Chapter Text
Everything is unfamiliar in the dark. The closet smells musty and dry, like fresh dust balls and old laundry soap. Whenever he shifts slightly, the cloth hangers beside him clatter with the movement, and the sound is loud enough to startle him. He isn’t afraid of the dark, but the fact that he’s so close to his crush - less than an arm’s length away, and in the dark, too - that’s enough to make all of his nerves stand on end.
Phichit squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, but when he opens them again, nothing has changed. He’s still stuck in the closet, and Seung-gil is still seated tantalizingly close to him, and both of them are silent. From the erratic rhythm of his own heartbeat and the lack of words coming to his mouth, Phichit figures this might just be the most awkward seven minutes of his life.
***
The first time they meet is in the hotel lobby.
Seung-gil’s in the elevator, and when the door opens, Phichit steps in too. “Hey, Seung-gil,” he throws in casually. They’ve never talked before, and he doesn’t know the Korean skater particularly well - Seung-gil barely has anything posted on his social media accounts - but Phichit’s a friendly person, and it’s his goal to at least converse with everyone he’ll be competing with.
The boy’s face shifts into a frown, his eyebrows drawing together with annoyance. “Am I supposed to know you?”
Phichit throws in a casual shrug, even though Seung-gil isn’t looking his way. “I’m Phichit Chulanont. Now you do.”
“Right. I saw your name on the listings. You qualified for the Grand Prix finals.”
“That’s right,” Phichit sings, his smile broadening. “So you do know who I am?”
“Not really.”
“Great. Let’s get to know each other, then.”
“Let’s not.”
“Why?”
Seung-gil stares straight ahead, his eyes trained on the elevator door as the chamber moves down. “There’s no point. Associating with other skaters isn’t going to benefit me.”
“It isn’t going to harm you, either,” Phichit argues.
The taller boy’s jaw sets, his eyes glazing over. “Look. I’m not a nice person, and I don’t really have any intention on being patient with you. Stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of yours, got it?”
The elevator door slides open, and he’s gone before Phichit has the time to formulate a response.
***
The second time they meet, it’s four days before the semifinals begin. They’re both at the hotel lobby for breakfast, and Seung-gil’s seated at a table by the window, alone.
“I didn’t think I’d see you here,” Phichit says cheerfully, hovering over his table. “Are you sitting with anyone?”
Seung-gil doesn’t even bother to look up; instead, he stabs a strawberry with a fork and brings it steadily to his mouth. “No.”
“Great. Then I’ll take this seat,” Phichit says, setting his plate down and pulling out the chair across the table.
The Korean skater swallows, eyeing him warily. “There are other empty tables, you know?”
“I know.” Phichit grins, sliding easily into the wooden chair. “I just want to sit here.”
“That’s inconsiderate.”
“How so?”
“I now have fifty percent less of table space.”
“That’s okay. You have one hundred percent of my attention.”
Seung-gil shoots a glare at him, but for once, he looks genuinely annoyed instead of resentful. “Whatever,” he says finally, his gaze snapping back down to his plate. “Do whatever you want. I’ll be done soon, anyways.”
They’re silent for awhile. Light spills in from the glass panes of the window, and when it hits just at the right angle, it makes Seung-gil’s eyes look green instead of black. It’s the first time Phichit has noticed, but Seung-gil actually has pretty eyes. They’re like, really pretty. His eyes trail down to examine the boy’s defined jawline, and he watches the way Seung-gil’s arm muscles flex as he reaches over to pick up a packet of sugar...
Fuck.
“Do you do this a lot?” Seung-gil asks.
The question is enough to snap him out of his thoughts. Phichit blinks, hoping he hasn’t been caught staring. “Do what?”
“You know. Sit uncomfortably close to random strangers at breakfast.”
“That’s called socializing,” Phichit explains, regaining his composure quickly. “Though it seems to be quite a novel concept for you, so perhaps I should enlighten you on the subject–”
“I know what socializing means.”
“But have you tried it before?”
“It’s...” his eyebrows crease slightly with frustration. “...a waste of time.”
“Really?”
“Of course.” Seung-gil turns to stare out of the window, his expression unchanging. “See, at this point, I only have an 8.33 percent chance of getting first place in the competition. It’s not a large fraction, so I don’t really have an incentive to be friendly to the other skaters.”
“8.33 percent?”
“Yeah. I have 1/2 chance of making it through the semifinals, and then if I get through, 1/6 chance of actually winning the finals. 1/12 is 8.33 percent.”
“Wow,” Phichit responds, his eyes wide. “That’s impressive. You’re like a math textbook.”
Seung-gil scoffs. “Yeah, well. People usually give up on talking to me when I bring math in.”
“For the record,” Phichit admits smoothly, “I like math textbooks. And I like talking to you, too.”
“Well, then,” Seung-gil’s glance falls suddenly, his lips pressing into a thin, hard line. “you’d be a first.”
Whether he’s referring to liking math textbooks or liking Seung-gil, Phichit doesn’t know. He doesn’t ask. Instead, he just smiles and says, “Then at least I’ll be the first in something. You know... just in case it doesn't turn out to be the Grand Prix.”
***
They end up exchanging phone numbers after breakfast that day. Seung-gil convinces himself it’s not a bad idea - if Phichit sends him too many texts, he can just mute notifications - but it turns out that Seung-gil honestly has no idea how he’s supposed to turn down offers that are specifically directed at him.
From Phichit: hey seung-gil!! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧
From Phichit: are you free tonite??
To Phichit: not really
From Phichit: aw, why not? (ㄒoㄒ)
To Phichit: well
To Phichit: i have to practice in the afternoon and i need to sleep early
From Phichit: but what about after practice? like for dinner ôヮô
To Phichit: i guess i don’t have anything planned?
From Phichit: great!! let’s eat dinner together (^▽^)
To Phichit: wait
To Phichit: what
From Phichit: i found a really cool restaurant i want to go with someone (≧◡≦)
To Phichit: you’re friends with yuuri, right? can’t you just go with him or smth?
From Phichit: yeah, but i eat with him a lot (´ヘ｀) i want to spend time with you!!
To Phichit: ...
To Phichit: socializing takes too much effort
From Phichit: it’s not socializing, i’ll be the only one there~
From Phichit: please? it’ll be fun! i promise i’ll stop bothering you if you go (ﾟ∀ﾟ人)
Seung-gil considers his options. He can either say no and have Phichit continue pestering him, or he can say yes, enjoy a nicer dinner than usual, and never have to speak to the Thai skater again. It seems like an obvious choice, but the thought of spending dinner with someone who’s practically a stranger to him puts him on edge. He’s not even good at conversing with the people who are close to him, but with someone he’s just met? That’s… well… terrifying. Especially when it’s someone as social as Phichit.
But then again, what is he supposed to say? How the hell is he supposed to turn down someone who has a personality equivalent to sunshine? Cursing under his breath, he lets his fingers navigate the keyboard by themselves, already knowing that he’ll regret his decision later.
To Phichit: fine
To Phichit: but just this once.
From Phichit: yay!! okay
From Phichit: let’s meet in the hotel lobby @ 6pm (ᅌᴗᅌ* )
From Phichit: see you there!!
The Korean skater turns his phone off and spends a considerable amount of time staring up at the ceiling. This is bad. Dinner’s in seven hours, and he has no idea how he’ll manage to concentrate during practice.
He makes a mental note never to give his phone number to attractive strangers ever again.
***
“You’re here early.” That’s the first thing Phichit says when Seung-gil steps into the hotel lobby.
“So are you,” Seung-gil counters.
“I didn’t want to keep you waiting after you agreed to come.”
“You didn’t.”
“That’s good. Should we go, then?” The hundred-watt smile Phichit offers him is enough to turn any coherent responses into senseless rambling, so Seung-gil just nods.
The restaurant is a ten minute walk away from their hotel. The sky hangs golden and clear, and freshly fallen snow crunches beneath their feet as they walk.
It takes three minutes for Seung-gil to gather the courage to ask a question. “What kind of restaurant is it?” It’s a simple enough question, but it makes him nervous to say it, anyways. He’s never been good at initiating conversations.
“It’s a traditional Spanish one,” Phichit answers easily, tilting his head up to look at the gaping sky. “It’s pretty famous around here. I figured you’ve probably had your fair share of Russian food this week, so it’ll be nice to try something different, you know?”
“Yeah,” Seung-gil agrees. Trying new things is a hit or miss for him - it’s either terrifying or refreshing. Somehow, spending time with Phichit is both.
They spend the rest of the walk in silence. It’s a comfortable silence - not one riddled with unsaid words or restless thoughts, and Seung-gil finds himself actually enjoying the other’s presence. The paths are lit by the faint golden glow of aligned streetlights, and their footsteps hit the ground in perfect rhythm.
***
Phichit lets Seung-gil scrutinize the menu for minute before he finally speaks up. “What kind of food do you like?”
“I don’t like vegetables,” Seung-gil answers slowly, his glance never leaving the page. “Most other foods are fine with me.”
“The paella here is pretty popular,” Phichit suggests. “It’s a seafood dish with rice.”
“I see.”
“They might put in cilantro or bell peppers, though. You could specifically ask them not to.”
Seung-gil nods, setting his menu down. “I don’t know anything about Spanish food, so I’ll take your suggestion.”
They call a waiter over, and Seung-gil orders paella - No bell peppers or cilantro, please. Yeah. No, I’m not allergic to them - and Phichit asks for the same dish - Yeah, vegetables are fine for me . Just don’t put them in his.
The restaurant is crowded, but their food arrives surprisingly quickly. Phichit finds out with dismay that, while Seung-gil’s paella doesn’t contain any cilantro leaves or bell pepper slices, it has green peas. The small, spherical seeds plant themselves into the grains of rice like Christmas lights, and Seung-gil looks down at his food and frowns.
“I’m sorry,” Phichit stammers, because he really is. “I had no idea they’d put in green peas. I’ve never had paella before, I just–” saw pictures of it on instagram without any green peas? Like he’d say something so embarrassing. “–I’ll… uh, I’ll buy you a new one! And... I’ll specify correctly this time, okay? This is all my fault, I should’ve done better research. I mean, you told me your preferences and then I just went and screwed it up–”
Seung-gil stares him dead in the eyes, looking positively murderous, and then he starts… laughing. The sound is loud and unrestrained and carefree. Phichit watches him, bewildered, feeling every inch of himself tense up in surprise. “I don’t get it,” he utters finally, sounding about as lost as he feels. “What’s so funny?”
“I don’t know,” Seung-gil says in between laughs, “but you’re so confident and composed all the time, and you just lost your shit over green peas.”
“Hey!” Phichit sputters defensively, “That’s because I made a mistake, okay? I was so afraid you’d hate me or something.”
“Over vegetables?”
“Yes. Over vegetables.” He buries his face into his hands. “Can we just order a new one and pretend this never happened?”
“That’s too much trouble,” Seung-gil says nonchalantly. “Green peas aren’t that bad. They don’t have much flavor, and they’re fairly easy to separate. I’ll just pick them out.”
“One by one?”
“Yeah. Why, do you want them?”
Phichit shrugs. “Sure. After I take a picture to post on instagram, though.”
A few camera flashes later, Phichit’s phone is safely in his pocket again, and Seung-gil busies himself with stabbing the offending objects with his fork and moving them to Phichit’s plate. “Are you sure about this?” Phichit asks, “it seems like a lot of trouble.”
Seung-gil doesn’t respond. Sighing, the Thai skater scoops some rice into his spoon and takes a bite. The paella tastes good, at least. He takes another bite, trying his best to ignore the sudden influx of green spheres migrating onto his plate.
“I’ve never had someone constantly refill my plate while I’m eating,” Phichit comments.
“So I’m the first?”
“Yeah, I suppose so.”
Seung-gil’s face shifts into something that looks suspiciously like a smile. “Then at least I’ll be the first in something,” he quotes, and Phichit realizes that his words are unquestionably familiar. “Just in case it doesn't turn out to be the Grand Prix.”
***
“So,” Seung-gil begins, halfway through his vegetable-free paella. “Why’d you ask me out to dinner?”
“It’s a thing that people do,” Phichit says.
“Last time I checked, you haven’t invited JJ or Michele or Emil out to eat.”
That much is true. “I’ve talked to them.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“I was mostly just curious about you. JJ and Michele and Emil seem pretty normal, but…” Phichit trails off, a smile pulling at his lips. “You’re... you.”
The taller skater scowls in response. “I’m not sure if that was a compliment or an insult.”
“I mean, you’re basically a math textbook that can ice skate. It’s not every day that I come across someone like that.”
“That’s... a description of me I’ve never heard before. Is this revenge for earlier?”
Phichit laughs and sets his spoon down. “I just want to know more about you. That’s all.”
“Fair enough.”
“Can I ask questions?”
“Sure.”
“Okay, I’ll ask you ten questions and you have to tell the truth. Then you can ask me ten.”
“Sounds good.”
He wastes no time thinking of things to ask. “What do you do in your free time?”
“Free time?” Seung-gil’s forehead crinkles in confusion. “Any spare time I have should be devoted to skating, shouldn’t it?”
“No, nerd,” Phichit says, not bothering to suppress a laugh. “What do you do for fun?”
That’s… a considerably harder question. “I… like listening to music, I guess. And… watching, uh, shows .” That’s right, he isn’t about to admit that he cries over cheesy k-dramas in his free time. Absolutely not. He has his precious self esteem to preserve.
“What’s your favorite show?”
...Oh. Uh. Damn it.
It would be easy enough just to lie and just choose something mainstream, but he’s already promised to tell the truth, and Phichit isn’t the type of person he likes to be dishonest with, anyways. “It’s… called My Love from Another Star. ” Seung-gil speaks the title as quickly as is humanly possible - Phichit probably has no idea what it is, and maybe if he doesn’t quite hear the title, that will keep him from searching it up–
“The k-drama, right? That’s my favorite too!” Phichit interrupts, and Seung-gil blinks, wondering if he’s hearing right. “I binge watched all 21 episodes in a day… the ending was so good! After that, I watched it four more times, even though I should’ve been– oh, sorry, I’m rambling, right?” he clears his throat, “I’ll go back to asking questions.”
Seung-gil’s… well, he’s dumbfounded, to say the least. He hasn’t found any other males who like the show, let alone one that doesn’t even speak his language. Any other day, this would’ve been a monumental moment. But Phichit’s already asking him the next question, so he decides that blanking out or idly staring at Phichit in shock are not really appropriate responses at this time.
“What’s your favorite food?”
Finally, a question that doesn’t make him question his life choices. “Probably Gyeranppang. It’s... pretty much just Korean egg bread.”
“Really? It sounds cool! I want to try it some time.”
Seung-gil shrugs. “Come to Korea.”
“I want to.”
“You should.”
“Someday I will.” Phichit’s eyes wander, darting from one corner of the restaurant to the other. “What’s your biggest fear?”
“Not winning any major competitions before I quit skating.”
“That’s a lot of pressure to put on yourself.”
“As a professional skater? Not really.”
“Fair enough.” He pauses, staring down pensively at the cup of water on the table. “Coffee or tea?”
“Tea. Coffee sucks.”
“I’m glad we agree on that.” Phichit says airily, but for a moment his expression flickers – his eyes settle with a light that’s more serious, intimate, decisive. Seung-gil is about to ask if something is wrong, but Phichit beats him to the chase.
“So,” he says, leaning towards the table with his head propped up on his hand. Brown eyes meet dark green ones, and Phichit smiles, an expression that’s far too lighthearted to match the question that follows.
“Have you ever fallen in love?”