Chapter Text
They have a lot in common; Seungyoun and Seungwoo. They both decided that a college degree wasn’t worth it for their future. Seungyoun dropped his dance major to be a full-time model, while Seungwoo gave up after a semester when his MMA career kicked off to a good start. They were young and thriving, enjoying glamorous careers from opposite ends of the spectrum.
Having arrived in Seoul with barely anything, Seungwoo thought he’d just concentrate on college with his fighting as a side thing. That was proven to be a fluke when his skills were noticed and he was quickly recruited to fight professionally. His family supports whatever he does, but he knows how painful it was for his parents to see their son take on this career.
Seungyoun always stood out. He moved a lot as a kid before finally settling in Seoul, accumulating several languages and making his own mother tongue a foreign language to him. He tried so hard to fit in until it dawned on him that he should be happy to be the odd one out. It didn’t matter that he hopped from one passion project to another, because he is good at everything - football, dancing, singing, etc. Everything always worked out for him.
The fated meeting was a little after they both achieved some sort of success in their careers. Seungyoun had just finished a successful shoot with an acclaimed magazine, while Seungwoo had won his first professional championship. It was only right that their friends chose the same, buzzing club to celebrate in.
Seungyoun took a break outside when he was joined by Seungwoo. The fighter had a big bruise under his left eye and a gash that almost took his right eyebrow off. When he smiled, though, Seungyoun realized that this cold looking man actually seemed gentle. Didn’t hurt that he’s good looking too, so Seungyoun had greeted him first.
It went by slowly, but it only took them a couple of months before Seungwoo decided to officially date him. Seungyoun was nervous and elated, but he was mostly happy to have Seungwoo all to himself. The feeling was odd to the both of them - to have someone to love that much, unconditionally. Seungyoun certainly loved the new feeling, because being in love served as his best muse.
He kept a folder on his laptop; filled to the brim with pictures of Seungwoo. When he went overseas for a job, he’d find himself absentmindedly flicking through pictures. Seungwoo kept a single polaroid of Seungyoun in his wallet, but that was enough for him. He liked to hold it before his matches.
8 months into the relationship, Seungyoun knew that their relationship wasn’t going to amount to anything special. Sure, the love felt new and the company felt amazing - but nothing beats the way his stomach turned every time Seungwoo went to ‘work’. To see the man he cherished return home battered after a match he didn’t even win - Seungyoun understood nothing of this career. He hated every bit of it.
He did what he does best and ran away for a bit. Pretending like it was a work thing, Seungyoun stayed on a nearby island for a few nights to think it over. It amounted to nothing more than just a break, but he managed to squeeze a question on his last night there: is the love worth the pain?
It wasn’t just a matter of receiving love, but also giving love. It got exhausting to pretend like it didn’t bother him, but the last thing he wanted to do was be the one stopping Seungwoo from achieving his dreams. Seungyoun decided to persevere through a few more months and see if he gets his question answered.
Seungwoo felt the distance created between them. It was the size of a peanut at first, but it cracked into a much bigger rift that he wasn’t sure if he had enough bandage to fix. The warm Seungyoun did not want to help heal his wounds, nor did he want to watch any of Seungwoo’s fights. It was left unsaid, which only served to expand the rift.
When the FC was happening, Seungyoun received an offer to work in China for an obscene amount of money. He realized that this was the final nudge that fate has given him so he could get the answer to the question that plagued his mind. He had it hidden from Seungwoo, constantly asking himself, is the love worth the pain? after every match Seungwoo emerged victorious from.
Seungwoo made it to the finals, which was monumental for a fighter deemed too pretty at first. He suffered a great deal of pain, but he had no option but to be ready for the final match. To his shock, Seungyoun appeared in his changing room before the fight. The photographer was wishing him luck with a worried look in his eyes, refusing to reveal what he really felt. It disturbed Seungwoo, but he left the doubts and took the encouragement with him into the fight.
Seungwoo’s right leg was injured early on in the fight, but the third round basically killed him. The way his leg broke had half the crowd covering their eyes, repulsed by the image. The fibula and tibia of his right leg snapped like they were made of twigs. He fell on the ground and choked back a scream, choosing to hold it in and look around.
His eyes immediately locked with Seungyoun’s. His boyfriend had tears streaming down his face as he fell back on his seat. Seungwoo’s eyes were wet from the pain, but he teared up at the sight of Seungyoun, defeated. Shaking his head, Seungyoun mouthed a ‘sorry’ before he left the arena. It was unclear what happened next, but Seungwoo must’ve passed out eventually.
He woke up in the hospital with his family by his side, but no Seungyoun. It was a very long email he received a week later that helped him understand what Seungyoun felt. It was a letter littered with apologies and regrets, but it ended on a positive note. Seungyoun wished Seungwoo a fast recovery and to continue with his passion, even if it meant someone else would be in the cage.
The love wasn’t worth the pain.
That was what Seungyoun gathered. He lived with it for the next two years as he made a new life in China. When he decided to return to Seoul, it was purely because he missed home and familiar surroundings. To reconcile with Seungwoo properly was at the top of his list, though.
Unexpected help came in the form of Wooseok. He’s also a long-time friend, having worked with him since he was the photographer of the magazine Wooseok is a writer for. Wooseok suggested that he help them mend whatever the broken trusses between them were. Seungyoun had no problem - he wanted to get it over with anyway.
The full picture came a week since he came home. Seungyoun dropped by Seungwoo’s place to return him several things he accidentally kept when he ran off to China (a few sweaters, pictures, etc). Wooseok answered the door, wearing only Seungwoo’s shirt. Seungyoun knew it was Seungwoo’s because he bought him the shirt. A baby blue Ralph Lauren.
As painful as it should’ve been, it only managed to make Seungyoun smile. He might’ve dramatically scoffed as well, but he ended up laughing because everything was suddenly explained. Wooseok just wanted there to be no loose ends, and perhaps to also make sure that the Seungwoo-Seungyoun thing is officially over.
Seungyoun assured him it was over. Solely because Seungyoun felt free from the grasps of baseless love.
And then Hangyul happened. He wasn’t supposed to, but Seungyoun’s only flaw is having slightly bad luck. The man sculpted by god himself seemingly fell onto his lap like it was meant to be. Perhaps it is meant to be. Seungyoun is an expert at denying such things.
“Am I not worth the pain of watching and waiting?”
That was what broke Seungyoun. He was supposed to be the one with the question, but having it directed towards him felt like a stab right through the heart. What hurt him even more was the fact that an answer immediately appeared in his head, but he couldn’t find it in himself to say those words out loud. That was when Hangyul offered his own answer.
“Because you’re worth the pain, Seungyoun.”
Seungyoun exploded, for lack of a better word. Maybe he’s used to having things go his way, maybe he’s overwhelmed by everything - nobody knows. Not even him. He’s a mystery even to himself. He regretted the words he said, even if half of him felt like he should’ve said them. The weak plea to remind Hangyul not to get hurt was genuine, though. He really meant it.
From a seat far from the cage, Seungyoun watched as Hangyul took the punches and mercilessly took his opponent down. To his surprise, he did not react the way he thought he would. Sure, his heart was pounding harder after every blow Hangyul took, but it felt okay for once. The fight was over and Hangyul was as battered as a person could be, but Seungyoun did not lose his shit like he used to.
That’s when he could finally find it in him to say his answer out loud, but only to himself as the cheer of the crowd drowned his voice.
You’re worth the pain, Hangyul.