replace will come back in later to sub the other wing. yeosang and wooyoung, you should both be playing again during the third period.”

“yes, coach,” jongho acknowledges.

coach yeon continues on to review their game plan and hongjoong steps up to assist with detailing their different strategic plays. to jongho though, their words sound like he is listening from underwater as his mind involuntary drifts off. it is a small saving grace that his parents do not care for his match, because it means that they will not see that he is not part of the starting lineup.

for seven of the people in the locker room, winning the competition is an aspiration, but for one of them it is an expectation. and for the remaining individual, the competition in itself is an opportunity, but for an entirely different reason.

winter, present: regular season

inevitably, you find out. when discrepancies start to occur between training, pre-game meetings and the actual games, it is only a matter of time before you start to notice them.

it starts off with the uncommon plays that are simply a response to the game situation–ones that are dire and not often brought up prior to them actually occurring. during their fourth regular game of the season, the red devils are behind by two goals. the last period is almost over when they miraculously gain the power advantage after two of the opposing players are sent to the penalty box in quick succession.

before you realise what is happening, hongjoong gives his team a signal and both yunho and mingi on defence and san in the goal all rush forward to attack with the wings. you can only watch with wide eyes as they risk an empty net in the hopes of scoring two much-needed goals to even the playing field.

wooyoung manages to score one with a quick shot, but with the release of the opponents from the penalty box, their advantage is put to an end and they ultimately finish the match with a loss. you do not dwell too much on their sudden change in tactics despite the lack of communication with you, because you understand that every single game requires a different approach. sometimes, there is no time to strategise, only time to act.

but one occurrence turns into two, and two turns into several. and when, during one of their matches the week prior, jongho and wooyoung swap positions on the left and right sides of the rink as soon as the youngest replaces yeosang’s shift, it becomes quite conclusive that they are deliberately withholding information from you.

the boys are not brainless. it is not a coincidence for you and the team to discuss one game plan in the locker room only for it to completely change the moment they step onto the hockey rink.

you silently watch as the boys prepare for a faceoff in their defensive zone. they are currently playing against the incheon bears and the timing of the penalty puts you all on edge; the score is currently tied four to four and only twelve seconds are left on the clock. you had requested a time-out right as the referee made the call in hopes of stopping the momentum of the opposing team and to tell the boys to play defensively for this faceoff.

“play it safe. stall for the last twelve seconds and drag the game into overtime,” you had ordered.

the incheon bears have made a shift change with their player number four coming on for the faceoff, their right wing who has low stamina but terrifyingly accurate shots. he is responsible for most of his team’s goals and several other scoring attempts that san had only just managed to block. you are also almost certain that they will be aggressively body checking your players to make this faceoff count for them. your forwards have to play safely–not just for the sake of the game’s score.

at your defensive suggestion, san had nodded in agreement with you, “forwards need to make passes with sure lanes–nothing that can risk getting intercepted. go for the reverse setup play if you guys can.”

“we don’t need to take this into overtime,” hongjoong had started to argue, “other than number four, the rest of their offence is weak. as long as we break past him, we have an opportunity to score.”

“captain–”

the whistle blows before mingi can give his two cents, the mere thirty seconds for the time-out far too short, and the boys hurry to enter the rink again. hongjoong leans in quickly to say something to them before they disperse into their positions and mingi glances at you, almost guiltily.

you do not have the confidence that your team will listen. san may have seen the advantages in favouring a defensive play, but he is not the one who will decide which direction the puck will go when the referee drops it onto the ice. hongjoong is.

the hand of the referee raises to signal the start of the faceoff and both team’s centre forwards lower their stance. then the puck hits the ice. hongjoong’s nimble reflexes help him to snap his wrist and twist the puck away from the incheon bear’s player, wooyoung already surging ahead with explosive strides towards the other end of the rink. but just as you fear, the opponent’s left wing thunders at hongjoong with horrifying speed, intention solely to bowl him over onto the ice–not to steal the puck.

“fuck, captain!” you yell, heart leaping up into your throat as it cuts off your breath.

hongjoong’s eyes snap upwards and darken, jaws aching from the force with which he grinds his teeth together despite his mouthguard. he suddenly pivots on the edges of his skates and shifts his weight to only just narrowly miss the body check, then flicks the puck away before another player can knock him down.

he does not need to look before passing to where he knows wooyoung will be, years of synergy allowing their plays to connect seamlessly. except incheon bear’s number four has predicted their exact play, having been watching from the benches and noting your forwards’ preference for aggressive attacks.

“shit,” yunho curses under his breath, ice shaving under his skates from the accelerating force of his strides towards the puck. he is not going to make it in time. “mingi!”

seonghwa jolts up to his feet from the player’s bench, chest mid-inhale with apprehension at the captain’s pass. the puck is intercepted within the blink of an eye and with a well-timed punch turn around yunho’s attempt to regain possession, the rival team’s number four makes a shot for the goal.

it is too fast for mingi’s stick to block–arm still stretching out with desperation–and although san drops down to his knees in hopes of barricading the goal with his leg pads, the trajectory of the puck arcs higher than he had predicted.

as the puck soars past san and hits the netting of the goal, the buzzer sounds in tandem with the eruption of cheers around the rink. all around, the incheon bears swarm towards their number four in joyous celebration. mingi leans over to rest his hands on his knees from both exhaustion and defeat, and the other boys stand in similar stances as the outcome of the game registers in their tired minds.

in an attempt to cheer them up despite his own disappointment, seonghwa half-heartedly smiles at his boys as they slowly start to trudge their way off the rink. “we played well, boys. it was unlucky that our pass got intercepted, but we can do better next time.”

“good thing it isn’t the playoffs yet,” yunho tries to joke, “so we’re still in the competition.”

nobody cracks a smile and wooyoung’s face is dark, hand grabbing the walls in support to favour his left foot whilst lifting his skates over the slight ledge of the bench door. noting his slight limp, san quietly murmurs in worry, “did you tape your ankle?”

wooyoung shakes his head. “i ran out. forgot to buy some yesterday.”

“make sure you ice it tonight then, okay?” san gently supports him by the elbow to the benches so they can loosen the laces of their skates and grab their things before heading to the locker room.

you look away to flip through the notebook in your hand instead, trying to calm the shaking of your hands. ice hockey is a contact sport and you cannot protect the players from every single collision, but that last body check that hongjoong had been unprepared for still has acid pooling into your mouth. you scratch the score ‘4-5’ onto a page filled with their scores from this season thus far. a quick calculation tells you that the red devils have just as many losses as they have wins, which in all honesty, is not looking good.

this…conflict needs to be cleared with the team–with hongjoong. you cannot let this concealment of tactics and blatant changing of strategies right in your face continue any longer, because at the rate they are going, they may not even make it into the playoffs. and as you make eye contact with san, who has been staring despondently at the puck that still lies in his goal, you know that you must clear the air for the team, too. the last thing you need is for their own teamwork to fall apart because their differing opinions on your coaching starts to drive a wedge between them.

san stills when you break your gaze and glance away to pivot on your heels in the direction of the changerooms. from the way your mouth thins and neck becomes rigid, he is quite certain you are not happy—and rightfully so, san must admit. he stalls time by slipping off his bulky gloves and freeing his hands up to remove his helmet and mouthguard too.

noting that the other boys have grabbed most of their belongings, san heads off first to meet you, knowing that they will follow him soon after. he walks down the corridor easily balancing on his skates and rounds the corner to their locker room. except the sight that greets him has his feet halting and taking a step back behind the doorway.

your hand is deep in one of their bags. san is unsure whose bag it is, but the brief glimpse of the black canvas bag he caught is enough to tell him that it is one of theirs. although he is not making any accusations, he also cannot think of a reason as to why you would be rummaging through their bags.

“why are you just standing there?”

jongho’s voice startles him and he mumbles, “nothing,” before stepping through the door with the rest of his team. you are sitting on a bench in front of an empty locker now and if he did not know better, san would think that he had imagined the last minute. he glances discreetly at the bag you had been poking through and recognises it as wooyoung’s.

gingerly seating himself in front of his own locker, san waits on edge as mingi also grasps the atmosphere and sits too. gradually, the boys read the room with tactful glances and linger on their feet or on the benches. all except for one.

“what was that?” you cut through the silence with a directed question at hongjoong.

the captain continues to toss his gloves into his unzipped bag at the bottom of his locker before proceeding to unlace his skates, not once turning to look at you.

“what was what?”

you know fully well that he is aware of what you are talking about but you decide to humour him as you elaborate, “that last faceoff. i clearly told you to play defensively, but you went against it to try for a goal. and let me guess, you told the others to ignore what i said.”

“and so what if i did?” hongjoong challenges. yeosang’s wide eyes dart from side to side and yunho watches on uneasily as his captain finally turns to glare at you. “in that moment–as a player on the rink–i saw the opportunity and took it. if there is a chance to attack, then my team takes it. we don’t run away like cowards.”

the successive jabs at your athletic retirement cause a lick of phantom heat to wrap around your shoulder. your jaw grinds as you hold yourself back from biting the bait. “then i’m curious as to what opportunity you saw every time you decided to withhold game tactics from me, or every time you changed the strategy the moment you and your team stepped foot onto the rink.”

“maybe we would respect and listen to your coaching if it actually suited the playing style of our team. heavy defence may have worked for the grey eagles, but i think you need to reevaluate your abilities as a coach because it seems like you are forgetting that we are not them. forcing us to play defensively like your past team is not going to work for shit, coach,” hongjoong mocks.

you scoff to the side, questioning your own ears. it borders on a laugh, because that is his reason? you have been adjusting their playing style not only based on the situation that arises each game, but in general for their own good. earning his respect be damned, you will not stand for this.

you return the same scornful tone, “well then, captain, considering you just lost the fucking match because you were too arrogant to defend for twelve fucking seconds, i think you should also reevaluate yourself. are you acting in the best interest of your team, or are you acting in the way that best strokes your own ego? and let me remind you–if you suffer an injury, your whole team suffers with you.

“if you do not have the decency to at least tell me what you have discussed with the boys so that i can adjust the plays accordingly, then i think the shit results of your games so far speak for themselves. teams have a coach for a reason whether you like it or not…or maybe i should say, whether you trust them or not,” you snap.

running your stressed fingers through your hair, you tear your eyes away from hongjoong’s defiant eyes. the two youngest avoid your gaze, whereas yunho and yeosang simply stare at you with their jaws slack at a loss for words. the fire within you almost quenches when your eyes skim over san, mingi and even seonghwa, who are fiddling with their jerseys with guilt.

the room suddenly feels too small and too stuffy. “change. the bus will be waiting outside,” you mumble, then you leave without a further word.

nobody in the room moves in the wake of the argument, not even hongjoong, who continues to bore holes in the doorway that you have just disappeared through. yunho’s eyes awkwardly dart back and forth between hongjoong and the other boys before they land on the bench you had been sitting on.

the notebook you are always holding is still there, left behind in your haste to leave. he stands up to grab it, turning on his heels to chase after you when the open pages catch his eye. “woah,” yunho breathes out, double-taking and bringing the notebook closer towards him to read the contents. “this is insane.”

you have marked down not only their score for every single game they have played this season, but you have also tracked the statistics of who has scored, assisted, or successfully defended a shot. yunho flips back through the pages as the other boys come to crowd around him. there are logs of their major games from the past five years, diagrams of their faceoff plays and formations, analyses of their strengths in games won and similarly, analyses of their weaknesses in games they have lost.

“oh, fuck,” mingi curses when yunho flips to the more recent pages and they see that you have compiled the same details and information, only more concisely, for every single opponent team the red devils have played against this season. there is no way of seeing this–hours upon hours of hard work–and still questioning your intentions as their coach. “i think we owe coach a huge fuckin’ apology.”

hongjoong immediately furrows his eyebrows with displeasure. “are you taking her side, mingi?”

“captain,” mingi deliberately calls. it is at times like this where being the only logical thinker in the team has its merits. it may be harsh, but mingi must draw the line between their professional and personal life. this dispute must stay strictly within the bounds of their career without blurring the lines over into their romantic involvement with one another, otherwise things could get messy real fast.

mingi stares at the captain as he reasons, “this isn’t about taking sides. from a solely rational point of view, i think it may have been better for us to play safe and defend like coach had suggested.”

from beside him, san nods in agreement. mingi continues, “and i’m not just talking about today–there were a lot of times when coach’s plays might have worked out better than bulldozing ahead with offence. yeah, we’ve won a few games but we’ve also lost just as many. how many of those could we have won if we had trusted coach?”

yunho backs him up whilst gesturing vaguely between the both of them and san, “it’s easier for the three of us to see from defence, but their forwards were already close to intercepting our faceoffs quite a few times that game.”

hongjoong’s immediate thought is to defend himself, because he is their captain and their centre forward; the one who leads them into opportunities to score and win. he knows that every single time he chooses an aggressive play, it is at the risk of weaker defence. the odds have never deterred him, though, because he has always been confident in his abilities–in his team’s abilities.

but if, even now with the palpable experience of losing because of his own decision, it still does not deter him from taking risks in a situation where offence may be his downfall, then is he confident…or overconfident?

it is quiet for a moment. hongjoong swallows the urge to justify against their opinions–against your opinions–instead looking around at his team. he meets jongho’s round eyes and he remembers one of the very reasons why he is so committed to leading the red devils to the gold trophy. why, if he is becoming a hurdle instead to their victory, then he needs to change. “what does everybody else think? seonghwa?”

“we’ve been wary of y/n all this time, but the more games we play and especially after…” the alternate captain vaguely gestures in the air, “...today, we should really work with her instead of relying on ourselves. we’ve seen her notebook, too, and i think that’s more than enough for us to see that the effort and resolve she places in our team is genuine. we need to acknowledge that and apologise.”

“not even coach cho went to these lengths, and most definitely not coach yeon,” yeosang shrugs as he offhandedly comments.

spurred on by everybody else, san carefully voices the thought that has been lingering on his mind, “i think it’s time to tell her the truth. we owe her that much.”

the truth. the wounds that not even coach cho knows of.

hongjoong’s distrust in you may have initially been true to his desire to protect his boys from something like that from happening again. but he is now realising that you may have seen right through him. perhaps at some point in time, it became unwillingness to trust you, blinded by his prideful title as the demon king of the ice rink but at the expense of his team under the guise of wanting to safeguard them.

exhaling shakily, voice thick with regret, hongjoong accepts, “i’ve let you all down, haven’t i?”

“no,” yunho gently rebukes. “letting us down would be refusing to listen to us. we trust you for a reason, hongjoong.”

not just as a captain, but as everything else too.

seonghwa wraps an arm comfortingly around him. with hongjoong’s demonic presence on the ice once he is in the zone, it is easy to forget that he actually has a shorter stature than all of them. “that’s right, we trust you,” seonghwa affirms. “the next step is for us to trust our coach as well. we’re a team, but it isn’t complete without our coach.”

“and this apology isn’t yours alone to bear,” yunho reminds. “like seonghwa said, we’re a team and we all have fault in our behaviour towards y/n. if i’m honest, i had a shitty attitude and gave her a hard time at the start too,” he admits, wincing at the memory.

yunho is not the only one who grimaces as they reflect on their own actions–whether they happened when you were first introduced to the team, during your first training together, or even up until today’s game. but wooyoung, who has been quiet throughout the entire ordeal, still has a niggling doubt: one that is most personal to him in comparison to the rest of the team.

wooyoung reveals his thoughts, “but what about her choice to stop playing? i still can’t think of a good reason that i can respect her for having retired.”

“then we ask her,” mingi proposes.

jongho nods, also curious to know whether there is more to your decision than you have let on. “today, though? we don’t really want to come off as accusatory or anything. it might be good to give her some space today.”

“what’s our schedule looking like tomorrow? training?”

everyone looks at seonghwa, the most likely person to know their schedule off by heart. he does, and he scratches his head as he recalls, “no, recovery day. low-intensity cardio in the morning and…a team meeting with coach in the afternoon.”

“tomorrow it is, then,” hongjoong concludes. there are hums of agreement and the decision appears to appease wooyoung enough for the boys to start dispersing, heading to their lockers to finally start changing out of their gear.

wooyoung tosses his helmet and gloves onto the bench in front of his locker before sitting with a sharp but discreet inhale. he carefully loosens the laces on his skates, easing the left one off his foot slowly. the relief is immediate and his fingertips gingerly touch the throbbing area around his ankle. it is not too swollen, but he will need to ice it when they get back to their apartment and he will definitely need to buy more tape.

he sheds off the rest of his gear and uniform, leaving them on the bench too to air out while he takes a quick shower. as he roughly towels his wet hair afterwards, he drags his kit bag further out to make it easier to toss everything in.

“huh?” wooyoung makes a noise of confusion when he unzips the bag, hand immediately reaching in to grab the item that has caught his eye. it is partially covered by his hoodie but he would be able to recognise the packaging anywhere.

“what’s wrong?” san asks, glancing over.

the younger brandishes the brand new roll of strapping tape he has found in his bag, the frown etched across his face slowly relaxing into amused exasperation as he reasons, “i must not have seen this in my bag all along.”

san is about to snort and make fun of his inattentiveness, but a sudden thought stuns the smile off his face. it was not that wooyoung had managed to miss the spare roll in his bag. it was–

“y/n,” he quietly exhales with realisation.

at wooyoung’s questioning what?, san looks at him with upturned eyebrows. “the tape–coach was the one who put it in your bag, right before we all walked in here.”

“this…she gave it to me?” wooyoung’s face drops, remorse evident in the thickness of his voice. “but why?”

san gently squeezes his shoulder with a smile, simply answering, “because she’s our coach.” he turns to zip up his own kit bag and leaves wooyoung to digest the revelation. the boy is quiet for the rest of the time, teeth gnawing at the inside of his cheek as he stares ahead and absentmindedly follows the rest of his team out of the locker room.

when they exit the ice arena, they do not expect to see you. and yet, there you stand beside their bus waiting stonily with your jacket zipped up and hands in your pockets. you mentally count them off without acknowledging them as they start to store their kit bags under the bus and board. yeosang gets on first, taking a seat near the front of the bus as usual. he watches from the window as you wait for the rest of the boys.

you follow jongho up the stairs, the last to load his kit bag, and tell the driver that you are all good to leave. yeosang sits a little straighter as he tucks his small backpack further under the seat in front of him with his feet, having left the seat beside him empty. but before he can open his mouth with an offer of a seat, you have already sat right behind the driver. yeosang leans back into the cushions of his seat, unfamiliar with the sense of disappointment he feels.

the ride back from the competition venue–much less after a lost game–is always quiet, players both physically and mentally exhausted from the strain. this time, though, it is strikingly silent, but you appreciate it–need it.

you stare out of the window as the trees flicker past like a repetitive motion film. most of their leaves have already fallen off, littering the ground in a blur of tragic glory. and with the beginning of winter, the trees will soon become completely bare, bringing about the period of time when there is nothing but bleak emptiness.

winter, 2019: regular season

‘2019 ice hockey rookie stars tournament: team standings’

hongjoong stares at the printed piece of paper with seonghwa at his side, where the results of all the team’s round-robin games have been taped up onto the walls of the stadium. hongjoong does not even bother reading from the top, eyes going straight down to the bottom of the page instead.

the red devils are dead last, having lost every single one of their matches. even the korean penguins, who had nil wins either, had managed to beat them earlier today, ranking them at the lowest of all teams. it is fucking humiliating and hongjoong hates that the sport that had brought him and his boys all together, that they had immeasurable love for, is now one that fills them with shame and indignity.

nobody else but the two captains of the team have decided to look at the rankings. they had all already known towards the end of the regular season that they would not stand a chance at making it into the playoffs. and yet, hongjoong and seonghwa need to see the results for themselves. it is almost masochistic, forcing themselves to look at the fruitless results of their hard work in their first competition that has so devastatingly crushed their morality.

seonghwa picks at his cuticles fretfully and wonders whether he made the wrong decision to give up his education in pursuit of becoming an athlete. he thinks of his parents, who had encouraged him with supportive smiles and offers of financial support the moment he brought up the idea–was it all in vain?

“are you two done looking?”

both of the boys turn at the question to find a captain with his team waiting to look at the standings.

“yeah, sorry,” hongjoong mumbles before stepping aside to yield his spot. the players swarm forwards and he is pushed further back away from the list like a physical representation of his distance from the playoffs.

somebody from the other team yells, “we made it! we’re in the playoffs!” and they simultaneously break out into cries and cheers as they celebrate together.

hongjoong watches on bitterly, wishing with every cell in his body that that was him and his boys. how is he going to walk back into the locker room as their captain when all of his boys have eyes that are rimmed red and cheeks that are blotchy from despair–when there are captains like that who have successfully led their team to at least a chance at winning the competition.

the feeling of a pinky slowly hooking around his own draws hongjoong out of his pain. “let’s go back,” seonghwa murmurs, tugging him away from the still-celebrating team. together, both of them start to walk back through the hallways to their locker room. 

“aren’t we down here?” seonghwa questions, standing at the t-intersection that hongjoong has absentmindedly walked straight past.

“oh, yeah. sorry,” hongjoong apologises and begins to backtrack. his ears suddenly perk up at the sound of a voice. “wait, doesn’t that sound like coach?”

before seonghwa can respond, hongjoong has turned around yet again towards the voice in search of their coach. seonghwa hurries to catch up and that is when he hears it too.

“have you transferred the money?”

“yes, i wired you the remaining amount the moment we won,” a deeper, unrecognisable voice reassures.

hongjoong’s footsteps falter, brows knitting together and head cocking to one side. he gestures for seonghwa to slow down, pressing a finger on his other hand to his lips. both of them creep forward silently.

the unfamiliar voice probes, “your team–you’re sure they don’t suspect anything?”

hongjoong and seonghwa do not need to see him to confirm their suspicions when they hear the unmistakable laughter of coach yeon. through the gravelly sound, he mocks, “they have no fucking clue even though they’ve lost every single one of their games. they’re dumber than fucking sheep. their captain tells me everything about their plays and strategies and they never question it when i change things around.”

seonghwa clutches the back of hongjoong’s jersey with a death grip, knowing that without it, his captain will punch coach yeon’s face into a bloody mess. but as much as their coach deserves it, it is not worth the disciplinary action that will inevitably follow, likely suspension, because–

“plus, even if they do somehow find out, what can they do about it? bullshit, that’s what. they have no evidence and they’re not going to risk blowing this up and ruining their own careers instead,” coach yeon boasts smugly. “losing like that as a rookie group in their first year out is completely normal. no one will believe them, and no coach is going to want their team after that because of their ‘shitty sportsmanship’ or out of fear of being accused in the same way if they lose again.”

at coach yeon’s words, seonghwa scrambles to put them into context with his dread-riddled mind. the echoing pounding in his ears tells him that he has just heard something that was never meant to be known. he does not even notice that the voices start to grow distant as the two men begin to walk off, but hongjoong does.

the trembling grip that is still on the back of his jersey grounds hongjoong enough not to throw everything away and sprint up to coach yeon with vile words and heated fists, but he also cannot do nothing. hongjoong peers around the corner before seonghwa can counteract his movement, desperate to identify who exactly coach yeon is talking to. except the revelation has him reeling, hands white from how hard his fingers dig into his palm–a stark contrast to the deep scarlet of flames that leap forth from his murderous eyes.

because the person who is walking beside coach yeon is the coach of the korean penguins. hongjoong and his boys have not been losing because of their skills they believed to be fucking shit–coach yeon has been fucking ensuring they lose.

for money.

winter, present: regular season

you stand on the balcony of your apartment. the sliding glass doors are shut behind you to keep the heat trapped inside, but for now you welcome the refreshing cold of the winter chill as you simply observe.

below on the streets, the miniature specks of people and cars mill around as if you are watching a game simulation. it is strangely humbling to think that each and every one of the people you see are living their own lives, completely distinct to yours with different yet very real problems of their own, but in the grand scheme of the cosmos, you are all insignificant.

you wonder what concern the people holding their coffee are plagued with right now; what problem the people crossing the street are facing. you wonder, if you were to tell them of your worries and they were to tell you of theirs, would you curse or thank the heavens?

the phone in your hand buzzes. you look to see if it is from coach cho and manage a small smile of relief when the notification is indeed from him.

apologies y/n, i was busy earlier. i can call now if you still need me?

you send an affirmative reply, then slide to answer the call that comes through. “hi coach, sorry to bother you.”

“no, you’re alright. is everything okay?”

you hesitate before revealing, “...i messed things up with the boys.”

“the team?” his voice goes gentle, fatherly nature extending to you too. “what happened?”

“hongjoong and i had an argument today after the game because he keeps changing the team’s plays without letting me know, or even after we’ve agreed on something else. it was only meant to be a talk, but then things escalated and we ended up fighting. i just–i don’t know what you saw in me, coach, because i don’t think i’m fit for the boys,” you ramble. “they’re not listening to me, they probably don’t even like me, and we’re going terribly with the season.”

you take a breath as you timidly admit, “i don’t think we’re going to make it into the playoffs and it’s going to be my fault.”

“hey,” coach cho grounds you, “making the playoffs would be great, yes, but the reality is that most teams don’t. and you’re still very young yourself–this is your, what…fifth year of coaching?”

throat too sticky to formulate a response, you simply hum.

“when i first started coaching, i was older than you and it was still a steep learning curve during my first ten years. i believed that coaches deserved the utmost respect and that my opinion was final. they’re my players, so of course i should be the one laying down the laws,” he chuckles. “but growing up was realising that whilst the respect is still there, it needs to be mutual. coaching a team is not a hierarchy of ‘i command, you listen’, but a show of leadership with the captain at the front of the team–not on top of them.”

his words strike a chord within you. coaching the boys was frustrating because they were not listening to you. but it should never have been a case of who listens to who–it should always have been a reciprocated relationship of everyone listening to one other.

as if he can physically feel the guilt that is starting to settle in the pit of your stomach, coach cho draws your attention to something else. “remember what i told you when we met the team for the first time? why i chose you specifically?”

“because of our similar playing styles?” you recall.

“exactly,” he confirms, “you know best the strategies and plays that work, and what their strengths and weaknesses are, because they were also your own. you need to be a coach to their playing style, not the other way around–they shouldn’t be a player to your coaching style.”

you cannot help but worry, “what if they get injured?”

“y/n, this is where your similarities can either be your biggest flaw or your greatest asset as a coach. no matter how safely they play, there will always be a risk of injury. that is just how the sport works and you know that the best. you can teach them to assess the risk and pull back if they really need to, but ultimately, there is no way of eliminating the risk completely.” coach cho pauses, then asks, “if you could meet your younger self, would you make yourself change your playing style?”

would you? as you imagine what you would tell your past self if you had the chance to, you find that you do not have an answer. perhaps for the sake of a prolonged career, you would. but then would it be your passion and skills that are playing the game, or your fears and worries?

if you cannot come to a decision even for yourself, then it is completely unfair for you to restrain the boys within the cages of what you view as safety for their own good. harnessing the defensive skills may have been functional for the grey eagles, but like hongjoong said, you are coaching the red devils now and it is not working for them. you must come to terms that you cannot protect the boys at every opportunity–consciously or unconsciously–you need to be a coach to them.

coach cho, aware that you have come to a conclusion, asks you one final question, “have you told the boys why you retired?”

“no, not yet,” you shake your head. you already have an idea of what he is going to say to you next.

“i think it’s time for you to tell them,” he advises. “remember, y/n, sometimes you need to be vulnerable with them first before you can make things right.”

after coach cho ends the call, you do not make a move to go back inside the apartment. you stay standing on your balcony, arms folded as you lean against the handrail listening to the faint rumble of traffic and hustle of busy activity. life goes on, and so will yours; you just have to make it count.

the trees on the streets may be stripped bare and lonely throughout winter, but eventually you learn to appreciate its nothingness. it is a necessity in order to start afresh.

mingi stares at the blinking cursor that sits in the open search bar. it has been empty for the last twenty minutes since he started up his laptop, wondering whether it would be an invasion of privacy for him to look you up on the internet.

he makes up his mind. he knows that he was the one to tell wooyoung only mere hours ago that they would ask you about your decision to retire tomorrow at the meeting, but mingi supposes it would not hurt to simply see what sort of athlete you were like before.

typing your full name into the search engine, mingi hits ‘enter’ and waits for the results to appear. he combs through the first several links quickly. they all have the same information; ice hockey databases and websites that detail your age, nationality, physical stats and position, but the sections that usually list your team and agency are now blank.

mingi is surprised to learn you were also a centre forward. he scrolls down to your game logs and match statistics that span from 2014 to 2019. you have won an impressive number of championships, most notably the under-18 and under-21 women’s ice hockey league. they are both international competitions and mingi is not sure how your reputation has flown under all of their radars.

frowning, he goes back to the search engine and clicks on the next page in an attempt to find more information. it is not until he clicks yet again to the next page that he finds a low-reputed news article from almost eight years ago where you are the main subject.

‘y/n l/n, youngest player of ‘black cats’, wins ice hockey championship at the age of sixteen’ the headline reads. there is not much to the article, but it outlines your admirable achievement at your young age as a rising prodigy in the ice hockey scene. mingi agrees, since he knows that you also go on to win another international competition a few years after that. just as he is about to close the tab, there is a recommended link that catches his eye.

he hovers his cursor over it. the hyperlinked headline does not explicitly say your name, but the phrasing really only alludes to one athlete considering it is a recommended link on your article. mingi does not know whether he wants to click on it, though, because he is afraid of confirming it is you.

and if it is…then the others will also need to see this too.

“hongjoong, guys, come look at this,” mingi calls out, balancing his laptop on his forearm as he walks out into the open living room. the others look up from where they are sitting or emerge from out of their rooms at his summon.

“what’s this?” hongjoong reaches out to receive the laptop and places it on the table. his eyes skim the screen, trying to make sense of what mingi is showing them.

mingi points to the hyperlink he had been mulling over. “i think we need to look at this.”

solemnity washes over the boys as their curious gazes dull and darken, realisation of what exactly they are reading dawning upon them. all at once, their hearts clench in solidarity. hongjoong clicks on the link. the only sound that permeates the silence is the rhythmic tick of the clock on the wall. nobody talks. nobody moves.

ice hockey star announces retirement following shoulder injury june 18, 2019 star player y/n l/n, centre forward of the ‘black cats’, has announced her retirement from professional ice hockey today. her decision follows lingering issues after suffering from a rotator cuff tear during the grand finals of this year’s under-21 women’s ice hockey league. l/n has been under the ice hockey spotlight ever since her win in the under-18’s league as the youngest player on her team. she is well-known for her offensive threat to the opponents, bold playing style and unparalleled skill breaking through the lines of defence.  during the grand finals in april, l/n was body checked from the side by ‘polar bears’’ kim hyejin. although full-body checking is illegal in women’s hockey, it is not uncommon during the heat of competitions. l/n suffered a severe right rotator cuff tear and is reported to have received open surgery last month. l/n did not provide further details about her recovery, however stated that she plans to focus on her physical rehabilitation in the meantime.

the glare of the screen stares back at the boys as they finally understand exactly why you had retired and why you had come back as a coach–you were unable to fully step away from the sport you so loved with your entire life.

“coach wasn’t telling us to play defensively at all the crucial times just for the sake of the game strategy…” seonghwa grasps.

“...but because she didn’t want the same thing to happen to us,” hongjoong finishes. one of your heated remarks during your argument with him suddenly resounds in his mind: and let me remind you–if you suffer an injury, your whole team suffers with you. you had been reliving your own demons every single time hongjoong and his boys were playing aggressively on the ice. “fuck,” he mutters.

mingi leans down a little. “wait, see if there are any other articles about this.”

fingers dancing across the keyboard, hongjoong opens up a new tab. another quick search of your name with the keywords ‘injury’ and ‘retirement’ yields no further articles. mingi is certain you would have had more media coverage considering you had suffered an injury at the rising peak of your prodigious career, so he finds it strange that there is close to no information about this.

“it almost looks as if somebody had the articles purged from the internet,” mingi observes.

jongho nods with furrowed brows, “maybe y/n? but why would she go to the length to remove them?”

“i mean, wooyoung didn’t exactly go around flaunting off his injury to the media. maybe she didn’t want the attention anymore,” yeosang guesses.

yunho nudges wooyoung playfully as he comments, “no offence to you, but none of us are exactly famous enough for the media to take interest in our injuries.”

“i think the real question is why coach didn’t tell us that her injury was the reason why she stopped playing,” seonghwa wonders, “it was never really a choice like she made it out to be.”

none of them know the answer. hongjoong slowly closes the laptop, exhaling deeply, “we’ve got a lot of things to clear up tomorrow…and a lot of apologising. i’m going to sleep early. you all should too.”

with that, he gets out of his seat and disappears into his bedroom. hongjoong’s mind is heavy and crowded and he knows he is going to be awake for a while.

nobody sleeps well that night. especially wooyoung.

spring, 2023: playoffs

“what do you mean i can’t compete in the playoffs?”

“you have a fractured ankle, wooyoung. the playoffs are honestly the least of your concerns and if you keep straining yourself like this, it won’t just be the playoffs that you can’t compete in–it’ll be the rest of your life,” coach cho admonishes.

“but this is our first proper championship, coach,” wooyoung begs, “you have to let me play.”

coach cho hates that he has to say no and if he could swap ankles with his player, he would do so in a heartbeat. “this isn’t a choice. you physically cannot play. what are you going to do out there on the ice? crawl?”

“fuck, coach, you don’t understand. it was so hard for us to get to this point. this means everything to me, fuck, please,” wooyoung pleads between heaving breaths.

“i’m sorry, wooyoung,” coach cho apologises, leaving no further room for argument as the other boys divert their gazes to the floor.

hongjoong gently squeezes wooyoung’s shoulder. “the doctor said that your cast can come off in about eight weeks and if it’s looking good, you can gradually join in on any light training when it’s off-season.”

wooyoung does not care because in eight week’s time the playoffs will already be over. he knows he is being unreasonable and that there is no chance he will be able to set foot in an ice rink within the next two months. but his heart and mind are operating separately and the only thing his heart can see is the opportunity of playing in the championships slipping right out of his grasp.

he is already angry at himself for getting injured in the first place but it is not enough to quell wooyoung’s raging inferno. so he does the only thing he can think of in the moment–he spits out his anger with a venomous, “i hate you all.”

it hurts the boys more to see wooyoung hurting and coach cho speaks up on their behalf, “i would rather you hate us now than for you to hate yourself in the future because you traded decades of your career for this one playoff.”

wooyoung jerks his head away defiantly, but they know he is only trying to hide his tears. unable to watch any longer, san moves in closer and pulls the younger into his arms.

“fuck off, san. i don’t need you.”

san swallows the hurt in his chest because he knows there is no truth behind wooyoung’s words. “i know you don’t,” he offers, “but i need you. so just let me stay.”

wooyoung’s body sags as all of the fight slips out of him in the form of shuddering sobs. san embraces him tightly, as if he has picked up all the pieces of the other and only a hug can make him whole again.

“i’m sorry,” wooyoung chokes out.

san shakes his head with reassuring hushes, “don’t be. you focus on recovering and we’ll take it from here.”

like that, wooyoung’s anger is quenched and the team goes on to compete in the playoffs without him. but in the absence of anger comes other emotions, jealousy and insecurity the ugliest of them all. wooyoung despises the bitter taste in his mouth as he sits on the player’s bench outside of the rink each game, only able to helplessly watch his team advance further in the playoffs without him.

and as much as wooyoung wants them to win, he also does not want them to win, because if they can win the championships without him playing as their left wing, then do they really need him at all? he never gets to find out the answer though. they lose in the quarter finals.

wooyoung does not tell anybody about the ill relief he feels…and he vows to take that secret with him to the grave.

winter, present: regular season

the moment you walk into kq’s meeting room, a rehearsed apology for the team on the tip of your tongue, you realise that something is off. not necessarily wrong, per se; just off.

all the boys are sitting around the table as usual, though the overhead projector that is routinely already set up with video footage of their recent games has been put on standby mode. but the thing that unconsciously makes your hackles rise is the expression they all nurse on their faces, strangely familiar yet foreign at the same time. it is familiar in the sense that people have looked at you this way in the past, but it is foreign in the sense that it has never come from the boys before.

“hi, coach,” hongjoong clears his throat awkwardly, opting to look at the wall behind you instead of your eyes as if even he knows this is the first time he has ever addressed you as such. “we had a…talk last night and thought we should probably clear up a few things before we discuss the actual games.”

although you share the same sentiment as they do, hongjoong’s words put you on guard. gingerly, you lower yourself into an empty seat across from him. “i also have a couple of things to say, but you guys start,” you cue.

hongjoong glances at seonghwa beside him, who in turn gives him a miniscule shrug. neither of them know how to bring it up with you as they are afraid of saying the wrong thing. thankfully, mingi steps in, not one to beat around the bush.

“why didn’t you tell us about your injury?” he asks directly.

with mingi’s question, you are suddenly able to place their expression. the boys look at you warily as if you are a wounded animal they are afraid will run away. you loathed the expression years ago when it was from your coach, your teammates and your family–the constant treading on eggshells around you with pitying eyes–and you still loathe it just as much as you do now.

your prickles emerge and your instinctive reaction is to deny it. you have kept your injury a secret up until now for a reason and the unexpected confrontation has all of your sirens blaring to keep it a secret. but then you remember coach cho’s advice–you remember the apology you had mulled over all night–and you force your prickles to retract.

you take a breath. coach cho would not have told them about your injury, so there is only one way the boys could have found out about it. “you read the articles, didn’t you?”

mingi at least has the decency to look sheepish as he admits, “one…but there weren’t any others.”

“i thought as much,” you mumble to yourself, smiling tightly. you choose not to think about how they came across the article. “i wanted them all removed and my agency managed to pull enough connections to sweep the articles under the rug, but i should have known that in this day and age it would be impossible to get rid of any media completely.”

the question remains as to why you have chosen to keep this hidden and also–

“why did you want them removed, though?” hongjoong furrows his brows.

you have faced countless demons in the last six years. the injury itself, the abrupt end to your golden days, and the forced reconciliation with the fact that you will never be able to play again. and yet, the demon that continues to haunt you to this day is the media spotlight that chases after you as if you are a circus animal.

you are unable to look at any of them in the eye as you finally bare yourself open to the boys. “the articles felt belittling and shameful–they still do. they made me feel less as an athlete then and they make me feel less as a coach now. i worked my heart and soul to get to where i was with the skills that i had, but you don’t understand just how crippling it is for all of that to be overshadowed by an injury. it was no longer a celebration of my achievements, simply because nobody cared anymore. it just became a fucking broken record of, ‘how does it feel to have fallen at the peak of your career?’

“then when i became a coach, it didn’t matter how well my team performed or how hard they worked to win the championships. the question became, ‘how does it feel to coach after being forced to retire because of your injury?’ no matter how hard i tried, i just could not escape the hellhole of my injury.”

guilt settles in the pit of mingi’s stomach as it also does for the others. they may not have written the article, but by consuming it and searching for more, they had unknowingly joined the faceless masses of those who had hurt you.

you dig your thumbs into the flesh of your thighs to stop your voice from shaking as you continue, “the media will not care for the achievements that myself or my players accomplish when there is something even better–a sob story. but i do not need that kind of pity. not from athletes, not from other coaches, and most definitely not from strangers silently pitying my life from behind their newspaper or screen when i did not ask for any of it. i made people forget and i kept this all hidden because my career, be it as a coach or a former athlete, does not deserve to be reduced to that kind of shit.”

the raw honesty behind your words strikes the boys silent. what they thought they had started to understand about you, they are now realising was barely the tip of the iceberg. seonghwa wonders for just how long you have left this wound bleeding and untreated. he calls out for you sadly, “coach, you should’ve told us.”

when you look up, you are surprised to find wetness brimming his eyes. you feel the hot rush of emotions build up behind your own eyes but from anger, because why is he upset? what reason does he have to cry when you are the one who has suffered all this time?

your voice is biting when you respond, “and have you look down on me like everybody else? i just said, i do not need your pity–”

“it’s not pity,” a voice interrupts firmly. of all people, you least expected it to come from wooyoung. his tone stays unyielding as he holds your gaze. “we’re athletes too, y/n.”

the way he includes you in the collective–as an athlete–has your glare softening immediately, replaced by the dangerous quivering of your bottom lip while he elaborates, albeit voice gentler now, “we are hurting for you–with you. it is not pity; it is standing by your side in hopes that we can help you up if you ever fall again.”

because it is okay to fall, and you will fall; wooyoung knows that the best.

you tilt your head upwards as you desperately blink back the tears that suddenly threaten to spill. the swell of emotions that had churned in your chest had not been anger but fatigue, you realise. wooyoung’s words give you sudden clarity that you are tired–of suffering alone and in silence. you want help.

“i’m tired of hurting,” you confess quietly.

“then let us share the hurt with you.”

the dam breaks and your tears fall freely down your cheeks. it starts off with a nod so miniscule that the boys think they have imagined it, but then slowly and surely, your head moves up and down with more conviction. “okay,” you whisper.

you had always thought that you had come to terms with your injury and the end of your career, but perhaps you are still mourning your loss…and perhaps that is okay. like looking into a time-warped mirror, wooyoung sees the fight slip out of your body with a sob as you apologise, “i’m sorry.”

san wants to cross the room and wrap his arms around you if it can take away even just a fraction of your hurt. but he knows that he cannot cross the boundaries of professionalism despite the intimate nature of the conversation right now, especially when you and the team are only just starting to patch things up. so instead, he opts to rub his thumb over the knuckles of wooyoung’s hand from under the table, which has slipped into his, hoping that one day he will be able to do the same for you.

“we understand,” hongjoong answers on their behalf, “you were doing what you needed to do in order to protect yourself.”

and if you do not realise that he says those words for himself and his team to hear too, then you will by the end of the conversation as you walk away with a newfound understanding of them.

“no, not just for that,” you shake your head, roughly swiping at your tears with the back of your hand. “it ended up negatively influencing the way i coached you guys, even if it was subconscious. i let my own trauma dictate how i wanted you to play: defensively all the time whether it was needed or not. hongjoong, you were right about me not coaching your team as your team.”

you try your damned hardest to keep your voice steady so that you can look at them properly to apologise, “i’m sorry i made it so hard to trust me as your coach.”

“okay, let me stop you right there,” yunho smiles gently, sliding a tissue box in your direction. “we were pricks too, so half the apology is ours.”

“don’t call her a prick,” seonghwa whispers. his horrified expression relaxes when you break out into a wet chuckle.

hongjoong is glad that you are able to find something to laugh about even with your cheeks still damp and blotchy, and he finds his mouth curling into a bittersweet smile. you have been honest and vulnerable with them and now it is their turn.

“we have something to tell you about our past coach,” he starts, drawing your gaze to him. “not coach cho–our very first coach. we’re not trying to justify that what we did as a result was okay, but…”

“but hopefully i can understand,” you finish when hongjoong hesitates. he nods and you mirror his action with a reassuring smile to encourage him to talk.

but irregardless of what they tell you, you already know that you want to understand them, because understanding is the first step to forgiving, and you want that too.

so with intermittent comments from the other boys, hongjoong reveals to you the hidden wounds they have been nursing. and as they tell you about coach yeon, how their trust in him had been misplaced, how he had betrayed it for money at the expense of their championship, and how they had then let that become mistrust in you and your reason for retiring, wooyoung finds himself quiet so that he can steal glances at you.

he can see it now. the untameable beast within you of passion for ice hockey that has been forcibly chained down to the ground with the weight of the earth. the devastating torment that must incessantly surge through you in the most debilitating waves, tenfold any anguish he felt when he was unable to compete in the playoffs. the blemished canvas of dark and ghastly emotions that you do not let see the light of day, yet continue to coexist in hidden silence.

it is there and then that wooyoung realises you and him may be more similar than he thought–that you may actually understand him better than any of his seven boys.

you stop the drill.

yeosang gracefully turns in an arc whilst keeping the puck close to his stick as hongjoong and seonghwa dig their skates into the ice to brake before their momentum takes out the younger.

“let’s have jongho try using the perimeter of the rink instead of passing to yeosang this time. start the faceoff again,” you instruct.

the chorus of responses that you receive are zealous, even slightly teasing as the boys lower their voices with a, “yes, coach!” and give you small salutes with their gloved hands. you cannot help but snort and shake your head, waving at them to retake their positions.

practice is short today, since your team has a game tomorrow. the first half an hour consisted of running through offensive formations for power plays and you are now focusing on defensive penalty kills. your two captains and wooyoung are playing as the mock opponents, preparing your remaining wings and defenseman for a situation where they are down a player.

hongjoong seems to mull over a thought as he looks at the formation of his boys. “you mentioned the team we’re playing against has a tendency to position their forwards higher up, didn’t you?” he asks and  when you nod, he suggests, “what do you think about trying the diamond formation instead? might help close some of their shooting lanes.”

with the captain’s input, you reposition yeosang further up to form the tip of the diamond, and yunho too to cover the right point whilst jongho covers the left. mingi moves in a little closer to the goal to cover the bottom of the diamond and you make sure to point out the importance of his position.

“if the opportunity arises, we can transition into a counterattack instead with 3-1. but we’ll need to make sure we still cover the goal in case they turn it back over again–mingi, this will probably be you. support whoever has the puck from behind, but make sure you don’t go too far forward.”

mingi answers with an affirmative and yeosang passes the puck to hongjoong for him to commence the penalty kill. at your whistle, the rink explodes into action. wooyoung and seonghwa immediately split down the perimeters to open up shooting lanes for their captain, who passes the puck off to wooyoung the moment he has cleared half the rink. with a brief adjustment of the puck’s angle, he attempts a cross-ice pass to where seonghwa is free on the other side.

with astonishing speed, jongho intercepts the puck and yells, “3-1!” he continues to barrel forward with the momentum of his explosive acceleration towards the goal as yeosang anticipates a pass and yunho joins the counterattack rush to his right. the three of your players charge forwards with adrenaline as mingi covers them from behind. jongho chips the puck over hongjoong’s stick, which is immediately taken up by yeosang. without a goaltender, he finishes it off with an easy shot into the net.

the tempo and execution of the rush surprises not just you, but the boys themselves too, who are tapping their sticks together with elated excitement at the success of the play. it may only be a simulated practice drill, but you still share in the same pride and contentment that hongjoong’s face glows at you with.

he cocks his head to the side with a paired smile and you return the same nonverbal acknowledgement. corners of your lips still lifted up, you gather the boys, “let’s have a drink break.”

as the boys make their way over to the benches, removing their gloves and helmets, you eye the water bottles and make sure you have enough–five in the cooler and three on the bench beside it. san bounds up to you after grabbing one from the cooler, bragging, “coach! did you see the way jongho intercepted that puck?”

from beside him, wooyoung reenacts the moment with wild flails of his limbs and airy whooshes from his mouth, jongho watching with bashful giggles. you indulge in their animated recount and listen intently. “he was amazingly fast,” you agree.

yeosang passes an opened bottle to wooyoung before untwisting the lid to his own, commenting, “the ankle weights on top of all the training must be working.”

the boys are not currently wearing any, but you had slowly implemented the use of vests, ankle or wrist weights during specific drills. now that they have taken them off and are playing without the burden of the additional mass, you are all starting to see the gains of their hard work.

you smirk with satisfaction, “of course. if my players are going to bulldoze across the ice, may as well make them fast enough to avoid all the opponents.”

“don’t encourage her,” wooyoung elbows yeosang scandalously. “she’s going to make us wear heavier weights next practice.”

“you don’t get to complain if you don’t even wear the weights,” you quip.

he knows his injury means that he cannot wear the weights in case it places stress on his ankle, so he curses at you with no real heat just for the sake of cursing, “fuck you.”

you wink, “love you too.”

wooyoung shuts his mouth and scrunches the bridge of his nose with faux displeasure, and jongho laughs at his inability to faze you. you glance down and open your notebook to mention, “on that note, though, how do we feel about going up a few hundred grams next week?”

“i’m fine with that,” yeosang says at the same time jongho confirms, “sounds good.” most of the other boys also nod that they are fine with increasing their weights, save for seonghwa who notifies you that he is still adjusting so he will keep his as it is for now.

you jot down ticks and crosses next to their names corresponding to their answers whilst suggesting, “yunho and mingi, you can both probably try half a kilogram since your body masses are higher.”

said boys peer over your shoulder to see what their new weights would be, then yunho makes a noise of intriguement. “coach, did you write these?”

you look to where his finger is pointing to–sticky notes upon sticky notes of unorganised observations and reminders to yourself. starting to feel self-conscious, you deny, “...no,” only for yunho to swipe the notebook from out of your grasp. “hey!”

he holds it up and open above him, voice gleeful as he reads one out, “‘jongho, wooyoung and yeosang prefer water at room temperature when training–take bottles out of cooler!’”

“aw, coach,” wooyoung coos, “did you deliberately leave three bottles in room temperature for us on the bench?”

feeling your ears heat up from being exposed, you swipe at the notebook. your skates give you added height, but so do yunho’s skates, so your attempts to jump for it are futile.

“‘boys want to eat abura soba after their win’,” he continues to read, pausing to let out a dramatic gasp, “are you going to treat us, coach?” his question is met with enthusiasm.

when another wild swipe sends a sharp sting down your shoulder from the movement, reminding you of the pain that had flared up a few days ago, you decide to change tactics. you grab the back and front of his jersey with your hands, completely ready to commit to scaling him like a literal tree. but then a different set of hands easily takes the notebook out of yunho’s and of course it would be mingi. you insult, “give it back, you tall buffoon!”

mingi is hardly fazed as you switch targets to him, your fingertips nowhere near reaching the notebook as he snickers and reads, “‘trial jongho as starting forward–wait.” he lowers his hands with sobriety and you are finally able to snatch the notebook back, shutting it before they can read any more of your sticky notes. it is not like there is anything they cannot know, but it is sort of embarrassing for them to see how much attention you pay to them.

“you want jongho on the starting lineup?” mingi confirms that he has not read it wrong, eyes as wide as all the other boys as they look at you.

jongho is almost certain that you must have meant somebody else, or something else, because there is no way that he would be given the opportunity to start for the team–not when they have yeosang and wooyoung as their wings, and the choice of hongjoong or seonghwa as their centres. he is used to being the player who momentarily relieves others of their shift on the ice, or as his parents so like to remind him, option b.

“why do you all look so surprised?” you frown. beckoning at jongho with your chin, you ask, “you’ve been practising hard to make your right hand just as good as your left hand, haven’t you? so let’s take advantage of your versatility and unpredictability on ice and throw the opponents off. what do you think?”

jongho’s mouth opens and shuts, struggling to formulate an answer through his wide beam other than, “i–of course, if you’d let me–if everyone else is happy.”

the pleased smile on hongjoong’s face is enough to make his cheeks sore and he wraps his arm around the youngest’s shoulders. he praises, “look at you, our wild card and our hidden ace,” as seonghwa declares, “i know he’ll do us so proud.”

both yeosang and wooyoung simultaneously offer their positions in the starting lineup and the rest of the boys watch on with fond expressions. they are grateful that you have recognised the talents and hard work of their youngest. although you are not aware, this opportunity holds significance not just in regards to his career.

you conclude, “we’ve been on a good streak with our games. let’s ride the momentum and show the other teams what jongho is capable of–what we’re all capable of.”

“yes, coach!” they shout, the loud echo of their voices reverberating and filling the rink with buzzing energy for the remainder of the training session.

spirits still high by the time you call it a wrap, you let them change as you grab your own belongings. there is a team meeting in the afternoon so you and the boys will be going back to kq to eat at the cafeteria and use the booked room. you pause when you see wooyoung loitering by your bag. he still has not changed out of his practice clothes.

“i’m not letting you on the bus if you’re planning on staying in those clothes,” you joke.

“i’m going to change!” he scowls indignantly, then avoids eye contact as he thrusts something out in your direction. he mumbles, “had some spares. didn’t want them. just dumping them with you so you can stash them or use them or whatever, i don’t care.”

you grab the small bag, brows creased with confusion, but wooyoung dashes away to change before you can ask what it is. you peer inside and to your pleasant surprise, there are two packs of pain relief patches. your shoulder protests at the lack of attention you have given it in the last few days. the pain is chronic and never really goes away, but it has been bothering you more than usual recently, so it is all in good timing that you now have some patches.

you make a mental note to stick one on when you get to the company and grab your bag after ensuring your notebook is stored inside. as you head towards the change rooms to wait for the boys, you spot a piece of paper on the floor. it looks like rubbish that you must have missed on your way in earlier so you pick it up to throw away. but when your fingertips touch the familiar sheen of the wax-like paper, you realise wooyoung must have dropped it.

it is confirmed when you unfold it to read the text and see that it is from yesterday evening, at the pharmacy that is just across the street from the company; in your hands you hold wooyoung’s receipt for two packs of pain relief patches.

spring marks the start of the playoffs. in synchronisation with the burst of life that blooms with the season, your boys, too, flourish in the league.

the unpredictability of your team’s strategies that entail a mix of both yours and hongjoong’s prowess helps to secure wins over the remainder of the regular season. despite the unsteady start to the season, it allows your team to scrape into the round of sixteen near the bottom of the standings.

the red devils are seeded against the team that is third in the rankings, and then against the sixth-standing team in the quarterfinals. in upsets that knock out two of the most anticipated teams in the league, your boys advance into the semifinals, their reputation as the demons of the ice rink that had laid low now rapidly spreading.

where none of the other competitors had paid you and your players any mind before, barely even noticing your presence, the opponents now glance and watch your team walk past with an air of confidence through the arena. their tense jaws and hard gazes size up your athletes–formidable rivals who have suddenly barrelled up the ranks from out of nowhere and now pose perhaps the biggest threat as a team that has somehow slipped under their radars.

you know; your team may be small in numbers. but with yunho and mingi flanking the sides of the boys, and even with hongjoong’s charismatic aura alone leading the front, which extends around him like a dark cloud of terror and envelops the rest of the group too, your team is a pack of predators at the tip of the apex.

other players part to make a path for your boys, whose heads are held high and eyes are set only on their captain and you, their coach, as you all walk to your assigned changeroom. the nerves have long dissipated because the ice rink is your territory and the other teams are your prey.

the moment you shut the door behind the last of them into the room though, the icy stare in wooyoung’s eyes melt and he exclaims, “holy shit, did you see the way everybody was looking at us? we must have looked so fucking hot, i wish i could ask for my own signature.”

from their glowing faces alone, you can tell that they are all basking in the feeling of finally being recognised and reckoned with. yunho bats his eyelids and pinches his voice higher into a falsetto, “oh wooyoung! you’re so handsome and cool, could i please have your signature?”

mingi imitates him and pounces on wooyoung, begging for a photo together as he clings onto his elbow. it sets off the rest of the boys to crowd around like mock fans with faux exhilaration. you snort at their antics, leaving wooyoung to sign imaginary sheets of paper with his imaginary pen in favour of ensuring all of their backup equipment and gear is correctly located outside or in the storage area.

you allow the boys adequate time to change into their full gear for their warm-up prior to the actual semifinal game before you walk back into the locker room. your ears perk up when you catch the end of san’s question, “that’s good for us, isn’t it?”

“what is?” you ask out of curiosity, flipping open the provided cooler and adding several sports drinks into the ice.

“i overheard someone on the white tigers team say that their head coach happened to fall sick, so they have their assistant coach today,” jongho mentions.

the surge of brazen smiles and reassured glints in their eyes at the reveal of information makes you falter to a degree. you lightly chastise, “don’t let that get to your heads and start being cocky–play as you usually do and do not underestimate them just because their head coach is off.”

you pull your notebook out of your bag, the familiar cover and weight of the book providing you with a sense of security as you remind the boys, “the white tigers have a very similar playing style as us. we may have worked hard on our defensive strategies, but with similar strengths and weaknesses overall, it won’t hurt for us to still be cautious.”

“yes, coach,” they chorus.

hongjoong nods, “let’s go warm up, then finalise our starting lineup for the game.”

your team’s allocated time on the rink passes by quickly and it is followed by the last adjustments to the discussed strategies and game plan, thorough checks of their gear, and the remaining boys who are still wearing their practice jerseys change out of the blue into their red game uniform. in full gear, there your boys stand, presence intimidating and demoniac. the boys do not live up to their team name; their team name lives up to them.

they stride through the hallway for their semifinal game against the white tigers. right at the end before it leads to the ice rink, yunho yells, “pep talk, captain!”

hongjoong groans, rolling his eyes, but places the blade of his stick onto the rubber flooring nonetheless. the rest of the boys huddle around, their sticks meeting in the centre of the circle and standing close together so that their helmets and shoulders knock against one another. you are also swept into the circle with yeosang and san by your sides.

“boys…and girl,” hongjoong snickers to himself before recollecting his very inspirational train of thought, “we’ve fought hard to make it this far–this is the first time we’ve made it into the semis, so let’s keep running until the very end, yeah?”

to the team’s increasingly loud cheers, hongjoong yells, “let’s fuck it up out there!”

their sticks hit the ground in unison and despite the muted sound of the cushioned flooring, their shouts of fighting resolve and unwavering determination drown out everything else. together, you emerge from the hallway and your starting players take their positions on the ice, ready to fuck it up.

only, it happens literally.

the moment the puck hits the ice and the white tigers’ centre forward, byun, wrestles it away with his blade, hongjoong immediately knows it is going to be one of those games. the ones where his competitive grit is fueling his mind ablaze but his body is leaden-footed as if he is wading through quicksand; where his body is just unable to keep up and move the way he wants it to. it is one of those days where his condition is just inexplicably off and there is nothing he can do about it except hope that his years of training and sheer aptitude for the sport will be enough.

“fuck,” you curse under your breath at hongjoong’s slip as jongho and yeosang rush to fall back and support those in defence. “he wasn’t like that during the warm-ups.”

byun is not only agile and swift, but is almost an identical reflection of hongjoong’s own bold and assertive offence. the centre forward powers through with evasive turns around yunho’s attempt to body check him, unafraid and confident. passing the blue line into your team’s defensive zone, byun flicks the puck at the goal.

the point shot is an unexceptional attempt to score, nothing that san’s reflexive goaltending cannot take care of. he extends his left foot and blocks the low shot with his leg pad, where the puck then slides in yunho’s direction. you did not doubt for a moment that san would not be able to save the shot, but it is still a close call that is far too early in the game to be a good sign.

your team’s greatest strength is their unspoken synergy and seamless unity, but it is also their greatest weakness. when one player stumbles, particularly when it is their captain–the very roots of the team–their bond runs so deeply that it throws their teamwork out of harmony and ultimately impacts the entire team.

with san’s save, yunho regains possession and handles the puck around the back of their net to shake off the pressure that the white tigers’ forwards are placing on him, as well as to buy his own team some time to reassemble in their formation.

you know that this is not going to work for long; you have to change the momentum of the game, and fast. “seonghwa, get ready,” you alert. “you’re going on for hongjoong.”

the alternate captain stands, alarmed at the unexpected line change so early into the game. he grips his stick with white knuckles and watches his team as he waits for your cue. yunho hits the puck against the boards where yeosang successfully receives the rebound.

“breakout!” yeosang yells and rushes forward with the chasing skates of the opponents nipping at his heels. jongho clears the centre line into the offensive zone at the same time hongjoong screens and blocks the view of the white tigers’ goaltender, setting up for an opportunity to score.

when the opponent’s left defence and wing advance on yeosang rapidly, he fakes a deceptive pass towards the boards before twisting the blade of his stick and flicking the puck between their skates instead in hongjoong’s direction. but like an eagle honing in on a small rodent, byun swoops in to snatch the puck, flipping the possession again.

the tides turn and all the athletes on the rink race towards your team’s net, a cutthroat competition between triumph and desperation to chase the puck. byun passes to the player on his left as they both dash closer, the left forward immediately returning the puck the moment he receives it to break past mingi’s defence.

you are able to see the white tigers’ right wing following closely behind ready for a drop pass, but in your team’s frenzied minds, they are unable to read the play. yunho approaches byun, who is expecting the defence and leaves the puck behind whilst skating on, knowing that it will be received by his trailing teammate. with the momentary confusion that is enough to disrupt both yunho and san’s gaze on the puck, the opponent’s right wing winds his stick back just enough to build power without sacrificing speed, then slaps the puck into the corner of the goal–

–and scores. within the first three minutes of the game.

“seonghwa,” you call out again with urgency as the whistle blows. you turn to look at him, “you’re up. you have to break the flow of the team. not just the white tigers, but ours too–the boys are panicking and you need to help anchor them.”

he nods, steadying his hand on the board in preparation to hop over it, and you yell out for the captain, “change!”

hongjoong sees the gesture of your hand pointing at the bench, and although his chest tightens with frustration at himself, he speeds towards the edge of the rink to change. once the captain is close enough, seonghwa pushes his skate off the benches to launch himself over the top of the boards onto the ice then propels himself forward to take the centre faceoff.

the captain sits down heavily on the bench, defeat already broiling off of his slumped body in smothering swells. you really cannot afford to take your eyes off the game; it waits for nobody and the whistle has already blown, the rink erupting into commotion. but whilst you need to watch the game unfold, you need hongjoong just as much, and his team needs him.

you turn him slightly to face you so that he can see your face of resolution. “you are the captain, so be the captain–for the team…and for yourself,” you invigorate, voice raised so that he can hear you over the noise of the stadium. 

you give his shoulder a hard squeeze, certain he will not be able to even feel it from under the pads of his uniform. regardless, he understands your intentions and nods grimly, the fog in his eyes clearing. wooyoung taps the back of his helmet in a show of encouragement and hongjoong returns the gesture with appreciation. 

a particularly loud thump draws the attention of all three of you back to the game. from the grimace on yeosang’s face and his hand steadying himself on the boards, it is obvious he has just been body checked into the wall. seonghwa pursues the puck with graceful yet powerful speed before he digs both skates perpendicular into the ice to suddenly change direction. pushing off, he accelerates back towards the white tigers’ defensive zone when mingi manages to disrupt the opponent’s stickhandling enough for yunho to sweep the puck and skate it up the perimeter of the rink away from their net.

wooyoung also goes on for yeosang but as the left wing, so jongho switches position to play as the right forward. he skates past the benches when an opportunity arises and he hands off his stick whilst grabbing his right-handed stick from you with practised ease.

with the line change of forwards and with seonghwa on as your centre, your team stabilises to an extent. the red devils are no longer being pushed back but they are also unable to push forward. the game is at a stalemate, although the tides remain in favour of the white tigers with both their positional and psychological advantage of the first goal.

you can see the pressure weighing down on your boys; passes that yunho and mingi would be capable of executing blindfolded are miscalculated; predictable manoeuvres still mislead wooyoung in the wrong direction; seonghwa and jongho fail to notice the opportunities for clear passing and shooting lanes; and the openings appear far too wide and innumerable for san to cover the goal from. the relentless offensive pressure that the white tigers places on your team, strikingly similar to how the boys played when you first started coaching them, does not give any breathing room either.

so that is how the first period comes to an end–losing zero to one with none of your players performing at their best condition. their steps are heavy and burdened as they walk back to the locker room for the intermission, helmets removed the moment they come off the ice to reveal hardened expressions. in the privacy of your assigned room, most of the boys adjust the pads in their gear and yunho peels off his shin guards to let them air out.

you pass around their iced bottles and as exhausted as they are, they make sure to voice their gratitude. san grabs wooyoung’s bottle for him, since the younger is bent over loosening the laces of his left skate. “here,” san murmurs, twisting open the cap and passing it to wooyoung once he straightens his back.

similarly, seonghwa hands over an opened bottle to yeosang before taking a swig of his own. “you’re okay?” he checks, the particularly rough body check that yeosang had copped earlier in the game still at the forefront of his mind.

yeosang gives the alternate captain a reassuring smile, “i’m okay.”

appeased by the answer, seonghwa turns to look at hongjoong, who is re-taping the blade of his stick. “what about you?” seonghwa softly asks, “you’re feeling okay?”

hongjoong glances up briefly at the back of your figure. you are busy shifting the red magnets around on the whiteboard and erasing the markings you had made prior to the start of the semifinals. when you turn around to gather their attention, you accidentally make eye contact with him and break out into a small smile.

“yeah,” hongjoong replies, “i’m feeling okay.”

“alright, listen up boys, that was just the first period. we’re not even halfway into this game and we’ve started to even up the playing field now that we’ve found our footing,” you encourage. “we just have to make sure we keep our heads cool and read their plays instead of simply reacting to their movements.”

you look at each of them as you direct, “their centre forward, byun, has been on for almost all of first period, so there’s probably going to be a shift change, if not a complete line change of forwards. they have the leniency to swap out their top players since they’re in the lead, which means if we want to break their momentum, we need to break it then.”

shifting yourself slightly out of the way, the boys are able to see the new arrangement of positions you have marked out on the whiteboard. “we’re starting the second period by sharpening our offence in the 2-2-1 formation,” you explain. you beckon your head at the captain, “hongjoong, you’re back on. you and wooyoung are to position yourselves up high between the neutral and offensive zones–try to screen their goaltender when our boys have possession. yunho, i want you to move up to our blue line with jongho and open up as many passing lanes as you two can. mingi will stay in defence and help cover the goal with san in case the white tigers makes a counterattack.

“use this opportunity to make as many scoring chances as you can. if there isn’t a clear shot but there’s a chance it can be continued on by another one of us, then go for it anyway–any sort of pressure we can put on their team is better than none.”

your forwards nod with understanding, so you continue to the most important point, “but the moment byun and the wings–kim and song, i think they are–come back on, we’re reversing the formation.” you reposition half of the magnets into a 1-2-2 formation. “only hongjoong will stay up high; wooyoung will fall back and join jongho in the neutral zone; put pressure on their forwards from there. yunho and mingi, you’ll play left and right defence as usual.”

san listens intently when you start moving the black magnets that represent the opposing players and call out to him directly. you warn, “san, be careful of their drop passes. kim and song have been skating forward but leaving the puck behind for byun to score multiple times throughout the first period. they have you primed to predict it now, so they’re probably going to change their tactic and pass directly in front of the goal instead.”

“yes, coach,” san acknowledges.

a glance at the screen on the wall of the locker room tells you that there are only a few minutes left of the intermission. “gear up and get ready to go back on,” you instruct the boys.

they make final adjustments to their pads and yunho tapes his shin guards back into place under his socks. you make sure they all have their helmets and sticks when they start to file out of the locker room once they are ready and you grab wooyoung’s gloves for him while he ties the laces of his skates again.

“thanks,” he reaches out for them as he stands up. except he stumbles slightly when he puts weight on his left ankle and your hand instinctively grabs his to steady him.

your eyes grow wide with concern. you know that wooyoung is the type to keep quiet about his pain, even if you ask, “does your ankle hurt?”

“no, my legs just fell asleep on me from sitting,” he reassures, conscious of your hand that still holds his. he smiles through his lie and hopes that you are unable to pick up on it. the buzzer sounds before you can, though, warning you both that there is only one minute remaining until the game resumes.

hurriedly you tell him, “let me know if you need to come off.”

somebody yells out your names, forcing you both to rush off to join the rest of the team in the hallway. wooyoung knows that he should admit to you right there and then that his ankle does hurt, but he will not–he cannot…because he owes it to his team.

they do not know and they will never know, but there is not a day that goes past where wooyoung does not feel guilty for having desired for their loss last year. he has to play and win this championship for his team because only then can he start to forgive himself. but until he wins, he deserves to suffer.

those in the lineup rapidly glide across the ice to take their positions, wooyoung included. a short buzzer sounds, the puck is dropped, and the second period starts. immediately you can see that your boys have the advantage. the white tigers had not expected you to take such an aggressive approach of offence considering that you are losing.

and sure enough, just as you had predicted, their coach has changed their entire line of forwards. the players are still undeniably skilled, but they visibly struggle to match the pace at which hongjoong and wooyoung are now leading your team to attack.

the rink is under the boys’ control; the neutral zone has become a stronghold with the resistance of both jongho and yunho’s combined strength and mingi’s reinforcement from behind. wooyoung weaves through the players with polished agility as he creates passing opportunities around the offensive zone, whilst hongjoong makes his own path with imposing might, his devilish wings spread. and even if the white tigers somehow manage to gain possession of the puck and break past your defence, san looks impossibly larger than the goal itself, leaving no openings for their forwards to score.

it is well into the second period when the perfect play sets itself up. with mingi blocking any possible rebounds off the boards, yunho’s attempt to body check the white tigers’ right wing forces the player to pass the puck across the ice. before their centre forward is able to receive it, jongho has already intercepted and is thundering ahead with his stick controlling the puck.

“high!” he shouts, ploughing through the neutral zone as wooyoung and hongjoong immediately respond to his call and skate up towards the goal.

jongho deliberately looks at his captain but flicks the puck with a forehand pass in the other direction, too fast for the defenders to react to. wooyoung easily receives the anticipated pass, thighs burning and his left ankle stinging as he rushes towards the goal from the left with powerful acceleration. the white tigers’ goaltender immediately lowers his stance and raises his arms in preparation to block his shot.

in the corner of his eye, wooyoung sees hongjoong matching his lightning pace on his right, the captain’s eyes narrowed with concentration and body weight tilted forward as he hurtles past the defenders. wooyoung pretends to wind up his stick for a slap shot into the net, only to twist the angle of his arms at the last second to send the puck skittering across the ice directly parallel to the goal. the goaltender drops down to his knees, having anticipated a scoring attempt, except the puck is now nearing hongjoong.

hongjoong sees it clearly–the trajectory that the puck is taking and the perfect point where it needs to meet his stick. without breaking its momentum, his arms contract to swing his stick and the blade collides with the puck with forceful precision, sending it hurtling through the air. the goaltender desperately scrabbles back onto his skates to defend the other side of the goal, but it is too late.

the puck flies past the posts and hits the netting.

the horn blares and echoing cheers erupt throughout the stadium as the lights flick on to shine across the net and your forward players. hongjoong yells with fierce triumph, stick raised into the air as wooyoung excitedly collides into him. the duo disappear amongst the bodies of your boys as they swarm around them feverish exuberance.

“that’s our fucking captain–” “–woo’s assist was insane!”

hongjoong cannot even tell who is who as he is jostled around in overjoyed laughter and beaming smiles, numerous hands reaching out to tap his and wooyoung’s helmets and shoulders. from outside the rink, you, seonghwa and yeosang have long stopped sitting on the benches, bodies too strung tight with hopeful tension to stay seated, so you are immediately swept up into a hug as the three of you celebrate the goal with identical exhilaration.

the game is still far from over but the morale has just skyrocketed through the roof as if the red devils have scored the winning goal. combined with the team’s fans electrifying the atmosphere of the stadium, it definitely feels like it, and you are starting to see hope that the ones advancing to the finals after today will be your boys.

“line change!” you faintly hear, so you still to watch all three of the white tigers’ forwards skate towards the boards. byun, kim and song jump onto the rink, back on offence in the wake of your goal.

hongjoong makes eye contact with you when you search for him amongst the team huddle and in unison, you both nod, pride and determination unspoken in your gazes–the real game is about to start now. the boys start to disperse and take up their positions around the marked circle for the centre faceoff, and hongjoong and byun meet head-to-head once again in the middle of the rink.

the white tigers’ centre forward smirks condescendingly, “cute goal.”

hongjoong’s face thunders over but he will not let himself resort to dirty sportsmanship. he bites his tongue and lowers his stance, focusing his attention on the game instead.

“ready,” the referee signals, then the puck is released.

byun manages to steal it and sends it backwards to his defensemen to open up more passing lanes, but as discussed, your boys mutually move into the 1-2-2 formation to fortify against their offensive plays. despite the pressure of the white tigers’ top forwards back in play, your team is riding on the momentum of your goal; although you had been treading to keep your heads above the water during the first period, there is now an air of confidence that permeates the ambience of the rink in favour of your boys. 

an angled pass from their defence rebounds off the boards and kim receives it high in the neutral zone. he attempts an immediate pass across the ice to song, except the safety net of your player’s defensive formation allows mingi to thrust out with his stick to intercept the pass. he signals, “breakout!” before deflecting it to wooyoung.

the turnover of possession immediately triggers a switch in defence to offence as wooyoung handles the puck back the other way. his wrists twist the stick with measured coordination, controlling the blade and puck as an extension of his own hands while approaching the offensive zone. wooyoung sees the white tigers’ defensemen racing towards him so he abruptly pivots towards the left to drag the black disc around their extended sticks.

suddenly, a sharp pain engulfs his ankle that has his legs crumbling as he staggers off balance. wooyoung manages to stay upright, using his stick to steady himself, but the momentary stumble is more than enough of an opening for byun to steal possession from behind him.

the rival centre forward swerves around jongho then stays close to the perimeter to avoid mingi’s resistant defence. behind mingi, san splays his legs out as he prepares to block the left side of the goal, but byun continues blazing on and wraps around the back of the net. san follows his movement and swiftly shifts over to the right instead while byun cradles the puck with his blade to lift it into the air the moment he approaches.

yunho cannot risk a penalty by raising his own stick to block its trajectory, so he shifts his body in hopes of deflecting the shot before it reaches san. but byun’s wrists snap and tuck the airborne puck at a sharp angle right past the red goalpost…and the horn blows to mark the scoring of a goal.

your jaw plummets at the same time that your heart does. not even your lungs work, your body frozen stock-still. once more, the white tigers are back in the lead only mere minutes after the score had been painstakingly tied by your team.

“fuck!” wooyoung curses and slams his gloved fist against the ice, having dropped to his knees in enraged denial.

seonghwa looks on with despondence from beside you as hongjoong drags wooyoung back up to his feet. the captain’s jaws are clenched in frustration but only because of the score itself–never because of his boys. when mingi and yunho try to comfort san with firm squeezes and uttered reassurances, he can only return a tight smile, all three of their breaths heavy and irregular from exertion and dismay.

for the boys to have climbed so arduously and persistently to even the scores, only to be knocked off and their momentum obliterated so mercilessly soon, it is even more demoralising than the white tigers’ first goal. after all, the higher the climb, the harder the fall.

through the deep ache in your heart, you mutedly say to yeosang, “go on for wooyoung, and tell jongho to change sticks and play as left wing.”

“yes, coach,” he replies, voice delicate. yeosang waits as you gesture for wooyoung to come off before he hops over the boards and skates in jongho’s direction.

“woo,” you murmur as your left wing makes his way back to the benches, but he avoids your gaze and keeps his head down. you bite your lips and decide not to push it for now. instead, you press an opened bottle into his gloved hand.

wooyoung is thankful that the bottle is half empty, because his hand unconsciously clenches around it with quivering shame and he would have spilled the water were it full. he makes no move to bring the bottle up to his lips; he doubts the water would go down his constricted throat anyway. the penetrative guilt of his tears hurts immeasurably more than the piercing throb of his ankle because he may have just cost his team the win…again.

even when the buzzer signals the end of the second period, wooyoung dares not to look up. the score is one to two and it is his fault. the intermission passes by in a haze of dissociation, his body robotically moving on autopilot into the locker room and back to the ice rink. wooyoung does not even know whether there are line changes to the positions or whether the game strategy has been altered.

but it does not matter because it does not concern him–as if any coach would put him on after his grave mistake. what wooyoung fails to notice though is the glances of worry in his direction, and they do not come solely from his boys.

the stakes run at their highest in the third and final period. tension suffocates the entire stadium, invisible hands that snake around your throats with a hangman’s loose and make you break out into cold sweats. all the players on the ice rink put everything that they have on the line because by the end of the next twenty minutes, only one team will be advancing to the finals.

from the moment the puck is dropped into play and the timer resumes, the rink is a torrential battlefield of contesting skates and grappling sticks. dramatic passes and unforeseen interceptions lead to rapid turnovers that force both teams to hastily switch back and forth between offence and defence.

but everyone learns of the juxtapositions of the world early on in life. there is no light without dark, there is no happiness without sadness, there is no spring without autumn…and there is no victory without defeat. for every scoring attempt that the red devils make, the white tigers make three, steadily and gradually pushing your boys back in the final stretch of the game. and while most of your forwards’ goals are blocked in the nick of time, most of theirs are not.

as a last resort in the face of the crisis, you calculate the risks then add seonghwa onto the field. “yunho, change!” you yell, pulling him off defence.

“behind you,” byun alerts song as seonghwa powers across the ice right into the cutthroat action, before cursing when the white tigers nearly lose possession of the puck.

your two captains unrelentingly pursue the black disc at the forefront of your team, their complementary synergy and unity a whirlwind of prowess to be reckoned with as they try not to let the burden of scoring weigh them down. despite the overwhelming pressure as the team’s last line of defence, even more so now that you have sacrificed stability to capitalise on having two centre forwards, san’s cat-like eyes do not cloud over, only intensely scanning the field and the opponent’s plays.

you glance at the clock. there are only two minutes left and even the combined efforts of your forwards is not working. you never thought that you would ever have to do this as a coach, but now you are afraid there is no choice. “yunho,” you urge.

his head turns to you and you see the ashen pallor of your own face reflected on his as the very probable outcome of the game dawns across your minds. you make your decision. “you’re going back on. for san.”

yunho’s eyes widen. “for san? i can’t play as goaltender–”

“no,” you shake your head, “we’re playing without a goaltender.”

sixty seconds.

save for wooyoung, all of your defenders, wings and centre forwards make a last-minute spurt to attack, not letting their bodies recover for even a split second as they strain their burning legs and gasping lungs.

thirty seconds.

they desperately break past the physical boundaries of their own stamina into their last reserves of pure grit and will, draining every last drop that their mental resilience has to offer.

ten seconds.

they do not give up. they try again and again to score. but against all of your prayers, all of your tears and sweat and against all of your hopes, the gap does not close. the final buzzer blares throughout the entire stadium, marking the red devil’s loss.

two to six.

your players stand motionless, ghosts of denial and despair amongst the crazed jumps and bounds of celebration as the white tigers flock across the rink towards one another. hongjoong tilts his head upwards to stop the rush of tears from falling down his face, both yunho and seonghwa mirrors of his pain as sweat and tears drip down in salty trails. san grasps the edge of the board in front of him, his head hung low and shoulders quaking from how hard he tries to stifle his sobs so that wooyoung does not hear him.

not one of your boys are able to accept the results of the match. not even you can bring yourself to utter a single word of consolation, be it for yourself or for them. and as you watch the wretched image of your heartbroken boys, choking back tears of your own that you are unaware still manage to escape the corners of your eyes, the only sounds in your ears their stricken cries, you are reminded that the path of an athlete and coach is nothing like its portrayal in movies and stories; where hard work triumphs and leads to sure success.

the harsh reality is that there is no dramatic comeback. there is no underdog victory. there is no miracle and there is no final to advance to. you and your boys lose by triple the amount of your own goals and just like that, the journey has come to an end at the semifinals.

it is an anticlimactic defeat, the gap so far that your team could not even see the light at the end of the tunnel. and somehow…that feels far worse than losing by just a marginal difference.

the locker room is mostly quiet, the silence punctuated only by the closing of zippers and rustling of canvas as the boys who have finished showering and changing pack the rest of their gear for the final time. there are no more intermittent sniffles, leaving behind a miserable hush of emptiness instead. even the dying flicker of the light in the far corner of the ceiling thrums with more energy than the boys combined.

you sit on one of the benches and absentmindedly thumb through your notebook. seonghwa sits to your right, his kit bag already long organised and tidied to preoccupy his mind. the warmth from the close proximity of your thighs and elbows is a gracious comfort to the both of you. it no longer makes your backs straighten with uptightness, conscious of the boundaries between coach and athlete–not after your hearts and bodies melded together in hugs of solace after the final buzzer of the semifinals and melted away those lines.

seonghwa places his hand soothingly on your knee and murmurs, “stop looking at that. we’ll think about it later all together.”

none of the words or diagrams had been registering in your head, but you nod and close your notebook anyway. he probably does not want to see it either. you rest your head back against the wall behind you with a small exhale, blankly watching your team instead until your eyes travel around the room. 

you count, then count again, before calling out, “captain, is wooyoung still showering?”

hongjoong cranes his neck around at the same time that everybody else does as well. “don’t think so,” he frowns, “i’m pretty sure he was one of the first ones out.”

wooyoung’s kit bag is still unpacked in his locker, so he is definitely not already waiting for the bus outside. before his absence can raise any alarms–the last thing the boys need on their plate right now–you stand and announce, “i’ll go find him. he probably just lost track of time.”

“do you need me to come with you?” yeosang rises to his feet.

you shake your head and reassure, “keep packing your bag.” then you turn to make your way out of the locker room when somebody calls out for you.

“coach, wait.”

it’s san, who skitters in front of you to press something into your hands. “give this to him when you see him?”

the item crinkles and a glance downwards reveals that it is an instant ice pack. you smile softly, stuffing it into the pocket of your jacket and hoping that nobody notices the ice pack that is already in there. “of course,” you gently touch his forearm. “i’ll be back.”

this time you make it out to the corridor but you do not get further than four steps before another voice stops you.

“coach!”

when you turn around, hongjoong emerges from the doorway. he slows down as he catches up to stand in front of you. “i…” his voice falters. “i’m sorry.”

i’m sorry i didn’t realise wooyoung was gone. i’m sorry i didn’t do my job as captain…and i’m sorry for losing. 

“no,” you shake your head. “don’t be.” because you tried your best…and you did not give up. beckoning in the direction of the locker room, you tell him, “take care of the boys, okay? i’ll be back with wooyoung.”

the rigidity in hongjoong’s shoulders dissipates. “thank you…y/n.”

you smile, “anytime, hongjoong.” you wait for him to walk back inside before you finally turn to find wooyoung.

the arena is massive but apart from the locker room–which you already know wooyoung is not in–there are limited places that offer privacy from the multitude of people who mill around, be it other athletes, staff or spectators. you know from personal experience, so you head to the one place that is usually guaranteed to be somewhat out of the public eye.

“oh, fuck me,” wooyoung startles when you sit yourself down heavily on the same step as him, his curse echoing around the both of you. “how the fuck did you know i would be here?”

you snort, bumping his shoulder with yours. “i hate to burst your bubble, but this isn’t exactly an original experience. i’m pretty sure every athlete has hidden here to cry at one point in their career.”

the slight spark of light that had ignited within wooyoung at your appearance suddenly flickers out, reminded of why exactly he is hiding in the emergency stairwell in the first place. shame tears his eyes away from you, unable to meet your gaze any longer.

“i want to be left alone,” he murmurs.

although you respect his request, that is the opposite of what he needs. left to his own thoughts and devices, you know that wooyoung will spiral dangerously in guilt and self-reproach, even if the red devil’s loss is not his fault–is not anybody’s fault.

the two of you sit in silence, wooyoung intermittently swiping at a lone tear that threatens to drip off his chin, and you mulling over the words that you hold close to your heart. eventually, you break the quietude with a soft chuckle.

“the first game i ever played i was actually on left defence. our team was losing by two goals and i suddenly had the puck. i still remember seeing an opening in the goal and feeling the surge of confidence that i did when i hit the puck…but you know what?”

wooyoung does not answer, does not look up from where he is picking at his cuticles, but you can feel his curiosity so you continue, “it was an own goal. i scored into my own team’s net and it wasn’t until i scored another goal before i finally realised which way i was meant to go. obviously, my team wasn’t very happy with me, but then i ended up winning the game for them anyway and that’s how i started playing as centre forward.

“there was also a time during internationals where i argued against the ref’s call and got myself put into the penalty box. it cost our team a goal–the tiebreaker, too. i learnt my lesson and never did that again. and then there was the first couple of years i started to coached. i thought i had enough experience as a player to be a perfect coach. it wasn’t until one of my teams told me to pull my head out of my ass that i realised i was anything but.”

that gets a small snicker from out of him. you deliberate, “i’d like to think that we make the best team now, though.”

he scowls disgruntledly, “we’re your only team.”

“and my favourite team, too,” you laugh softly, gauging his expression. “my point is, wooyoung, we all make mistakes. but the reason why we make them in the first place is because we love playing. we do what our heart wants to in the moment and we play for ourselves because otherwise, there would be nothing left of us without ice hockey. what matters is that we stand up again and learn from the experience.”

wooyoung feels the weight of your words settling heavily in his chest because they are only half true to him. his passion and love for the sport indeed burns eternally as a blazing inferno inside of him, but his persistence to play today was due to ulterior motives. to acknowledge that aloud is a different story, though.

your voice takes on a lighter tone, “although i guess in this case, you should be sitting down with that ankle of yours. you know you should not be gambling with your injuries.”

he finally looks at you; a former athlete who did not even have the luxury to gamble your injury. it suddenly scares him to imagine just an ounce of the conflicting anguish that must course through you at his continuous decisions to endanger his own career–the anguish that you have made sure to never show, lest it affect them.

“do you ever feel angry?” wooyoung abruptly asks, voice laced with hesitation.

it is your turn to look away. you know that the question is not directed at himself but your entire career. with a bittersweet chuckle, you allow yourself to admit, “every day. i still get angry and i still get upset. i wake up in the morning wondering why it had to be me and i go to bed at night wondering why i didn’t deserve a second chance.

“but i’m okay; it gets easier to be okay. coaching means that i still get to go on the ice, i still get to experience the adrenaline of games and i still get to play through you guys. and most of all…i still have a team. i don’t know if i will ever stop feeling angry, but it’s better than it used to be.”

at your admission, wooyoung is reminded of how you are possibly the only one who would be able to truly understand him. he musters his courage and confesses, “i wanted us to lose last year…and we did end up losing.”

it catches you off guard, the direction of the conversation not what you had expected, but you neutralise your expression and tone so as to not make him feel defensive. “how come?”

he swallows. “my ankle–i fractured it last year just before we made it into the playoffs, so i wasn’t able to compete. i had been so angry at first; angry at myself for getting injured, angry at my coach for not letting me play, angry at my team because they could play. then when it became clear that i wasn’t going to be able to compete regardless of how angry i was, i became jealous, insecure and…afraid. jongho and i share the same position, and i mean, look at him now–he’s able to play both left and right wing. if they had won the playoffs without me, then would the team really need me?

“they did end up losing, just like i had wanted them to, but that made me feel so much worse–made me realise just how terrible i am of a person. the guilt eats me alive every single day and i tell myself that i will make it up to them this time, that i will risk everything to win for them…” wooyoung scoffs pathetically at himself, “only for me to fuck things up because of my fucking ankle again.”

you get it. the slow gnawing of yourself from the endless feelings that you ‘should not have’ until you become no more than an empty husk. ever since your own injury, you have spent nights on end trying to reconcile with your emotions in your own confusing and formidable journey, but for the first time ever, you are grateful that you did–because you can keep wooyoung company on his. 

you carefully voice, “i think it was okay for you to have felt the way that you did. they’re your feelings and nobody can invalidate them nor your experience. what i came to realise was that all of those ‘ugly’ feelings do not make us ugly for having them–they simply make us human. it is only a problem when those feelings end up hurting other people, but i think the person you hurt the most…was yourself, wooyoung.”

at your words, he looks at you with wide eyes, a fresh swell of wetness gathering in them. wooyoung is kind and loving to everybody, yet has never once thought about deserving that kindness and love for himself. you smile gently, trying to hide the slight quiver in your own lips as your heart clenches with a desire to be loved in his stead.

“you know, woo, i’ve watched basically all of your past games including the quarterfinals from last year. but if i were to compare it to today’s game, it was as if two completely different teams were playing. your team was alive today–a truly united team where every member is the driving force behind each other’s passion for the game. i am pretty confident when i say that a huge part of it was because you were playing with them–because the team was finally whole again.

“yes, the trophy and the championship title is coveted but it is not what truly matters to them and neither to you. it wasn’t the actual win itself that you wanted today, but being able to win for them. and if your boys were to pick between winning without you and losing with you, i’m pretty sure you know better than i do what their immediate choice would be.”

should the other boys be here right now, they would instantly berate your ears off for even suggesting the first option. the thought flickers through wooyoung’s mind too and the corners of his lips tug upwards slightly.

still, he apprehensively confirms, “...no one is angry at me?”

“no,” you reply, voice soft, “not at all. but we are worried.”

you are reminded of the weight in the pocket of your jacket. pulling it out, you present the ice pack to wooyoung. “look, san told me to give this to you.”

his fingertips brush against your palm when he reaches out, hand hovering over the ice pack as if he does not dare to touch it. “san did?” he whispers.

when you nod, the final confirmation that he needs that nobody–you included–harbours ill feelings for him and his actions, he allows himself to take the ice pack. allows himself to love himself.

“you need to take care of your body,” you fondly chastise, lightening the atmosphere. “did coach cho not drill into you that as an athlete, your body is your most valuable asset? if you thought he was bad, he’s going to seem like an angel when i’m through with you. you won’t just be banned from playing, i’ll tie you to the bed to make sure you don’t walk on that ankle.”

wooyoung laughs through the few tears that are left, mood lifted enough to suggestively lift his eyebrows and quip, “kinky.” his laughter grows when you punch his arm in response.

no longer does he have to carry this burden alone because you are there for him now. but you know that you are not the only one who can be there for wooyoung. the dynamic between the boys runs past mere teammates and from what you have noticed, quite possibly even friends.

tentatively, you suggest, “maybe this is something you should tell the others about. that way you can truly let things go.”

his gaze wavers at the idea as he looks at you. yet, the miniscule smile and encouraging nod you give him fills him with tranquillity. perhaps it is time to let go, but the only way he can truly do that is if he is honest to the boys about his feelings–if he is honest to himself.

“okay,” he breathes out softly.

you grace him with another beat of silence before you stand up, extending your hand out to him. “let’s go.”

wooyoung takes your offered hand and lets you pull him up to his feet. he does not know if it is intentional, but the slight squeeze you give him right before your hand lets go of his fills him with warmth. the feeling stays with him even when he activates the ice pack as you two walk back to the locker room.

right at the doorway where the rest of the team is behind, you stop. you place your hand on wooyoung’s back, whose brows are starting to furrow in confusion. “i’ll be waiting out here. take your time,” you tell him.

“thank you, coach,” wooyoung returns your soft smile.

before you can think better of it, you reply, “i wasn’t talking to you as your coach…but as your friend.” then you nudge him towards the doorway with tender encouragement, waiting for him to walk through the threshold before you close the door behind him.

the first few months you had coached the red devils, mistrust had been in the shape of private conversations that deliberately excluded you. but now, trust is in the conversations that you know you do not need to be a part of. so you simply lean against the wall and wait.

and when they emerge from the locker room half an hour later, you know you have made the right decision upon seeing their eased expressions and relaxed shoulders. the air is still sombre, their defeat in the semifinals still fresh at the forefront of everybody’s minds, but what matters now is that they will face the loss together–the eight of them and you.

“here you go.”

hongjoong hands you your bag so that you do not have to go back in to grab it. you take it graciously from him, then with him by your side, you two lead the group through the arena–past the gazes and whispers that follow your group–and out to the team’s bus.

first to load his kit bag, yeosang takes his usual seat towards the front and waits. he has long developed the habit of placing his backpack under the seat in front of him instead of beside him. as the bus starts to pull away once all the bags are properly stored, you wordlessly take the seat next to him. your knees intermittently brush up against each other with the slight sway of the bus, but neither one of you make a move to shift your legs away.

you and yeosang watch the outside world whirl by the window, just like you always do. except the flowers that have bloomed among the trees–that had been bursts of positivity and vibrancy only just this morning–are now bittersweet reminders of the fall that you and the boys have just experienced.

a brief movement below your line of vision causes you to glance down. it is yeosang’s hand, palm upturned with a silent invitation of solace. you slide your fingers into his, an extension of the comfort you wish to give to them, and them to you.

what you and the boys do not realise, though, is that your flowers have simply bloomed elsewhere.

your jaw drops in sync with the last of the heavy suitcases that seonghwa rests on the floor outside their apartment complex. the amount of his luggage is easily equivalent to at least half the team’s.

“these are all yours?” you confirm.

seonghwa looks at you strangely, “of course. why?”

you look at him strangely. “are you planning on moving? why did you pack enough for a trip around the world?”

“well somebody didn’t want to tell us where we were going, so i had to make sure i was prepared for wherever our destination would be.”

“it’s called a surprise for a reason,” you shake your head, “and i did tell you to pack for cold weather, didn’t i?”

seonghwa fakes offence, scoffing, “can i remind you that it is still spring here, so my apologies for assuming that it might potentially mean we are travelling overseas.”

“you’re such a worrywart, you old fart,” wooyoung teases, circling around the older on his rideable suitcase.

seonghwa yelps when the wheels nearly run over his toes and he threatens, “next time you wet through your entire pack of underwear, don’t come crawling and begging for my spares.”

the suitcase halts indignantly to a stop with its rider. “that was one time,” wooyoung complains, “and it wasn’t even my fault!”

“it wasn’t even my fault,” seonghwa mocks. “i told you not to put your shampoo in a ziplock bag but no, you said that it would be fine.”

wooyoung sticks his index finger up. “correction, hongjoong said that it would be fine.”

“what the fuck, wooyoung,” hongjoong blanches at the sudden disclosure.

“and that’s exactly where you are at fault,” seonghwa cocks his eyebrow at wooyoung. “why would you listen to him?”

“what the fuck, seonghwa. i’m your captain,” hongjoong scowls.

“only during games.”

when you make eye contact with san, the two of you can only sigh with amused resignation. the rest of the boys shake their heads and proceed to load their luggage onto the bus, leaving the trio to feud it out in the background.

as mingi stacks his luggage beside yunho’s, he turns to ask, “are you sure we don’t need our kits?”

“you all brought your skates and sticks with you?” you question in return. when mingi and yunho nod, you reassure them, “then that’s all you need.”

jongho pipes up from beside you, “but what about training?”

“mental training,” you simply grin before hopping up the stairs to sit beside yeosang.

the boys gradually take their seats, even wooyoung and the two oldest despite their continued bickering. somebody yells out over the commotion, “coach! are you going to tell us where we’re going now?”

you peer backwards over the top of your seat to find everyone’s eager eyes on you. “nope,” you snicker, “you’ll find out when we get there. we are going on a holiday though, i’ll tell you that much.”

there is a surge of excitement at your confirmation and a similar fluttering eagerness flits through you, except yours is because you cannot wait to see their reactions. you really hope that the next two weeks will help to reset the team’s morale and give them a much-needed break.

“kq let us go on holiday?” yeosang asks with an impressed look as you settle back in your seat.

you give him a proud smirk. “i’m pretty convincing when i want to be. plus, we just had playoffs and we would all benefit from the rest. what better time to do that than at the start of the off-season?”

“there is no better time.”

“exactly.”

and so the bus starts the four-hour drive towards what the boys will soon come to realise is a team retreat. mingi connects his phone to the bluetooth, in charge of shuffling the music that blasts through the speakers, turning the atmosphere of the bus into a lively concert once it becomes obvious that it is going to be a long trip.

you have to yell over their deafening singing–which you have to admit actually sounds quite impressive–numerous times for them to sit their asses down, their enthusiasm uncontainable by the seat belts and law regulations. but they look their age, free and untroubled; just a group of boys up to their silly antics with one another, so you cannot bring yourself to truly regulate them.

the bus drives on, making a rest stop at one of the service areas along the highway so that you can stretch your legs in fresh air, use the restrooms and most importantly–

“food!”

their hollers resound before the doors of the bus even open. the second that the gap is large enough to fit one of them through, most of the boys go sprinting off like a stampede of toddlers in the direction of the food court.

wooyoung stays back and slips his arm through the crook of your elbow when you step off the bus too. he grins mischievously, “i’m sticking with you so you can pay for my food.”

“oh, stop it,” yunho tugs him away, pulling even harder when it only serves to make wooyoung’s grasp tighten around your arm. “i’ll pay for your food. leave her wallet alone.”

you laugh brightly as you are jostled around and you pull a card out of your back pocket, holding it up like a golden ticket. you waggle your brows playfully, “it’s on the company card.”

both wooyoung and yunho freeze. their eyes instantaneously start to glimmer, faces radiating when they slowly look at each other. then before you can react, they pounce on you, linking their arm through yours on either side of you and dragging you along to catch up with the rest of the team.

“buy whatever you want!” wooyoung brags and waves the card that he has seized off of you, “it’s on me!”

the service area itself is a field trip as the eight boys cause carnage throughout, except the destruction is in the number of times they swipe the company card. their hands quickly fill with rice cakes and fish skewers, corn dogs and grilled squid, more bags of walnut pastries and roasted potatoes tucked safely under their elbows. they demolish the snacks at the same rate it takes for the next ones to be prepared and the card is tossed around to keep up with their purchases.

they do not forget about the drinks either, getting iced americanos and barley tea to go along with their snacks, and banana milk and soda for the next leg of the trip. whatever catches their eyes–basically everything they lay their eyes upon–they buy. you do have to draw the line at daytime drinking though, narrowing your eyes at the cases of beer jongho and yunho try to pick up until they sheepishly put them back.

(you also end up having to purchase motion sickness tablets because seonghwa and mingi gorge themselves so full on snacks that they are queasy before they even make it back on the bus. kq’s president sends you a text too, asking just what exactly you and the boys have bought to rack up almost forty consecutive purchases at a service area. but the subsequent message asking if they are enjoying themselves tells you that his question is all in good fun.)

their energy mellows out during the last hour of the trip, both from tiring themselves out and from the gradual change in the scenery outside the windows. no longer can you see an endless mirage of highway road and open fields.

as the miles build up the further you travel, it leads deeper into a mountainous woodland with the trees growing denser and thicker around you. the narrower road winds around the base of hills and the bus driver carefully navigates the undisturbed peace of the forest. it starts to get colder and when the branches of the trees gradually dress themselves in dappled layers of snow, more of you shoulder on the thick coats and puffer jackets you had told them to bring.

the bus eventually arrives at a clearing amongst the pine trees, revealing a large but welcoming cottage pension. its wooden exterior and sloped roof gives it a distinctly cosy and rustic look, with large glass doors spanning the entire height of the walls that will let you admire the surrounding mountainous beauty from inside. off to the side of the cottage, there is a sizeable lake that has frozen over and immediately, you know that this was the perfect place to choose.

the boys press their faces against the window to get a better look as the bus pulls up beside the accommodation. “woah,” they breathe out, their exhales fogging up the glass.

they follow you off the bus in a trance, mouths open and unable to peel their eyes away lest they waste even a second to drink up the sight before them. here, in the heart of the taebaek mountains, it is still a winter wonderland despite the spring blossoms that cover the rest of seoul.

you turn to face them, walking backwards slowly and spreading your arms out with fond tenderness. “welcome to your home for the next two weeks, boys.”

even though it is simply an illusion created by taebaek’s geographical location and mountainous terrain, this time you find yourself appreciating the coldness and bareness of the winter-like ambience that cocoons you and your boys. it is as if time has stopped and there are no worries…only time to heal and start afresh.

living together, even if just for a holiday, is different.

you are used to only seeing the team in their training clothes, practice jerseys or bulked up in their padded gear and uniform. but here, the boys wear lounging sweatpants and worn hoodies, hair soft and poking into their eyes, bodies and expressions unguarded as they laze around. and where you are used to only seeing them at training, meetings and games, all rigorously scheduled and planned, there are no expectations to follow and no limits as to when you see them here.

the boys have their own organised chaoticness to their daily routines, having been living together for almost seven years now, and it seamlessly integrates into the space of the cottage too. but what truly surprises you and them is how you naturally blend into it.

when you rented the pension, you had ensured there were at least three bathrooms to accommodate all nine of you. however, you quickly discover that numbers mean nothing because the boys are incapable of staggering their morning and nightly bathroom routines one by one like you had assumed they would. you also realise that it is not that they are incapable, but that they like and want to do everything together.

space within a room holds no meaning to them and they are perfectly content to stand pressed up against each other’s sides, expertly dodging elbows and leaning over one another to reach for their toothbrushes or skincare. after that first night, you wake up in the morning and patter off in search for the least cramped bathroom to wriggle yourself into, up to three of you sharing the large sink and mirror that now looks comparatively tiny as you brush your teeth together.

more often than not, you find yourself sandwiched between yunho and mingi. it is moreso a matter of neither boy letting you escape from their clutches if you happen to peer into whichever bathroom they have crammed themselves into.

“we make the perfect ratio as the two tallest plus you as the shortest,” mingi likes to rationalise, “so it averages out perfectly with three boys in each of the other bathrooms.”

“but san’s shoulders are basically the equivalent of two grown men, so your point is invalid no matter how we divide ourselves up,” you like to argue back.

except they refuse to see reason. instead, yunho raises the volume of the speaker he has set on the sink’s counter that blasts out music to playfully drown you out. you relent every time and it turns into goofy dancing from the three of you as you pull silly expressions at one another in the mirror. when you rinse your mouth, mingi will start a gargling competition without fail, but none of you have lasted for more than three seconds before you begin to choke with laughter.

(when you are with people you like, everything is funny.)

seonghwa shakes his head whenever he passes the bathroom, insisting, “the only thing you guys are missing is a disco ball.” he is definitely not jealous of the fun you three are having. not at all.

the eldest has his own routine though, visible in the way he prepares everybody’s cups of coffee in the morning. they are all made differently according to individual preferences; no sugar, double shots, a dash of milk, brown sugar, matcha powder or decaf. and despite the fact that yeosang is usually up the earliest, seonghwa does not allow him to make his own coffee.

seonghwa claims it is because nobody knows how to properly use the drip brewer, but yeosang sits next to you and murmurs into your ear, “he just won’t admit that he likes to make them for us.” it must be the chill of the morning, but yeosang’s warm, whispery voice always sends goosebumps over your arms.

by the second morning, seonghwa finds himself naturally grabbing an extra cup and the hot surprise greets you with one and a half teaspoons of sugar in it, just how you like it. hongjoong emerges from the bathroom moments later to grab his cup and as he takes a careful sip, his eyes flit over the remaining cups on the table. seonghwa can practically hear the numbers ticking up in his head.

“y/n already took hers,” he verbalises, beckoning with his chin.

hongjoong turns around in the same direction to see you curled up on the sofa next to jongho and yeosang, your feet tucked comfortably underneath you as you lean forward out of curiosity to take a sip of jongho’s americano. when your expression scrunches up from the shock of bitterness, jongho giggles brightly and steadies your hand that is holding your own cup of sweetened coffee. his eyes melt at your reaction.

“oh, i know that expression,” hongjoong chortles. “he’s a goner.”

seonghwa sees the honey in hongjoong’s own eyes and he smiles knowingly, “i don’t think he’s the only one.”

hongjoong does not peel his gaze away from the three of you all cosied up on the couch. “you’re right, they’re both goners,” he hums absentmindedly, not at all registering who exactly it is who is being referred to.

(the true answer is that there are more than three of them.)

you discover that wooyoung is usually in charge of cooking, but in return, everybody else gets up to clear and wash the dishes the moment the last pair of chopsticks is placed down on the table. that is the only time they are allowed into the kitchen because they are apparently all walking hazards.

but when wooyoung realises you can actually handle a knife without giving him grey hairs from watching, the two of you easily divide the roles and tasks between yourselves. like a waltzing dance, you move together in the kitchen to prepare the meals. he passes you the spices in the overhead cabinets before you ask and you close the fridge when he takes out a pack of meat or vegetables.

cooking with wooyoung is never without bickering. he does not let you hear the end of the time you bump your head on the edge of the counter when you try to grab a saucepan from underneath, or the time you squeal after the oil starts to splatter from the onions. but if that is the reason why he starts to subtly move his hand to cushion the edges of the counters when you bend down to find something, or why he chooses to do the stirring and frying while you slice, then he pretends it is merely coincidence.

san never strays far away from the kitchen whenever you and wooyoung are cooking. you have noticed that they do not really ever stray apart–none of the boys do, though. wooyoung talks as you and san listen and the latter does not stop smiling as he watches wooyoung multitask. what you do not realise is the countless times you have forgotten to keep cooking because you are watching him too with the same expression that san wears.

(the rest of the boys realise and they also see the way san and wooyoung will pause to gaze at you.)

when you two have mostly finished cooking and it is simply a matter of waiting for the sauce to simmer or the soup to boil, you find that wooyoung will take his seat next to san on the barstools at the island, knees and thighs touching as he continues the conversation. you gravitate towards them the first time before catching yourself, cautious that you may be intruding, but then san gives you a dimpled smile and beckons for you to come and sit by his other side.

san likes to keep a gentle hand resting on wooyoung’s knee as he talks. when he does the same thing to you without even looking, your lungs stop working for a minute. the only thought that consumes your mind is the warm sensation of san’s thumb soothingly running back and forth across your skin. you do not want him to stop, so you stay still in hopes that he continues. you are pretty sure san does not even consciously realise he is doing it.

(san does, and he is glad you do not move away.)

in the hours after dinner and before you all head off to sleep, you pile the thick blankets into the open living room and squish yourselves on the least number of couches as possible. again, space holds no meaning when you are with the boys and you find the press of yeosang and hongjoong’s skin against your own more natural there than not.

sometimes you watch movies together, other times talking with low voices as the hours tick by, and other times where you are all doing your own things but in the presence of one another. regardless, the nine of you stay cuddled in front of the fireplace with the warm glow of the fire and the light dreamy flutter of snow outside the windows.

yeosang tenderly tucks the blankets up around mingi’s shoulders when he falls asleep before turning to you on his other side. “are you warm enough?” he softly asks. and even though you say you are, he still tucks the edges of your blanket under your chin, nestling you safely within the blanket, hongjoong’s side and his own body.

the boys are naturally affectionate with one another and seeing the close dynamic of their…friendship so intimately in the environment of the retreat reminds you once more of the possibility that their relationship may run deeper than they let on.

(but when that affection extends to you, you wonder what exactly that may mean for your own relationship with the boys.)

and so living together, even if just for a holiday, is different. it is different when they are the first sight to greet you when you wake up, rubbing the sleep out of their eyes and voice still husky from fatigue as they murmur good mornings to you, and your cheeks start to glow with rosiness.

it is different when the decisions you make together are not about a change in formation or a defensive power play, but what to make for dinner and what movie you want to watch afterwards, and it makes you begin to wonder what other mundane decisions you want to make with them. it is different when they wrap you in their embrace–eight consecutive hugs–to bid you goodnight, and it takes you longer to fall asleep because you toss restlessly in your bed as their smiles replay in your head.

being on the retreat together is strangely domestic and homelike. but it has been almost nine months since you have started coaching the boys and thus seeing them every day for countless hours on end. so really, this trip should not change anything.

and yet, it feels like everything is changing.

jongho pays no mind to the conversation that is happening around him. last he heard, half of you are wanting to go out to skate on the lake before the sun sets and the other half are wanting to finish the halli galli championship you had started the night prior.

he is happy to do either but his mind is distracted by something else. as the screen of his phone lights up, jongho’s eyes flicker down and he puts his hand over the glowing display before anybody can see the caller id. you glance at him when you catch the movement in the corner of your peripheral vision, only to look away when yunho calls out your name to see which of the two options you would prefer.

the screen goes black as the call goes unanswered. seconds later, it lights up briefly with a notification.

pick up.

then the caller id shows up again. jongho grabs his phone and mumbles to nobody in particular, “going to grab something from my room.”

closing the door to the room that he is sharing with hongjoong in the pension, jongho sits down heavily on the edge of his bed, phone clutched tightly in his hand. whilst he has no qualms ignoring their messages now, he still finds it difficult to do the same to their phone calls. he finds his resolve weakening as he watches his phone ring for the third time within minutes.

so jongho picks up. “mother,” he greets stiffly.

she scoffs scathingly, “you finally decided to pick up.”

“i’ve been busy with the playoffs.” a half lie.

“busy? busy losing, you mean,” his mother ridicules. jongho is taken aback by the fact that she is aware, since he did not tell his family. it makes sense when she berates, “do you know how embarrassing it was for me to find out from your aunt? she told me to congratulate you for making it into the semifinals–the semifinals, jongho.”

he feels a heat of shame at what she is insinuating. jongho defends, “that’s still the top four out of seventy six teams.”

“nobody cares,” she turns her nose up. “it does not matter if you came fourth, second or last–unless you win first place, the result is not worth anything. our entire family has a legacy of achievements and your younger brother even has an olympic gold medal now. but what have you done? this is a mere national competition and yet you are incapable of making it into the finals.”

“jong–” his name dies on the tip of your tongue and your hand stops before you can knock on the door when you hear jongho’s muffled voice.

the boys had finally decided to grab their skates so you had come to get jongho to join everybody outside. realising he is talking to somebody, you are about to turn away and give him some privacy, but the words you hear make you freeze. 

it is not the conversation itself that you overhear; it is the wounded tone of jongho’s voice that makes it impossible for you to walk away. your feet stay rooted to the spot, in fact, wanting to enter the room. you have not heard jongho in such great affliction before, not even when he was consoling the boys with tears in his own eyes after their crushing defeat in the playoffs. 

“when are you going to celebrate my achievements for what they are, instead of telling me to do better?” jongho appeals.

he has lived his entire life being told that he is not good enough–constantly compared to the accomplishments of his family, particularly those of his younger brother. what he does not understand is why he cannot just be recognised for the athlete that he is, void of any other person.

his mother is silent and for a brief moment, jongho thinks that she may finally see some sense in his words…only for her to unfeelingly state, “when they are worth celebrating.” with a simple, “do better,” she hangs up on him.

jongho’s hand falls limply into his lap, phone slipping out of his lax fingers with a dull thud to the ground. he wants to swear. he wants to cry. he wants to throw his phone against the wall until the screen shatters. but jongho simply leans forward, elbows on his knees and head in his hands, the crushing weight of dejection forcing his lungs to exhale shakily.

there is a faint, timid knock on the door. he knows who it is immediately–only one person would knock so softly. “come in,” he answers listlessly, because he could never bring himself to ignore you no matter his own feelings.

the door cracks open to reveal your tentative figure and you slip through the opening. from the way your lips are pulled down, eyes rounded with concern, jongho knows that you have connected enough dots to understand the context of the phone call.

you approach the bed and try to ignore how small the boy in front of you looks with his shoulders hunched inwards on themselves. jongho has always appeared as the most collected and composed, even more so than the captain, and it makes your chest tight to realise he has simply been hiding this whole time.

jongho is not a man of many words so you do the next best thing that feels right in the moment. you simply open your arms. when his hands slowly come up in silent acceptance, you step forward to engulf him in your embrace.

he presses his face into the soft warmth of your stomach. the darkness welcomes him with safety and comfort and he lets out a stuttering breath that racks his entire body. you wrap one arm around his shoulders and cradle the back of his head with your other, your fingers tenderly caressing his hair in soothing motions.

although silence is what he needs, you allow yourself to say one thing to him. you murmur, “i’m proud of you, jongho…so, so proud of you.”

and they are the words he has been wanting to hear his entire life. unable to keep it together any longer, jongho breaks down in your arms with tearful sobs and allows himself to grieve for the acknowledgement he has yearned his entire life and never received. however, it will only be for tonight because he has realised that it is futile to chase after recognition from a person who refuses to see his worth, even if that person is his own family.

there will always be other people who can see his actual worth; the same people who will still love him even if he does not have a gold trophy to call his. for him, those people are his seven boys and you.

so he stays in your arms with you wrapped around him, time lost to the two of you. he cries until he has no tears left and you tilt your head upwards to stop the flow of your own tears before they can drip down onto the crown of his head. and outside the bedroom, hongjoong quietly eases the door shut to give you both some privacy.

you do not know how much time has passed when you finally step out. jongho has fallen asleep after you tucked him under his covers, exhausted. heading towards your room to change out of your shirt, you are startled by the sight of hongjoong lingering near the door.

“you didn’t go out with the boys?

he shakes his head, then conscious of where you two are standing, he gestures inside your room and follows you in. “is jongho okay?” hongjoong asks.

“i think so…he’s sleeping now but probably just needs a bit more time,” you sigh, “i just wish i could do more for him.”

hongjoong reassures, “you are already doing so much more than you realise.”

for jongho. for wooyoung. for all of them. comfort has never been about the words or actions, but the person who is by their side, and for the boys, having you there is already enough.

“really?” you worry.

“yes, really.”

before he realises what he is doing, hongjoong reaches out to gingerly cup the side of your face to thumb away the worry in your brows. “y/n, you take care of us all the time…but who takes care of you?” he whispers.

“i’m your coach, of course i–”

“no,” he interrupts. “you aren’t just our coach and from what i have seen, you aren’t just our friend either. unless…” hongjoong hesitates, “unless i’ve been reading everything wrong, then in which case, tell me and i’ll move away.”

you do not reply. your eyes flicker back and forth between his, your heart racing and mind blank. it is true–they are not just your players and they are not just your friends either, but you are unsure about taking such a huge leap of faith and acting upon the feelings you have only just started to understand.

hongjoong takes your silence as encouragement to step even closer until he is right in front of you. he keeps his hand on your cheek, his other coming up to delicately cradle your waist. you are standing intimately enough for his warm breath to span across your cheeks as he tenderly pleads, “let us take care of you as more than what we are right now.

“if you do not want to put a label on it then that’s fine, we won’t. we’ll still be your team and you’ll still be our coach. but please, let us take care of you when you are hurt, when you’re upset or angry, and when you are happy, too. let us love you as one of ours.”

as one of theirs.

you swallow and confirm, “are you all together?”

“yes, we’re dating each other,” hongjoong nods.

“but then why…” your voice trials off. why me, too?

hongjoong taps the tip of your nose and jokes lightly, “is there a capped limit as to how many people we are allowed to love?”

it pulls a giggle out of you and he smiles fondly as he reiterates, “we don’t need to put a label on this and we can go entirely at your pace. just let us into your heart, please?”

for a moment you wonder what will happen to your professional relationship with the boys–what will happen if things do not work out or worse, if other people find out and report you all for it. but when you really think about it, you realise that the professionalism between you and the boys has long since blurred. 

you do not know if you can go back to seoul after this retreat and act like you do not want to continue living with them. most importantly, you do not want to know if you can. so you take the leap of faith and nod–you want to be theirs.

when you first met the red devils in autumn last year, you were resolved to win over them. never would you have expected that you would win them over in more ways than one…and be won over yourself.

“hi, girlfriend.”

seonghwa smacks the back of wooyoung’s head. “stop pressuring her,” he hisses as the younger cackles delightfully and strides away through the snow impressively fast considering he is wearing his skates.

“ignore him,” seonghwa turns to you, where you are sitting on the porch steps to the cottage. he squats down and takes the laces out of your hands to start doing up your own skates.

“i can do it myself,” you start.

“i know you can,” seonghwa hums, gazing up lovingly, “but i want to do it for you.”

you press your lips together in an attempt to hide the shy smile that blooms across your face and when that fails, you duck your head down instead. ever since your talk with hongjoong the other day, the boys have been significantly more obvious and proactive with their displays of affection for you. however, you are pretty sure they had their own conversation when you were asleep or in the shower, because not one of them pressures you into something you are not ready for, even if that includes making your relationship official.

“there you go. is it too tight? too loose?” seonghwa taps your skates and you tell him they are perfect. taking his offered hand with an appreciative smile, he pulls you up to your feet and you go to join the rest of the boys on the frozen lake.

you are sure it feels the same for every single one of your boys–nothing can compare to that moment when you first step onto the ice. it is where you become a completely different person; a fish back in water, in control and at home.

it had been a gamble renting the cottage pension as you were unable to know whether the lake would be frozen over enough to allow for skating. but it is as if the heavens know not to separate you and your boys from the love and passion that your entire lives revolve around, because you are blessed to see them scrambling out to play on the frozen lake almost every single day, just like they are right now.

san spots you and seonghwa and beckons for you two to join. “hongjoong’s the tagger,” he calls out.

the captain stands at the other end of the lake, back facing everybody as he drawls, “green light…”

before hongjoong even starts to enunciate the first word, yunho, wooyoung and jongho have already pushed off their skates to advance. it sets off an immediate chorus of indignant shouts and desperate acceleration amongst everybody else to catch up. you laugh and seonghwa drags you along with him urgently, unable to stand your apparent nonchalance and uncompetitiveness.

but oh, how wrong he is. very quickly, you join the majority of the boys in a game of who can be the most sneaky with dirty play. wooyoung and mingi tussle with one another right as hongjoong turns around with his yell of ‘red light!’, trying to topple the other over so they get caught. jongho yanks on the back of seonghwa’s jacket whilst yeosang giggles and joins in to yank on jongho’s, effectively preventing all three of them from advancing forward.

“let go of me, you brats!” seonghwa flails forward against the combined weight of the two boys but to no avail.

you use yunho’s height to your advantage and hide behind him, steadily creeping forward even when hongjoong has turned around to face you all. yunho quickly catches on and extends his hands backwards for you to latch onto. you are more than happy to let him do all the hard work skating you both towards the captain and you grin cheekily at the trio–still caught up in their self-induced tug-of-war–as you overtake them easily.

“y/n’s cheating!” san hollers, the only one who is actually playing by the rules.

“life’s not fair!” you holler back gleefully at the same time that hongjoong sniggers, “san, you moved your mouth! go back.”

san gives an indignant cry, “favouritism, i say!” but, bless his heart, moves back to the starting line regardless. 

when yunho is almost towering over hongjoong, he cues you to get ready to escape by letting go of your hands. you pivot around and without waiting for anything else, you start to run away.

“gree–”

yunho tags hongjoong’s right shoulder before pushing off to the left so that he escapes the other’s immediate line of vision. except it means that the first person that hongjoong sees when he turns around is you.

an involuntary squeal escapes you when you hear the terrifying crispness of skates on ice right behind you followed by the captain’s arms snaking around your waist. “caught you, babe” he beams. hongjoong lifts you up with shit-eating smugness at your reaction–both at his close proximity and the pet name–spins you around for good measure, then sets you back down to chase after the others.

wooyoung skates in a wide arc to dodge the captain’s frenzied rampage, only to suddenly appear right beside you with the most telling glint in his sparkling eyes that he is up to mischief. he grins.

“wooyoung, no,” you warn.

he grabs you by the waist. “wooyoung, yes.”

wooyoung pushes off his skates with you in front of him at breakneck speed across the ice, bellowing at the top of his voice, “make way for the cripples!”

you scream the entire way to the end of the lake, hands clutching onto his like a lifeline as a colourful string of words flies out of your mouth. you think you black out for a second because when you open your eyes again, you are in a heaving tangle of arms and legs on the cushiony surface of powdery snow.

“oh, shit,” hongjoong winces.

the boys speed towards you and wooyoung, and yunho peers down at you on the ground with panicked concern in his eyes. “are you two okay?” he asks but when he sees that you are laughing, unrestrained and radiating joy, yunho relaxes and joins in with relief.

they–mainly seonghwa–fuss over you both enough to reassure themselves that there is not so much as a scratch or bruise, before mingi suggests playing a casual hockey game of five versus four. there are to be no goaltenders and san fashions makeshift goalposts by poking sticks into the snow on either ends of the lake.

the team splits into their usual arrangement when they are required to be in two groups; hongjoong, yunho, san and wooyoung; seonghwa, yeosang, mingi and jongho. normally, you would offer to be the honorary referee…but the boys have never been rough with you and you have confidence that you will not get hurt. so for the first time in years, you play.

it is far from a proper league game and it will never be enough to quench your thirst as a former athlete, but for now, gripping your stick on the ice in tandem with the others, you are content–you are alive.

like red light, green light, the game starts off fair and proper for a grand total of two minutes. then it becomes a circus of foul plays and increasingly creative methods of cheating as all sense of order is tossed out the window. yunho and san stand in front of you, leaving just enough space for you to handle the puck, whilst hongjoong and wooyoung flank your sides and use their sticks to block any attempts to steal the puck. as a shielded group of five, you all move up towards the goalposts like a formidable army tank.

in retaliation, jongho physically manhandles hongjoong out of the way, hugging him from behind with a vice grip that he swears not to let go. seonghwa, mingi and yeosang imitate him with similar displays of strength, turning the entire match into a childish scuffle of chaos and hysterics.

there are no proper rules, no proper gear and no proper stadium–only the bare minimum, yourselves and uncontainable laughter. it feels like you are kids again, little souls harbouring colossal dreams, running around on the fields with long branches and a pine cone you had found when you could not afford to go to a real rink.

it is like you have gone back in time to when all you knew about ice hockey from watching it on your television screen was that you had to get the puck into the goal. you and the boys are fresh, blank slates without a care in the world for the countless strategies and tactical plays that you have learned over the length of your careers.

without the pressures and routines of strict training regimes, you all reignite the very roots of your ardour and fervour for ice hockey. no longer is it about the scores and making it into the playoffs. no longer is it about winning the championships to gain the acknowledgement of other people. no longer is it about the trauma of betrayal, injury and defeat you have experienced.

playing is simply the thrill of skating liberally with no burdens across the ice. it is the feeling of thriving when your blade connects with the puck and sends vibrations up your arms. it is the rush of adrenaline as everyone moves in tandem with the same singular thought in your hearts–that you love ice hockey with your entire lives. and that in itself is already more than enough, even without a gold trophy and championship title to prove it to yourselves.

for the last five years, the boys have had the leaves of their trees forcibly plucked and removed–by family, by coaches, and by injuries…but now?

it is time for their flowers to bloom.

spring, 2025: playoffs

standing off to the side, you watch your boys listening attentively to the reporter who is conducting an interview with them. you have continued to stay out of the media spotlight where possible, not yet entirely comfortable standing in front of the cameras again, but your boys have quickly grown accustomed to media coverage ever since their popularity gained traction thanks to their undefeated streak in the regular season.

the interviewer glances down at her prompt card before asking, “so tell me, what has been a major contribution to your success this season? your team has made a name for yourselves as the undefeated champions so far–quite a contrast to how you started off last season.”

seonghwa laughs cordially with her. “we were getting used to a lot of changes last year so our teamwork and mentality wasn’t the best,” he admits. “our agency gave us some time off to recalibrate, which really helped us to focus on building ourselves–as individuals and as a team. i think we learnt to place our unconditional trust in one another and our coach. we still play with a dominantly offensive approach, but we’ve been adopting different playing styles and experimenting with them, so this relies heavily on believing in each other.”

yunho nods, gesturing for the microphone to add, “as cliche as it may sound, a huge part of our growth was also learning how to accept loss. this wasn’t just in the context of being defeated in the semifinals but in the wider lens of our past mistakes, relationships, and even situations that we could not change.

“it has been a tough journey for a lot of us over the last year, but we were lucky enough to have each other’s support,” yunho’s nostalgic smile reflects your own as you realise just how far both you and all of your boys have come. “once we were able to let go, it meant that we could enjoy our career for what it truly is–playing the sport of our dreams together, every day.”

the reporter’s ears perk up in interest at the segway to probe and she jumps on the opportunity to ask, “i am sure many of your fans have been curious for a long time. is there a special somebody who has supported you–or any of you–throughout your journey?”

yunho passes the microphone to the hand that has extended out to reach for it. it’s san this time, who has a charmingly confident persona that he takes on whenever he answers questions during interviews. good thing too, because their fans are going to need something to distract them from understanding the confession he is about to make.

“there is. we all do, actually,” his deep voice rolls off his tongue like butter. the way he smoothly talks with a flirtatious smirk never fails to make you swoon. “funnily enough, we all met our girlfriend at about the same time.”

off to the side, wooyoung sends a wink in your direction and you have to muffle a snort with your hand and divert your glance away. the structural framework of the stadium ceiling suddenly looks very interesting. san stands there incredibly smug at his joke that he knows nobody but you and the boys will pick up on.

by the time you tune back into the conversation, the reporter has moved onto the next question. “last year, you lost to the white tigers in the semifinals. how do you feel about facing them again later today?”

due to a spike in popularity, the korean ice hockey league had to divide its teams into two separate groups for the regular season matches this year. both the red devils and the white tigers had been placed in different groups and by some twist of fate, had ranked at the top and then seeded accordingly on either ends of the tournament brackets. now, your team faces theirs in the very last game of the season.

the finals.

“we’re quite excited, actually,” jongho responds. “we have been wanting to play against the white tigers again some day and i don’t think it gets any more fitting than meeting them in the finals. they have some incredible players but like seonghwa mentioned before, we’ve been working hard to adjust our playing style to suit the situation. our coach has put in a lot of effort to hone in on our strengths and weaknesses, so no matter what today’s outcome is, we’re confident that it won’t be an easy win for either team.”

“i am sure the finals is going to be a thrilling match. now, speaking of coaches,” the interviewer starts and you can see hongjoong’s hand twitching subtly at his side, ready to step in and deflect the question need be should it pertain to you.

she continues, “how does it feel to play against your former coach?”

yeosang and mingi frown, unable to neutralise the confusion on their faces. hongjoong smiles calmly, ultimately taking over the microphone as he apologises, “sorry, could you please elaborate your question?”

it is the interviewer’s turn to fluster slightly but she nods quickly, “you must not be aware, then.”

your eyes dart back and forth as you try to recall whether there is a crucial piece of information you have somehow missed or forgotten to tell the boys. the tone of her voice foreshadows something that makes the pit of your stomach churn.

“last year, the white tigers had a stand-in coach, so you probably did not know.” she says her next words carefully and despite the bustling movement that fills the entire stadium, you can hear the exact moment all of your hearts drop.

“the coach of the white tigers is coach yeon, your team’s former coach in 2018…and he’s here today.”

you are the first to rush back into their locker room. frantically, you grab the official guide that had been given to you by the ice hockey league prior to the start of the regular season from out of your bag. you flip through it, team profiles upon team profiles blending into a hazy blur of faces as you find the one you are trying to look for.

“y/n,” somebody gently murmurs from behind you but you do not register their call. you continue to flick through the pages and when you find the profile for the white tigers, you scan the top of the page for a certain name with a shaky finger.

head coach: yeon ha joon

“oh my god,” you breathe out, hands lowering to your sides and gaze wavering. how the fuck had you managed to miss it this entire time?

you are not the only one affected by the revelation. the change room is pervaded by unease and restlessness, and wooyoung paces back and forth despite hongjoong’s attempts to get him to sit down. hongjoong himself cannot even remember how he answered the question about coach yeon, only that he had somehow excused themselves not long after to cut the interview short.

“how is he still a coach?” seonghwa furrows his brows.

wooyoung stops pacing and your eyes are drawn to him when he suddenly blanches, “what if coach yeon is doing the opposite now and paying other teams to let his own team win?”

“no way–” “–i wouldn’t put it past him–” “–surely not?” the boys’ voices overlap at the speculation.

it is a valid speculation based on what they have told you in the past about coach yeon. however, you stay quiet, suddenly aware of the fact that it is not something that would favour you should it be true. you gnaw the inside of your cheek because as much as you know that your boys would not suspect you, you still worry that doubt may cross their minds at one point, even if only briefly.

“unless the money he offered every single time was equivalent to the prize money, it’s highly unlikely the teams would have all accepted, right?” jongho points out.

yunho shrugs nonchalantly, “but even if they did, we all know that coach yeon would never be able to bribe our girl.”

the way everybody immediately agrees expels some of the anxiety within you, filling you with reassurance and security that starts to relax your chest instead. wooyoung chooses that moment to finally sit down on the bench beside you. he adds, “we’re too whipped for you, so even if you were bribed, we would probably ask whether the money was enough and if you wanted more.”

san chucks a water bottle at him. despite yourself, you laugh and admit, “that is…strangely comforting.”

“see,” wooyoung triumphantly boots the bottle back at the older. “she gets it.”

seonghwa intercepts the pitiful bottle before it becomes weaponised and sets it down next to him. “she wouldn’t accept the money in the first place.”

“exactly, so why does any of this matter?” mingi suddenly questions.

yeosang knits his brows together as he states the obvious, “it’s coach yeon.”

“and?” mingi mirrors his expression with genuine confusion.

it is quiet in the locker room. the coach of the white tigers is indeed coach yeon…and so what? what exactly about the revelation has pushed you all to the edge of the cliff?

mingi cocks his head. “what i’m trying to say is, does it make any difference whether he is their coach or not? think about it–regardless of how he got his team to the finals, he has no unfair advantage over us. there’s no way that he has bribed a fixed win in the finals, and he has no access to any insider knowledge that could jeopardise our tactics and plays.

“the only leverage that he ‘has’ is a psychological advantage–if we can even call it that. but we’re not the same boys who were too naive and powerless to do anything about it six years ago. if anything, we can easily turn this to work in our favour because i don’t know about you guys, but i’m ready to drag his ass through the mud. what we said earlier about not caring for today’s outcome? nah, fuck that. we’re going to fuck him up and show him that he messed with the wrong people.”

he takes everybody’s silence as misunderstanding of his last statement and he hurriedly clarifies there is no violent intent, “by winning. fairly.”

“damn,” jongho whistles. “you’re onto something for once.”

mingi clambers over seonghwa’s legs to grab the forgotten bottle and it goes flying across the room with violent intent. “dude, what the fuck,” mingi grouses.

the dull thud that resounds when jongho holds san’s leg pad up to block the projectile is enough to shift the mood in the room entirely. you finally relax into hongjoong’s side and he moulds you closer to him with the arm that he snakes around your waist as you both watch the locker room erupt into familiar pre-game mayhem.

yunho immediately scoops up the bottle and pitches it again. san stands to the side worrying over his poor leg pads as jongho uses them to bat the makeshift ball. his impressive accuracy makes you wonder whether they would have made it just as big as they are now had they formed a baseball team instead, but then yeosang narrowly dodges the bottle before it gives him a black eye, wooyoung cackles in the background, and you think better of it.

seonghwa joins you both on the bench and amongst all of the mischievous chaos and raucous laughter, you feel at peace, your hands clasped tenderly in the hands of your two captains–in unity, trust and love. you affectionately squeeze their hands with unspoken conviction.

you know your boys are going to play well; you just have a good feeling.

the energy in the room spikes exponentially as you huddle together one final time before you walk out of the locker room, through the hallways and to the arena–one final time before you step out to the ice rink as the red devils, playing in the final match.

you and your boys stand in a circle as close as it is physically possible with their bulky pads and game jerseys that they wear so proudly. it is indiscernible where one of you starts and where another ends from how intimately you all press together. your huddle is a woven nexus of arms and your hearts pound as one entity.

everyone learns of the juxtapositions of the world early on in life. there is no light without dark, there is no happiness without sadness, there is no spring without autumn…and there is no victory without defeat. not a single one of your boys has made it this far without falling at least once, and the conscious thought makes your heart swell and your throat constrict with overwhelming emotion.

somehow, you manage to choke out, “i am so, so proud of all of you.”

yunho and seonghwa’s own eyes start to heat up with wetness. from your side, san kisses your temple with feather-like tenderness, “and we’re so proud of you. y/n, you have grown just as much as we have.”

“thank you for being our coach,” hongjoong murmurs into your ear from your other side, the tip of his nose softly nuzzling you.

wooyoung reaches out to thumb the round of your cheek, “and thank you for loving us when we found it difficult to love ourselves.”

you had always viewed your injury and career with anger, bitterness and anguish…but you have finally come to terms with it. in the process of healing, you have learnt to love yourself, love eight other people, and to be loved. you have had your golden days as an athlete and you are now living your golden days as a coach–

–the very coach of the red devils, your team of boys who are living through their golden days as athletes, and you are going to lead them to victory in the finals.

swiping at a tear that slips down your cheeks, you grin. “boys, let’s win this match and then,” you pause as you meet their determined gazes, their smiles wide with uncontainable excitement, the tension in the room electrifying and palpable.

“let’s go international.”

you may have all fallen before–as athletes, as coaches, as a team–but you will always stand back up together, because at the end of the day your dream is theirs and their dream is yours. and like autumn, the leaves fall for a reason; they must fall before the spring flowers can bloom to their full beauty.

and bloom your flowers have.

---

WELCOME TO THE HEARTBREAK SHOW ── jungkook

summary: you’re in love with your partner in class that everyone fears (and loves) due to his stoic facial expression and the way he rejects girls rather harshly. as you get to know him, will he be able to handle your heart that you so willingly gave him to care for or, will he break it due to his hatred for people who are in love with him?

pairing: kind-of-tsundere!jungkook x female!reader

genre: college!au, angst, fluff, strangers to friends to lovers, “she fell first, he fell harder”, very orange cat gf x black cat bf

warning: mean comments, second-hand embarrassment?, stalker, mentions of assault, mentions of cheating (not from main characters), daddy/mommy issues, puking, might be fast paced/over the place but bear with me please 🙏🏼

note: also, there will be some inspiration from the anime “romantic killer” (definitely recommend), and not my best work 🥲 also word count is 28k

“Y/n, you literally like him because he made eye contact with you once. And that was to glare at you.”

Minjee and Jimin, your best friends, stood in front of you, eyeing the way your eyes followed Jungkook’s movements toward the building where you had your upcoming class in. You were currently staring at Jungkook because your heart still beats whenever your peripheral vision sees the tattoos inked on his arm and the way he avoided any type of girl that blocked his way. Though your hands were busy at the moment holding onto some small birthday bags for another friend, you clutched your chest rather dramatically.

“You guys do not understand,” you breathed out in almost a dreamy sigh. “It’s just knowing that there’s something there. I felt goosebumps.”

“I’m pretty sure that was you being cold because it was freezing the day you two met,” Jimin chuckled, clearly amused by your awestruck expression, almost as if you were in a trance. And you probably were because as soon as Jeon Jungkook disappeared, you shook your head and looked at your friends who looked back at you, their innocent friend (who wasn’t so innocent because she had the humor of a 13-year-old boy).

“Let me be delusional,” you halted, raising a hand. Jimin and Minjee simply glanced at one another, and they walked forward to be next to you.

“Honey,” Jimin softly spoke, his arm wrapping itself around your shoulder, “do not start acting crazy for a man.”

“But you’re a man, and I’ll go crazy for you anytime,” you teased, a smile forming on your face. He stared at you and snapped his head towards Minjee.

“I’ll gladly feed on to her delusions,” he commented before nuzzling his cheek with yours, a hand of his squishing your cheeks to make you look like a fish. “Look at this innocent face. I’m sure if he gets to know her, he’ll immediately fall in love.”

Minjee snorted and nodded. “Alright, alright, I agree.” She turned to look at you once Jimin let go. “Just… don’t let him know that you’re crushing on him, okay?”

You nodded your head rapidly. “I won’t.” You eyed the almost empty hallway and checked your phone, a gasp escaping your lips. “Shit, I have 5 minutes to get to class. I won’t be able to choose a good seat now!”

“We’ll pick you up to go to Hobi’s party!”

Waving hurriedly at your friends, you sped-walked towards your class, making sure you got the class number right before going in. Thankfully, some people were also late, so you didn’t feel everyone eyeing you and just you.

Your eyes ran themselves over the crowd and quickly spotted the only seat available next to a person with their head down. You mentally cursed once you saw it was a seat in the far back, but you dismissed it because so far everyone had eyed the gifts in your hand and gave you an annoyed look. Maybe this was a sign.

As you got closer to the chair, you sighed as you came to find a backpack blocking it. You cleared your throat and shifted from one foot to another. You spoke up.

“Hey, uh, I’m sorry but I have to sit here. There’s no other seat available, and no one wants me next to them because I’m carrying birthday bags for my friend.”

The person simply grunted out in response to your ranting and got rid of the backpack. They let it flop next to them on the floor, and you sighed in relief.

Muttering a small “thank you” before sitting down, you heard the professor come into the room.

Getting out the things you use to write notes, you breathed in and out to focus on the first lesson being taught almost immediately.

Then you saw it.

You froze in your place quickly, back straightening at what you had just come across.

There, next to you, Jungkook was sitting, having raised his head to pay attention to what was being taught. You wouldn’t have exactly paid much attention until you came to see the tattoos that peaked through the sleeve of his sweater. He had raised the sleeve a bit, but only because it had been in the way of his writing.

And now it was your turn to mentally freak out. Mentally cursing and mentally freaking out because it was the first day of the second semester, and here you were, next to your crush, next to the guy you had been crushing on because he had been playing with a butterfly the first time you met with the most serious face known to man.

“Hey,” you heard a whisper, and you turned your head to see that the greeting wasn’t meant for you. A girl was whispering to Jungkook, who snapped his head to look at her. He didn’t acknowledge her greeting and just stared. “I thought you were cute, and I want to make a friend. What’s your name?”

He didn’t respond, and instead, he turned to look at you, causing you to look at the board, pretending as if you hadn’t been watching the interaction.

“Hey,” he started, making you turn your head once realizing he was now talking to you, “she wants to make a friend. Do you want to make a friend?”

You looked between him and the girl, and you sniffed, shaking your head while your pen was twirling between your fingers. “I’m okay.”

“She’s okay,” he shrugged, not looking at the girl. But he side-eyed her to glare at her. “Leave me alone.”

You could hear the girl scoff, and you cleared your throat this time to get rid of the awkwardness that consumed you three. You pursed your lips and continued writing, eyeing your letters.

“I’m guessing you get that a lot?” You mumbled, though; you weren’t exactly expecting a response, seeing how irritated he had looked. But you were proven wrong by coming to hear a hum of agreement. A sigh escaped his lips this time.

“It’s annoying,” you immediately internally winced at even thinking of the past few moments where you were staring at him. God, you were creepy. “Maybe if they took a hint, I wouldn’t have to be so harsh.”

“I mean,” you began, placing your pencil down and looking at him. You leaned back against your chair as you continued to talk lowly: “If they’re harassing you, it’s understandable for you to be mean.”

“Huh,” he let out before snorting and nodding, hands buried in his pockets. “‘Harassing’. You’re right. I never wanted to use that word, but it’s literally what they do.”

“You don’t like the attention?” You frowned, now paying attention to him, and he shook his head, placing his hands out to fiddle with the rings on his fingers. He had also leaned back against his chair, glancing at you here and there.

“It’s not very good when it attracts bad attention,” he continued, and it looked as if he wanted to say more, but he quieted down and looked at his paper. “Now, pay attention. I heard she uses questions in quizzes and exams that she uses in the lessons.”

You nodded and looked away, going back to taking your notes. You ignored the way your heart fluttered to hear his voice for the first time and the way he looked up close, but you knew now that, despite wanting to make advances, it was better not to. He hated it, and even if you wanted to get to know him more, you could do it while keeping in mind to just be his friend.

“Also,” you whispered, not looking at him, “if you want, we can change seats. It seems like you have an audience.”

At hearing your words, he turns to glance over his shoulder, only to come across a group of girls staring at him already. The way they never looked away, only waved or whispered to one another, was enough to make him nod in agreement.

“Next class.”

After that brief conversation, you stayed silent for the entire class. Thankfully, time passed by quickly, much to your relief.

“We will be doing projects in this class,” your professor said before she dismissed the class. “Because of that, you will be partnered up with the person next to you, so exchange phone numbers or social media, whatever. As long as you keep in touch. Your assignment is already posted; we will go more into it next class; it’s not due yet. You’re dismissed.”

Everyone packed up, and you could hear that, despite being told off in a dispiteous manner, the girl who had talked to Jungkook was whispering to her friends rather excitedly.

“At least he talked to me,” she giggled, standing up from her seat while swinging her bag over her shoulder. “I call that an improvement.”

“He is so hot,” you continued to hear, this time from another girl. You subtly glanced over at the man beside you who was frozen in his spot, too, hand clutching his backpack strap. “Do you think he’s good in bed?”

You and Jungkook simultaneously scrunched your noses at hearing the words. He scoffed and shook his head, looking down at the girls.

“You’ll never find out,” he stoically voiced out, lightly pursing his lips. “Sexualize me more, but do it louder so everyone can hear how low of a human being you are.”

He didn’t give them one more glance and simply walked away, clearly agitated by the way his stance was; he stood straight, chin high, and eyes hooded.

“He’s so mean!”

“You have to admit, though, that was attractive.”

With one last sigh, you walked away, your phone buzzing with notifications. You already knew who it was because only Minjee and Jimin took up all of your notifications. So, staring at your lock screen, you chuckled as you read the arguments between your best friends and then how they wanted to see you so you could back whoever up.

Looking at Jungkook’s back one more time since he was close by talking to his own best friend, you walked away, unknowingly being looked at by said person.

“So, how was class?” Minjee asked as soon as you stood in front of them. She and Jimin were looking at you so you could talk. You puffed your cheeks.

“Well, I have Jungkook in my class.” Your friends' eyes immediately widened at your words, and their mouths slightly opened. “And,” you dragged out, “he sits next to me.”

“What?” They exclaimed, trying to process the news dropped on them since they had been talking about your crush on him an hour ago.

“Yep, and we talk—”

“Hey!” Your friends looked over your figure to see that Jungkook was walking towards you, ignoring the looks thrown his way. You turned to see him, and he stopped in front of you, clearing his throat. “Um, we need to have something to keep in touch for projects.”

“Oh!” You remembered. “I’m sorry, uh, if you don’t feel comfortable with phone numbers, we can do emails or social media, whichever you’re comfortable with.”

“Here, I’ll give you my Instagram.”

You nodded, and he gave you his phone, all while eyeing your very silent friends behind you. He ignored them even when Minjee waved at him, but he looked away once he saw how they were looking at him. He knew that Jimin was close to shaking out of fear if he looked at them any longer, so he looked away.

“Shit!”

Their heads snapped towards you, and they saw that Jungkook’s phone had slipped out of your hand and had landed on the floor. It was broken, especially since it didn’t have a case, and you winced as you eyed its damages.

“Oh, God…” Jimin breathed out, cringing out of second-hand embarrassment. Minjee frowned and stepped forward, making sure to step in if things got out of hand, especially since she knew that Jungkook was very serious.

“I am so sorry!” You rushed, leaning down to grab it at the same time as Jungkook did.

He stayed quiet as he grabbed his phone, eyeing the back of it, where it was cracked. He pressed the power button and stayed quiet once he saw that it wasn’t turning on at all.

“Don’t worry about it,” he grunted, waving you off. “I’ll—”

“Let me pay for your new phone, please,” you pleaded, your face and body warm at how embarrassed you felt for entirely breaking your crush’s phone.

He looked down at you. “I’ll come to you once I get a new phone. In the meantime, I’ll give you my email next class so we can keep in touch.”

“Okay…” He gave you one curt nod, and just as he left, you uttered a small, “I’m sorry.”

Not having heard you, he walked away, his phone in his hand.

“What the fuck just happened?” Jimin exclaimed, and he and Minjee were frozen in their places with their mouths agape. “Dude, you just broke Jungkook’s phone. That’s so embarrassing!”

“Shut the fuck up, shut the fuck up, shut the fuck up.” You immediately covered your ears, moving away from your friends as best as you could since you also closed your eyes shut, trying to shake off the memory. “Oh, my God. I broke it! In my defense, though, I was trying to give it to him after I put in my username. Maybe this is a sign I should get away from him.”

“No,” Minjee huffed, nudging Jimin on the side with her elbow. “Take it as a sign that now he gets to talk to you even more.”

“She’s right,” Jimin straightened up, sniffing away the second-hand embarrassment he had felt not even a minute ago. “Maybe the phone breaking was meant to be.”

“Okay, you two are feeding my delusions way too much.” You mumbled, shaking your head while pushing them away from the building you were just in. “Now, let’s go eat while you two talk about your argument.”

“Jimin started it!”

“Yeah, blame me, the only guy! I’m starting to think maybe you’re the problem.”

Smiling at your friends’ argument, you tried not to let yourself think about what had happened. You’ll just apologize to him next class.

The next class arrived rather quickly, and Jimin and Minjee dropped you off with their thumbs up, all while giving you good luck and encouragement.

“Can I sit here?”

“No, maybe I should sit next to him!”

“I called dibs.”

You looked towards your seat, eyeing the girls who surrounded Jungkook. He was uncomfortable and annoyed. He was fidgeting in his seat as he played with his fingers, and although he tried to hide his discomfort, you were familiar with being hit on by people who didn’t take a hint, so his mannerisms stood out to you.

“Excuse me,” you softly said, pushing past the small crowd of people as nicely as you could without hurting anyone. “Sorry, you’re blocking my seat.”

“Who is she?”

The murmurs came back, but now they were all aimed at you. You gulped and set your things down, sitting on the seat from two days ago that told you your fate in this class. You nervously watched as they all grumbled under their breath, aiming their anger at you, before they eventually left.

“Good morning,” you choked out, clearing your throat. You took out your things and didn’t dare to look at Jungkook without feeling the same embarrassment for breaking his phone.

“Mmm,” he hummed in acknowledgment.

You looked straight ahead, lightly tapping the tip of your foot on the carpeted ground. Though you jumped a bit once you saw something being handed to you.

“Huh…?” You let out a blink. “Um, you got a new phone?”

He snorted. “Yes, I need my phone for school and other things.” You opened your mouth to speak, and he placed a hand up. “You didn’t have to buy me another one, Y/n. After all, I needed a new one, so you kind of did me a favor.”

“Do you still need my username?” You asked, and he shook his head, looking away from your gaze, his ears turning pink.

“I, uh, forgot my passwords for my Instagram and any other social media, so just give me your phone number,” he explained through small coughs, but he looked at you seriously shortly after, and his mouth opened again. “Listen, do not share my phone number with anyone, or I will have my friend find a way to give everyone your phone number.”

You squinted your eyes at him. “I know what friend you’re talking about. I know his mom.”

“You don’t know what friend I’m talking about,” he bickered back, now facing you. You scoffed and nodded.

“I do.” You typed out your phone number. “Taehyung is my bitch. I grew up with him.”

That sentence caught him off-guard. Taehyung was your bitch? He couldn’t help but cover the small chuckle that threatened to escape his lips, obviously not believing that his friend would be scared of you. Taehyung wasn’t even afraid of him. He was never afraid of anyone.

“Hmm, he’s never mentioned you,” Jungkook said, shrugging and playing with his pencil.

“I’ll speak to him after class,” you commented, giving him back his phone. He took it, and you smiled. “Last time we saw each other, he pulled my hair, so I’m trying to grab a fistful of his until he buys me whatever I want.”

“Now I see how you two can be friends.”

For the entirety of the class, you two were silent. He would speak once in a while to ask for some of your highlighters or ask for some parts he missed—the professor was rushing—but other than that, you two were too focused on the lesson.

After taking notes, your professor went over the assignment that involved two people, aka you and your partner, aka you and Jungkook. Thankfully, it wasn’t as awkward as you had expected it to be, judging from the fact that he looked like he hated where he was, but he easily made conversation even if he was curt with his responses.

“Again, this project will not be due until next week on Wednesday, so please stay in contact with your partner. Class dismissed.”

Everyone started packing, and the skin of your arm brushed against Jungkook’s bare skin, eliciting goosebumps to rise in their wake on your skin (and his).

“We never switched seats, by the way,” you pointed out, grabbing the highlighter he had been using previously from his hand in front of you. “Though, I’m a bit surprised they didn’t try anything this time.”

“Good,” Jungkook shortly answered, as usual, the two of you walking down the stairs of your lecture room together. “I’ll text you to meet up. I took a peek at the PDF, and we can easily separate the work between us two.”

“What is it about?” You asked, silently thanking him once he unconsciously opened the door for you, letting you through first. “All she said was to read over the article with our partner, but she never specified what we should do after or what the articles are about.”

“It’s just analyzing the articles she assigned specifically to every partner,” he replied. “I’m guessing she did it during class when she asked us to write our names on that paper, remember?”

“Oh, yeah,” you nodded, remembering how in your first class, your professor had suggested writing your name and placing the paper in front of you. You just assumed it was for attendance. “Continue.”

“Well, she assigned us an article, and she already sent it to me, so I’ll share it with you, and we have to do a presentation,” he continued, glancing down at his phone before he saw Taehyung not so far from him. You lightly groaned, and he nodded in agreement. “I know. But thankfully, we got an easy topic.” You sighed, and you watched his eyes look around the hallway, clearly looking for someone. He immediately set his eyes on someone in a nearby crowd. “Taehyung!”

Said man turned his head and smiled at coming to see his friend. Though his smile faded once he came to make eye contact with you. He let out a small screech and dashed towards Jungkook to grab his arm so he could shield him from you.

“Leave me alone!” He exclaimed, and Jungkook looked at him over his shoulder, not amused to be used as a protector, much less as a shield. “I know what you want to do to me. Back off, gremlin.”

“You pulled my hair last time, you jerk.” You moved to the side to head towards him, but he would just squeal and move Jungkook towards where you were heading. “Come here before I call your mom and cry to her.”

“That’s not fair,” he whined, furrowing his brows as he peaked over Jungkook’s shoulder. “You know she loves you.”

“What can I say?” You smiled. “It’s not my fault she’s been wanting a daughter. Now come here!”

“No.”

He dodged you, and he quickly hurried outside, where Minjee and Jimin were already waiting for you. Recognizing and knowing they were your friends, he ran towards them.

“Um, why is Taehyung heading here?” Minjee questioned, gulping once she saw the handsome man sprint behind them, his hands gripping their shoulders rather tightly. “Hello?”

“Your friend wants to kill me!” He whispered rather harshly, ducking his head so you wouldn’t see him. But you and Jungkook gave each other looks since you could see his figure over Minjee’s own considering the girl was short.

“What did you do?” Jimin asked, fully aware of your friendship with Taehyung.

“I pulled her hair last time we saw each other at my house,” he rushed out, and he flinched once he felt your hand gripping his hair. The others watched his rather tall figure being dragged away, and Jungkook just stayed still with his arms crossed over his chest, knowing that his friend deserved this. “Ow! I did not pull your hair that hard last time.”

“Yes, you did, you ass.” You squinted your eyes at him, making him look at you. You two stared at one another, conversing with your eyes, and it was hard for you to not laugh at the way his body was hunched. You let go of pity and crossed your arms, staring at him like a disappointed mother. “I’m still going to tell your mom.”

As you two then bickered like siblings and hit each other like ones, Minjee found the perfect opportunity to look at Jungkook for answers. “They know each other?”

“They’re childhood friends,” Jimin said once he saw Jungkook respond with a shrug. He didn’t like to talk. “I remember I had seen Taehyung in pictures with her mom and his mom, and I had asked her about it since I knew how his mom looked because of orientation.”

“I never expected them to be friends,” Minjee commented, giggles escaping her lips once she saw you and the boy swat each other’s arms back and forth.

Luckily for Taehyung, she and Jungkook intervened. Jungkook took him away from your grip while your best friend grabbed your hands away from him because you decided to fight him. Again. What college students you two were, acting like children, but it was his fault. He started it, and you fully blamed him. And, very college style, too, no one cared what you two were doing, so you continued to slap his arm despite being dragged away.

After dragging you and Taehyung away a second time—he went back to get his revenge and pull your hair—your groups sadly parted ways. Not before Taehyung admitted he’d get you a month's worth of free food if you didn’t snitch on him to his mother.

Eyeing Jungkook one more time over your shoulder, you smiled at his and Taehyung’s bickering and turned around to talk with your own best friends, who were holding onto your arms.

“That’s so crazy,” Minjee said after a moment of silence. You and Jimin glanced at her, giving her a look so she could continue with her sentence. She chuckled in disbelief. “You are friends with Taehyung.”

You snorted, shrugging sheepishly. “Our mothers were best friends. After my mom left, his mom helped my dad raise me, and she became like a second mother while he became a brother figure.”

“Why do you guys never talk on campus?” Minjee continued, curious about everything. You understood why. She became a close friend of yours and Jimin’s that school year, and she was getting to know you two more and more. Jimin only knew a bit after he came across picture after picture on the nightstands in your room after having moved in together. He didn’t question you as much, though.

“We do talk,” you answered. “But we have our friend group. We just prefer talking more in person with our families over dinner or just when I head to his house in general. The only time you’ll see us talk is if his mom wants him to give me something or if my dad wants me to give him something.”

“And here we were worried about you never talking to Jungkook when you could’ve just told Taehyung to talk about you to him.” Minjee rushed out rather excitedly, and you immediately shook your head, humming your disapproval.

“No,” you firmly said, as if you were determined to finish some type of mission. “Taehyung is my best friend, my brother, and it’s not fair for me to use him in a way that’s offensive towards him to get closer to his friend. After all, Jungkook should know me from me and not that butt face.”

If only that “butt-face” knew when to shut his mouth because, in the current moment, Taehyung was spewing so much shit about you to Jungkook that would have you strangling him.

“You just never told me about her,” Jungkook shrugged, and Taehyung snorted, hands buried in the front pockets of his hoodie.

“I figured she didn’t want to be associated with me,” he softly explained, as if he hadn’t revealed the fact that you used to stick your boogers on kids who liked you not even a second ago. “Y/n is, like, a sister, you know? I’m already embarrassing as it is—”

“I know.”

Taehyung ignored his comment and continued. “She’s the nicest person ever, though. She just didn’t grow up in a very nice home.”

“How so?” Jungkook asked, looking away from his friend’s face to show he wasn’t as interested as he was.

“Sorry, sister code.”

“I knew you were a girl.”

“She’s my sister, stupid!”

During the next few weeks of January, you spent your entire time finishing work with Jungkook until it was the month couples adored.

Now, despite the way your personality was, you never really enjoyed Valentine’s Day. Yes, it was nice when you would receive candy and chocolate from classmates after you had to when you were children, but now it just showcased the status of people. That was a reason, though. The other was that your parents argued more around this month, and it was hard. It led to their divorce, and much to your luck—sarcasm—after your parents tried to split their time with you, your mom was never great, hence why Taehyung’s mom came into the picture since she was your mom’s best friend and didn’t agree with her actions.

But you were happy this time. You got to befriend the guy you’ve had a crush on since orientation of the first year of college, so why wouldn’t you be happy? It may not be a big deal, but it was a big improvement on your part since you could never utter a single word to any of the guys you used to like, so being able to be friends with Jungkook made you happy.

“I brought you snacks!” You exclaimed once you reached him with a smile on your lips. You ignored the looks you received from other people and passed him a bento filled with food. “And good morning, Jungkook.”

“Good morning,” he muttered back, watching you sit down in your seat. Your hands quickly moved to take out your assignments and things you needed for class, and when you finished, you looked back at him with your hands neatly folded in front of you. He raised an eyebrow. “Hmm?”

“Try it,” you encouraged, gesturing towards the bento, and he sighed, opening the lid. “I made it with love.”

He looked up at you through his lashes at hearing you sing song the last word rather dramatically. He even noticed you had a little heart with your hands to emphasize it, and he could simply smile a bit, shaking his head at your antics.

“I’ll eat a bit, alright?” He mumbled out, grabbing the spoon you provided rather gently in between his ring-cladded fingers. He looked up to see you looking at him with a hopeful look and made sure to see if the professor was coming in. Seeing that she wasn’t, he ate the food you provided him and savored it.

“Well?” You bit your lower lip nervously while watching him eat. He slowly hummed, and you couldn’t even find any type of answer on his face that told you if he liked it or not.

He continued to eat with furrowed brows, and he still couldn’t give you a full answer. He was savoring it so much that he would immediately wave off any type of chocolate he would get from people coming to give it to him.

“Jungkook,” you whined, grabbing his forearm and lightly shaking him so he wouldn’t choke on his food. “How is it?”

You could hear the soft snickering he let out under his breath as he gulped down his food before turning to look at you. “It’s so fucking good. You need to make more.”

“God,” you playfully rolled your eyes at him and placed a hand over your chest by your heart, “just say you fell in love with me.”

He opened his mouth to say something once you turned away from him to cover the food, but he got cut off once your teacher came in, greeting everyone.

“Sorry for holding up the class. There was traffic.”

As she rambled on, you started writing in your notebook to calm down your heart, which was rapidly pumping. He loved your food.

“Hey,” you heard, turning your head and looking at Jungkook, who was glancing at his iPad. “Taehyung and I are going to eat at the café that you told me about. You wanna come with your friends, um, Mina, and, um, what’s his name?”

“Minjee and Jimin, Jungkook,” you corrected with humor laced in your voice. He always sees them after you two get out of class together, but that’s it; they all just look at one another and ignore each other.

“Yeah, them,” he sighed. “Anyway, do you want to come to the café?”

You nodded and smiled at his question. “Of course I will. My last class doesn’t end until 3:45, though.”

“It’s fine,” he shrugged, leaning back on his seat. He gave you a look. “Just text me. You have my number.”

You nodded with a happy hum and looked away from his gaze. But, you let his question settle in your head and hid your smile.

“You remembered I—”

“Bring it up, and I won’t take you.”

With a silent giggle, you continued to write your notes. Your hands felt clammy against your pencil, and you couldn’t process the fact that Jungkook had remembered that small moment. After all, you mentioned it once, two weeks ago or so, when you heard some girls talking about it from behind you two.

Getting out of class together, you two were stopped almost immediately by a girl handing Jungkook a letter nervously.

“Hi, Jungkook.” She placed a piece of hair behind her ear rather shyly, and you noticed her friends looking at her in the background. You stepped aside to not intervene, and although it did pain you to do so, you didn’t want to be a nuisance.

“What do you want?” He raised a brow, an annoyed expression crossing his face.

You winced at his tone and continued to watch, feeling bad for the poor girl who was shaking in her shoes. She gulped and cleared her throat.

“Um, I have been thinking of you,” the girl confessed, fidgeting with the paper as she continued her profession, “and I can’t—”

Jungkook immediately scoffed at the words spewing out of her mouth and looked away. “I don’t want it. Share it with someone else.”

“But—”

“Weren’t you one of the girls who was wondering what I was like in bed?” The girl’s face turned red in a flash, showcasing the embarrassment she felt at that moment since there were girls around her and the guy in front of her. “I don’t like girls who sexualize me.”

With one last scoff, Jungkook walked away. But he made sure you were still following behind him since he knew that the girls who liked him would blame you as quickly as they professed their love for him.

You sped away from the girl and the crowd, hearing the way she started to cry out of anger and embarrassment. You caught up to Jungkook and puffed your cheeks.

“Are you okay?” You softly asked, making sure to not overstep. He glanced down at you before eyeing your best friends and his friend together.

“I don’t want them to get the wrong idea,” he simply stated and continued walking towards your small group. You didn’t want to make him uncomfortable by questioning it even more, so you immediately smiled at seeing your friends.

You were the only one in the friend group who had one more class. It was about a 3-hour lecture, so as soon as you guys grabbed some food to eat, you were dropped off at your class by all 4.

“I’ll see you guys later!”

Your grin made three of your friends smile back, waving at you. Jungkook stood by and simply waved back before he and the others walked away.

“I miss her already,” Minjee sighed, pursing her lips. Jimin and Taehyung let out hums of agreement simultaneously, stating that they, of course, missed you as much. However, they heard a deeper tone and snapped their heads towards Jungkook, who wasn’t looking at them but rather seemed more interested in playing with his lip ring and eyeing the flowers of a nearby bush.

“Did you agree?”

“No.”

He did.

On the other hand, you weren’t having a good time.

A 3-hour lecture was not something you wanted right now because you were too excited to focus since you were going to be able to hang out with your friends. Especially Jungkook. Because of that reason, it was no surprise that you were the first person gone as soon as the teacher announced it was time to pack.

Jungkook was waiting for you at the front of the building your class was in. You noticed his stoic expression heightening when he would get approached or when he could hear people talking about him, so you took it as a sign to pull him away once someone approached him and wouldn’t leave him alone.

“Hi,” you smiled at the person before waving, your hand wrapping itself around Jungkook’s wrist. You then glanced at the person with the same sheepish smile. “Bye.”You led Jungkook away and once you made sure you were at a distance away from everyone, you looked at him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he breathed out before clearing his throat. “Come on. The others are waiting by the supermarket.”

“Let’s go!”

It wasn’t the first time walking together, of course, but it was the first time walking off campus. He kept glancing at you here and there—you were too busy talking to notice—and he debated whether he should thank you once you were done explaining to him how you had to find a partner in class.

It was nerve-wracking; to be surrounded by a bunch of people who were obsessed with wanting to be with you. Jungkook didn’t mind it, but once he felt the hands and remembered the face of someone he once knew in his life that negatively impacted his life, he couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by some people fighting to be with him. He stood up for himself as best as he could, but they just wouldn’t listen.

“Finally.”

He snapped out of his thoughts once he came to hear another voice, a familiar one, and even heard sounds of agreement coming from your friends.

“Sorry,” you winced. “We came as fast as we could. We can go now.”

“Be thankful it’s right around the corner,” Taehyung squinted his eyes playfully as he spoke, obviously just wanting to tease you. You rolled your eyes and smacked the back of his head once you passed by him to hang out with Minjee. The other three stayed behind to keep a close eye on you two, all while also talking to each other. Since Jungkook wasn’t a big talker and liked admiring instead, Taehyung and Jimin spoke the most and even added comments that allowed Jungkook to answer with a hum.

“Woah,” Minjee let out once you 5 arrived at the café.

It was already halfway packed and there were so many college students there that it started to make Jungkook anxious at the idea of someone hitting on him when he was with his friends. Thankfully, you and Taehyung noticed his change of demeanor and made him sit between you two.

“It looks so pretty,” Jimin said, his eyes looking around the place to eye the decorations that caught his attention. “Wait, I need to take pictures!”

You snorted under your breath and watched your friend immediately take out his phone, snapping away.

You made sure they all knew what to order first before you went back to the digital menu on your phone to see what you wanted.

“Jungkook,” you whispered since the others were talking with a waiter. Said man turned to look at you and he saw your brows furrowed in concentration. “Which one sounds good?”

You pointed your phone towards him, allowing him to see the options. He hummed and eyed the options meticulously before choosing.

“The first one.”

“Okay, okay.”

Once you all ordered, you were too distracted to notice that Jungkook had taken out his bento and continued to eat it, savoring each drop. He stayed quiet, like always, and the scenery in front of you was funny considering that this intimidating man wearing all black was in a place with rather bright colors. It was simply amusing.

“How was Y/n as a child?” Minjee asked, throwing a teasing smile your way once she saw that your smile had faded and a groan had escaped them instead.

“Do not tell them, Taehyung.”

He simply smirked and leaned closer. “She was an annoying crybaby.”

You scoffed at his words and leaned over Jungkook’s figure to smack his arm. “No, I wasn’t you ass.”

“Yes, you were!” He exclaimed back at you, smacking you back. He then turned to look back at your friends all while Minjee and Jimin listened with amusement and Jungkook continued eating—he was listening, though. “There was this one time she was chasing me and next thing you know, I heard crying, and my mom went to go check… she had merely tripped on a pair of shoes and fell.”

“I was bleeding from my nose?” You give him an incredulous that has hid him snickering. “He was laughing the entire time and his poor mom was wiping my nose. He got in trouble, though.”

“Yeah, and then you punched me in the nose,” Taehyung spoke in a loud tone, emphasizing every word. He rolled his eyes. “I’m never forgiving you for that one.”

“You punched him?” Jungkook side-glanced you and you cleared your throat, looking away from his gaze. You light shrugged.

“Maybe.”

You heard him snort and stared at him now. Jungkook had a small smirk on his face, shaking his head.

“It’s a good thing then,” he said, making eye contact with you. You hid your smile as best as you could and nodded.

“He deserves it once in a while,” you chuckled and he hummed in agreement with you as he chewed on his food. “Wait, you’re eating it?”

“I told you it’s good, did I not?” He arched his pierced brow at you and you gulped at how attractive he looked doing that. Nervously nodding, he looked away. “Just say you don’t listen to me.”

“I-” Shocked at his teasing tone, your eyes slightly widened. “Are you teasing me?”

“I don’t know, am I?” While swallowing his food, he spared you one more look before looking away again. “Close your mouth, you’ll catch flies.”

“Woah!” You and Jungkook eyed Taehyung who spoke, his eyes and the others on you two. “I’ve never heard you talk like that, Kook.”

“Because you’re annoying,” Jungkook rolled his eyes, pushing his face away from his since he was about to rest his head on his shoulder.

“I’m just surprised because this is the longest I’ve heard you talk,” Minjee commented with Jimin agreeing with her. Jungkook shrugged.

“I don’t feel like talking half of the time,” he simply explained, closing the bento once he finished with his food. He gave you your tupperware back, a small “thank you” escaping the lips he kept licking to savor any leftover sauce.

“Here are your drinks.” Your waiter arrived—thanks to Jungkook’s relief—to give you all the things you ordered, and you fidgeted in your seat once you had noticed a phone number on the sleeve of the cup that was given to you.

“Um, I think this phone number is for you,” you said, giving the cup to Minjee. She frowned and grabbed it from you before she rolled her eyes with a smile playing on her lips.

“Honey, that’s for you,” she chuckled. You pursed your lips and eyed it. You looked around for the waiter and your eyes met with his because he was currently looking at you.

“Uh, but what I don’t want to call him…?” You studied the paper and you heard Jungkook from beside you sigh.

“Here,” he grabbed the cup and stood up, ignoring the looks he received as he walked towards the boy behind the counter.

You could see him talking and the waiter peaked at you, his mouth moving to talk back to Jungkook. You saw Jungkook curtly nod before he walked away with a new sleeve on your cup and he propped it in front of you.

“He won’t bother you.”

Minjee, Jimin, and Taehyung gave each other looks while containing their giggles at the way he said those words to you.

“What’d you tell him?” You questioned and he shrugged.

“Just that you felt uncomfortable,” he replied, taking a sip of his smoothie.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Hiding your smile while taking a sip of your drink, your eyes met your friends who were wiggling their eyebrows at you. You subtly threw them the middle finger but you couldn’t help but feel that familiar tingling coursing through your body. Unknowingly, the new events would bring you and Jungkook closer.

Jungkook surprised you the next day.

Before class, you had texted him that you’ll be in class earlier so you’ll get him some treats, considering that he had told you he had been getting headaches during class because he doesn’t eat.

Taehyung had told you to get him some banana milk and you got him other snacks that you’d hope he’d enjoy.

Walking to class, you were stopped, though, by a girl and a guy, their smiles so fake you could spot it a mile away. You frowned, not knowing who they were, and smiled confusedly.

“Hi?” You questioned.

“You’re Jungkook’s friend, right?” The girl spoke first and you hummed, not giving them a clear answer. “Well, he changed his phone number and we wanted to contact him because we wanted to interview him.”

“Uhuh,” you mused, clearly not believing in their lies. You had crossed your arms over your chest, an amused expression on your face. “Sorry, I advise you to talk to him about it first because I don’t give his phone number out to anyone.”

“Yeah, but he won’t know it came from you,” the guy said next, staring at you up and down. You ignored the way he was giving you an attitude and you rolled your eyes.

“He’s my friend and that’s why I won’t give you his phone number,” you threw them a fake smile, too. “Now, if you allow me, I have class.”

They stepped in front of you, blocking your way. The girl spoke again. “You have class with him, right?”

“Why?”

“We can drop you off!” The girl enthusiastically exclaimed, clapping her hands as if what they were about to do was so amazing. You scoffed.

“Sorry?” You made sure you heard them right. And just as they grabbed your arms to drag you to your class, you kept your feet planted on the ground to keep you in place. “This is creepy to another level. Leave him alone.”

“What are you talking about?” The guy snickered. “We’re just going to drop off our friend.”

“You don’t even know my name,” you pointed out, crossing your arms and staring them down.

As they opened their mouths to speak, they shut them close as soon as a figure emerged from behind you, a glare set on his face.

“What the hell are you doing?” You sighed in relief at hearing Jungkook’s voice from behind you. You felt his fingers grab your forearm and place you right beside him. “I told you two to leave me alone and now you’re harassing my friend?”

The girl gulped at listening to his tone and waved her hand, dismissing his words. “We just wanted—”

“Wanted what, huh?” Jungkook got closer to her to stare her down even more. He leaned a bit closer to whisper to them both. “Do not put your hands on her ever again. If you want to ask me something, ask it to me face to face. Do not speak to her.”

At not hearing a single word or sound coming out of them, he angrily scoffed and turned to look at you. His eyes shifted to the way your brows were furrowed out of worry, gaze on the other two. He grabbed your hand and led you away, ignoring the whispers thrown your way, and took you to a reserved spot.

“Are you okay?” You immediately asked, noticing his figure shaking a bit. He nodded.

“I’m sorry about that,” he sighed, sitting down on a bench near your classroom. He placed his palms on his face, elbows propped on his thighs, and soft breaths leaving his mouth and nose. “Listen, if you don’t want to be my friend—”

“Jungkook shut up,” you smiled at him and sat on his side. “Just because a few people beg me to give them your phone number, it’s not going to make me stop being your friend. I wouldn’t be a real friend if I ran away.”

“Really?” He asked and you nodded.

“Don’t worry,” you reassured. “I’m just there you got there in time. Nice to know you’ll protect me against people like that.”

“Of course,” he mumbled, looking back at his lap. He played with his lip ring. “Thank you for what you said by the way. Thank you for having my back.”

“Of course, you’re my best friend,” you childishly grinned at him, passing him his snacks and drink. “Here ya go!”

“You texted Tae, I’m guessing,” he chuckled as he noticed the banana milk. You nodded. “Thank you.”

“And thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” he waved you off. “I’ll always be there for whatever you need.”

And he stood by his word.

A couple of days later, you were heading towards the place a peer of yours had told you to go to. You were a bit lost as you never discovered more of your college campus, but you tried your hardest to navigate around without looking too lost.

“Where are you going?”

You turned your head and smiled once you came to see Jungkook standing not so far from you, hands inside the pockets of his sweater.

“Do you know who,” you glanced at your phone, “Do-yun is?”

He immediately sighed, briefly closing his eyes in clear disappointment. “Are you going to meet up with a random stranger?”

You shook your head. “He’s my partner in one of my other classes. I was just telling you to see if you knew him.”

Of course, Jungkook knew him.

The guy was an asshole, and that’s saying something, considering Jungkook was the biggest asshole. But Do-yun was a cheater, and he loved playing around with people’s feelings. It didn’t matter what gender they were, as long as they had a heart and were extremely sensitive. You were a target now, considering that you were so chirpy, happy, and empathetic.

Jungkook immediately frowned.

“I’ll go with you,” he said, watching you hum and curtly nod with a smile on your face. You immediately grabbed onto his arm, dragging him towards where Do-yun was waiting for you.

You struggled a bit, but Jungkook guided you towards the place Do-yun requested you to go. At noticing the place, Jungkook was happy he saw you because where you were heading was a pretty quiet spot with no one around unless one came across it.

“Do-yun?” You called out once you reached your destination. Said man turned around at hearing his name being called and smiled.

“Hey-Oh…” His smile faded once he came to find the tall, stoic, tattooed man next to you, glares being thrown at him. He rapidly shook his head to wave off his shock and you eyed the way a smile started forming on his face again. “Hey, I was just expecting you and not,” he glanced at Jungkook, “anyone else.”

You smiled and patted Jungkook’s arm softly. “Jungkook is my friend, and he just wanted to come with me.”

“Hmm,” Do-yun hummed, a fake smile spreading on his lips because he and Jungkook did not get along. Jungkook did not take his shit, and Do-yun just wanted to punch that stupid face of his 24/7. “Anyway, are you okay with coming to my house to work on the project?”

“Why can’t we just meet up at the library?” You frowned, and Jungkook praised you in his head for being smart about the situation. Knowing the man in front of you, he knows he has other plans in mind. “I don’t feel safe going to someone’s house, especially someone I don’t know.”

“That’s reasonable,” Do-yun said, and Jungkook almost laughed at the way he tried to charm you. It was obvious what he was trying to do with you, and Jungkook hated it. He just wanted to punch the shit out of him for even daring to look at you with those nasty eyes of his. “We can just meet up in the library then.”

“Um, is it okay if Jungkook can join us?” You questioned, and though Jungkook might think you’re naive, you’re not. You can see the way Do-yun looked at you, and it was uncomfortable, so you hoped Jungkook would say “yes” to your request.

Upon noticing both of you had turned to look at him, Jungkook didn’t waste a second mentally agreeing to be there.

“Um, isn’t it supposed to be partners only?” Do-Yun questioned, glaring back at Jungkook once you looked away to look at your phone. “I don’t think we need another person there that isn’t in our class.”

“I’ll be there.”

You smiled at hearing Jungkook’s words and grinned at the guy in front of you, who immediately waved off the glare he was sending toward Jungkook. “Don’t worry. He won’t bother us. He’s just there so he can take me home.”

Do-Yun hummed and slowly nodded, still not up to having Jungkook ruin his plans. After all, you were so pretty, he had to get to you. Being Jimin’s best friend—he liked playing around with everyone—and Minjee’s—she just loved making friends—you were sought out, too. They were popular, and you were popular by association. You didn’t like it, as you liked your little group of friends, but it was a title that followed you. You didn’t need the popularity. But you were more popular now that you were associated with the guy everyone tries to go after and are even friends with his best friend—no one knows you and Taehyung are childhood friends—who was the most popular guy on campus because of his looks. Of course, he’d want you. To finally snag the girl everyone wants to befriend because of her friends? Yeah, you piqued his interest.

“I also don’t trust you,” Jungkook stated, continuing to burn holes into Do-yun’s head.

“You don’t trust me?” Do-yun scoffed.

“I don’t trust you.”

Jungkook made sure to empathize his words before he left with you, eyes not straying away from the guy now glaring back at him since your back was facing towards him.

“He’s such a creep,” you sighed as soon as Do-yun was out of earshot. “He tried pulling some moves on Minjee, too, so I know all about his dumb little game.”

“And that is?”

“And that is to get in my pants,” you answered, shivering out of cringe. You couldn’t ignore the way the blonde-haired guy tried pulling a move on you in class. That’s why you ended up as partners.

“You’re not as dumb as other people are,” Jungkook hummed and you snorted at his comment. With his hands in the pockets of his jacket and his hair swaying with the wind, you eyed the way he looked as he said that comment because one thing Jungkook is good at is insulting you and complimenting you at the same time.

“Well, you’re not an asshole like other people are.”

“Shut up, you think I am.”

You giggled at his comment and continued walking side by side, arm brushing against the leather material of his jacket.

After class was finished, Minjee came to pick you up so you two could go out and eat. It had been a while since you two hung out, just you two girls, so while Jimin was out making friends with Taehyung, you two went to the music store that she liked going to.

“He likes you.”

You snorted at Minjee’s comment as you eyed the objects in the store.

“He’s just being friendly,” you waved off, briefly smiling at some people who passed and you awkwardly made eye contact with him. “He rejects everyone who confesses to him. He’ll reject me and he’ll stop being friends with me.”

“Have you thought about the fact that he, I don’t know,” Minjee said, her voice dropping a bit while her hands held some albums, “maybe rejects them because he doesn’t know them? Random people are throwing themselves at him and he doesn’t know them at all.”

“That’s true,” you mumbled. “But, it doesn’t mean anything. We’re friends, best friends in my head. That might be how he is with Taehyung, too.”

Minjee thought about it and nodded. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” You two continued to walk around and you waved at the store owner, Yoongi, aka Minjee’s cousin, as soon as you came to see him looking at the door rather miserably. “Ah, he gets passed down my grandparents' store and he hates it. What a boob.”

“Shut up, Minjee, before I make your parents make you work.”

“I’ll gladly work here.”

You eyed their banter and walked away to let them be because much like how Minjee was with Jimin and Jimin was with her, they’ll bring you into their arguments and make you choose a side, which you don’t mind but it was hard to choose when they were both wrong.

You eyed some t-shirts here and there that fit Jungkook’s style, and snapped pictures to send to him. You even made sure to snap pictures of jewelry that screamed him.

Looking around once more while Minjee caught up with her cousin, you looked back at the pictures. However, something caught your eye in one of them once you sent it. There, in the background, Do-Yun stood with the two people he always hung out with, his back facing you. Thankfully he hadn’t noticed you and sighed in relief, but you felt like you jinxed it once you heard him calling your name.

Turning around, a smile that didn’t reach your eyes came to be, and you stayed in your place.

“Hi, Do-Yun,” you greeted.

“Hi, Y/n,” he grinned. He looked over his shoulders, hands sticking out. “Guys, this is Y/n, the girl I told you about.”

“Oh, the hot one,” a friend of his commented and you mentally groaned because, of course, it would be a moment like this. “You are hot, you know that?”

“Ah, yes, because I was seeking a compliment,” you sweetly stated, hoping that they would notice your attitude and take a hint. “Anyway, I’m heading out.”

“Wait.”

You felt a hand on your arm and you immediately pulled away. “Don’t touch me, Do-yun.”

“Damn, why are you so fucking angry?” He chuckled as if your attitude was the funniest thing ever. You rolled your eyes and ignored him. “Wow, are you riding Jeon’s dick this hard you can’t even talk to me?”

“Leave him out of this.” You gave him a look. “I’m simply telling you to leave me alone but that small ass brain of yours isn’t working, is it?” His friends chuckled at your words and Do-yun was not laughing anymore. “I was nice letting you be my partner, but seeing you now after school, I want nothing to do with you, so please look for another person.”

“Come on, Y/n,” Do-yun grabbed your wrist. You closed your eyes at his actions and looked around to make eye contact with Minjee. Luckily she had been looking around for you, too, and her eyes widened at your situation. “This attitude of yours can simply be fixed if you hang out with me.”

“Are you that desperate to sleep with someone?” You commented. “Like, are you? I’m telling you no and I’m showing you that I don’t want to be your partner anymore, and you still talk about wanting to take me out?”

The silence was deafening, but you thanked your best friend for immediately walking to you.

“Leave her alone, Do-Yun,” she sternly stated, her hand wrapping itself around his own. She took your hand away from his and pushed him away. “You’re so fucking annoying. Take a hint.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Jee,” Do-Yun sneered, getting closer. “Leave us the fuck alone.”

“No, no, no,” Minjee waved a finger in front of his face and you gulped down your chuckle. “You leave me the fuck alone and you leave her the fuck alone because your desperation is showing. You really can’t bag anyone if this is how far you have to go.”

“How about you shut the f—”

“Alright, buddy,” your heads snapped towards the voice and you all made eye contact with Yoongi’s glare, “get out of my damn store.”

“But—”

“No, don’t disrespect my family like that and expect to be welcome nicely here,” Yoongi raised his eyebrows as if to tell them to test him and he gestured towards the door. “Get out before I let Minjee get the pepper spray.”

Do-Yun exhaled loudly and walked away, clearly embarrassed at the situation he was in. He was more embarrassed that he was talking like that in front of his friends, but you and Minjee did not care. You were tired of his actions and you knew you shouldn’t have partnered with him.

Yoongi was paranoid about the situation and your guys’ safety, so he closed down the shop early to drop you two off at your apartment.

Saying goodbye and thanking him, you walked home, and your mouth couldn’t stop spewing curse words directed towards Do-yun.

“What an asshole,” you scoffed, opening your door with your key. “He tried putting his hands on me and said my “attitude” would be fixed if I hung out with him?” You opened your door and walked in, ignoring the voices in the background. “I mean, he’s such a piece of shit. I’m gonna punch him tomorrow, I’m not kidding. No, I’m going to do worse because how dare you touch me.”

“Y/n.”

“No,” you waved off, placing your bag on the table harshly. You placed your keys on the bowl nearby and took off your sweater. “Like, how entitled do you have to be?”

“What happened?” Jimin whispered. Minjee sighed, plopping next to him.

“Do-Yun,” Minjee made sure he knew who she was talking about before continuing, “was at the store we went to today, and he didn’t let Y/n go because he held her wrist.”

“What?”

You turned around and froze in your steps, because right across from Jimin was Taehyung and Jungkook who had gotten up at the revelation.

“What did he do?” Taehyung asked, eyebrows furrowing out of anger.

“That asshole was just annoying me,” you waved it off, though, you were seething. A second incident of someone grabbing you irritated you because of the nerve some people have. “I told him to find another partner because it’s not going to be me.”

“He grabbed you?” Taehyung asked, stepping forward to make sure you were okay. You nodded. “I’m going to kill him.”

“I’m just so angry,” you groaned, and Jungkook watched your actions because he had never seen this side of you. You were annoyed and irritated and furious all at once, and your hands were fidgeting with your fidget rings he never saw you play with.

“Don’t stress about it too much,” Jimin frowned, petting your head. “He’s not worth thinking about.”

“I’m more pissed he was talking back to Minjee,” you said, wrapping your arms around your friend. Minjee smiled and hugged you back, rubbing your back because she could feel your heart pounding against your chest from adrenaline.

“We’ll deal with it.”

You didn’t think they’d deal with it. Well, you did because both Jimin and Taehyung are fighters once their friends are harmed. You never doubted Jungkook, but you honestly didn’t expect him and the others to go by their own words. You don’t know why, but the three would do anything for you and Minjee, so if you two get harassed by an obvious asshole, they needed to step in.

The next day after the incident, Jungkook, Jimin, and Taehyung looked for Do-yun. Jimin followed him on Instagram and he immediately alerted them of where he was since Do-yun had taken a video and posted it on his story. So, the three of them sauntered off towards where Do-yun was, and they made sure to be away from any type of crowd.

“Hey, Do-yun!”

Said man looked over his shoulder and saw that the three were walking towards him, obviously pissed.

“What the hell is wrong with you harassing Minjee and Y/n, huh?” Taehyung asked. “Are you that much of a pussy you have to say shit to them?”

“Oh, what saviors you are,” Do-Yun rolled his eyes. He looked over his shoulder to make sure his friends were there, but his shoulders sagged once he saw that they had backed away. “Look, it’s not my fault that Y/n has to be saved or whatever and brought Minjee into it. If anything, it’s her fault.”

“Oh, yeah just blame Y/n and not your stupid ass self, huh?” Jimin laughed sarcastically, not liking the way this doofus in front of him was talking about his friends. He eyed, Jungkook, though once he saw that he was quiet and observing.

“Y/n was exaggerating my actions, dude,” Do-Yun rolled his eyes before setting themselves on Jungkook. “If she wasn’t dick-riding you so hard, she wouldn’t have made it a big deal.”

“I dare you to fucking talk about her again, asshole,” Jungkook said, a scoff escaping his lips.

“You're just jealous that I took a chance to talk to her about feelings,” Do-yun spat out. “Let’s not forget how you can’t have a single girl talk to you without you suddenly shaking.”

“At least he has girls talking to him,” Jimin commented, snorting at his comment. Do-yun glared at Jimin and he turned to look back at Jungkook.

“Just admit it, Jeon, if I wanted to, I could fuck her—”

Jungkook didn’t even let him finish his sentence before punching him across the face, making his bleed from his nose. Do-yun, though, didn’t want to look like a fool in front of his friends, so he struck back, though, his fist landed on Jungkook’s mouth instead. Hard but not too hard. Just hard enough that Jungkook started bleeding. It didn’t stop from there because Jungkook swung back at him sbd punched him hard in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

Watching him fall, Jungkook took a step back, wiping away some blood with the back of his inked hand.

“Stay away from her, you fucking idiot.”

Walking away, Jimin and Taehyung looked between the body on the floor groaning and then at their friend leaving. They laughed simultaneously at Do-yin’s face and followed behind Jungkook like children.

“oh, my god,” Jimin laughed. “His face was funny.”

“I hope you know that Y/n is going to be mad at you,” Taehyung smiled, snickering at the way Jungkook sighed.

“I know.”

And you were.

“So you decide to fight him?”

Jungkook winced at your scolding as you wiped away the wound on his lip. The others stood by and snickered at the scolding he was receiving and Minjee was secretly recording.

“Y/n—”

“No, Jungkook,” you glared at him, “you could’ve gotten hurt. No, not even that, if a staff member had seen you two, you would’ve gotten punished. What he did isn’t worth you fighting for and getting in trouble for.”

“He grabbed you!” Jungkook spoke in a louder tone than usual. “I told you I would be there if you need anything.”

Noticing that this was a moment you two needed, just you two, you made sure to give Minjee a look that had her pushing away your friends outside.

At the silence, your gaze softened as you eyed Jungkook.

“Look,” you started, eyes meeting his, “I appreciate you punching him, okay? I do.” He nodded. “I just don’t want you to regret doing that if you get in trouble.”

“I don’t regret it,” he reassured. “I promise.”

“But I’m still mad,” you pointed a finger at him. “I was supposed to punch him.”

Jungkook lowly chuckled at your words and eyed your concentrated face. “You can still do that tomorrow.”

You giggled. “Okay.”

And Jungkook, of course, didn’t think you’d try something, because when he found you the next day, you were scolding Do-yun.

“You better be thankful that Jungkook already hit you hard enough or else I would’ve broken your nose,” you sneered, shaking your head in disappointment.

“Yeah, what my friend said,” Minjee commented from beside you. Do-Yun was just silent, his friends holding in their laughs that these two girls were threatening him.

“Yeah, so come at me,” you got closer to him. However, a hand stopped you from doing so, and you looked over your shoulder to see that Jungkook was holding onto your backpack. “No, let go of me, I will jump him.”

You heard him sigh and he continued dragging you away while you continued to spew threats at Do-yun.

“You should be lucky Jungkook came here or else I would’ve knocked your ass out for hitting his pretty face!”

But Jungkook couldn’t do anything other than smile at himself.

“Idiot…”

It was midterm week and that meant so many students stressing. However, what Jungkook didn’t expect is you missing.

He was currently looking for you in class, his head snapping side to side to see if you would appear out of thin air but nothing.

He was feeling fidgety, and your presence alone comforts him every day since you always distract him by talking to him about your day or gossip you’ve heard about from others. And now here he was, alone, and he would glare at whoever would try to sit on your seat. That’s your seat. Even though you weren’t there next to him, he doesn’t want someone else to talk his ear off.

“Where is she?” He mumbled under his breath, frowning. His phone was in his hand, nervously playing with it as he waited for your response, but nothing happened. He looked at the time, and all he could do was write down the notes of the lesson because, knowing you, he’d know that you’d be very dramatic about knowing you missed a lesson.

It was a while later that Jimin texted him. He didn’t expect it, but he knew your best friend wouldn’t have texted him out of nowhere, considering that Jimin was scared of him. So, as he was packing his bag, he opened the message, his eyes running over the words.

Jaemin ( y/n friend ) : Y/n is sick. I just wanted to tell you so you can do her a favor in doing her notes, pls 🙏🏼

That’s why, Jungkook sighed and put away his phone.

He hummed and looked at the time, knowing that he had his last class in a bit, but he needed to make sure you were okay. Not that he cared, but he needed to make sure you were okay.

Walking towards where your apartment was, he softly knocked, holding onto his backpack strap. He still held his serious expression, and it didn’t change once Jimin opened the door with a shocked expression.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, his mouth slightly agape at eyeing the broad-shouldered, tattooed man. “Um, Y/n is sick.”

“Where is she?” Jungkook asked and Jimin moved aside to let him in. The latter simply hummed and went into their home, briefly looking around the place since it was a bit messy, and looked at Jimin with a raised eyebrow.

“She’s in her room,” Jimin replied, pointing towards the door that had your name in cursive. Jungkook nodded and headed towards it, but Jimin’s voice was heard again. “Just letting you know, she will most likely kick you out. She doesn’t like anyone caring for her.”

Jungkook hesitated, his hand hovering above your doorknob, but he just shrugged and walked in, met with a smell so nice and comforting.

He looked around and heard coughing from the bathroom. He made his way towards it and knocked, catching your attention.

“I’m okay, Jimin,” he heard you croak out before you went back to coughing. He rolled his eyes and knocked again, not wanting to let you know it was him because you’d most likely not open the door. “Oh, my God. I’m going, ‘m going.”

You opened the door, and there he was.

Jungkook eyed your face and the way your nose crinkled since it was stuffy. You were holding a wet towel with some droplets dripping out of it, and he ignored how shocked you were when he just gave you a look.

“You should be resting,” he stoically commented, taking away the towel from your hand. He dropped his backpack on the floor and took off his jacket, going into the bathroom to get rid of any excessive water left behind. “Jimin told me you didn’t like anyone caring for you.”

You softly groaned and leaned on the door frame, croaking out, “I’m just used to taking care of myself, so you can leave.”

“No,” the man simply stated, keeping his eyes on you through the mirror. “Either way, help would be nice to be considered considering your state right now.”

“I’m fine,” you sniffed, giving him a smile that would maybe convince him you were. But he saw the way you slightly swayed, holding onto the side of your head.

He sighed out of annoyance and walked towards you, grabbing onto your waist. You didn’t even process what he was doing and instead winced at the pain flashing in your head, almost as if the pain was traveling like thunderstorms.

“Fine my ass,” he retorted, leading you towards your bed. He felt your warmth even through the layers you had on, and he felt your forehead once you laid down. “You feel extremely warm. I’ll go make you some tea, okay?”

“No!” you whined, shaking your head. You held onto his hand. “Please stay. I’m very sleepy.”

He watched you silently. He placed the wet towel on your forehead and sighed, looking around your room with his hands on his hips. He looked at the slight mess and immediately sauntered towards the spare chair you had, grabbing it so he could place it by your side.

“I’ll stay, but once you wake up,” he pointed a finger at you threateningly, “you’re drinking it. Got it?”

You hummed and cuddled into your pillow. But you started to fidget and stuck out your hand.

“Give me.”

“Give you what?” He asked, brushing away some strands of hair landing on the towel. “Hmm?”

“Your hand,” you frowned. “It was very cold, and I feel like my entire body is burning, so it felt nice to hold your hand.”

Without a word, he gave you his hand and fingers dressed in rings, and he got comfortable once you placed his hand on your cheek, cuddling it. He softly groaned as he felt uncomfortable in the position he was in. So he glared at the bed and made you scoot over, his hand still placed on your face. You didn’t seem to mind his intrusion, scooting even more until you were close to your wall.

“Now, sleep,” he muttered, fixing the wet towel one more time before he heard you hum in satisfaction. His hand felt cold against your warm cheek, and he looked at the way your breathing slowed. Though he could tell you weren’t sleeping yet. “Why didn’t you let Jimin take care of you?”

Your eyes fluttered open, but you closed them again once you felt your headache pulse due to the light. You shrugged and sniffed, cheeks smushed against his hand bigger than your entire face.

“My parents were never home and always worked, whether I got sick or not,” you started, clearing your throat. “So, I just started taking care of myself without needing the help of anyone.”

“So you were neglected as a child?” He asked, unsure if he sounded too mean. He didn’t want to hurt your feelings.

“I mean, you could say that.” You smiled a bit. Though he could sense the lack of genuineness behind it, and then did he note that you do that a lot? Almost as if dismissing your pain. “I never minded it. After all, I was happy I had a roof over my head.”

He frowned at hearing that. “Were your parents ever there when you got awards or anything other than not being there?”

You slowly shook your head. “They were busy. Again, I knew they were, so I couldn’t complain. It’s why I stopped looking forward to ceremonies or birthdays.”

He stayed quiet, and you opened an eye to make sure he didn’t fall asleep. You saw him stare at the ceiling quietly, chewing on his bottom lip.

“I’m sorry…” He mumbled, and you softly chuckled.

“It’s okay,” you said, closing your eyes. “It just makes my friends' birthdays much more special and their achievements. You know I will always be in the crowd or be there next to you. I know what it feels like to not be seen, so it’s up to me to make sure others don’t feel that way.”

He looked down at you as soon as he heard a yawn escaping your lips. Your words were slightly slurred due to exhaustion, and before he could utter a word, soft snores escaped your mouth. He frowned, and he now thought about the times he had seen you.

The first day you two met, it was during class. You had bags with you, and he was annoyed, but he remembered you telling him it was your friend’s birthday and how, after class, you would be heading towards him to give them to him.

God, you were such an amazing friend. You even took care of him although he was cold towards you, but it was necessary. He couldn’t bear another situation like last time. He couldn’t. But he could see how genuine you were with him.

With one last look towards you, he just looks up at the ceiling, eyeing the glow-in-the-dark stars. And his heart clenched because he knew somewhere in you, your inner child was wounded by not having parents there for you.

After taking care of you the entire day, Jungkook stayed until the next day. Thankfully, he hadn’t gotten sick, and he simply told you (once you had asked how he couldn’t have), “I work out.”

He was relieved once you felt better and came to class, feeling less anxious that now half of the girls could see that they didn’t have a chance to sit next to him. He would’ve lost it if you hadn’t been there.

“The test is next week, so this entire week will be filled with an overview of the lessons.” Your professor spoke out loud, and you pursed your lips, eyes set on the notes you had taken. “Again, there are resources if you’re struggling. Come to my office hours or go to some clubs that will help you even more with this subject. If not, partner up with someone and—”

You and Jungkook immediately turned to look at one another, curtly nodding as unsaid words were told by the stare. He immediately wrote something on a piece of paper, and you even complimented his handwriting for now becoming neater after he started to take notes as neat as yours. The two of you ignored the stares you felt on you both.

“So, when—” You jumped back at feeling something on your forehead, your vision blocked by something white. You took it off and came to find a sticky note with “Jungkook’s partner. Back off” in all caps. You gave Jungkook a look before chuckling. “Okay, okay, I’ll put it back.”

He watched as you placed the sign back on your forehead, and he helped you pack up your things once he saw it was difficult for you to see. Thankfully, all the girls who had come up to him left as soon as they saw what you had on. It was pretty obvious that Jungkook had written it.

“Let’s go to the library,” Jungkook instructed, taking off the paper as soon as you two walked out. You hummed with a determined look on your face, turning to grab onto the backpack he was carrying so you two could snatch a decent seat. But he moved away from your hands. “You’re small, and you won’t be able to carry this, so let me carry it. I’m taller.”

You gave him a deadpan expression. “Jungkook, I can carry it.”

“I’m stronger.”

“And I don’t care!”

As you two bickered while continuing to walk towards the library, your best friends, Jimin, Taehyung, and Minjee, stood not so far from you two, obviously entertained.

“So,” Taehyung hummed, leaning against the wall, “how long do you think it’ll be until Jungkook notices Y/n likes him?”

“Never,” Minjee stated, shaking her head at their total obliviousness. “I think the question here is when is Jungkook going to notice that he likes Y/n?”

“Our friends are stupid.”

In the meantime, you and Jungkook thankfully found a table that no one was using, so while he stuck out the chair for you to sit on, you checked your phone.

“When are you free?” You questioned him, hearing him plop your backpack on the floor. You eyed him, and he stayed quiet, sitting next to you.

“I’m free every day,” he shrugged, sticking his hands inside his sweater. “Though, I do go to the gym, like, around 6-ish.”

“I’m going to make a calendar for us, so download the app I’m going to send you,” you instructed, and he pretended like he wasn’t listening, even though you knew full well who he was by the way he subtly took out his phone.

“Hey, Jungkook.”

“Fuck off,” he said before the guy on the side of him could continue speaking. The guy gave him a look of disbelief because he barely spoke. Why would Jungkook cut him off without hearing him?

“You didn’t even—”

“What then?”

The guy cleared his throat, his cheeks turning a dark pink that then traveled up to his ears, showing off his embarrassment.

“Do you want to be my part—”

“I already have one,” Jungkook cut him off again, gesturing your way without his eyes wavering from his phone. “I made it clear in class.”

“Sorry,” the guy squeaked out and when he left, you turned to slap Jungkook on the arm. He barely flinched and just gave you a look as if he was asking why you would do that.

“Stop being so mean,” you commented, a small scoff escaping your lips. He rolled his eyes and showed you his screen on the calendar app he downloaded, all while not caring about your words.

“They need to start taking hints.”

Understanding his reasoning, you dropped it, and you two continued to blend your schedules to meet up for your new project.

It didn’t take long—you wished it had—and he walked you towards your apartment to make sure you made it home safe. When you had teased him about it, all he said was: “Mention it and this will be the last time I’ll do this.”

You walked inside and smiled once you came to find Jimin, Taehyung, and Taehyung’s mom there, conversing.

“Mom!” You excitedly exclaimed, rushing towards your mother figure. You heard her laugh by your ear and her arms tightened around you. “I missed you!”

“Oh, honey, I missed you,” she smushed her cheek against yours and you smiled at her affection, relishing in the warmth. “I’m happy we made these plans beforehand because guess what I got you?”

“My strawberry milk?” You grinned and you felt her nod. “You’re a goddess!”

“I've been told before,” Taehyung’s mom giggled at your words and she watched as Taehyung took out your drink and passed it to you.

Sitting down, Jimin eyed you three. He knew your situation with your parents, and he was just happy you had people who cared about you. He didn’t expect to see Taehyung, the guy everyone was crushing on, in his house, with his mom, talking with him as if they’d known each other for so long, but everything was worth it once he saw your smile conversing with the older lady.

“So, how’s life been?”

Before you could answer, Taehyung opened his mouth, a smirk spreading on his face like usual. “Yeah, Y/n, tell Mom how you have a thing with Jungkook.”

Taehyung’s mom gasped. “Jeon Jungkook?” Her son nodded and she turned to look at you. “Spill everything.”

“We’re friends,” you groaned, hiding your face away from them.

“Yeah, who have intense feelings,” Taehyung continued and you glared at him, kicking his leg. He kicked yours back and Jimin chuckled.

“Let’s just say Y/n’s feelings may not be one-sided,” he stated and the older woman looked at him with wide eyes.

“Really?”

“He defended her and beat up someone for her,” Jimin named off, his hands sticking out to name events. “He was flirting with her when we went to the café and then went and told the waiter who had given her his phone number something to have him change the cup, and then he threatened some people to leave her alone and not to touch her.”

“Shut up,” you waved off.

“Y/n, he likes you!” Taehyung’s mom giggled excitedly, wanting to hear more. “I met him before so it’s nice to see you two getting along.”

“He’s such a nice person.”

You spent an hour or two talking with Taehyung’s mom, and she spent the night over so you two could privately talk more without Taehyung or Jimin intervening. She also stayed over once you had mentioned that you might throw Jimin a small party for his birthday coming up, stating that she’ll make some food before she leaves because she can’t handle leaving her kids by themselves without their stomachs full and without leftovers. You couldn’t even say no to that because you always liked eating whatever she made.

You threw Jimin a small get-together with your friend group 2 days later.

He was very happy about it and was extremely thankful to you for preparing it. He had heard you fixing everything before he woke up and you had brought him breakfast in bed at 9 am to surprise him. He was happy knowing that he had a friend like you, but he also knew he wasn’t a good friend for going out on your birthday. He always assumed you truly didn’t want anything, and now he notes your fallen expression.

“Smile!”

You were squatting here and there to get the right angles for Jimin’s pictures. He was laughing at your antics and he posed and smiled, holding on to the gifts you had given him. Taehyung stood in the background, shining a flashlight over you two to help with the photo shoot, and Minjee and Jungkook stood back and watched their friends.

Minjee smiled at you three and she saw you, your soft little smile once you saw how the pictures came out. Along with your expression, she noted your outfit and Jungkook’s own correlated in some way because you two

were wearing black shirts, blue jeans, and those damn Doc Martens you two wore. It was as if you planned but you two just looked at one another up and down confusedly and waved it off.

“She looks pretty, huh?” Minjee smirked behind the red cup she was drinking from, eyeing Jungkook’s expression from the corner of her eye.

He cleared his throat. “I mean, yeah…”

The two quieted down and the only thing loud enough was your guys’ laughter and the music playing in the background.

Minjee continued looking at you.

“You know,” she began, “she’s always so thoughtful.”

“She is,” Jungkook agreed, glancing down at his drink. He could see her cheeks flushed because the alcohol was getting to her, so he hoped she wouldn’t reveal anything too much.

“And she’s so nice,” her eyes started to water as she expressed her gratitude for you. Very funny she was doing so when it was Jimin’s party. “You know, she deserves so much and here she is at a party she prepared all while she’s never celebrated her birthday.”

Jungkook looked back at you and watched you take pictures of Jimin very excitedly. He was holding onto your big gifts, and a grin was spread on his lips, clearly excited about what he had received from you.

“Why doesn’t she?” Jungkook questioned, his eyebrows starting to furrow. He eyed your friend before he turned to look at your shaking figure, clearly out of excitement. “But… she looks—”

“Y/n pretends to hate her birthday or even say that she doesn’t care,” Minjee cut him off, a sigh escaping her lips. “Her parents are assholes, and they slowly forgot about her birthday so she assumed it wasn’t as important, and she has never celebrated it. I feel bad, though, because we’re not good friends for throwing her something but we thought she didn’t want us to intervene.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Jungkook muttered in almost a hush, continuing to look at you with such an intense expression.

“You like her,” Minjee simply stated. He immediately went to open his mouth, but she rolled her eyes and raised her hand, shutting him. “Dude, I’ve seen the way you look at her.”

“I don’t look at her in any type of way.”

“Whether you admit it or not,” Minjee rolled her eyes, “you like my best friend, and as much as I hate to admit it, I’m sure you’ll make her happy. I only hate to admit it because you’re very… kept off, and you sometimes say hurtful things. She’s like my sister, and I don’t want her hurt.”

“You know I’ll never hurt her.”

“You better not, please.”

He eyed the way Minjee looked at you with tears in her eyes, smiling at the way you smothered Jimin with hugs. And then he looked at you, and the way your smile was so bright that it lit up the entire room more than the fairy lights you had hung up.

How could something as big as your birthday not be celebrated? You just wanted to be celebrated without asking for it, yet you got let down repeatedly and stopped celebrating the day you were born.

He could see the way your smile didn’t reach your eyes, and then did he stop and focus on you. You were sad, but you were happy because it was your best friend’s birthday. And you got ready, and you were beautiful, but you got ready for a party that wasn’t yours and a party you wished someone threw for you.

He remembered when you got sick and the way you held yourself. You didn’t like being taken care of because you taught yourself to do so since your parents were busy. A beautiful soul like you who did everything for her friends and loved as her life depended on it, but, again, you were simply a girl with her inner child hurt.

He could sense your emotions now. And he wished you could see how loved you are. You had him, and he had you, so knowing your birthday, he got to work.

It wasn’t hard to get everything ready.

He got you everything you liked, and Taehyung, Jimin, Minjee, and Taehyung’s mom helped get everything ready.

He knew to bring in your friends, Hobi and Jin, who were older than you but were like older brothers. He was sure to get the cake from a guy named Namjoon and his grandmother, who worked at the bakery you liked going to, and he knew you liked going to it because a music store was next to it that someone by the name of Yoongi—he found out it was Minjee’s cousin when they argued as soon as they saw each other—took care of.

Through it all, he made sure you didn’t know a single thing about your birthday party. And it wasn’t hard because you were very nonchalant about the days getting closer to your birthday, almost as if you’d forgotten it, too.

“Kook!” You gasped as you looked at the café you loved going to. He noted the nickname but you have been hanging out with him and Taehyung much more recently and Taehyung called him that so he didn’t think much of it—yes he did. “Look! They remodeled it.”

He eyed the small, cozy place and nodded. “They changed the sign, right? Or was it the lights?”

“It’s both,” you said, and he sighed in relief that his plan worked at getting you distracted.

He already knew the café had been remodeled a bit. It was enough, though, to keep you distracted a bit until your friends and Tae’s mom were finished.

“I heard they also added some new drinks to the menu,” Jungkook commented, smiling to himself at the way your face lit up at the mention of new drinks. He eyed the way you walked inside and grabbed his phone.

jungkook 😘: almost done?

tae: we’re ready! >:)

Jungkook walked towards you, and he saw you taking pictures of the new menu. Not letting out a word, he dragged you away so that it had you whining out of protest.

“Jungkook, I wanted to get one,” you dragged out. When he didn’t budge, you let out a huff and crossed your arms, well, you tried crossing your arms. “It’s my birthday, so I demand that you let me go so I can get myself one.”

“We’ll invite our friends. Come on.”

At the suggestion, you nodded happily and hummed, letting him drag you away to, you’re guessing, your house.

“Hold on.”

You nodded and stood behind him with your hands clasped together as if your house wasn’t yours and it was his instead. You frowned with a confused smile tilted on your lips.

“Jungkook, we can go inside.”

jungkook 😘: here

tae: we’re ready!

Jungkook moved aside.

“You’re right, sorry,” he stoically stated, and you eyed him. “What?”

“Why are you acting weird?” You questioned him, looking at him over your shoulder now that you had opened the door.

He looked over your head and smiled. Curious, you did so, too, and gasped at the sight.

Taehyung stood in between Minjee and Jimin with his mom on the side recording. He was holding a cake with your name on it. Candles lit up the house, which was mostly lit up by fairy lights forming hearts on the walls.

“Happy birthday, gremlin,” Taehyung grinned, his eyes tearing up at the way your own eyes were.

You stayed still, frozen in your spot, and your eyes were watering at the scenery. “Is that for me?”

“Duh, dummy,” Minjee sniffed, her chin resting on her clasped hands.

“Come on, blow your candles.”

With a nudge, you walked towards your family.

Your chest hurts, and soft, short pants escaped your mouth because you were close to sobbing. Your fingers shook, and you remembered the way your parents, together, celebrated you. When their issues began and more arguments became normal in your household, you did not remind them of your birthday so as not to be a burden.

Remembering it all, you eyed the people in front of you. They loved you so much, and they made you happy because this was all you wanted. And it healed something inside of you.

You remember being a child. You remembered sitting at the table, staring between your parents in the early morning, having hope they remembered. But they never said anything.

The more years went by, the more you realized you weren’t as important in their lives as you were. So while learning to take care of yourself when you were sick, eating alone, celebrating your achievements, and being alone during senior graduation, you gave up on thinking your parents would be there. Taehyung and his mom were there, but they celebrated together, and you just wanted your parents.

“You have us now.” You turned your head to the side and saw Jungkook staring at you, his eyes showing everything. He grabbed your hand tightly against his and sighed as the others started to sing. “You’ll never be alone during moments like these, okay? I know you were alone and you went through stuff, but we’ll always show up for you.”

You felt his fingers wipe away the tears escaping your waterline and smiled at him. “Thank you.”

He smiled back, and you could see the way he blinked away his tears. He felt empathy because here you were, letting your inner child be happy and healed.

“Happy birthday.”

At the end of the night, everyone was hammered, and who knew that Jungkook would get along with Jin and Hobi? Because in the current moment, he had to get rid of their arms around him holding him tight.

“Oh, my God,” Jungkook groaned. “Let go of me, old man.”

“Excuse me?” Jin gasped rather dramatically. “How dare you?”

“Let go of me and I’ll give you a better name,” Jungkook rolled his eyes, making sure you were nowhere in sight so he could continue pushing Jin away from him. “I’m gonna punch you.”

“And I’ll slap you, so I dare you.”

Jungkook groaned one last time before he succeeded in getting out of Jin’s hold. He watched him stumble a bit in his steps and noticed Minjee and Hobi on the floor, drunkenly speaking to one another about nonsense.

He ran a hand through his hair, hands landing to rest on his hips, and looked around for you. Taehyung’s mom had gone home, Taehyung was sprawled out on the couch watching the TV, and Jimin was next to him, sleeping. For people who claimed to handle their alcohol very well, they sure got drunk very quickly.

Noticing that the front door was unlocked, Jungkook made sure your friends weren’t doing anything stupid before walking out. There, he saw you on the stairs of your front porch, a piece of cake on a plastic plate, and your strawberry milk on your side.

“Hey.”

You turned your head and smiled at coming to see Jungkook there. He sat down next to you as you greeted him. “Hi.”

“What are you doing here by yourself, hmm?” He asked, nudging his shoulder with yours. You quietly chuckled and shrugged.

“Nothing, I’m just very happy about today so I wanted to come out here to reflect, I guess,” you answered. He nodded along and you looked at his side profile before clearing your throat. “Thank you for this.”

“I didn’t do anything,” he dismissed, but you had noticed the signs.

“Uhuh, so distracting me wasn’t part of the plan, or what?” You raised a brow and he didn’t look at you because he knew you knew. “After all, Taehyung told me.”

“He has such a big mouth,” Jungkook sighed, dropping his head. He turned to look at your very amused face and rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

“I just didn’t expect you to be a softy,” you teased, a grin on your lips. He snorted and pushed you away as soft as he could. “Again, thank you, though.”

“It’s nothing,” he whispered back. He looked down at yours and his shoes with a sullen expression. “Um, Minjee told me something on Jimin’s birthday.”

“Ah, when she gets tipsy she tends to reveal—not secrets but just private things, which explains why we’re always so cautious with her,” you explained. “Why? What did she tell you?”

“She was telling me about how you never celebrated your birthday, parents were assholes,” he replied and he saw you freezing in your spot. You shook your head and he heard you laughing a bit.

“That girl,” you commented. “She’s lucky I love her and know that she didn’t mean any harm.” You placed your plate on the floor and rubbed your thighs with your palms. “It’s true. Like I told you when I got sick, I never celebrated my birthday. During that time, my dad had found out about my mom having an affair, so to burden them… I just never said anything about my birthday or brought it up. It was better for me to stay quiet and mind my own business.”

“Where are your parents now?” Jungkook asked, leaning back on his hands.

“My mom, I have no idea,” you shrugged. “She didn’t want anything to do with me after their divorce so she gave full custody to my dad and left.” Jungkook could see that you weren’t entirely phased by it. “As for my dad… He tried his hardest taking care of me and he didn’t do it alone. Taehyung’s mom taught me things I needed to be taught by a mother figure, and my dad didn't worry. He helps me pay for school but other than that, we only message one another during holidays.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” You chuckled and you reassuringly smiled at him. You looked at his shoulder and back at his eyes, asking for permission, and he nodded. Leaning your head on his shoulder, you sighed. “It’s kind of bad when you think about the fact that my entire life, the one thing I’ve ever wanted was a birthday.”

“It’s not bad,” Jungkook explained, tongue running itself over his lips to soothe the dryness that came to slap him on the face. “You just had a rough childhood and though you may have had a roof over your head, it’s not bad to want things.”

You smiled at his words and waved off the tears welling up in your eyes. “What about you? You never talk about your parents, either.”

“Eh, I get too angry talking about my dad,” Jungkook shook his head at even imagining his father. “How do I say it? He’s an asshole.”

“Really?”

“Yep,” he nodded in confirmation. “He’s the type of person that doesn’t like it when men cry. Toxic masculinity, if you will. He slapped me once when I did so and my mom left him. But, I'm not too entirely phased since I have a stepdad who is more like a father.”

“That’s very good you have a support system,” you smiled at him and he chuckled at your actions. “Is that why it’s hard for you to open up to people?”

He hummed at your question. “It’s partly a reason.” He debated whether he should tell you the real reason for his actions, but being next to you, warmth radiating off of your body to his own, and watching the stars littered on the sky, he didn't want you to leave. Call him selfish but he wanted you in his life. “He just-After an event happened, he blamed it on me so, I thought it was my fault for everything that had happened and I just closed off, I guess.”

“I’ll fight your dad,” you grumbled out. He could feel your fingers subconsciously playing with his fidget rings, hearing the swishing sound of the ring being played with. The background music that Taehyung had suggested you guys play was still playing in the background. Your heart couldn’t help but skip a beat at the moment you two were sharing. “All I know is that you just needed your dad and I'm sorry you had to go through that. No one deserves it.”

He gave you a ghost of a smile on his lips and gulped down his feelings. “Thank you.” He looked off, a sense of relief overcoming his body at being able to share his emotions. Well, some of them. “Just for never judging me and for being understanding.”

“Of course,” you smiled. “You’ve been there for me, so just see me repaying you.”

“Hmm, how about you repay me tomorrow by making me that one dish you sent me?” You looked up at his face and he had raised a brow at you. “Taehyung and I were talking about it and we started craving it.”

You snorted. “I’ll make it. Especially since Taehyung will be having a major headache tomorrow.”

“We told him not to drink,” Jungkook recounted, remembering that Taehyung had told two friends he was a “beast” at handling his alcohol. You two just couldn’t wait to make fun of him. “He’s an idiot.”

“Sadly, he’s our friend,” you chuckled, shaking your head at how you could hear him talking now that he woke up. “Bet you $20 he’s going to cry once he pukes.”

“Deal.”

“Honey,” you two turned to look at the source of the voice and you came to find Hobi hiccuping. He pointed to the back with his thumb. “Your friend is crying in the bathroom because he threw up.”

“Ha!” You giggled rather enthusiastically. “You owe me $20, Kook.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll give it to you tomorrow,” Jungkook playfully rolled his eyes, following behind you to head toward the bathroom. There, Taehyung sat by the toilet, sobbing, as if he had just received the worst news in the world.

“Aw, Tae,” you pouted, leaning down to sit next to him. Jungkook flushed the toilet immediately sprayed some of the perfume you had nearby, and made sure that Hobi was okay. “What’s wrong?”

“I threw up,” he sobbed. “I want my mom.”

As soon as those words escaped Tae’s mouth, Jungkook snickered. “I am so totally recording this and blackmailing him with it.”

At seeing his newfound humor, you grinned to yourself while consoling Taehyung at the same time, placing a headband on his head to push away his hair from his face.

You and Jungkook took care of him, making sure to get rid of his jewelry and his oversized sweater. You also cleaned his face, too, since Taehyung had always been a big skincare person. He would immediately come at you if he knew you didn’t at least help him clean his face. After all, he bought you a majority of your skincare just for situations like these.

“What if I smack him?” Jungkook harshly whispered to you from across the room. Since Taehyung had been knocked out after you cleaned his face, you two did not want to wake him up.

“You will take care of him,” you whispered back just as harshly, slapping his hand away from Taehyung’s face. “Leave him alone. It was hard getting him to stay still while taking off his sweater, I don’t want to deal with him.”

“At least we’ve got one drunk to sleep.”

“Yeah, at least.”

You two didn't even make it out of the room without halting in your steps because right in front of you, all of your friends were knocked out. You two sighed.

“I’ll get the blankets.”

“I’ll get the pillows.”

It seemed as if you and Jungkook had gotten closer after that night.

You weren’t able to see each other the following day because he was so busy taking care of Taehyung and you were too busy taking care of your friends who swore alcohol off.

y/n :) : guess what

kook 🩷: what?

y/n :) : I just baked the best brownies ever

kook 🩷 : im omw to steal u away

You snorted at his message and gave some brownies to Jimin and Hobi who, after talking at your party, became closer and started to talk. It had only been 3 days after your party, but it seemed as if they had known one another for years. Not only that but you had been introduced to Jim’s best friend, Namjoon, who you have met since his store was next to Yoongi’s.

“And then our dear friend over here is so head over heels for Jungkook,” Jimin smirked at you, he and Hobi finding amusement in you smiling down at your phone.

“Shut up, you two,” you dismissed your friend’s comment, placing the small plate in their hands. “I’ll probably make some banana bread later.”

“What did Jungkook say that’s got you smiling like that?” Hobi asked, taking a bite of the brownie as his gaze set on you. You knew they weren’t going to drop the subject, so you stood by your counter and leaned against it.

“I just told him I baked some brownies and he said he was on his way to steal me away,” you replied, shrugging it off as no big deal. But, they looked over at one another as if they were able to see you were internally freaking out, and you were.

“I mean, he and Tsehyung do not live far away so I won’t be surprised if he shows up in like 3 minutes,” Jimin said, glancing at his phone to eye the time. “I’m just wondering when you’re going to tell him you like him.”

“Oh, God, probably never,” you shivered out because just thinking about telling him your feelings made you want to throw up. “He and I are at a good place right now and it’s nice.”

“Does he know he likes you, too?” Hobi continued to question, clearly interested in your love life.

“I honestly do not think he likes me,” you said as you eyed your brownies as if they were the most interesting things in the world. “He finally opened up to me, guys. He has trusted me and even if I don’t get to confess my feelings for him, I don’t care. Being his friend is the best thing ever.”

Both your friends eyed your expression and the way your eyes twinkled underneath the light of the kitchen you stood under, and they could feel the respect you had for Jungkook. And who knew life would be like this? Because months had passed since you and Jungkook got paired up and now here you were, being one of his best friends if anything.

Before they could utter a word after the moment of silence that consumed you three, a knock was heard on the front door. It didn’t take long, though, for Jungkook to come inside, eyes looking around the room for you.

“You need to keep the door closed,” he commented before he could even greet any of you. “What if something happens? Jimin is too much of a deep sleeper to notice.”

“Kook, I’m pretty sure someone won’t break into our house mid-day when they both know how to fight and me of course,” you mused.

Your eyes then trailed toward his outfit and noted that he had a casual look today compared to the outfits he usually wore, which usually consisted of all-black clothing. Now, here he was, looking all comfy. He was wearing an oversized shirt you had bought him after you went back to the music store with Minjee and he was wearing baggy jeans. He was also wearing some Convers, but he looked so comfortable yet intimidating and you just wanted to hug him.

“Still, I can be worried about you,” he shook his head rather disappointingly. “You better be taking care of her, Park.”

“I am, I am, geez,” Jimin said, his hands going up. Jungkook rolled his eyes at his actions and walked closer to you. “Also, Jeon, love the new look.”

“I don’t always wear skinny jeans, Jimin,” Jungkook retorted, a small smile forming on his face once your hand hovered to give him a piece. He bit into it and his brows furrowed. “That’s good.”

“I started to think you wore skinny jeans to sleep,” Jimin continued to tease, receiving a contagious laugh from Hobi. “I dig this look. Don’t you do, too, Y/n?”

You froze in place and gulped down the dryness forming in your throat. You slowly looked up and you wanted to slap the smirks off of Jimin and Hobi’s faces because they did this on purpose. Jungkook looked down at you while continuing to eat the dessert and tentatively waited.

“I like it,” you commented after a half-second silence. “But, I just like your tattoos so I’m a bit sad I won’t be able to see those.”

Jungkook nodded along and all he could do was take off his sweater. There, underneath it, was a tight-fitted shirt that showcased every muscle he had. His inked arm flexed and suddenly, the room became warm once you could see the veins running up and down his forearm to his hands. You gulped and looked away.

“Also,” Jungkook started. “I’m taking your friend,” he then grabbed a mitten, “and the brownies, so bye. Don’t wait for us.”

Thankfully, he gave you some time to put on your slippers, but he then grabbed your arm and dragged you off.

When you found out he and Taehyung didn’t live that far from your house, you had let him know you’d walk by yourself there. Jungkook did not like that idea.

Getting to know each other a bit more, he has gotten a bit more… protective of you, some may say. He made sure that every window in your apartment was safe and didn’t open very easily, he gave you a little knife just in case, pepper spray, and he doesn’t let you get home unless you’re walking next to him. You didn’t mind it, of course. You loved spending time with him.

“We look dumb just carrying a tray of brownies,” you chuckled, quickly taking out your phone to snap pictures of the situation. “Also, are you simply taking me because you want me to do that dish I told you about?”

“Um, maybe?” He lightly laughed sheepishly. “Look, we’ll pass by the supermarket and I’ll buy you whatever you need. How does that sound?”

You hummed and smiled. “That sounds like a pretty good deal.”

“Good, let’s go.”

Walking towards the supermarket, a security guard looked at you two weirdly before glaring at the tray of brownies as if it were a target.

“Sorry, you can’t come in with that.”

You two figured this would happen so you turned to look at one another.

“Just head to my house,” Jungkook instructed. “It's the only one with a mailbox that is colorful because Taehyung wanted it to be so.”

You nodded. “Sounds like Taehyung alright. But, I’ll wait for you there, okay? Be safe.”

“You, too. Call me if anything happens.”

You nodded at his request but you couldn’t help but find his worry cute. His apartment was literally around the corner and you spotted the mailbox he had been talking about.

Walking there with a tray in your hand, your footsteps slowed down once you noticed a figure standing by, looking around. You frowned but ignored her as hard as you could considering she looked lost.

“Hi, Y/n,” you jumped at hearing the voice and turned to look at the girl who spoke to you. Your gut immediately alerted you something was off, but you let her continue so she could say something other than a greeting and your name. “I’m Jia.”

“Um, I’m sorry do I know you?” You asked, fidgeting around.

“Oh!” She smiled. “I just wanted to know if Jungkook lives here.” You didn’t say anything and simply stared at her. “Oh, didn’t he tell you? I’m his girlfriend!”

“Oh,” you could feel your chest hurting at the revelation and cleared your throat. “I’m sorry. We can wait for him but I just still don’t feel comfortable disclosing any type of information of his to people I don’t know.”

“Aw, I wanted to surprise him,” the girl dramatically pouted, crossing her arms.

You nervously chuckled. “Maybe I should go.”

You turned around to leave and you heard the girl scurry over to prevent you from walking any further.

“No, no, it’s okay,” she continued to smile, though, you swore her eye twitched just by being close to you. “Please, whoever Jungkook is friends with is a friend of mine.”

“Yeah, it was nice to meet you, again,” you nervously began, trying to move away from her. But, she simply would follow your move. “Look, I just want to leave.”

“No, it’s okay,” the girl waved you off. “Tell me all about how you know Jungkook. Though, don’t tell me too much, or else I will go crazy.”

She later laughed as if it was the funniest thing and you laughed uncomfortably.

“Maybe he’ll explain it to you,” you continued to repeat, but it was as if your words went from one ear to another. “I just find it weird he didn’t tell you where he lived if you’re his girlfriend…”

“Oh, don’t worry about it, okay?”

“I will worry about it considering he’s someone I know,” you replied, slightly glaring at her. She walked closer to you but she stayed in her place once she felt someone.

“Leave her the fuck alone, Jia.”

You immediately felt comfort at hearing the voice and Jungkook placed you behind him, shielding you away from the girl's gaze.

“Jungkook, my love, I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Jia gasped, reaching forward to touch him. But, he pushed her aside.

“How did you find me?”

“I was scrolling on my social media and I recognized this guy,” she took out her phone as she spoke, “and I saw that you were in the background.”

Jungkook looked closer at the pic and noted that Jin had posted on his public account a picture of you and he noticed that there was a picture of him in the background talking with you. She must’ve found you first and later tracked him down.

“Leave me alone.”

“No, Jungkook,” Jis continued to cry out. “Please, I love you.”

“I helped you get your books off the floor and I just told you you’re welcome,” Jungkook hissed, body shaking with nerves and anxiety. You grabbed his hand and gripped it tight, allowing him to take a hint you were there. “You’re fucking delusional.”

“No, no, Jungkook,” the girl nervously giggled, getting closer to him. “You can’t leave me.”

Jungkook was close to exploding. But he saw that you stepped in and protected him from the girl in front of you two, staring at you with a crazed look.

“Jungkook told you to leave him, so leave him alone,” you clarified, hoping to prove your point. “I-I will call the police so please leave.” You turned around and grabbed Jungkook. “Let’s go.”

You grabbed his hand and walked the opposite way of his apartment so Jia wouldn’t see which apartment he lived in.

“Let’s go to your apartment. I’ll let Taehyung know.”

You heard the shaky pants he was letting out in between words and his hands shook as he carried the bag that contained the things you needed for the food you were going to make.

“Here, I’ll make you some tea, okay?” You frowned, walking inside your house as soon as you reached it. He nodded and you curtly waved at Jimin and Hobi who were still there. They became concerned noticing Jungkook’s current state, but you placed a hand in front of you to let them know not to question anything. “jimin can you put water for tea?”

He nodded without hesitation and stood up to do so. You led Jungkook towards your room, fixing the pillows and fluffing it up so he could sit down. But as soon as the door closed behind you, he fell to the floor, chest rising up and down.

“Jungkook,” you gasped, following after him but keeping your distance so as to not overwhelm him. “You’re okay. You’re okay. She’s gone now.”

Jungkook tightened his hand and formed it into a fist. “How did she even approach you? How did she find you here?”

The last question he asked seemed like it was directed more toward him, so you answered the first one.

“She called me by my name so I just looked at her thinking she was someone I knew,” you answered. “Then, she wanted to know where you lived but I told her I didn’t feel comfortable just sharing your LG Ouse with anyone, so she said she was your girlfriend.”

Jungkook looked like he wanted to throw up just at the mention of that. He continued to shake and you stuck out your hands so he wouldn’t dig his nails into his skin.

“Did you believe her?” Jungkook questioned, glancing at you through his lashes. You rapidly shook your head.

“No,” you said, rubbing your thumb on the space between his thumb and forefinger. “Something about her… I felt something was off once I saw her just looking around.”

“She’s the reason I'm closed off,” Jungkook mumbled, fixing his posture. He leaned back to rest his back on the wall, glancing at his hands. “She started stalking me during high school.”

“What?” You breathed out, backing up a bit as you processed the news.

You noted his response to other people’s actions and the way he was always so alert. Every time he would walk with you, he would usually look over his shoulder every few minutes. You had assumed it might’ve been because of the fact lousy people would be behind you the majority of the time.

“I thought I got rid of her, I did,” he sighed, running a hand over his face. “That’s why I came here because it was far away from home but, it’s not a coincidence she randomly found Jin’s account unless she was looking for universities and student accounts.”

“But Jin isn’t a student here,” you pointed out. “Though he is a mentor here and well-known… and has been in newspapers for his achievements, but still, it’s just extremely creepy.”

“Well, that’s how Jia is,” Jungkook gulped down his feelings. He breathed in and out to calm down and you made sure he knew he was safe. “I just… need to calm down before I tell you, okay?”

“That's okay,” you reassured him, softly patting his head. “I’ll go make you your tea, okay? Be right back.”

You stood up to leave but a hand enclosing around your wrist stopped you from walking any further. You looked down and Jungkook wasn’t staring at you, his gaze on his legs, but his grip on your hand was so soft.

“Don’t go please,” he muttered under his breath. “Just be here with me for a bit longer.”

You couldn’t help but feel your heart clench at the way he looked so defeated. You sat next to him and you two just stayed seated by one another.

“Are you going to be okay, Kook?” You asked, frowning at the idea of the girl coming back. He sighed and shrugged.

“I just need you right now,” he said in a quiet tone. He briefly looked up to look at the stars littered on your ceiling. “*I simply helped her pick up her books off the floor after I got out of school. She tripped in front of my friends and me and they ignored her, but I felt bad so I stepped in to help her. That’s all I did. I just gave her the books!”

He couldn’t help but freak out more as he recounted the events that led to moving away. “Then she started sending me stuff. Starting sending me more clothes, money, and letters, and it became so overwhelming.” He sighed yet again, just like he had been doing. “When my parents found out, my mom called the police, and my dad blamed me.”

“What?” You were close to exclaiming. You had stared at him with wide eyes and an agape mouth. “Why?”

“He thought I led her on but I just gave her the damn books,” he repeated, shaking his head, and trying to dismiss those memories. “My mom divorced him after he slapped me. I had stood up to him and here he was hitting me all because I said I didn’t lead her on. He wanted me to apologize.”

“Did you?” You asked, almost afraid of his answer.

“Fuck no,” he grumbled out. “I didn’t do anything. Whenever I would start talking to girls, they’d randomly break it off. I asked a girl once why and she said a woman threatened her. Shortly after, Jia tried breaking into my house when we were all gone. I noticed because I had installed a camera in my room and I saw her. She kept repeating that she just wanted to check up on her boyfriend.”

“Did the police believe you?” You continued to ask, making sure you weren’t coming off too strong.

“Thankfully, they did,” he said. He then looked at you. “They got a restraining order but a temporary one. It was enough for me to live a bit peacefully. Knowing her, though, it wouldn’t have lasted long.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” you frowned. You couldn’t even imagine being in his shoes. For your last year of high school, the Worst thing that had happened to you was not having classes with your friends. You couldn’t even imagine having a stalker, someone who watched your every move rather obsessively.

“After all those years, you know,” Jungkook began again, a shaky breath escaping his lips, “I looked over my shoulder. I always imagined she was there and I always saw her face in every girl's face whenever they came up to me. That’s why I was always… mean to them all. I couldn’t bear dealing with another situation like I dealt with Jia.”

“Yeah, I always wondered why you did such a thing,” you said, glancing between his eyes and his clammy hands, “but now I understand.”

“Thank you, though. You noticed it. You felt that something was wrong and thank you for that.”

You let out a small chuckle and waved him off. “It’s okay, Jungkook. You know I’d do anything to protect you as much as you protect me. You have us.”

You immediately panicked once you saw his eyes glistening with tears. He dropped his head against the wall, gulping down the lump in his throat.

“You have made me feel so safe,” Jungkook croaked out, licking his lips. “From the beginning. You have stood up for me when I couldn’t defend myself, defended me because you wanted to, and you were just there. I hope you know how much of a safe space you’ve been to me and I hope you understand the reason why I was always so quiet.”

He wiped away his tears with the back of his hand and you felt your own eyes stinging with tears at watching him cry for the first time.

“I’m going to hug the shit out of you if that’s okay,” you sniffed and he looked at you while wiping away the tears dropping. He nodded and you took that as your sign.

You tightly hugged him around his shoulders, bringing him closer to you. His arms wrapped back around your torso just as tight, and for the first time since you’ve met, he sobbed.

He felt relief. Taehyung knew about the situation, and he just couldn’t ask him for a hug without feeling embarrassed. So, he relished in the warmth of your body and the scent he always deciphered to you, and took in how safe you felt. If he could, he’d stay there.

“Is it okay if I can stay here?” He whispered in your ear. You smiled a bit and nodded against his shoulder.

“Of course,” you whispered back, almost as if you two were sharing secrets. “Sleep here in the meantime and I’ll be back with your tea, okay?” He nodded. “Is it okay if I can summarize the situation with Hobi and Jimin? I think they can help.”

He nodded. “That’ll be fine, please. I don’t want to say it all again.”

“Okay,” you said in a small tone. “I’ll call Taehyung, too, and let him know to come here. I’ll call Minjee and Jin for some things. They’ll help, too.”

“Thank you, Y/n.”

“That’s horrible…”

“I know,” you lowly said, trying to be quiet since Jungkook was sleeping in your bed. You looked at Minjee. “Hey, I know you have connections, especially with your status, and just in case—”

“I know, I know,” Minjee smiled. “I’ll call my grandpa, and make sure he finds out more about Jia. There’s no way she could’ve gotten away with this.”

“Status?” You two turned to look at Taehyung who was staring at you two with a confused expression. Hobi, Jin, and Jimin were there, too, looking for an answer.

You snorted. “Minjee is rich.”

“Huh?” Taehyung let out.

“My grandparents own one of the biggest, influential companies here,” Minjee stated as if it were nothing. “I’ve been waiting for you guys to find out. They’re always trending.”

“Oh, my God,” Jimin gaped at his best friend. “I didn’t know!”

“Jimin,” you patted his shoulder, “she gave you the newest phone, a laptop, front seat tickets to your favorite concert, rented out a whole store for us to shop in, and you didn’t question it?”

“No!”

“This all happened within a week,” you chuckled at how slow your friend was sometimes. “I always make jokes about her wealth!”

“Listen, leave me alone,” he playfully scoffed. However, he was still processing the news he just received.

“Now, Jin,” you looked at your friend. “You’re a lawyer. Will you help us if we need to?”

“Of course,” he nodded. “Anything for Jungkook.”

“Hobi, your brother-in-law is a police officer,” you then looked at your other friend. “Can’t you find out what we can do?”

“I’ll ask.”

“Thank you.”

As they all fell into their conversations, you sighed as you stared at your cup. Taehyung, from the other side of you, nudged you.

“Hey,” he greeted and you repeated it. “Listen, Jungkook will lash out. Not a lot but he will get annoyed easily due to being paranoid. Whatever happens, just… talk to me, okay? I’ll stay here.”

You nodded.

“Mhm, thank you, Taehyung.”

And Taehyung was not kidding.

Jungkook didn’t lash out at you, though. He never did. He was always seeet to you and he was always thankful for taking care of him.

He would bicker with Taehyung, but it was the norm. The one thing they did argue about the longest was how Taehyung ate Jungkook’s cookie, the one you had made for him.

As for Jia, there was nothing. She did show up, though, and it was at your house that she did show up. Because Jimin had installed cameras, you all saw her just staring at the camera from afar, and glancing at the windows. It brought shivers.

Jungkook had gone back to therapy. He came back home and you two reflected on everything that has occurred in your life. After all, you dealt with people who wanted him, Do-yun, and he helped heal a piece of you that was always forgotten. It was just crazy as to what you dealt with together, but that’s why you two were close now.

It was Saturday. Finals were soon and still, no sight of Jia. At that point, Taehyung and Jungkook had moved in and you and Jimin didn’t mind because they weren’t entirely messy, and Jungkook liked cooking and Yaehyung liked cleaning. You didn’t mind having them at all.

You would usually head to Jungkook as soon as you came from classes and would tell him about your day considering he listened to you. He had also told you he didn’t mind how talkative you were after you apologized because he liked listening to you speak more than just listening to his thoughts. You liked the little schedule you two had and you liked knowing how well he treated you. In Minjee’s words, he treated you like a “princess.”

“Jungkook,” you sang as soon as you walked inside of your house, a smile on your face.

Though, you noticed the tension coming off between Taehyung and Jungkook because they were glaring at each other and not doing anything else. You gulped and much like what you used to do as a child, you would try to distract your parents from one another by telling them about things that happened in your life.

“Hey, guys,” you waved, giving them both a smile and a wave. They didn’t reciprocate it. Taehyung simply gave you a small smile and Jungkook kept his gaze on his best friend. “Did you guys see that the neighbor brought her baby home? I think I might do her some food considering she’s a single mom.”

“That’s nice of you, Y/n,” Yaehyung commented. “Remember that Mom left some things so, take them with you, okay?”

“Mhm,” you hummed enthusiastically. “Also, the man from next door was asking when you guys would come over. Said his grandson loved you guys and was bragging to everyone about having cool neighbors.”

“We’ll probably go tomorrow because he told us his grandson visits during the weekend,” Taehyung continued to answer, eyeing Jungkook who was still very annoyed. They had gotten over a stupid argument he didn’t even remember what about, but it got bad to the point they started insulting each other.

“Oh, Jungkook,” he didn't turn to look at you which you didn’t mind as much, “I got you some of your favorite snacks and I even got you that new one you wanted.”

Silence.

“I’m sure he’ll like it, Y/n,” Taehyung reassured, glancing at his quiet friend who was distracted by his thoughts.

“Oh, you guys are having the house by yourselves tomorrow,” you continued, remembering you had somewhere to be. “I’m going out and Jimin is going to go out with Hobi to a concert, I think? I’m not entirely sure but, just keep in mind to keep all the doors closed and be safe—”

“Y/n shut up, please.”

There it was.

Taehyung’a head immediately snapped towards Jungkook’s way, a stoic expression etched on his face now. You frowned and turned to look back at your friend, too, confused.

“Excuse me?” You asked, making sure you heard right.

“Just stay quiet for a sec,” Jungkook exasperatedly stressed. “It is not the time to fucking yap when you can see that we are not in the mood.”

“Look, Jungkook,” you breathed in, “I get it you’re going through things, I do, but it’s not an excuse to be rude to us. We are your friends. We are looking out for you and you’re pushing us away because you’re scared.” You sighed. “You don't need to apologize to me, but apologize to Taehyung because he’s been handling all of the insults you’ve thrown at him, and he’s been there.”

“Y/n…” Taehyung started but you raised a hand to stop him.

“Talk to me when you realize that you have people who care about you,” you gave him a pleasing pleading look. “Again, your feelings are valid. It’s okay to be scared, paranoid, and anxious, but how will we be able to help you when you’re constantly belittling those closer to you?” You closed the fridge you had opened. “Don’t be an ass.”

Walking away, Jungkook was left in silence at your words. Taehyung didn’t know if he felt relief because of your words or was completely worried about how it affected Jungkook. But, he knew you were right.

Jungkook was going through something, and he tended to lash out when he would get anxious in a sense of protection. That’s the way he learned to communicate whenever his dad yelled at him.

“Why have you been insulting me, Kookie?” Taehyung softly asked, using the nickname Jungkook didn’t like without wrinkling his nose.

Jungkook sighed, dropping the act. He pulled out his phone and opened a message where message after message was sent.

“Jia always finds a way to send threats,” he mumbled out. “She knows where Y/n lives and she’s been knowing. She knows her age, her parents, grandparents, and she even knows where she’s from. She knows who you are, knows what happened with your dad, and why you and Y/n are close. She knows Jimin, Jimin’s parents, and Jimin’s whole schedule. It’s terrifying. I know I should’ve come to you guys but, Jia’s uncle is a police officer, too, and is a reason why she doesn’t go to jail.”

“Ah, the system is corrupt,” Taehyung commented, shaking his head, and Jungkook gave him a look that told him it wansny the time. “It doesn’t excuse your rude words. I hope you know that.”

“It’s better for you guys to be tired of me and drop me as a friend,” Jungkook frowned, slumping in his chair, “than know you guys were in danger. I was already looking for places to move to as soon as you guys kicked me out.”

“Jungkook, you’re fucking crazy,” Taehyung shook his head, rubbing the skin of his forehead. “A big dummy. I forgive you but, you hurt Y/n’s feelings.”

“I know,” he winced at just watching your facial expressions. “I know how much she likes to talk so I figured it would be something I can insult in a way.”

“Yeah, you’re sleeping on the couch,” the other man chuckled, shaking his head. “My poor sister bought you snacks, and here you are insulting her because you’re scared of us getting hurt. We’re not like your high school friends, Kook. We won’t leave you that quickly.”

“I’m sorry for being an asshole.”

“Call yourself a fart head and I’ll forgive you.”

“You already told me you forgive me, idiot.”

“Shit.”

Not talking to you was utter hell.

It had only been a day but still, it was utter hell.

Taehyunf was right, though. He did have to sleep on the couch. And it was funny how you let him know without saying anything because you had blankets and a pillow and you simply let them plop on the couch. Jimin and Taehyung were just watching between you two, almost as if it was a drama come to life.

Jungkook wasn’t impressed with their teasing, but he let them do so since he hurt them with his idiocy.

Days passed after the incident and Jungkook hated it. He would try talking to you, but you would quickly avoid him and go back to your room, only coming out once the others were there, too. He had gotten so used to your ranting and you spewing out a small little summary as to what you did during the entire day, and he loved it. He knew you loved talking. He knew because you did it to him every day, and he did not mind one bit.

“Where’s Y/n?” Jungkook asked once he got out of the shower, a white shirt clinging onto his skin that caused the boys there to whistle at him. He rolled his eyes as he rubbed his towel over his wet hair, eyes wanting to meet yours but nothing. He frowned. “Where’d she go?”

“She went to Namjoon’s bakery,” Jimin answered and Jungkook nodded, heading towards the kitchen to grab a banana milk from the fridge. But, he groaned once he noticed something. “What is it?”

“He finally noticed that the reason why there was always banana milk was because Y/n always repacked it,” Taehyung snorted and he raised his hands in mock surrender once Jungkook turned to glare at him to shut up. “What? The consequences of your actions.”

“I just didn’t want her to go out considering Jia was seen on camera in the morning,” Jungkook stressed, sitting on a nearby chair. “I just hope she’s safe because she walks back here and it’s getting late.”

“She’ll come back safe, don’t worry.”

And they shouldn’t have worried because you were minding your own business talking to Namjoon’s girlfriend and his grandma.

“He said that?” Namjoon’s girlfriend gasped and you nodded, taking a sip of your drink. “What an asshole!”

“Don’t get me wrong,” you started, leaning back on your chair, “but he’s just going through something. And it’s not an excuse but, he tends to insult so he could protect his feelings.”

“Yeah, but that’s so dumb,” she continued to say, though, she calmed down a bit. “I hope he apologizes and learns from his stupid mistake. I’ll beat him up for you, Y/n. Me and Grandma, right Grandma?”

You two turned to look at Namjoon’s grandma who was listening to every word you two said and nodded. “Honey, he better respect you.”

“He does, Grandma don’t worry,” you smiled at her, tapping her hand before sticking your wrist out. You lightly gasped. “It’s late! I have to walk home.”

“I would’ve given you a ride but Namjoon took my car,” you snickered at the idea of seeing the giant driving, “I know, I know, bad idea. But, I’m sorry, babe. Call me, though, if anything happens, and you already know I’ll be there before you can blink.”

You smiled. “Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow, though. I’ll come back.”

“Okay, see you!”

“Bye!” She waved at you. “Bye, Grandma!”

Smiling at the way she smiled at you, you walked off and walked towards Yoongi’s store. Opening it, you also said your goodbyes and received a curt wave from him since he was busy with customers.

You looked ahead at the sidewalk and groaned at how long it seemed, and you made sure you had your phone in one hand and your taser was neatly kept in your pocket.

You saw that you didn’t have any messages before you left, and continued your journey home. You took it as a time to start thinking about everything and you sighed. Because you just wanted to talk to Jungkook, and you couldn’t. You couldn’t stop thinking about his words and they echoed in your head like a mantra.

Did he find you that annoying? Is that bothersome? But he had told you he liked it when you would just talk and that it soothed him. Did he lie about that, too? And if he did, what else has he lied about?

You shook your head at your overthinking.

“Asshole,” you grumbled under your breath.

You continued walking and the hairs on your arm immediately went up once you sensed something. You looked over your shoulder at heard hushed whispers and quiet footsteps, and your heart started beating faster once you saw two guys standing there.

“Hey!” One of them yelled and you pretended to ignore it. Though, their footsteps got heavier and closer and before you knew it, they stood in front of you. “We were talking to you.”

You gulped. “Who are you?”

“I'm sorry, girl,” one of the guys said with an empty tone, “but someone told us that a stupid rich girl would be coming out today to this restaurant, gave us exactly what you are wearing.”

“Who told you?” You frowned, maintaining your face neutral once one of the guys got closer to you to grab your wrist. “Oh, my God. Not again.”

“Now, is that who you are, huh?” The man pushed you to a nearby wall. “You’re a stupid rich girl?” He grabbed your purse. “Let’s see how much you have on you if you are.”

You loudly sighed. “I’m not rich. At all. I’m a college student, geniuses.” You regretted those words as they came out of your mouth, and then did you remember how your mom had said you talking back would get you in trouble? You didn’t believe her considering you had just talked back when she said she didn’t want to see you. “Let go of me.”

“She’s right,” the talker guy said, showing off your wallet where only a few bills stood out. “There’s nothing.”

“Let’s see your jewel—” Someone snatched the closest man to you and threw him on the ground.

With hope vibrating in you, you simply sighed with relief once you had noticed that Namjoon was standing there. His car was messily parked on the side of the sidewalk, telling you he immediately got out to get you.

Not only that, but Yoongi was there, too, since he had been with him to get some food.

“You okay?” Yoongi asked once he reached you, taking you away from the scene. You nodded in confirmation, shaking in his hands. “Get in the car. I already alerted my brothers to come get them.”

“Thank you, Yoongi.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Namjoon spat out, punching both of the guys until they landed on the floor. “Who do you think you are to attack a defenseless person at this time of day when nobody is around?”

“Someone paid us,” the taller man explained. “She told us to do this and she even paid us a sum, too, that was enough.”

You frowned. “Did she have, like, long, dark blue hair?” The man nodded and you groaned. “I know who it is.” You turned to look at Namjoon. “Is it okay if we can leave? I don’t want to be here.”

“Yeah,” Namjoon nodded, passing Yoongi his keys. “Take her home. I’ll take care of these idiots. Your brothers were in my bakery when you called them so they’ll be here shortly.”

Yoongi nodded and helped you get inside the car before closing your door. He got in the driver's seat and made sure Namjoon was okay before driving off.

God, was it always like this with Jungkook? Because this is the third incident where someone grabbed you on your arm and tried threatening you.

You were silent the whole ride but everything hit you all at once. You never process any type of event and now, you allowed yourself to feel and understand what you were feeling. So far, you just wanted a hug.

“Here, I’ll take you to your house,” Yoongi said and you nodded, not saying a word, and got out. He followed behind and knocked on the door once he saw you were a bit distracted with your thoughts.

He looked up at hearing the door open and came to find Jimin. “Hi, Jimin.”

“Yoongi?” Jimin questioned. “What are you—” His eyes trailed towards you. “Y/n?”

Everyone’s ears perked at the mention of your name and Jungkook was the first one to stand next to Himin to see if you were okay. But, once you saw him, you simply jutted out your bottom lip and wrapped your arms around his torso.

Confused, Jungkook glanced up at Yoongi’s face before wrapping his arm around your shoulders and the other arm went around your head so his inked hand intertwined itself with your hair.

“What’s wrong?” He asked. “What happened?”

“She was close to getting jumped,” Yoongi started to explain. “Two guys stopped her and wanted to steal money from her.”

“What?” Both Jimin and Jungkook exclaimed. The others, Taehyung and Minjee, perked up at the sound and walked towards them to see what was happening. It was now Minjee’s turn to frown.

“Yoongi, what are you doing here?”

“Look, your friend almost got jumped,” he simply summed up. “Namjoon and I stepped in, and I have to hurry back because I left him to watch over the guys since he punched them.”

“Why did they do that?” Taehyung asked, eyes on his phone since he was calling up Hobi and Jin, having an inkling as to who it was.

“They said they got told by someone that a stupid rich girl would be in Namjoon’s bakery,” you mumbled as best as you could because your face was buried in Jungkook’s chest.

“Jia,” Jungkook sighed. He looked back at Yoongi. “Thank you for saving her. I’ll grab my jacket and I’ll go with you to—”

“No, Jungkook, stay here,” Taehyung instructed, spreading putting on his sweater. “Stay with Y/n. We’ll go talk with the police and Jin is going to come here to talk to you about Jia and what you can do. Minjee already dealt with paying Jin to represent you because although he would’ve done so for free, Minjee wanted to repay him, so don’t worry.”

“Okay, I’ll stay here,” Jungkook nodded. The others nodded and quickly put on their shoes. They all dismissed themselves and rapidly got inside the car where Yoongi drove off as soon as the doors closed.

You and Jungkook were left alone in silence and he could even hear your heartbeat from having you in his arms.

“Don’t let go,” you muttered. He sadly smiled and nodded, continuing to scratch your head.

“Let’s go to your room, okay?” He asked. “We need to talk after all.”

He felt you nod and you now stood by his side to walk towards your room. He closed the door and he watched you plop onto your bed, obviously comforting yourself. He walked towards you and you made space to let him in, moving aside until your back was on the wall.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook softly asked, his thumb rubbing the spot by your cheekbone to soothe you. You sighed. “I know, Y/n. I’m sorry for what you went through, I-I am. I’m sorry.”

“It was just scary, Kook,” you let out a shaky breath. “I mean, no one was around. No one was there. What if Namjoon and Yoongi hadn’t seen me? What would’ve happened?”

“You can’t think things like that,” he continued to speak softly. His brows were furrowed together and they depicted the stress and worry he felt. He sighed and leaned his face against your pillow, staring at you. “Listen, I’m sorry. For what I said… I wanted you to be away from me so something like this could’ve been prevented. You could’ve been hurt.”

“You only hurt me so I could get away from you?” You questioned with humor lacing your voice. You squinted your eyes before you started hitting his arm. “Fuckinf idiot! What a stupid idea, I swear. A good one, but a stupid idea.” You placed your hands on each side of his, squishing it so his lips could slightly pucker. “Do you think a woman who is obsessed with you scares me? Well, she does scare me, but it won’t make me leave you.”

“Really?” He frowned.

You nodded. “Just try some shit like that again, I will give you a wedgie while you’re sleeping and get a sharpie and just draw glasses around your eyes.”

“I-” He let out, staring at you with a perplexed look. “Yeah, remind me to never piss you off.”

You snorted and closed your eyes. But, you could feel him staring at you, his gaze burning holes in the places he looked at.

“I can feel you staring,” you whispered.

“I can beat them up if you want,” Jungkook said with the same hushed tone. “For scaring you. Did you get your purse back?”

“No,” you shook your head, keeping your eyes closed as the events brought some type of exhaustion to you. “They quickly took me out of there. I couldn’t blink before they just came and Yoongi told me he’d take me home.”

“I’ll have to repay them for getting to you,” Jungkook thought out loud. He looked at you. “From now on, I’ll be your ride, okay? I’ll drop you off and pick you up, okay?”

“Okay,” you sleepily nodded. “Also, just scare the guys. Don’t hurt them. Now, give me your hand.” Jungkook did so and you guided it towards the back of your head. “I got slammed on the wall so rub my head.”

“Y/n!” He exclaimed, sitting up. “We need to take you to the hospital.”

“They didn’t slam me hard,” you reassured him, guiding him back to lie down. “It was more, like, if you bump against the wall.”

“We’re going to the hospital tomorrow,” Jungkook waved a finger to you threateningly. You nodded and you couldn’t help but just look at him the way he was looking at you. His head was fluffy, resting on his forehead since he had taken a shower. And he looked so soft with his fitted shirt and sweatpants that displayed the size of his waist, something Minjee had teased him about. He was looking at you and he was looking. His eyes kept glancing between your eyes and your lips, and he kept rubbing your cheek with the pad of his thumb. You softly traced his tattoos. “Now, rest well, okay? I’ll stay h—”

“Can I sleep with you?” Your abrupt question caught him off guard. He opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out. You chuckled. “Not like that, geez.”

Jungkook smiled. “Take me on a date first.” He nodded shortly after, though laughter spilled his lips. “Yes, I’ll sleep with you. It’ll help me, too. Are you going to take a nap right now?”

You nodded. “The events tired me out.”

“Okay then,” he smiled, tilting his head to the side as he was now propping himself on his elbow. “Rest, okay?” He kissed your forehead and you gulped down the squeal that wanted to escape. “I’ll be here.”

He wasn’t kidding.

jungkook stayed by your side until Minjee, Jimin, and Taehyung came back with Jin, Hobi, and Hobi’s brother-in-law. He just didn’t expect to see that Hobi’s brother was not only a police officer but a sergeant.

“Is she sleeping?” Minjee asked, frowning at the thought of her best friend hurt. Jungkook nodded in his response.

“Yeah, the events tired her out,” Jungkook repeated after you. He looked at Them all. “What happened?”

“We found Jia close to where the events happened,” Hobi explained, frowning at the way he saw the girl's face. “Even confirmed that she planned to have Y/n injured in hopes of teaching her a lesson: stay away from you.”

“We found that this isn’t the first time she’s done this… whole stalking thing,” Minjee explained after, catching everyone’s attention. “My dad called and said her uncle tried hiding her records so she would have more job opportunities. Stalked two guys and had to move away from city to city because everyone knew about her tendencies.”

“Right now,” Hobi’s brother-in-law began to say, “She’ll be arrested. We’ll have a chat with her uncle, too.”

“Just warning you, though,” Jin winced, “she might not get time in prison. She might plead not guilty for reason of insanity. If not then, she will get 3 years in state prison and may pay a heavy fine.”

“Look, I don’t care,” Jungkook sighed. “I just… want to stop being paranoid I have to look over my shoulder. I don’t want to see her ever again.”

Jin nodded in understanding. “I’ll try to talk to her lawyer.”

“Thank you,” Jungkook bowed his head before he glanced back to look at your door. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to sleep.”

Everyone bid their goodnights and didn’t mind it when he went into your room since he was staying there before he got kicked out to the couch. Though they didn’t expect to see you two cuddled up, they only found out because Minjee dropped off some things in your room and saw the two heads peaking from your blanket.

“Guys!” Minjee harshly whispered, closing your door a bit. “They’re cuddling!”

“What? No way!”

“Let me see!”

“Move out of the way, Jimin.”

No events happened shortly after.

Well, Jia did end up going to a hospital to stay in. But that’s all you and Jungkook wanted to know. However, her mom was left to pay some fines for the way Jia tried to harass Jungkook when he was a minor, and Jia’s uncle was suspended for using his work as a way to do personal things.

You and Jungkook went back to being the same as before. Well, except he went back to live in his apartment with Taehyung. Not only that, he was getting nervous each day because he wanted to confess.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” Jungkook began, hands buried in the pockets of his hoodie as you two walked off the college campus, “my mom requested to meet you.”

You gasped and pointed at yourself. “Me?”

“Yes, you, dummy,” he smiled. He looked ahead and let his smile fade to glare at people glancing at him. “Wants to thank you for just doing everything you could.”

“There’s no need to thank me,” you waved your hand off as a way to show you dismissing his words. “You’re an important person to me, of course, I would want to help.”

“Just let her take you out, okay?” He raised an eyebrow and you couldn’t help but nod along with his words. “You’ll love her, and don’t let her serious face scare you. I swear she is a big teddy bear.”

You snorted. “So she’s you?”

A scoff escaped Jungkook’s lips. “Not even. I’m going to tell her you said that.”

“No,” you whined, grabbing onto his arm and shaking him. “Ugh, I need to talk to your mom about you either way. The attitude you give me… despicable, I’m telling you.”

“My attitude is the one thing you like about me shut up,” he softly pushed you away by bumping into you. “Anyway, let’s go out on a walk.”

“I mean,” you gestured towards your surroundings, “we are walking.” He gave you an incredulous look by the way you said it so seriously. “I’m kidding, I'm kidding. Where do you want to go?”

“Let’s go to that one park near here,” he answered, grabbing onto your hand to prevent you from bumping into someone since you had been so distracted checking your phone to see if it was going to rain. “I think we both deserve just finally having some peace.”

“Oh, yeah,” you nodded. “It was a mess. But let’s get snacks first!”

“Okay, okay,” Jungkook chuckled, your hands still clasped together. You dragged him towards the nearest convenience store and by the end of it, you two had a bagful of goods—that he paid for—that made your mouth salivate.

“Kook, I want to marry this strawberry milk,” you spoke in awe as you held the can of milk close to you. “Thank you for buying it, even though I offered but you pushed me aside.”

He smiled at your sarcastic remark. “Can’t I spoil you?”

“Sheesh, just say you love me,” you teased, budging his shoulder repeatedly until he was doing it back to you.

As you sauntered off towards the park, you noticed the difference between the way Jungkook acted now to before. He seemed more protective of you in a way, pushing you away from a group of people who wouldn’t move or pushing them away, making sure you stayed on the inside of the sidewalk, and even glared at people who looked at you wrongly for even being him. Not only that, but he had a different personality with you—Minjee and Taehyung had let you know about this, too—where he glared at everyone, but he couldn’t stop smiling with you. Well, he had his moments where he seemed that way but Jungkook was just quieter compared to you. It was nice in some type of way.

“Let’s sit on the swings.”

You nodded and walked side by side. You looked at him out of the corner of your eye, admiring him. He was looking around and the hood of his hoodie was on. Since it was cold, he had worn an oversized sweater that he put on with some black jeans. To add more to his height, he wore his usual boots, and he liked teasing you more for being taller. His fingers were clothed with rings and he even had some of the jewelry you had gotten him which consisted of a necklace, earrings, and rings. He looked very cute and you just wanted to squish his cheeks together and coddle him to death. Liking him will never go away.

“Kook, why don’t you give me a nickname?” You had asked him as soon as you two sat in the empty swings. Considering it was not good weather to be playing around, the playground was rather empty and it was just you two.

jungkook pondered over your question. “Usually, your friends don’t call you that. They mostly call you honey.”

“Ah,” you simply let out. “I didn’t even notice they did that a lot.”

“And your name,” he looked down at his shoes, “I love it. It’s beautiful on its own.”

Your body heated up at his comment. You couldn’t help but try to hide your smile, making sure he wouldn’t see that his comment affected you.

You were entirely wrong, however, because he was laughing to himself while drinking his milk. You eyed him weirdly.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Tell me,” you softly kicked his foot and he continued to laugh.

“You look away so I won’t notice that my words affect you,” he pointed out. He looked at you, a small smirk hidden behind his stoic face. “It’s cute.”

“Shut up, your words don’t have an effect on me,” you cleared your throat, hoping he wouldn’t notice the lie. But, you mentally facepalmed when you even noticed how it was very obvious you were lying.

“Oh, yeah?” He raised his pierced brow, clearly testing you. You nodded and held onto your milk rather tightly once he got closer to your house. You noticed he did the triangle technique, glancing from one eye to your lips and then to your other eye. It had you holding your breath. “If I kiss you right now would you stop me?” You shook your head rather slowly, almost as if you were in a daze. “I need words, Y/n.”

The way he said your name in a demanding tone made you drop everything and kiss the fuck out of him but, you just gulped again.

“I wouldn’t stop you,” you muttered, glancing at his own lips before looking up into his eyes.

his gaze burnt and the way he looked at you made you want to see yourself in his point of view because Jungkook was shy and quiet, and here he was looking like he wanted to devour you and savor you all at once.

“I’ve been thinking about you for months,” he started, his lips brushing against yours, clearly teasing you. “Not even months, years. I’ve been thinking about you since the day we met 2 years ago during the first year of college. I always hated being stared at, but when I looked at you, you were more interested in the butterfly I was looking at. When you did look at me, though, I always hoped you continued to stare at me.”

“I always did,” you whispered. “I could never keep my eyes away from you.”

He gave you a tight-lipped smile. “I’m supposed to be affecting you, not you affecting me, idiot.” You smiled at the name, knowing he didn’t mean anything eitj that name. “Damn it… Look away.”

“Why?”

“You know why,” he rolled his eyes, covering your eyes with the palm of his hand. You tried peaking over the top of his hands but he immediately followed your eyesight.

“I don’t think I know why,” you said and you weren’t lying. You were a bit clueless when it came to hints but you were just stating the obvious.

“I have liked you ever since I saw you being yourself around Taehyung,” he admitted, lowering his hand a bit. You perked up at his words and let your eyes find his own. But, he rapidly put his hand over your eyes again. “Don’t look at me, please. I won’t be able to handle my emotions and I will kiss you.”

“you will?” You breathed out.

“Yes, so please don’t look at me or I’ll forget about what I’m trying to confess,” he admitted. You looked at his palm and licked your lips. “I have liked you ever since I saw you being yourself around Taehyung, so when you tell me I’m the one you’ve been looking at, my heart feels like it’s about to escape my chest.”

“But it has been you,” you confessed, frowning a bit. You slowly raise your head and let your eyes meet his doe ones. It was a little awkward at first considering you were both on swings and your bodies needed to situate themselves right, but you ignored the ache and looked. “I’ve liked you since the first year of college when I saw this boy just playing around with a butterfly. You looked so cute so, I left. I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

He let the corner of his lips slowly raise. “When I first saw you with Taehyung, fighting him, it reassured me knowing that you had good intentions getting to know me. You weren't faking it and I loved that about you, especially when I saw you being the nicest person in the world to other people when they didn’t deserve it.”

“Are you talking about the time when the girls were debating who should sit next to you?” You snorted at his idea of nice.

“You said “excuse me”, which, by the way, I would not be able to do.” Of course, he found amusement in that situation. “I would’ve been punching my way through that crowd because they decided to fight over the empty seat in the morning.”

“Ah, those days,” you dramatically sighed at the thought, considering that nowadays you two were in your final month of school. “But, you liked me since that day?” He nodded. “Wait, what did you tell the waiter when went to the cafe?”

He seemed taken aback by the question once he processed what you said. Scratching the back of his head, he looked away from you again.

“I told him that if he could change it because you had someone,” he winced saying it out loud. You simply watched him as he fidgeted under your gaze. “In my defense…”

“Uhuh.”

“You felt uncomfortable so it made him back off,” he shrugged and you could almost cackle at the way he was dismissing the obvious jealousy. “Hey, you probably like the fact that I got jealous so shut up.”

“I’m not saying anything,” you said between chuckles. hearing your laughter, he couldn’t help but join in, too. He smiled at a thought of his before he shared it with you.

“You know,” he started, “the reason I was never upset with you when you broke my phone was because you unknowingly saved my life. I hope you know.”

“How so?” You questioned, tilting your head to the side to look at him.

“When we met first year, you had been late which is why you were looking at me,” he went to explain. “Well, because you did that, I guess some girl thought we were dating because she said we looked like a cute couple. Not only that but, just as you came to class this semester, the girls behind me were playing rock, paper, scissors. Whoever won would sit next to me. When you broke my phone, someone had leaked my phone number before that, and the stress I felt… But, you broke it and it was the most freeing thing. So, Y/n, thank you. For saving me. You have saved me so many times and it’s been you since the beginning.”

You could cry at the way he mentioned the events. Thinking back, you were always around Jungkook. He was always there and you always would mention you were lucky. But you could see now it was more than that.

“I’m happy I got to save you in some sense,” you smiled reassuringly. He did, too.

“I’m happy, too.”

“And I’m very happy to know you reciprocate my feelings, you know?” He nodded. “It feels great. Total confidence boost.”

He snorted, taking a sip of his milk while you two continued to face one another. “I’m happy I get to be liked by you. I’d rather no one love me and fan over me if they’re not you.”

You smiled and you lightly pouted at the way he looked at you and expressed his emotions. “Kook.”

You then maintained contact, just staring at one another, because for the first time in months, you two felt at ease and at peace. Here you are confessing your feelings in a playground with tiny droplets of rain dropping on you two. So, you two admired one another.

“Fuck it,” he mumbled under his breath, and you looked at him confusedly at hearing his words. Jumping back a bit, he stood in front of you, leaned down, grabbed your face between his cold hands, and dipped his head.

Jungkook kissed you, and he kissed you as if you were going to disappear. One of his hands lowered to rest itself by your throat, gripping it a bit to bring you closer to him if possible. The other grabbed onto your hip, fingers dipping into the fabric of your sweater. With the emotion of it all, you two wanted more.

You could feel the way your knees felt weak, and if you were standing, you might’ve probably fell to the ground because of the way his hand just stayed to rest on your throat. His thumb was rubbing the base of your jaw and his lips fit so well with yours.

At needing air, you two backed away but not too far from each other. Your lips brushed against the others and they were itching to kiss again.

“I’m craving you more than ever,” he whispered in a low tone, continuously pecking your lips. “Can I show you?”

“Yes.”

“Yours or mine?”

“Mine. Taehyung had texted me to keep you away because he was bringing a girl.”

“He’ll be fine. He has commitment issues so he doesn’t get girls.”

EXTRA,

Minjee and Jimin looked up from their studies at hearing the door open. They glanced at one another once they saw you and Jungkook coming inside, your hands intertwined together. You were giggling and he had that soft smile on his face that he usually wore around you. But, there was something different about you two.

“Hello,” Jimin greeted, giving you two a smile.

You giggled and waved before clearing your throat. “Um, we have to study so, we’ll be in my room.”

Minjee slowly nodded her head. “Okay…”

“Bye.”

Jungkook curtly waved, following after your hurried steps.

Once the door closed and the two heard it lock behind Jungkook, they simply stared at the door with an amused expression.

“I’m guessing they told each other,” Minjee suggested and Jimin agreed with her without no hesitation. “And they’re about to fuck.”

“Yep,” Jimin pursed his lips. The two friends looked at each other again rather comically. “So, should we go bother Taehyung?”

“Yeah, we both know he does not have a girl over.”

“Ah, commitment issues.”

---

Lonely Breeze

group : ateez

pairing : poly!yungi × reader

genre : angst, hurt/comfort

wc : 3.1 k

tw : angst, poly relationship, heavy stuff maybe; relationship issues, psychological issues, mentions of blood (injury), mentions of anxiety, ngl I'm just rambling at this point so if this is not your thing, pls skip lol.

a/n : this is why i don't listen to anything produced by mingi. I'm textbook kubler-ross every single time and idk how to feel about it. and yea i wrote this in 2 hours

buy me coffee ?

It had been three days since you ran away.

Can it be counted as running away? You're a full-grown adult with intact mental faculties and 'running away' sounds rather juvenile.

Life had gotten too hard and you were overwhelmed. Despite having wonderful boyfriends like Yunho and Mingi, this time you truly didn't know what to do but you knew that you had to get out of there before you completely exploded.

To be honest, Yunho and Mingi were one of the reasons you had to run away.

It was nothing against them per se but you felt bad for having to always rely on them all the time.

The three of you met on the cusp of adulthood, at a dance academy workshop. The three of you didn't mean to join that joint workshop because each of you was from different area branches of the academy but you all just clicked. From then, you and they planned your lives together even down to which university you three will attend. But it wasn't until nearing the senior year that you three decided to pursue a romantic relationship. You still remembered it like it was yesterday. How you, Mingi, and Yunho join your other friends on a countryside trip to celebrate the end of the 6th semester only to find out that the cabin was at maxed capacity so you three had to rent a small, dusty place on your own. Little did you know, you, Yunho and Mingi had each planned separately to come clean about your feelings. You were the first to confess after having a particularly tiring clean-up session (just so you won't inhale the dust that had accumulated in the cabin), accidentally telling them how you could see the three of you in your 30s cleaning the apartment you will share together. You remembered the dread that washed down on you when Mingi asked what you meant. Like the reliable pillar he is, Yunho was the one who helped you calm yourself down and told you that he could see the same thing, how he felt the same way about you and Mingi. Then Mingi confessed his own feelings and from then on, you three were even more inseparable than you had ever been before.

While it surprised people that the three of you decided to commit to a relationship that was far from orthodox, no one was really fazed. Everyone who knew the three of you had at least assumed you three were sleeping together which was why no one approached either one of you romantically all through university.

Some called it fate, some called it dedication.

You believed in the former more than the latter.

But recently?

You feared that you had trapped them.

Maybe it was a quarter-life crisis but you suddenly felt nauseous at the thought of your life. It wasn't like things were falling apart. On the contrary, the pieces of your life were finally falling into place; you were starting to really shine at work, and you were finally able to start saving whilst resolving some of your financial issues. Your relationship with your boyfriends was even at its peak, there was more love than the three of you ever needed and you three were beyond happy.

Then one day, one day a week ago, things crashed down on you.

You didn't know what it was, you didn't know what caused it, but you suddenly couldn't breathe. You remembered holding onto the bathroom sink while your body trembled, tears streaming down your face like a busted faucet and you couldn't move. The cool bathroom suddenly felt suffocating and the sound of your boyfriends laughing just on the other side of the door felt deafening. It took you a long while to break free from that state and you only managed to do so because Mingi had knocked on the bathroom door asking for you to let him in because he needed to use the bathroom. That night, you found yourself unable to sleep and even finding their presence too much for you to handle even after switching position with Mingi so you could be at the edge. You had slipped away and cried yourself to sleep on the couch, sobbing silently until fatigue took over.

That whole week you were distant until three days ago when you came home from work to see a note on the table from Yunho who let you know that they were out for a bit to get something special for you.

One second you were pouring yourself a glass of water to calm your trembling hands and the next, you were in a train with a duffle bag heading to the countryside, cradling your hand that had a gash and fresh dried blood.

When you arrived at the dark and lonely cabin, you finally broke down, wailing into the emptiness as you hugged yourself in the middle of the room.

Neither of them was aware of what happened.

Or so you thought.

The first person who noticed how distant you became was Yunho. He had sensed that something was wrong since that day in the bathroom. He could never forget the look on your face as you stepped out. Your usually lively eyes were empty and you didn't even react when Mingi pressed a kiss on your forehead. At first, he thought that you might have had a bad day and that you were just not in the mood but as the days passed, you seemed more silent and distant. Yunho wanted to ask what was wrong but he didn't want to make it seem like he was prying so he tried to let you know that he was there for you in different ways; soft touches, words of affirmation, little presents in the form of your favourite drink or plans of going on a trip. He wanted you to have all the space you needed.

Mingi on the other hand immediately jumped into worrying about you. Suddenly he kept texting about your whereabouts and your feelings. He had even asked if he should pick you up early from work and even showed that he was already in front of your building. Mingi knew what it felt like to be all alone stuck in a headspace and it had taken him so long and finally relent, letting you and Yunho pull him out and believing you two that you were there for him. So he wanted to repay all that especially since you were the one who gently washed his tear-stained face and slowly fed him until he regained his own strength. He remembered the pit and he didn't like the idea of you being there.

So when they were met with an empty apartment the day you left, they went into panic mode. The sight of a couple droplets of blood near the broken glass and your work bag thrown carelessly on the couch was enough to send them into a frenzy and sadly, they even turned on each other.

Yunho wanted to calm himself and Mingi down first because neither of them even knew what happened and where you had gone to while Mingi, pointing that out, stated that they both needed to catch you before you could even go far. Then they fought over the fact that they were fighting when they should be looking for you and it ended with Mingi leaving the apartment when Yunho ran into your shared room, trying to charge his phone to see if you had contacted either of them.

Essentially, the three of you were alone at that moment in time. Nothing made sense and none of you had any ways of getting an answer.

You were alone in the cabin, crying your eyes out about... Nothing. You felt stupid for feeling bad over your life that was going rather well and you felt bad for leaving your boyfriends without an explanation. It was simple, you could've simply grabbed the phone and texted either one of them to let them know... Something. You could tell them that you needed time alone. But do you really? You could tell them that you were sorry. But were you really? You could tell them that you were overwhelmed and that they were not making your situation any better by being so supportive. But were they really? You felt like you were not worthy to even send them a text because who the fuck were you to be acting like that and then asking for understanding?

Mingi was running around aimlessly with worry sitting deep in the pit of his stomach. He had gone to several of your friends' places, friends you trusted who wouldn't blab about your disappearance. He hated being in a state of not knowing because he felt helpless. He hated being helpless. Mingi was not a helpless person so he didn't want to be associated with the feeling. First things first, he had to find you. But where could you be? Why had he never taken the time to ask you places you wanted to go to, thinking that you had gone alone because he was too busy with himself. Seeds of doubt planted by the negativity of the situation started sprouting its ugliness. Was your leaving his fault? Was he too self-involved to not have taken the time to dedicate his attention to you once in a while? Was he taking too much of Yunho and your attention? His head hurts.

Yunho, in defeat, slumped against the bed you three shared. Your pillar, your rock finally broke down and with each sob, his mind found it even harder to make sense of things. All the decision in his life was made on a strong foundation, Yunho was a sure man, and he didn't regret the choices he made and the path he took. But was he too sure of himself this time? Out of the three of you, Yunho was always the tie-breaker because he makes his decisions carefully and with logic. He never found any reason to resent that part of him until you left. Did he miss something? Were there signs that you had needed a different kind of treatment? Had he gotten too overconfident this time? Had his so-called level-headedness cost him something important?

Whatever it was you hoped could happen or appear by running away alone never came. Each hour you spent trying to make sense of things or finding a way to calm yourself only made it clear that you were all alone.

Dark thoughts started plaguing your brain, skewing your happy memories into something that was far from reality. The memories you had of banding together into a trio with Yunho and Mingi turned into fear that maybe you had inserted yourself into their friendship. After all, they found themselves together first before you bumped into Yunho and told him how you were alone, effectively guilt-tripping him. The thought of how they have always had your back turned into anxiety that maybe you had leaned on them too much. You relied on them more than you should and now you were a burden to them. The things you told them, should you have told them? Especially the dark ones, the ones that stemmed from your bad mental state. Were you manipulating them without realizing it? Were your promises of the future even really promises? How could you be sure that it wasn't you pressuring your expectations to them?

It had been three days. Were you still alone because they thought you were better off alone? That they too, needed time away from you? Maybe you never needed your own space, maybe it was your subconscious telling you that you needed to give them space from you.

Loud bangs broke the train of thought and the more you came back to reality, the more you recognized the voices.

"Mingi?" you inhaled sharply, seeing the face of one of your lovers on the window as he banged the wall.

Thinking that you were hallucinating, you turned your head away and stood up. There was no way he could be there.

More bangs were heard and when you turned around again, you saw both Mingi who was now with Yunho staring at you from the window.

"(y/n), open up!" Yunho called out.

Normally, you would register his voice as is but your brain, in its unstable state, thought that he was demanding you to let him in. Mingi too, though he was only standing there looking at you, sending knocks on the window as he wanted to hold you once again, your brain took that as him glaring at you and being in fury.

Anxiety shot up and your head shook violently. "N-no..." you whimpered, bottom lip trembling as you took a step back only to trip on a carpet and fall.

The sight of you on the floor caused Mingi and Yunho to abandon all reasons and logic and all they wanted to do was to help you. They started banging and trying to pry the door open, needing to get inside to be there for you but all it did was send you into a deeper spiral without them realizing. Your body curled into a ball while they were yelling for you to open the door. The more you heard them, the worse you felt and before you knew it, you were yelling for them to leave you be, leave you alone, you didn't deserve them.

It wasn't until you started yelling at how you should have never burdened yourself on them that they stopped banging on the door. Their eyes welled with tears hearing the things, untrue things, you hurled at yourself. It hurt them to hear you think so low of yourself like that. You were everything to them, you were something so precious and special and to think that you believe they would be better without you, it was like a serrated knife had been plunged into their hearts multiple times.

"That's not true (y/n), please..." Mingi rested his forehead on the door as his eyes closed slowly, letting tears wet his cheeks, "Please let me in, I... We... (y/n), please," he whimpered.

Looking around, Yunho remembered that the owner of the cabin had told him about a spare key a long time ago. Thinking that it was worth a shot, Yunho was glad to see that there was still a key hidden under the cushion of the porch lounger.

You were too busy bawling to realize that Yunho had opened the door successfully which was a good thing because had you realized, you would have done something stupid like run out into the field in the cold January breeze.

Mingi tried to rush inside only for Yunho to stop him, holding onto his arm as he watched you cry with a broken heart.

"Yunho, wha-"

Wordlessly, Yunho pulled Mingi down to sit in the doorway while maintaining his gaze on you.

Though confused, Mingi followed along, sitting down and looking between Yunho and you.

"We should go in there. She needs us," Mingi said, voice cracking as he shook Yunho slightly, trying to convince him to go inside. He knew he could definitely go inside himself, but for some reason, he felt like he shouldn't.

For once, Yunho didn't give any explanation and just shook his head one more time. Soon, however, his hand took one of Mingi's and they sat there with you with hands linked, waiting for you to... Well, they weren't sure what they were waiting for but they were sure they would understand soon.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You must have passed out from crying because you remembered feeling cold and alone but the moment you came to again, you realized that this time, you were... Warm.

Sitting up, you noticed that the skies outside were dark and when you turned your body around, you saw Yunho and Mingi attending to the fireplace. The cabin was dark save for the illumination provided by the warm fire.

It took a bit of time for your eyes to adjust but when your eyes really focused, you noticed that Mingi was holding onto your favourite blanket that you forgot to bring. How did they even got inside?

For a moment, you only watched them do their thing, comfortably sitting in silence as if enjoying conversation done by the soft crackles of the fireplace.

Mingi felt something on the back of his neck and when he turned his body slightly, he saw that you were staring at him with puffy eyes. His instinct told him to run to you and envelop you in a hug and tell you how worried he was and how much he regretted things that he thought he did. But his better judgement stopped him from making a move forward. Instead, he cracked a gentle smile and ducked his head down, carefully opening your folded blanket as a silent invitation.

Your body moved automatically towards him and before you knew it, you were suddenly sat in between Mingi and Yunho.

While Mingi draped you with your blanket, Yunho made final adjustments on the firewood before he sat down close to you and even moved so that you and he were shoulder-to-shoulder.

You were sure that they were going to ask what happened, what was wrong with you, why you ran away. But minutes passed and all there was was... Silence. You were sure that when you saw them again you'd be anxious because you had to explain yourself but all you felt was a sense of calm. It was rather ridiculous but you could feel the anxiety melting off of your body.

"I'm tired," finally you opened up even though your voice cracked due to how hoarse your throat felt. "I'm so tired," you exhaled as you closed your eyes, your bottom lip trembling once again.

This time, Yunho moved to sidle even closer to you so he could guide your head gently to rest on his chest. "You... Can you find it in your heart... To rest in mine?" Yunho spoke up finally, voice cracking as well. Mingi then moved closer until he was able to wrap his hands around your waist whilst leaning his head on Yunho's strong shoulder, effectively caging you securely between them. "You can rest in our hearts, love," he added, ducking to press a gentle kiss on your shoulder.

Nothing else needed to be said because nothing else should. The three of you had been through so much together in your youth that it felt like you were all alone. But, with the stars as your witness and the fire as your companion, you realized something that was always true. Even lonely, you were always together and your inadequacies made you whole. While pain exists and will always find its way back to remind you of your faults, it allows you to remember who and what you are, but most importantly, what you now have from that.

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Ours - Yunho X Reader X Mingi

Genre: Mature, Smut

Rating: 18+ Minors DO NOT Interact!

Pairing: Yunho X Implied Chubby!Fem!Reader X Mingi

Words: 1,071

Warnings: Implied established poly relationship, Dom/Sub themes, Fingering (fem. rec), Pet names (Baby, Baby Girl, Gorgeous, Precious), Daddy kink, One use of the word slut (lovingly), Voyerism, Possession kinks but it's implied all of them have them, Dirty talk galore, I think that's everything

A/n: I got smacked in the face with this idea earlier, and couldn't not write it lmaooo Just something short and sweet for you guys, which I hope you all like. I never really thought I would see myself writing something like this outside of a kinktober, and somewhat enjoying it while I'm at it, so we'll see how this goes! As always, Feedback is greatly appreciated! Please reblog, and I hope you enjoy!

“That’s it, Precious.” A deep voice rumbles out from across the room. “Look at how well your pretty pussy sucks in his fingers.”

As if to emphasize the point, the wet squelch of Mingi’s fingers sinking into your cunt echoes around the room. His movements are slow. Precise. Rubbing tenderly against that sensitive spot inside of you, and making you see stars.

You toss your head back onto Mingi’s shoulder, a low moan escaping your lips.

“Fuck- look how sexy you look all spread out for the both of us.” Yunho continues, his gaze hooded as he takes in every inch of your naked figure. His bottom lip gets caught between his teeth, a soft hiss escaping him as he drags his hand over his cock in time with Mingi’s movements over your weeping cunt. “Fucking perfect.”

Mingi hums in agreement. His hot breath fans against the skin of your neck, nose tracing over the side before he’s nipping lightly at your ear. “Our perfect cunt.”

His words have you immediately clenching around his fingers, eliciting another low groan from the male behind you. You can feel his cock twitch against the skin of your bare ass, his thighs tensing as he spreads you the slightest bit more open. Your legs are hooked around his knees, his free hand resting on your inner thigh, kneading the flesh appreciatively.

Gently, Mingi’s thumb begins to circle over your clit.

Your whole body shudders beneath his touch, lips parting in a breathless gasp.

“Gonna come for us, Baby Girl? Gonna squeeze so delicately around my fingers like they’re our cocks?” Mingi hums, his tone low and raspy right beside your ear. “Come on, Precious. We know you love soaking our thighs when we’re buried deep inside this tight little cunt.”

Your eyes flutter shut, clenching hard around Mingi’s fingers as he says this. Another whine escapes your throat, the nails of your one hand sinking into the skin of his one thigh while the other tightens its hold in his pure white locks.

“Give it to us, Baby,” Yunho’s voice rumbles out, coaxing you even closer with such a soft, yet firm demand. “Soak his thighs so you can soak mine.”

Mingi’s plush lips begin placing tender kisses along your neck, softly suckling at the skin over your pulse. His thumb presses a little firmer against your clit, the tips of his fingers continuing to massage your inner walls so skillfully.

Your thighs begin to shake, their words and actions making your head spin. All that escapes you are high pitched whines and moans, your nails scratching against Mingi’s skin as you feel that coil within you snap.

A loud moan escapes Mingi as he feels you squeezing so tenderly around his fingers. His brow furrows, fingers never once stopping their movements over you as he helps you ride out your orgasm. Watching you fall apart like this for them has his cock twitching against your ass once more, deep, pleased hums escaping his chest as he bites down against the column of your throat.

“That’s it, Gorgeous.” Yunho moans, his eyes locked on the way your body arches the slightest bit against Mingi’s hold. 

The expression of pure bliss that coats your features has his heartbeat thundering wildly inside of his chest. His hand stills over his cock, Firmly squeezing the base as he breathes heavily. There’s no way in hell that he’s going to come before getting the chance to bury himself deep within your tight little cunt.

“Fuck- you’re so fucking pretty when you come for us, Love.” Mingi’s voice growls out lowly right by your ear, his cock twitching against you.

Mingi’s lips are back to pressing against the skin of your throat, helping you come down from your high. He slows the movements of his hand, loving the way your whole body shudders in his hold as his thumb presses firmly against your clit. The wet squelch of his fingers leaving your cunt has him moaning, immediately bringing them up to press against the skin of your lips.

Without any hesitation, you part for him, sucking on his fingers eagerly. Your eyes are hooded over, watching the way Yunho tosses his head back at the sight of you with Mingi’s fingers in your mouth.

You clench around nothing, more of your arousal leaking onto the skin of Mingi’s thighs. A fact of which only makes him pull you against him tighter. A guttural groan escapes him as he feels your tongue swirl around his digits, sucking eagerly at your essence that clings to his skin.

Yunho soon lifts his free hand in the air, curling one finger to motion you towards himself. Slowly, he begins to stroke over his aching cock once more.

“Come here.” There is no room for argument in Yunho’s tone as his dark gaze locks onto you.

On shaky legs, you stand to your feet. Slowly, you begin crossing the short distance from Mingi to Yunho, the elder male looking like the complete embodiment of sin before you. 

His legs are spread, cock proudly on display as he strokes himself. Yunho’s gaze is hooded, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he watches you approach him. His chest rises and falls steadily, bare skin glinting in the dim light of the room. As you come to stand before him, his abdomen physically clenches, immediately reaching for you to join him with his free hand.

Carefully, and with practiced movements, you settle your legs on either side of him. His eyes shine with nothing but adoration and lust as he looks up at you, his one hand settling on the skin of your lower back while the other lines his cock up with your entrance.

A low moan escapes him as he drags the tip of his cock through your folds, loving the way he can already feel you dripping onto his skin.

“So wet for us, Baby.” He bumps the head of his cock over your clit a few times, twitching in his hold each time he hears you whimper. “Gonna ride this fat cock like the good little slut you are?”

“Yes, Daddy.” Your hands settle onto his shoulders, steadying yourself as you feel him press the head of his cock against your entrance.

The corner of Yunho’s lips twitches upwards as you slowly begin to sink down on his cock. “Good Girl.”

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