Chapter Text
Jungkook is weightless for all of a moment.
He’s flying, eyes clenched shut and arms held tight to his body. He’s free, feeling the cold rush of frigid air on his cheeks. Behind his closed lids, he imagines a sea of colors–blues, whites, and aquas swirl together like wet paint mixing on a palette, a beautiful ocean on a calm spring day.
Then something flashes, cutting through the peace like a hot knife. His name, a score, a ranking.
Jeon Jungkook. 255.35. 4th place.
His moment of bliss is cut mercilessly short as he comes crashing back down to Earth.
As always, the ice is unforgiving, cold and hard. Jungkook isn’t allowed a moment to react as his skates slip out from underneath him. His right hip smacks down first, then his back and shoulder. He cracks his elbow on the ice when he tries to catch himself, cursing loudly at the sharp pain.
Lying on his back, he clutches at his throbbing arm, moaning under his breath. Breathing sharply through his nose, he takes a few seconds to collect himself and wipe the scoreboard from his mind.
The memory stings more than his aching elbow.
He’s rolling himself into an upright position, pants and shirt already damp from the ice, when he hears the scratching of Seokjin and Jimin’s skates as his hyungs glide over to check on him.
“Hey! JK, what the hell was that?” Seokjin shouts from a few feet away. “That’s the third jump you’ve missed today! And it was only a triple! You know what? That’s it! Until you can pull your head out of your ass, you’re not allowed to attempt another jump! You hear me?”
“Hyung…” Jungkook groans, cheeks red from exertion and the cold and perhaps a hint of embarrassment, too.
“Don't you dare ‘hyung’ me!”
Jungkook hangs his head between his knees and groans. He’s still rubbing his elbow when Jimin skids to a stop beside him. The blonde skater assesses Jungkook’s injury gingerly and pulls the honey-haired boy up by his good arm, wiping the ice from the latter’s side and legs.
“‘Are you alright, Jungkook?’ is what Jin hyung meant to say, of course,” Jimin encourages in a gentle voice. He’s hiding a laugh beneath his concern though. The boy jumps back when Seokjin comes screaming to a halt beside them, putting Jungkook in a headlock.
The oldest man scoffs dramatically. He pokes a finger into Jungkook’s frozen cheek. “If this bullshit is because you took fourth again at the Cup of China, I’ll beat you.”
“Sorry, hyung,” Jungkook apologizes, staring at his black ice skates with disdain. If he could make them combust with sheer willpower alone, he would.
Seokjin gives him a look of shock and disgust. “Did you hit your head when you fell or something? Where’s my fiery, little Kookie?”
“Hyung,” Jimin interjects softly.
The eldest releases Jungkook but grabs the boy by his shoulders and levels a hard stare at him. “Let’s call it a day today,” he says in a calmer voice. “You’ve worked hard, Jungkook. We’re all still going to the Pyeongchang Championship in another month. Get some rest and come back again tomorrow morning. Ice your elbow too. Jimin, call Taehyung. We’re done here for today.”
The blonde skater raises two fingers in mock salute and grins. “On it, coach!” He offers Jungkook a reassuring smile before skating back towards the bench to contact his childhood friend. He bites his lip as he cheerfully makes small figure-8s along the way.
Seokjin ruffles Jungkook’s hair and begins to follow Jimin to pack up his stuff when the youngest boy calls out to him.
“Hyung, what am I supposed to do in December? My routine is good, but it’s not good enough. I’ve blown the last few competitions. The Grand Prix Final is only one month after Pyeongchang. I can’t medal like this, never mind win . If I even make it that far.”
Frowning slightly, Seokjin stops and turns to face his skater, hell, his younger brother. He’s known the kid since he was twelve. “You will make it, Jungkook. And you didn’t blow anything. You're doing a great job. I’ll think of something for the Grand Prix. I’m your coach. Trust me. Now go home and play Overwatch or something.”
With those parting words, the eldest leaves him standing in the center of the rink.
Jungkook sighs, his right elbow still numb from his fall. He rubs at it absentmindedly. It hurts, but the knot of anxiety and fear in his stomach is excruciating.
South Korea’s golden boy.
The golden pride of Korea’s male figure skaters.
The makings of a true champion.
The news headlines run like a movie reel over and over again in Jungkook’s head as he stares at the ice he used to love but detests so much right now. He can see his hazy reflection on its surface. His hair is stringy with sweat and plastered to his forehead and neck. His eyes are hollow and bruised. He looks so tired, so defeated.
He hates it.
Tearing his eyes away, Jungkook closes them and takes a shaky breath.
“Jungkook!”
It’s Taehyung. Jungkook can hear the revving of the Zamboni’s engine behind him. Opening his eyes, Jungkook spins to greet his friend, forcing a grin.
“Jimin said you finished practice early today! Why are you still here?”
“Just thinking,” Jungkook calls back.
Taehyung is perched on the driver’s seat, leaning carelessly on the steering wheel. Boxy smile on full display, he reclines back and edges the purring machine onto the ice to polish it for the kids’ class coming in a half an hour.
“Well quit thinking and go home! Or I’ll flatten ya!”
Jungkook smiles for real this time. “Jimin hyung would never forgive you if you did!”
Pleased with the way Taehyung immediately flushes and sputters unintelligibly, he sends his hyung a cheeky wave before skating over to grab his bag.
He’s so whipped, Jungkook thinks idly as he unlaces his skates and pulls on a pair of trainers. He stretches his toes for a bit before heading to his locker downstairs.
After a hot shower to ease his sore muscles and achy joints, Jungkook changes into a warm, white hoodie and black sweatpants. He checks his phone, seeing that Hoseok has posted another Instagram update. This time it’s a photo of him making a kissy face and peace sign in his dance studio while Namjoon stands behind him, his arm in a cast…again. To this day, Jungkook still wonders how Namjoon took silver at the Grand Prix Final last year.
Jimin calls it the eighth wonder of the world.
After packing up his bag, Jungkook puts his music on shuffle and sticks one earbud in before ascending the stairs back to the main floor of the rink. He searches the rink for Taehyung to tell the older boy goodbye.
He hears him before he sees him.
“You wanna meet up now?” Jungkook doesn’t need to see his hyung’s face to know whom Taehyung is speaking to. The sheer happiness in his voice is a dead giveaway. He’s leaning back casually against the railing of the rink, facing away from Jungkook who is starting to feel like he’s eavesdropping on a private moment. “You’re not too tired? Okay, okay. Got it. I’ll meet you outside exit 5. Bye, Jimin!”
I wonder if he’ll ever tell Jimin hyung how he feels, Jungkook thinks idly before slipping unnoticed from the rink. On his way out, he catches Taehyung doing a happy dance on the ice, nearly falling in his excitement.
Jungkook’s still smiling to himself when he steps outside. The air is crisp with fallen autumn leaves. It’s early November.
Adjusting the volume of his music and putting in his other earbud, he heads toward the bus stop that will take him back home. He pulls a baseball cap out of his bag to shield his face a bit. Jungkook doesn’t like to think that he’s a famous athlete, but he also doesn’t want to be chased down by rabid fangirls or nosy paparazzi.
After boarding his bus, he luckily finds a seat in the back and settles against the window. He closes his eyes and pulls the bill of his cap down to hide his face a little more just in case. He tries to ignore it, but the dull ache in his elbow reminds him of his failures from that morning.
As the reigning World Junior Champion, Jungkook’s debut in the senior men’s division began with stellar, golden performances in America and Japan but quickly deteriorated under the pressure of success and his own perfectionism in Russia and China where he took third and fourth respectively.
My career has barely begun, and I’m already in a slump, he thinks bitterly. So much rode on a medal at Pyeongchang and the Grand Prix. I need to train harder.
As if reading his thoughts, his phone chirps in his pocket with a message from Seokjin.
I better get a picture of you lying in bed playing Overwatch or so help me I’m driving to your house and making you rest.
Jungkook coughs into his hand to cover a laugh. His coach may be a bit unconventional at times, but he always knows what to say to cheer Jungkook up. The boy types a quick yes, sir back and relaxes into his seat a bit more, some of his burdens lifting off his shoulders.
‘Trust me,’ Seokjin had said, and Jungkook believes in his hyung one hundred percent, but it’s faith in himself that he lacks right now.
When Jungkook disembarks his bus almost an hour later, his phone vibrates again. It’s a video message from Jimin in their group chat on Kakao Talk. He taps on it to play and is greeted by a giant yellow chick plushie before Jimin pulls it away from the camera.
“Look what Tae won at the claw machine! It’s me!”
“Jimin, stop! That’s so embarrassing!” Taehyung whines off screen.
Jungkook smirks and is about to type a reply when another message pops up.
Namjoon sends a puking emoji, which sparks a message war between the older skater and Jimin. Hoseok starts cackling via text, and when Seokjin starts ranting about kindness, Jungkook wonders how he got so lucky to meet such great hyungs as soon as he joined the senior men’s skating division last February.
“I’m home!” Jungkook calls as he enters his home and toes off his sneakers in the doorway.
His mother pops her head out of the kitchen. “Jungkook, you’re back already?”
“Seokjin hyung ended practice early.” Jungkook kisses his mother’s cheek as he opens the freezer door to pull out an ice pack for his arm.
“Is everything alright? Did you hurt yourself?”
“Just landed on my elbow. Nothing too bad. Don’t worry.”
She gives him a narrowed look as he tiptoes out of the kitchen to escape to his room.
Once inside, Jungkook lets out a big sigh. He tosses his skating bag to one side and leaps for his bed, burying his face in his pillow. After simply lying there for a few moments, he rolls over and powers up a round of Overwatch, snapping a quick picture to placate his hyung. Resting his elbow on the ice pack, he gets lost in the explosions and excitement of his game, thoughts and worries about skating flitting away.
He emerges a few hours later to get food and more ice. When he returns to his room, he finds a new text message from Seokjin waiting for him.
Your hyung is a genius. See you tomorrow.
Jungkook stares at the message in confusion. What the hell does that mean? But Jungkook doesn’t want to question his coach for the sake of his own health.
Nevertheless, excitement and a hint of apprehension bubble in Jungkook’s stomach.
❄ ❄ ❄
Jungkook’s elbow is stiff the next morning as he reaches for the floor. He and Jimin are doing their morning stretching routines before they lace up to practice on the ice. He’s wearing tight, black stretchy pants, a black, long-sleeved shirt, and his favorite Iron Man socks. Bending over at his hips, legs spread apart, Jungkook winces when his elbow touches the mat as he rests his forearms on the floor.
It’s then that the rink doors burst open. Jimin nearly falls over in surprise, having been balancing with one leg perched up on the ledge of the rink. Jungkook drops his head between his arms to look back behind him where his hyung is making a ruckus. Jungkook’s hair is fluffy and soft as it hangs down around his face.
“Hello, my protégés!” Seokjin chimes, particularly chipper for six o’ clock in the morning.
There’s another person with him. He’s shorter than Seokjin, pale and slender, wearing all black from his boots up to his jacket. His hair is also black under a gray beanie. The man pulls his sunglasses off with one hand, squinting as his eyes adjust to the bright lights inside the rink. He scowls unpleasantly and clutches the large Americano in his other hand like a lifeline. Clearly, whoever this stranger is, he’s not happy to be up this early in the morning.
His dark eyes survey the room as if he’s simultaneously scrutinizing and judging every finite detail. Finally, they land on Jungkook who is still bent over, his butt up in the air facing the door and head dangling upside-down between his arms. The man smirks but it only lasts for a second. His gaze however lingers appreciatively over Jungkook’s shapely thighs and backside before meeting Jungkook’s big eyes that are now wide and confused.
The young skater flushes under the scrutiny, but he also stubbornly doesn’t move or look away.
“Morning, hyung,” Jimin says after he has both feet safely on the ground again.
Jungkook takes the opportunity to swiftly roll forward into a standing position. He rubs at his elbow to ease the dull ache still throbbing there.
“Morning, Jimin. Kookie, how’s the elbow?” Seokjin asks, walking over to his skaters. He ruffles the youngest’s honey hair and smiles, spinning Jungkook around to face the newcomer.
“Yoongi, meet Jeon Jungkook. Jungkook, meet Min Yoongi, my old college roommate. He’s agreed to help you with your new free skate program.”
Jungkook levels his hyung with a hard glare. Seokjin ignores him and pushes him towards the man called Yoongi.
“I haven’t agreed to anything yet,” the man grumbles in a low, gravelly voice that sends a shiver down Jungkook’s spine. Yoongi transfers his sunglasses to the hand that's holding his coffee. “But Jin hyung wouldn’t leave me alone yesterday until I said I’d come watch you skate. I still don’t know a damn thing about figure skating even after living with him, so I don’t know how much help I can actually be.” He holds his free hand out for a handshake.
Before Jungkook takes Yoongi’s outstretched hand, he shoots Seokjin another suspicious glare. They shake hands, and Jungkook dismisses the tingling in his fingers to his numb elbow.
“Yoongi produces music,” Seokjin clarifies. “Mostly hip hop, but he’s been branching out these days. He mentioned looking for a new project, right?”
“And I regret ever bringing it up,” the other man replies, but it lacks real heat.
Jimin is intensely squinting at Yoongi, full lips pursed thoughtfully. His eyes widen as he snaps his fingers and points excitedly at the other man. “Oh my God!” he exclaims. “You’re AGUST D!”
“Who?” Jungkook asks, blinking away from Yoongi. He hadn’t realized he’d been staring.
“AGUST D! The rapper from Daegu that Tae goes absolutely nuts over.” Jimin bounds up to Yoongi with a bright smile and holds out both hands to shake. Yoongi obliges him politely, looking a bit overwhelmed but flattered. “My friend Taehyung is a huge fan of yours. He watches your music videos like ten times a day. I walked in on him one time trying to rap along to you using his slipper as a microphone. He’s gonna lose his mind. Wait! Wait! Can I take a picture with you? Oh God, Tae’s gonna kill me.”
Jimin laughs happily as he poses next to Yoongi who offers a slightly forced smile as they snap a selfie together with Jimin’s phone. The skater cackles all the way over to the bench as he texts Taehyung the photo. Seokjin looks like he’s enjoying Yoongi’s discomfort, stifling his own giggles and patting his friend on the shoulder before joining Jimin by the bench.
Jungkook is left with Yoongi who levels him with a piercing, lazy gaze. The man sighs and laughs shortly to himself.
“But Seokjin hyung said you produce music...” the young skater says, rubbing his sore elbow absently.
Yoongi takes a step closer to the younger man and shrugs. “I do. My own mostly. Always been a dream of mine. Just want people to hear what I have to say. Prove some wrong about me. That was a few years ago though.” He stops moving when he’s right in Jungkook’s space again. He pins the skater with an unwavering gaze. “How about you, kid? What’s your dream?”
Jungkook blinks, lips parted in surprise. Although Yoongi is a couple inches shorter than him, the man makes him feel small, off-kilter. Clearing his throat, he finally glances away to the rink where Seokjin is working Jimin through a few exercises on the ice. “Uh...it used to be to win the Grand Prix Final.”
“Used to be?”
“I haven’t been performing well recently. I don’t think I stand a chance right now.”
When Yoongi doesn’t reply right away, Jungkook chances a glance over his shoulder. The other man looks...disappointed? His hand tightens on his coffee cup perhaps without his knowledge.
“Look, kid,” murmurs Yoongi, his tone serious and tired. “I didn’t drag my ass out of bed this morning for nothing.”
“I didn’t ask you to come,” Jungkook retorts defensively. It’s a bit rude, but he’s conflicted as it is without some stranger insulting him.
“No, but Seokjin hyung promised me that his youngest skater was a fighter, not a quitter.”
Jungkook reels back as if slapped. “I’m not a quitter!”
On the ice, both Seokjin and Jimin stop and turn when they hear Jungkook shout. “Hyung...” Jimin whispers hesitantly.
Seokjin grins. He nudges the shorter man and gestures with his head over at the pair. “You see that? Look at Kook.”
“He looks pissed.”
“Good.”
Jungkook’s eyes are burning. They spark with a flame that’s been smoldering inside for months, waiting for the right means to ignite. His cheeks are flushed in anger and a hint of embarrassment. He doesn’t look away from Yoongi.
The older man, not entirely surprised by Jungkook’s outburst, surveys the younger man’s determined face with barely concealed interest. He drops his gaze to the boy’s lips then back to his big doe eyes ablaze with purpose and smirks.
“Prove it,” he says to Jungkook before walking towards the rink where Seokjin and Jimin hastily try to pretend like they hadn’t been watching them.
Once alone, Jungkook takes a deep breath, heart pounding in his chest. He feels flames licking his cheekbones and ears, knowing he’s flushing a bright shade of pink. Stupid Min Yoongi with his sharp eyes and even sharper tongue.
The man had gotten under his skin with just a few words.
The ache in his elbow returns as a reminder that he has to work extra hard to show Yoongi that he’s not a quitter. He’s still off his game, but maybe this could be the push he needs to make the top tier of the podium. After shaking his arms out and cracking his neck, Jungkook follows Yoongi toward the rink. The man has taken a seat on the bench and is flipping through his phone disinterestedly.
Seokjin greets his skater from the other side of the wall, leaning on it smugly. Jungkook humors him by acknowledging the satisfied grin on his hyung’s face as he laces up his skates.
“Yoongi said he doesn’t know anything about figure skating,” Seokjin states. “Why don’t you show him what he’ll be working with, huh Kook?”
Jungkook smiles in return.
He takes the ice with broad strides, circles the rink a few times to warm up his body. He lets muscle memory walk him through a few simple exercises to familiarize himself with the chill and the glide of the ice under his blades. Jungkook glances at the bench without thinking.
Yoongi is watching him intently now. No longer buried in his phone or coffee, the man is focused on Jungkook as he skates effortlessly across the ice. His dark, angular eyes are shining with interest although his expression is impassive and unreadable.
Jungkook knows he’s blushing again so he closes his eyes in an attempt to ignore the heated gaze on him. He fails to notice that Jimin and Seokjin have left the rink, his coach sneaking over to the stereo.
He can still feel Yoongi’s stare on him like a hand pressed to the base of his neck. It sends a shiver down his spine and he almost misses the first beat of the music. It’s one of his old short program tracks. Seokjin, that jerk.
That routine was good when he was in the junior division, he knows that, but it didn’t showcase what he can do now as an adult. So he improvises.
He bends backwards, letting gravity spin him in a slow circle to start. He pushes forwards and builds up speed for his first jump, a triple axel. He still feels a little rusty, but he lands it without falling.
Feeling more confident, he loses himself to the music. He improvises a step sequence, dancing along the ice with practiced ease. He jumps and glides and spins to the orchestra’s melody. As it swells, he leads himself up to a quad, the first he’s attempted in a while due to nerves. He over-rotates and has to catch himself with a hand on the landing. It jolts his elbow, but he ignores it and continues. He tries another combination, two triples, and they go off without a hitch. Pleased, he does an arabesque and glides on one leg, the other stretched out behind him, his lines nearly perfect. He jumps and brings his leg out in front of him as he finishes with a sit-spin combination.
As the music fades, Jungkook lifts his upper body, spins slowing to a stop. It ends just as he poses, one arm reaching towards the sky, grasping at a dream just beyond his fingertips. He inhales deeply, rushing oxygen to his lungs. He feels sweat dripping down his face and neck. He can hear Jimin applauding and whistling, and Seokjin yells something that sounds suspiciously like “that’s my baby.”
Laughing to himself, the skater smiles and finally searches for his friends. His eyes linger over where Yoongi is sitting rigid. His eyes are wide, mouth parted slightly in barely contained awe. He’s looking at Jungkook with something akin to wonder, but then his gaze hardens to something more intense and concentrated. Jungkook feels like a rabbit cornered by a fox. The man’s sudden, smoldering gaze sucks the last dredges of strength from his tired body. He feels the urge to sink to his knees.
Instead, he skates over to the bench, confidence trickling back into his chest. He’s feeling significantly less like prey when he approaches his friends. He stops in front of Yoongi and grins.
“Do you still think I’m a quitter, Min Yoongi?” he asks.
Yoongi huffs. “You’re not bad, kid.”
“Don’t call me ‘kid.’”
“You’re not bad, Kookie,” Yoongi amends, grinning when Jungkook sputters and blushes at the sudden nickname.
“That was amazing, Jungkook!” Jimin says, punching the younger skater playfully on the shoulder. “Almost looked like the old you. Only, you know, more refined.”
Seokjin nods along in agreement. “We missed you. Now get your ass back out there and practice your quad. If you put your hand down again, I’m hiding your banana milk.”
Jungkook mock-salutes his coach and skates back out onto the ice with Jimin in tow.
Seokjin levels Yoongi with a suspicious glare, although the other man is watching the honey-haired skater. “Is that fondness I see, Yoongichi?” Yoongi jolts from his daze and returns Seokjin’s glare with one of his own. “He’s a tough bunny to resist, I know. But I had asked you to help inspire him musically, not ogle him.”
“You’re disgusting, hyung. I’m not ogling him.”
“You’re just undressing him with your eyes.”
Yoongi sighs. “This is strictly professional, Seokjin hyung. He needs new music. I want to branch out, and I’m doing you a favor. Besides, he’s just a kid.”
“He’s cute, and he’s twenty.” When Yoongi doesn’t refute him, Seokjin adds, “Just don’t break his heart, okay? Nothing ends a career faster than that.”
“That tall, gangly idiot doesn’t know what he fucked up.”
Seokjin smiles softly. “It was still my choice to stop skating professionally. Just keep your thoughts PG, okay? I feel like I can see into your mind, and I am appalled.”
Yoongi laughs at that, but doesn’t respond.
Suddenly, the doors at the far end of the rink burst open. Taehyung is standing there, panting with wild, messy hair from sleep. He’s wearing his pajama pants and a loose button down and...are those slippers?
“Jimin!”
The boy in question slips and falls on his butt at his friend’s sudden shout.
“Is he still here? I’m revoking our best friendship if that picture was fake!”
“You wouldn’t dare!” Jimin yells back from the ice.
Jungkook, who is bent over in belly laughter, just points in the direction of Seokjin and Yoongi. All he hears is Taehyung’s “Oh my God!” before a loud crash as his hyung trips over the bottom step and whacks his head on the floor.