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It wasn’t that Woojin couldn’t have gone about his morning routine more quietly. It’s just that after having to fend for yourself in a university setting for quite a while, poise gradually sinks somewhere near the bottom of the priority list.
The small dorm room was surprisingly orderly; stationery tucked away in its designated nooks, floor clear of clutter, a faint citrusy smell wafting through the air. The manner of its inhabitants, though, didn’t always align with this tidy calm. Some mornings were a parade of controlled chaos.
Woojin rushed from one side of the room to the other with heavy steps, grabbing more items than he probably needed for the day. The sounds of limbs bumping into unsuspecting pieces of furniture were followed by either a hiss or a curse word. Attempting to waddle into a pair of jeans while folding clothes was a feat of multitasking mastery.
Accompanying the cacophony of closet doors and drawers being haphazardly opened and closed in quick succession, the heap of sheets and pillows piled on the bed opposite Woojin’s rustled. A severely ruffled fringe peeked out from beneath the blanket. A confused pair of eyes aimed displeased blinks at the sunrays trying to intrude through the small dorm room window. “Turn the sun off,” Daehwi found the strength to utter before burying his face back in his pillow.
“Don’t blame the stars for your bad life decisions,” Woojin calmly replied as he kneeled in front of his backpack to stuff clothes in it.
Daehwi had deemed the blissful period of post-exam calm as the perfect time for a simple test of his alcohol tolerance. Lone Friday nights embraced a bottle of wine and an anime marathon with the best of intentions. Experiment results indicated that Daehwi was sadly a lightweight, weaker than the dry autumn leaves scattered along the campus pavements. A glimpse of the empty rosé bottle on his desk evoked a frown.
“As if your life choices are exemplary,” he muttered, words muffled by the pillow.
Woojin may or may not have deliberately tugged on the zipper of his backpack to make it close with the most obnoxiously loud sound it could produce. The hangover running through Daehwi’s every nerve responded accordingly with a wince, making the boy crawl back under his blanket. After Woojin stood up and slung his backpack over his shoulder, he made sure to place a glass of water next to the aspirin tube on Daehwi’s night stand.
“I’ll text you if something pops up after practice and I can’t come back immediately,” Woojin said, patting a particular lump in the bunched up sheets beneath which he assumed Daehwi’s head was hiding, before going out of the small room and leaving his roommate to the magic of post-hangover naps.
~~~~~
Woojin held his small hands behind his back in hesitation. His fingers gently clutched a single daisy, careful not to twist the stem or ruffle the petals. Near the corner of the kindergarten building he was battling the nervousness crawling up his spine, summoning as much courage as his tiny body could fit. Occasionally he lifted his gaze to peek around the corner at the sandbox in the yard.
Clad in a purple sundress, the same colour as the bow primly tied at the end of her loose braid, Kim Yerim sat surrounded by meticulously built castle walls, just as a princess should. She diligently dug through piles upon piles of sand, paying no heed to all the other children running gleefully around the playground or to the time flowing by. Even with her arms dirty all the way to the elbows, Woojin firmly stood by the opinion that she was the cutest girl in the whole kindergarten.
Woojin had held that opinion for quite some time. Many a recess had found him staring at the girl with frilly skirts and soft laughter from a distance, too shy to approach. The matter was so serious that he had even sought his mother’s advice on how to properly tell a girl she was cute. He found flowers to be the answer he needed; that day he had snuck to the fence of the kindergarten, right where he knew the tufts of daisies were nestled, to pluck the prettiest one and offer it to Yerim alongside his declaration.
She was sitting alone in the sandbox. The moment was perfect, Woojin decided after contemplations as deep as a four-year-old could unfurl. Right before he abandoned his hiding spot behind the corner to go up to Yerim, however, another figure caught his eye. From the opposite side of the yard, Park Jihoon, one of the boys in the same kindergarten group as Woojin, was slowly approaching Yerim. What made this occurrence much more alarming was the fact that he also had a flower clutched in his tiny hand.
Realisation dawned upon Woojin. It was only natural that he hadn’t been the only one to notice how adorable Yerim was. He was about to lose his chance.
Unless he acted swiftly.
All caution for the daisy in his tiny hands thrown aside, Woojin dashed forward. Just as Jihoon was about to overstep the edge of the sandbox in which Yerim was sitting, he got tackled to the ground with no time for much more of a reaction than a surprised yelp and widened eyes. The flower in Jihoon’s grasp, a small branch of lilac, got sadly flung aside.
“Let me go!” Jihoon warned, grabbing Woojin’s shoulders in an attempt to push him off.
Woojin, however, proved to be a tough nut to crack. “No! This is my day!” he muttered, slivers of childish anger tinging his voice, keeping Jihoon pinned to the ground.
Yerim had stopped trying to perfect her castle after getting startled by the noise. She stared wide-eyed at the two boys exchanging menacing grumbles while rolling on the ground. At some point, she stood up and quickly retreated away from the sandbox, yet the boys didn’t seem to notice at all, simply continuing their wrestle until a teacher came to put a halt to their shenanigans.
~~~~~
It had been raining quite often recently. Many a tear had fallen from the clouds overhead, soaking up the entire province for days to come, making even urban terrain a challenge to cross. In the face of the weather’s whims, athletes didn’t have much more of a choice than to compromise and settle for smaller indoor venues to practise in. On the way to the gym on campus, Woojin cautiously dodged even the smallest mounds of mud. Meanwhile Jaehwan, following not too far behind, straight up stomped his sneakers through puddles without a care in the world.
Woojin needed a solid dose of concentration and fumbling to pick out the key to the gym from the hefty key ring he had requested from the concierge. A few turns of the lock and a sharp screech of the metal door were all that separated them from the familiar smell of old floorboards and afternoons spent in cramps. The light switch for the gym was merely a few feet away from the door, but a few steps into the venture, Woojin tripped over something inside the dark space.
“The hell is this,” Woojin uttered, holding onto the wall for more support than he seemingly needed. A flick of a few light switches soaked the space in fluorescent lighting and revealed a lone volleyball rolling in front of the door.
“Oh, the volleyball team had the last practice in here yesterday,” Jaehwan nonchalantly explained, “so this probably got left after the-“
He didn’t manage to finish his sentence before Woojin stormed out of the gym with the ball in hand. He stopped right by the threshold, dropped the ball from a height of a few feet, just at the right distance in front of himself to kick it as hard as he could. Jaehwan poked his head out through the door just in time to watch the ball become but a speck in the distance as it flew over the campus fence.
“Oh,” he simply said in a quiet voice. Woojin dragged him back inside the gym without a word to spare.
~~~~~
It started out simple enough. The day after their fight, Jihoon and Woojin had stumbled upon each other at the kindergarten entrance. Their parents had dropped them off at the same time. Grumpy glares were exchanged as soon as they noticed each other. Both tried rushing inside as quickly as their short legs would allow them in an attempt to avoid spending any more time in the other’s vicinity than necessary. A stubborn race transpired, one without a definite winner due to their teacher scolding them for running indoors.
Slowly, it snowballed. Who could make a prettier drawing. Who could make a bigger sand castle. Who could write more prettily.
Some people say stubbornness is the fifth horseman of the Apocalypse.
~~~~~
Mere days later, rainy clouds had dispersed to make way for cascades of sunshine. Spring was surely blooming in every nook and cranny of the province. Following the sun’s relentless lashes, heat managed to creep beneath even the thickest of shade. The sudden contrast compared to merely a week ago made many seek refuge indoors. The least studious portion of the student body discovered a newfound appreciation for the campus library due to its air conditioning unit.
The spring season never rolled around the corner without a slew of events coiling anticipation around it. The annual university level tournaments for every sport available across the country were approaching – regional first, then nationals a few weeks after all qualifiers were announced. This elaborate setting rested on the backs of all the student athletes who always shouldered longer and more demanding practices in preparation for the competitions.
The sound of over a dozen pairs of cleats hitting the surface of the open field in perfect synchronisation was almost as overwhelming as it was fascinating. The number of laps the football team had to run around the open sports field on campus as a warm up increased by the day. Captain Park Woojin kept a steady pace ahead of his teammates, perpetually egging them on to catch up.
The weather’s mood swings may have been sharp, but the strictness of the university football team’s captain remained sharper.
“What’re you looking at?” Seongwu asked, placing a hand on Jihoon’s shoulder.
Jihoon seemed to be submerged in his own thoughts, gaze wandering beyond the fence of the football field. Woojin was making his team run suicide drills again. Near the last few sprints, the majority of the players seemed as if their souls had long since left their bodies, but it was worth noting that Jihoon hadn’t noticed any of them give up in all the time he’d been hanging around that part of campus.
Befitting of a university of class, athletics were cherished and encouraged, hence why a section of the campus was reserved specifically for sports fields, venues and equipment storage space. Its innermost side, where the pavements stretching from various faculty buildings finally reached soil battered by years of hard work, was where one could find the open football field. Jihoon had heard it being jokingly referred to as “paradise”. Its artificial turf was reminiscent of the saying “the grass is always greener on the other side”, yet its implications couldn’t have been more ironic, considering how the football captain didn’t know how to go easy on people.
Woojin’s methods may have been intimidating to many, sadistic to most, but his hard-work had never let his squad down. Jihoon could list a thousand and one reasons why Park Woojin got on his nerves, but his skills as a player and captain couldn’t qualify as one.
Woojin himself, despite his hair sticking out in every direction possible after all the effort, was the splitting image of charisma. Shorts rode up toned thighs with every step he took. Nobody on the team could beat him in speed, but to challenge his advantage, he ran longer distances. Covered in dirt, donned in a creased jersey, drenched in sweat, Park Woojin looked his best.
Both Seongwu and Jihoon were aware of the answer of the question. Eliciting an answer wasn’t its point, anyway. Seongwu simply used it as a way to snap his captain out of the reveries he often lapsed into, because Jihoon’s stubbornness wouldn’t allow him to admit the truth out loud.
“Nothing,” Jihoon replied as per usual, eyes lingering on the artificial turf for a second longer before he turned around and began walking towards the next field over, where the volleyball nets were hooked. “Let’s go practice.”
“Oh for the love of-“
The poles on which the volleyball nets should’ve been stretched were sticking out from the hot asphalt of the field bare. Some of the trees lining the field, however, had their branches nicely wrapped in said nets.
What Seongwu didn’t know was how exactly could someone get the nets up that high. What he did know, though, was that it was the doing of the savages from the next field over. That was not up for debate.
Seongwu’s mental gymnastics were interrupted by a snort. He turned to face the source of the sound and, surely enough, Jihoon was trying not to burst into cackles. Seongwu couldn’t help but scrunch his eyebrows in confusion.
Jihoon noticed the spiker of his team staring at him and simply replied, “You’ll see,” through a smirk.
Chatter approached the changing room. The football team slowly filed in, but their conversations stilled once someone flicked the light switch on.
“They have to be kidding me,” someone uttered in awe after a moment of silence.
A string, it seemed like sewing thread, was tied to the doors of all the lockers and connected them like a spider web. It was stretched absolutely taut; cracking a locker open would’ve been impossible without severing it first. With how the thing was everywhere, from top lockers to bottom (even woven around some more than once just to make matters extra annoying), that was guaranteed to take a while on its own.
A single sticky note hung from a part of the string that was closest to the door. “Good luck at the spring tournament, loser,” it read, and Woojin swore he was going to kick that Jihoon bastard’s ass. His handwriting was as ugly as ever.
~~~~~
“-and not only did she get my name wrong, she spilled some of my latte too, can you be- wait, are you listening? Jihoon?“
Jihoon stood perfectly still, sans his eyes, which were looking over Jinyoung’s shoulder, following something at the other side of the room. Jinyoung turned his head in that direction and it didn’t even take a second for him to understand what was up.
Woojin and Daehwi, lunch trays in hand, were indulging in light chatter while heading for a table in one of the corners of the cafeteria. At some point, Daehwi happened to look in Jinyoung and Jihoon’s general vicinity and happily waved.
Jinyoung shyly returned the wave with a small smile. Jihoon’s gaze flitted between the two before he quietly hissed, “You’re flirting with the enemy.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, would you prefer me to drown in denial and elaborate sadism schemes when I’m into someone, or do you fear me giving you a run for your money?” Jinyoung replied, voice as deadpan as he could manage. Jihoon simply took a piece of meat from Jinyoung’s plate.
Jinyoung felt like launching into a rant about the prices of food in this economy, but, seeing how Jihoon’s gaze once again refused to go anywhere else but to Woojin, he figured it would be pointless. He sighed in resignation and turned around to look and Woojin and Daehwi again.
They placed their trays on their table, and Daehwi plopped in his seat of choice in quite a good mood, but when Woojin sat down, his chair gave out beneath him and he fell back, crashing on the ground. The sound was sufficient to capture the attention of everyone in the cafeteria. Daehwi offered Woojin a hand, but Woojin ignored it, got up on his own and, immediately after dusting his clothes off, turned towards Jihoon’s table to lift a middle finger in the air.
Chatter bubbled on every table of the cafeteria. The captains’ feud had attained something akin to urban legend status amongst the student body. Throughout the semesters, many speculations about the roots of the quarrel had come about, including Woojin and Jihoon beings sons of leaders of rivalling gangs, one of them trying to cripple the other before the spring tournament could come to an end, or them simply having nothing better to do. People occasionally threw curious glances towards their table and Jinyoung was reconsidering decisions of his that involved being seen in public with Jihoon.
Jinyoung heard a cackle. He turned back to face Jihoon, who was trying to hide a grin with a mouthful of rice. “How did you even know where he’d sit?” Jinyoung asked in awe.
“He always sits in the same spot,” came Jihoon’s casual reply while he was tending to his meal with a satisfied demeanour.
Jihoon didn’t become captain of his team for nothing; his observation skills were noticeably above average. Jinyoung had seen first-hand how his tactics had gotten them out of a pinch one too many times and how he often managed to read their opponents like an open book. Yet the stupidly nitpicky details he knew about Park Woojin extended a bit further than talent, there was effort in there.
Jinyoung rolled his eyes and carried on eating.
~~~~~
An explosive jump and a loud hit – the ball flew maybe a centimeter or two above the net, crashing right in the corner of the court’s back zone. The sounds of the ball bouncing on the wooden floorboards of the gym resounded in progressively shorter intervals until they ceased altogether and the ball simply rolled away slowly.
Jihoon scurried to where he had left his phone to check the time. 23:28PM. He had been practicing on his own for over an hour by that point. He didn’t really feel ready. His jumps could use a bit more work and the accuracy of his serves varied a bit too much for his liking. The thought of being a sleep-deprived mess for his tutorial the following morning made him reluctant to stay, though.
He haphazardly put the ball in one of the corners and collected his belonging. Darkness was but a flick of a light switch away. With a backpack slung over his shoulders and a small towel hanging around his neck, Jihoon shut the old gym door with a familiar metallic click that, in middle of the night, sounded louder than usual. He had made a copy of the key for occasions like this, when his dorm room felt too small for his liking and the thought for approaching games made him antsy.
Beneath the sparsely spaced night lights surrounding each pathway on campus, Jihoon leisurely headed to his dorm. It wasn’t a short distance away from the gym, but that just made the walk a great cool-down. He didn’t particularly think about anything on the way; the cracks on the ground just came and went.
A dull sound caught Jihoon’s attention. It disappeared so quickly that it might as well had been a figment of the imagination. Jihoon carried on, yet a few seconds later, the same sound prompted him to look in the direction he assumed it to come from.
Apparently paradise never rested. A few of the lights above the goal post on one side of the open football field were still lit. Approximately in the middle between the penalty spot and the center line, several footballs were lined in a straight line, space between each. The sound that had made Jihoon look over was of someone kicking each ball, one by one, into the goal post.
The lights illuminated the number on the back of the person’s jersey, and faint amusement tugged on Jihoon’s lips. Player number 2 was no other than Woojin, and Jihoon wondered if the universe had some agenda of making the two of them bump into one another as often as possible. Jihoon watched another ball slam into the net. Woojin hadn’t missed a shot.
At some point Woojin had stopped to catch his breath. Jihoon suddenly got flustered at the thought of being noticed. While walking away, pace a bit swifter than earlier, he wondered if Woojin was just as worried about the upcoming tournament games, or if he was just hard-working to a fault. He wondered how long Woojin had been there, how long he’d stay. Bottomless musings were leaking into his previously blank mind.
When Woojin lifted up the collar of his shirt to wipe away stray beads of sweat, his gaze had wandered towards the pavements near the field. The figure that disappeared beyond the sparse lighting seemed oddly familiar, but he didn’t dwell much on it.
~~~~~
Woojin had woken up earlier than his alarm had been instructed to jostle him into consciousness in. He sat on top of the desk in his room, electric kettle close by, a mug of tea clutched in his hands. The strong taste of chamomile didn’t entirely drown out the tugs of nervousness in his stomach, but it burned them into submission.
When it was about time to start packing, Woojin’s rushed movements around the small dorm room managed to stir Daehwi awake. As he was battling the straps of his backpack into cooperation, Woojin felt a pair of arms twist themselves around his torso.
“Good luck today,” Daehwi slurred, voice still scratchy from sleep. “Kick some ass and get that gold.” He let go of Woojin to slowly slip back into his bed. “But please don’t literally kick anyone. Your legs are a one-way ticket to the ER,” he added before disappearing beneath his blanket.
Woojin zipped his backpack with a smile. “You’ll be welcoming back a champion later.”
~~~~~~
The piercing sound of the referee whistle ripped through the air, closely followed by fervent shouts from the audience stands.
Woojin’s dash gradually slowed to a halt. He observed the opponent team crash into each other in a smothering group hug, their glee multiplying with each passing second. His gaze then flitted towards the score board standing at the side of the field. He would had been lying if he had said the big numbers 2:3 didn’t leave a bitter taste in his mouth.
Woojin felt someone clapping a hand on his shoulder. He turned his head to see Daniel giving him a smile, and oddly, his lips didn’t harbor a hint of distaste. “We can finally rest a bit now,” he said, still breathless, “we worked hard.”
And he was right. Everyone had given their all. Woojin turned to take a look at all his teammates and, albeit notably exhausted, their expressions didn’t seem saddened. More than loss, the outcome felt like proper closure after months of hustling.
Woojin had expected the silver to sting around his neck, but it felt pleasantly light.
~~~~~
“What team? YMC uni! What team? YMC uni!”
The chats started right from the front gate and remained strong all the way. Jihoon’s whole team were still in their sweat-soaked jerseys and sneakers; the thrill of the victory still lingered, hanging from their necks in the shape of a gold medal, ripping itself from their lungs as shouts of excitement. During their walk towards the dorms, they dragged every person they met along the way into the hype.
While his team were soaking in ovations and breeding noise pollution, Jihoon inconspicuously slipped away to saunter down familiar pavements.
~~~~~
The soft fabric of the football jersey slipped down Woojin’s back. The sound of footsteps approaching surprised him, since his teammates usually arrived at least ten minutes after him. Curiosity shifted into dread as he saw Park Jihoon leaning on the changing room doorframe, smug smile hanging off the corners of his lips with the sole intent of decreasing Woojin’s lifespan.
“I know why you’re here,” Woojin said with a dismissive wave of his hand, “spare me the bullshit.”
Daehwi hadn’t had any lectures that day, so he had gone to watch the volleyball team’s big game. Daehwi wasn’t the athletic type, so Woojin pinned his enthusiasm and detailed outfit selection on the fact that the libero on Jihoon’s team was that Jinyoung guy. There was probably some saying about being friendly with the enemy that was waiting to be voiced, but Woojin was just rooting for the kid to get a date at this point so he’d have less time to be an annoying roommate.
A feature that came with being Lee Daehwi’s friend was receiving a constant stream of text updates about his life; cue Woojin’s phone exploding with notifications ranging from “omg there was a stray cat meowing at me outside the venue and I almost skipped the game” to “if the dude sitting behind me honks that vuvuzela one more time istg” for a solid chunk of the afternoon. All things considered, it had been a tad difficult to miss the news of Jihoon’s team snatching the gold.
Jihoon entered the room, gaze not straying from Woojin in the slightest. Maybe Woojin would’ve agreed with the general consensus that those eyes were quite the beauty if it wasn’t for the unsightly sense of superiority swirling in them. “Don’t be so sour now,” Jihoon uttered before leaning on the row of lockers. His calloused fingers reached to fiddle with the medal hanging on his neck. “This is the closest you’ll get to gold in the foreseeable future, after all.”
The characteristic sound of collision with metal resounded in the small changing room. Woojin slammed Jihoon against the locker he had been leaning on, hand clutching the collar of his shirt. “Don’t get too cocky,” Woojin slowly warned, not quite managing to keep the agitation boiling in his blood from flooding his words. “You never know when it’s gonna bite you in the ass.”
Jihoon had hissed when his shoulder blades dug uncomfortably into the metal lockers he was pressed against. He recovered quickly, however. Upon hearing Woojin’s threat, he had the audacity to smirk. “Try me, loser,” he shot back, fingers firmly clasping Woojin’s wrist, venom dripping from his gaze.
An awkward cough coming from the direction of the door made them look away from each other and loosen their grips. Daniel stood on the threshold, eyes dead set on Woojin and Jihoon standing at negative proximity from one another. It was like witnessing a car crash – you know you aren’t supposed to look, but your meddlesome sense of curiosity doesn’t quite obey. His confusion must’ve slipped onto his expression, seeing as the two captains released their holds on each other and Woojin took several steps backwards.
“I could…” Daniel began, vaguely waving his hands around, “go outside and let you two finish?”
“I was just leaving,” Jihoon muttered, sparing one last sideways glance at Woojin before making his way out of the changing room. That god awful smirk hadn’t left him. Woojin’s gaze lingered on the door for a bit longer after Jihoon disappeared, jaw locked in frustration.
~~~~~
The changing room reeked of hustle and sweat. The team had just trickled inside, some heading straight for the showers, some making it as far as the floor in front of their lockers. The occasional complaint about soreness and cramps crossed the space, but Woojin never minded. “I’d rather have you cry after practice than after an official game,” he’d usually say.
Loud conversations bounced off the walls, quips were thrown at every direction, and crumpled jerseys that most likely should had undergone intense dry cleaning were hanging from every surface. Jaehwan was throwing the very concept of personal space to hell by laughing that loud laugh of his way too close to Daniel’s face, which almost led to the start of a war with balled up stained t-shirts as weapons.
Woojin interrupted the banter bubbling in the room with a single clap to garner his team’s attention. The boys quickly gathered around him with varying degrees of worry on their expressions. The solemn lines of the captain’s face spoke of determination. Notably good and notably catastrophic are the two ways in which that could had developed.
“I think most of you are aware that the uni’s volleyball team has qualified for nationals,” the captain began, tone even and serious. His teammates nodded quickly, much like little kids would. “With this fact in mind, I think most of you can guess that that asshole Park Jihoon came to me to rub it in.” Annoyance tried to creep into his tone as the statement went on.
“The time has come,” Woojin carried on with more theatrics than necessary. “Are we just gonna let them party this out unbothered?” The ensuing shouts of enthusiasm that filled the cramped changing room lifted the corners of Woojin’s lips.
~~~~~
The thumping bass escaped the constraints of the club, crawling just beneath the ground’s surface, clinging onto passer-bys until it gradually faded into their skin.
It was one of those popular clubs downtown that catered to the university student echelon, what with the slick interior, the mainstream songs playing loud enough to make even the air itself shake, and the half-price shot assortments on weekends. Woojin casually exploited Daniel’s popularity for the sake of the greater good, using the fact that the club bouncer was a friend of his to get him to let the entire team inside without a fuss.
Woojin’s complexion was dyed in the messy rainbow of the flashing strobe lights as soon as he entered. (He had tried to touch himself up a bit for tonight, tight jeans and slicked back hair settling for nothing less than allure. Daehwi was available for a few style tips and disapproving looks at his wardrobe.) The space was just short of being crowded, bodies getting lost amongst one another beneath the curtain of blaring dance music. Yet it wasn’t too difficult to find who they were looking for after a bit of walking around, courtesy of the distinct university jerseys.
Jihoon’s team were spread throughout the club. Some had occupied one of the fancier booths; seats covered in smooth red leather and a long table. Not too bad. A waiter was approaching them with a tray of multi-coloured shots. Jaehwan shamelessly swung by him to grab one of the tiny glasses that were lined together, and had the gall to casually wave at those seated in the booth and their appalled expressions as he downed the shot.
Some were on the dance floor, trying to swoon onlookers with spasmodic body rolls. Seongwu was in the epicentre of it all, really vibing to some twerk anthem. If Woojin’s Daniel-deciphering skills hadn’t gotten rusty, the way Daniel went up to Seongwu and weakly shoved him by the shoulder was a dance battle declaration. The excited “ooooh” coming from the crowd surrounding them most likely meant he had accepted.
Woojin’s team scattered around the place as well. Everyone was in their own bubble of chaos and fun. Amidst this clutter of people, though, Woojin was yet to find the one person he wanted to annoy the most. He snatched a glass from that shot platter Jaehwan shamelessly took before continuing to explore the place.
At some point after more wandering (and maybe one more shot), from one of the high stools lined in front of the bar, a familiar tuft of hair caught Woojin’s eye. He immediately headed that way with the intention of draping an arm over Jihoon’s shoulder, savouring the expression of distaste that would likely follow right after.
A few steps away, Woojin stopped in his tracks. He noticed an unfamiliar guy hanging around Jihoon; even in a loud club where a person would need to lean closer to be heard properly, he was standing closer than necessary, even had an arm around Jihoon’s waist.
An unpleasant feeling lodged itself in Woojin’s throat.
The stranger seemed to be in a good mood. From this standpoint, he was facing Jihoon’s back and couldn’t see the boy’s expression. Specks of hope flickered that Woojin was misunderstanding, that it was simply human nature to assume the worst in most given situations. Any uncertainties got shut down when the guy tried shifting his hand upwards to place it on the back of Jihoon’s neck, and Jihoon all but flinched.
It was a state of autopilot. An impulse. Mere seconds found Woojin gripping that bastard’s wrist to pry his hand off of Jihoon. He took the moment those guys backed away a bit in shock to pull Jihoon off the bar stool and closer to his side.
Woojin could feel clammy fingers digging into the fabric of his dress shirt. Jihoon’s expression didn’t reveal much, but his frame was tense. Woojin wasn’t sure how he must’ve seemed in that moment, but with the discomfort shooting down his nerves from the way his teeth were clenched, he must’ve looked furious.
“The fuck’re you doing?” the guy barked at Woojin after having dusted off the brief confusion.
Woojin’s eyes narrowed at the stranger. “I should be asking you that, you moron. If being a nasty leech is the only way you can get attention, shouldn’t that make you take a look at yourself?”
“Quit playing superhero and fuck outta here. Who are you to meddle in other people’s business? His boyfriend or somethi-”
He reached out to grab Jihoon’s arm as he spoke, but Woojin wasn’t kind enough to let him finish before rushing forward to shove him back forcefully enough to make him slam into the bar. The adrenaline thrumming through Woojin’s entire body barely let him hear the sound of some girls in the club letting out fearful yells. The only thing occupying his attention was grabbing that sleazy bastard by the collar of his shirt and watching him hiss in pain as the bar countertop dug into his skin.
Woojin swung his free arm back and clenched his fist, but-
“Woojin, cut it out!”
-once he tried to deliver a blow, he felt a strong grip holding him back by the forearm. That was Daniel’s voice. Woojin didn’t have the chance to defy much as Daniel got between him and the creep whose teeth he wanted to see flying onto the floor, quickly pulling them apart.
Woojin’s mind was numb for a few moments. He stood still, trying to let the events from the past two minutes sink in. He only dully registered the crowd around them frantically dispersing and the various shouts of distress filling the space.
Then he remembered.
Jihoon.
Woojin snapped back to reality to look around in panic in search of Jihoon. Seongwu, donning an expression of concern, was taking care of him a few feet away. The situation was still as messy as can be, but Woojin felt a huge pressure being lifted off his chest when he saw Jihoon out of immediate harm’s way.
Woojin’s breathing evened out, the world around him stopped spinning. The rapid movement of the crowd in the club sharpened his senses and made him look around to assess the situation. Above the sea of heads, between the flickers of the strobe lights, he could see the club bouncers coming in from the other side of the space.
“Fuck,” Daniel hissed. He quickly went to grab Jihoon and Seongwu by the wrists, afterwards pulling them back to where he stood with Woojin. “In the bathroom there’s a window facing the back alley. “Go,” he instructed, eyes flitting between the three others. His hands were shaking. Yet, as Seongwu opened his mouth in an attempt to protest, Daniel simply said, “I’ll handle this,” with a determined gaze.
Woojin threw one last look over his shoulder before Seongwu dragged him and Jihoon inside the men’s bathroom near the end of the bar. In the distance, he noticed Daniel grabbing that disgusting guy by the shoulder; the view disappeared in a flash as Seongwu slammed the door shut. In the farthest corner of the room, beneath one of the cracked sinks, there was a bucket of murky water with a mop sticking out of it. Seongwu scurried to grab the mop and prop it on the bathroom door in a rushed attempt at jamming it shut.
The only other sound bouncing between the dirty white tiles of the small room alongside the muffled music from beyond the door was the sound of flowing water. The tap on one of the sinks was twisted to its limit towards the cold side. With ice cold droplets trickling down his face, Jihoon gripped the sink and simply let the obnoxiously strong bass crawl up his arms. The hand that found rest on his shoulder was warm.
“You okay?” he heard Woojin ask in a voice that had never known such gentleness while directed at him. Jihoon nodded. The hand on his shoulder lightly squeezed. It was a small, but comforting motion.
“I don’t want to rush you guys, but,” Seongwu began with the vaguest inklings of distress tinging his words, “if we’re going to crawl out of there we’re going to need time, and I don’t know how much of that we have left.” He was pointing upwards. On the wall opposite the door to the bathroom, there was a window. It wasn’t of noteworthy height, yet it seemed wide enough to allow an average-sized adult to sneak through. It could work.
“You go first, you’re the tiniest,” Woojin told Jihoon, and when Jihoon silently complied, Woojin felt his insides unpleasantly twist at the lack of ensuing banter.
Jihoon, holding onto Seongwu and Woojin’s shoulders for support, stepped on top of their joined hands. They held still while he cracked the window open with a few sharp tugs on the rusty handle, then gradually pushed him up higher until he could swing one leg over the windowsill. Once Jihoon disappeared beyond the narrow window, a faint thump was heard from the outside before he shouted to confirm that everything is fine.
Woojin silently entwined his fingers in a makeshift bridge which he lowered in front of Seongwu. “Oh hell no, your turn,” Seongwu insisted with a slight scrunch of his eyebrows.
Woojin didn’t relent. “Literally no offence, but I look like I’d be able to lift you easier than you would me.”
“And I’m older. End of discussion. Up you go,” Seongwu concluded, unwavering, motioning for Woojin to go on. As Woojin stepped on Seongwu’s hands to grab onto the windowsill, he could hear murmurs along the lines of, “I did not hit the winning spike at regionals to get my guns disrespected like this.”
When Woojin was one swift movement away from jumping outside, the sudden sound of someone trying to push the bathroom door open startled both him and Seongwu. The haphazard floor mop barricade was doing a decent job at staving off whoever was trying to get in, yet it wouldn’t last long. “Take care of Jihoon, punk,” Seongwu hissed and all but pushed Woojin out.
Feet met solid ground and balance was fleeting. Woojin stumbled before two hands lent him firm support. He looked up to see Jihoon’s face, and even in the barely existing lighting of the back alley, he could notice shadows of dejection on that expression. “Let’s just get out of here,” Jihoon uttered. The two of them ran, ran to wherever the street was willing to take them.
The nearest city park wasn’t far off at all. Their sprint lasted mere minutes, much less than what either of them was used to during practices, yet it was enough to make their lungs burn. They gradually slowed their pace in an area where people were sparse, until the two collapsed on a patch of grass with heavy pants, not even an ounce of energy left to care that there were benches nearby. The cool touches of the thin blades of grass were a mind-numbing comfort.
Neither spoke for a while. The relative quietness masked any sense of time, so neither had any idea how many minutes had melted away as they allowed themselves to simply catch their breaths. The way they lay sprawled on the grass a few feet away from the paved pathways of the park probably made them seem ridiculous to occasional passer-bys, but not a care was left to spare to that thought either.
Amidst the sound of traffic faintly buzzing from far away, the sound of his own heavy breath, the sound of so-called silence, Woojin heard it. A whimper. He wasn’t left with time to doubt the possibility of stress-induced auditory hallucinations chasing after him, as the sound quickly repeated itself, again, and again, and again, and when it lapsed into a full-blown sob, Woojin was already by Jihoon’s side, squeezing his shoulder in the same comforting manner as earlier.
Jihoon was sitting, hands in his lap, posture slouched, tear-stained eyes facing the ground. Woojin didn’t say anything. He patiently waited for the tears to go their way, for all those venomous feelings to spill out, for them to soak deep into the ground, far away from either of them. He wouldn’t know what to say anyway. What were the right words to offer to a person you’ve only put in effort to dread?
The sobs died out. “I, I just-“, Jihoon tried speaking up, lips still quivering. Woojin silently pulled him closer, so his head could lean on Woojin’s shoulder. Jihoon paused, waiting for the words to return to him.
The whimpers subsided. “I felt so gross, Woojin,” Jihoon managed to utter without stuttering, “I just felt so damn gross.” His voice was so scratchy. Woojin felt sick. Jihoon addressed him directly by name so rarely. Why did it have to be under such circumstances?
The tears dried out. Those pretty eyes were puffy. But at least they mourned no more.
“I’ll call a taxi. I’m taking you to your dorm,” Woojin finally spoke up after a stretch of silence that probably felt longer than it actually was. His voice was firm. He had almost expected it to waver at least a bit.
Jihoon weakly shook his head as he protested, “You don’t have to.”
“Look, I know we have rough history, but there’s no way I’m leaving you alone like this. Indulge me once. Just this once.”
After taking a few moments to contemplate the demand, Jihoon simply gave a light affirmative nod, his head still propped on Woojin’s shoulder. Woojin tried to slip his phone out of his jean pocket with minimum movement as to not rustle Jihoon and promptly dialled one of those numbers he had needed too many times. It was a bit of a hassle to give a taxi driver proper directions while standing in the middle of nowhere, but they figured it out somehow.
Words didn’t cross the distance between them for a while afterwards. Jihoon and Woojin, draped over opposite sides of the leather taxi back seat, stared out the windows at opposite directions. Their driver had read the mood well, seeing as he didn’t speak up more than business etiquette required him to.
Somewhere along the way, while waiting at a red stop light, when the way the driver impatiently tapped his fingers on the steering wheel felt the slightest bit too unnerving in the quiet, Woojin pulled his phone out of his pocket.
ball handler [23:12PM]:
tell me you’re awake
I need a favour
can you text jinyoung
tell him that jihoon is with me and that everything is fine
wine enthusiast [23:17PM]:
sorry I was on a yt vid binge again
do you mean THE jihoon?
so many goals yet it took you this long to score some
get em tiger
ball handler [23:17PM]:
daehwi this is serious
please
as soon as you can
wine enthusiast [23:18PM]:
oh shit sorry
gotcha, texting him asap
is everything alright? :(
ball handler [23:19PM]:
yeah dw
heading back shortly so we’ll talk later
The car tires slowly came to a halt near the campus’ front gates. Jihoon still couldn’t quite meet Woojin’s gaze. Getting out of the car felt just as suffocating as it was relieving.
Walking past the gates, they began ambling down the main campus pathway. Whether it was due to the lack of questions to hang in the air, or the lack of hesitation in their steps, it hit Woojin that he was perfectly aware of where exactly Jihoon’s dorm was. Oodles of unwanted epiphanies clung to Woojin’s skin, and their contrast to the freshness of the cool night air was borderline disillusioning. Since when had Park Woojin kept a mental list of trivia regarding his childhood rival?
Each lost in their own thoughts, they had also lost track of time; the realization that the lamp above the dorm wing entrance was showering them in faint light was sudden. Jihoon placed a hand on the handle of the large door, but didn’t open it just yet. His gaze, after lingering downwards for a while, finally slowly traveled upwards to meet Woojin’s face straight on. He seemed as if he wished to say something, but instead of words, his intentions manifested as a mess of emotions pooling in wide eyes.
Woojin was just as much of a mess. But some words just came naturally. “Will you be fine by yourself tonight?” he asked, cautious.
Somehow, Jihoon seemed relieved by the inquiry. “Yeah,” he answered softly with a nod. A few seconds of silence twisted themselves around the two boys. Jihoon’s hand finally pushed down on the door handle. “Good night,” he said after a few creaks, and promptly disappeared inside the building.
Woojin observed the door slowly swing back to its place, and he stood beneath that dim light just a little longer after he had heard it click shut.
~~~~~
Woojin woke up with a groan. His eyes blinked open to the sight of Daehwi still asleep on the other side of the room, and promptly closed again. His eyes stung a bit. Woojin placed an arm over his face in an attempt to block out the invasive sunrays trying to lure him into the world of the living and merely sighed.
He hadn’t slept too well. His thoughts had been pulling him in every direction, stretching his mind taut, too restless to succumb to slumber. Woojin wasn’t much of a coffee person, but a man’s got to do what a man’s got to do. He reluctantly swung his legs over the edge of his bed, heaving himself off the mattress to fetch the electric kettle sitting on the desk.
While waiting for the water to boil, Woojin fetched his phone to check for any notifications. He sighed once more when he saw the hefty pile of messages in his team’s group chat. He probably had explaining to do. But he decided to mull over that at a later time. More integral at the moment seemed to be the texts from Daniel. Woojin opened the chat with a sudden nervousness making him grip his mug a bit tighter.
cheese grater abs [00:14AM]:
so here’s the deal
I told my bouncer homie that that harasser guy started the fight
and that everything was his fault
he was too drunk to refute anything properly
so he got dragged out
none of us got in shit
we even got free service to compensate the inconvenience
oh yeah and seongwu told me to thank you
we’re kinda just chilling with the volley dudes now
they’re pretty cool
A breeze of relief enveloped Woojin. He swore to properly repay Daniel and Seongwu when he had the chance to. He drank his coffee without any of the earlier unease gnawing on him.
When Woojin headed to the bathroom to make himself look a tad more socially acceptable, something clung onto his peripheral vision. He bent down to pick up a note that was, for some reason, sitting in front of the door to the dorm room. From the look of things, someone must’ve pushed it in from the outside.
A simple “thank you” was written over the small piece of paper. Where the nervousness previously resided, a certain warmth was now gradually spreading.
Jihoon’s handwriting didn’t seem as ugly anymore.
~~~~~
A week went by and everything was the same.
Whether you win or lose, advance or stay, sports practice goes on as usual, because as the past is left to wither, the future is yet to be born. The football field was lively; Woojin still made everyone who was late to practice do ten pushups for each minute they were late for, the artificial turf still made patches of uncovered skin bruise nastily upon rough contact, and the heat was just as relentless.
A week went by and everything was the same, except it was fundamentally not.
Woojin didn’t get his locker covered in gum, didn’t find his cleats hanging from a telephone line, didn’t see all the footballs in the equipment room half-deflated.
In between sprints, he caught himself staring in the direction of the volleyball nets at the next field over a bit more often.
~~~~~
Jinyoung’s hand was mere centimeters away from the door, poised and ready to knock, but just before his knuckles could come in contact with the slightly scratched wooden surface, it got pulled open from the other side.
“Oh, you’re here for Jihoon?” a deep voice kindly asked. It was that transfer student, Yukhei, who only slightly intimidated Jinyoung with how tall he was. Jinyoung wondered if Jihoon had ever asked him to try out for the volleyball team. “He’s been buried in his blanket for a couple of hours now. I think he’s watching anime, dunno, but feel free to go in, I’ll be gone for a few hours anyway,” Yukhei said before giving Jinyoung a sunny smile and walking away.
Upon entering the room, it genuinely took Jinyoung a short while to find Jihoon. No, it wasn’t due to most objects and furniture being misplaced in one way or another; that much was to be expected from a room shared by uni boys. There just weren’t signs of something alive in there. When the soft blanket pile on the floor near the foot of one of the beds rustled, however, Jinyoung knew.
A wheeze came from beneath the blanket. “Get the hell off,” Jihoon fumed when he felt Jinyoung casually sit on top of him. Jihoon sharply turned over to make Jinyoung topple over, but Jinyoung refused to fall without taking casualties, so he gripped the blanket in his arms, uncovering Jihoon in one swift tug.
A glare wasn’t exactly at peak effectivity when coupled with an oversized t-shirt and hair sticking out in directions it usually wouldn’t be seen sticking out in.
Jinyoung sat cross-legged on the floor in front of Jihoon. “I just wanted to check up on you,” he began, rummaging the back pocket of his jeans. “You haven’t really said anything in the group chat in a few days. I brought you gummies. Sure, I ate some on the way here, but I left you most of the pack.”
Jihoon’s eyes followed the crumpled package of gummy bears that was flung onto his lap. He just stared at it for a few moments before rustling it to sneak a few gummies out. His coach was likely to kick his ass if he found out what sort of junk Jihoon had been sustaining himself with for the past few days, but Jihoon was confident nobody would sell him out unless they wished for damnation. “Thanks,” he said, putting the packet on the floor between them so Jinyoung could get some too.
“A little birdie told me Woojin has been wondering how you’re doing.”
A snort left Jihoon, though the amusement didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Give Daehwi more credit than that, I’d say he’s more of a bear cub than a birdie.”
Jinyoung shoved Jihoon by the shoulder for that remark. Silence reigned for a bit, occasionally disturbed by the rustle of the plastic gummy bear packet.
“He’s been worrying about you, you know,” Jinyoung urged at some point.
Jihoon lightly nodded, eyes not looking up from the floor. Of course he knew. How could he not when Woojin was most of what had been on his mind for days on end.
It was as easy as breathing to let the years pass by with sour glares, stupid pranks and the occasional cuss. The arrangement even prompted Jihoon to be at the top of his game, always putting in that slightest bit more effort compared to everyone else, just to be extra sure that he’d have the upper hand in this blasted rivalry. Hating Woojin was simple.
Yet Woojin went out of his way to do one of the best things anyone had ever done for Jihoon, and he had been so unbelievably caring to top it off. Jihoon’s emotions tumbled into a big shapeless mess after that night, and whatever that mess was, it was not hate, and it sure as hell was not simple.
Jihoon’s gaze finally travelled upwards to meet Jinyoung. “Got any plans for the rest of the afternoon?”
“None, why?” Jinyoung threw a gummy bear in the air and tried catching it with his mouth. He failed, but Jihoon wasn’t about to hold that against him.
“Binge anime with me. I found this new shoujo. You’ll like it, trust me on this one, I haven’t failed you with recommendations so far.”
Whatever that mess was, it was not simple, but Jihoon figured he’d manage to sort out his emotions eventually, one way or another. Time was nothing if not vast and ahead of him.
~~~~~
Woojin almost began biting on his nails –a nervous tick that had been deemed long dead– before Daehwi slapped his hand away. “You sure he sits there?” he asked for what was maybe the third time.
“Yes, every single time I’ve seen him,” Daehwi replied in a slightly tired tone, head propped on his hand.
The lecture hall wasn’t too big. Daehwi usually sat on one of the back rows because he felt exposed while at the front. That also gave him the perk of observing most of the other students in his lectures. This vantage point made him feel, dare he say, powerful.
This power had granted him the knowledge that Park Jihoon always chose a particular seat for Psychology lectures each Thursday. Front row, right side, second chair counting from the middle. Like clockwork.
And today, on the desk at that exact spot, a cup of steaming hot Americano was waiting for Jihoon.
Daehwi could smell the beverage all the way to the back. “How did you even know what his regular order is?” he asked in a casual bout of curiosity. “And why don’t you buy me drinks too? Your friendship card is pending.”
“If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles,” Woojin recited with practiced precision.
Alongside the usual glamour, fascination flickered in Daehwi’s eyes as he questioned, “did you seriously just quote “The Art Of War” to justify your headass infatuation?”
Woojin swung an arm back to punch Daehwi in the shoulder, but as Daehwi leaned away to avoid a hit, his eyes widened and he announced, “sound the alarm, your boy is coming.”
Jihoon was by the door. While briefly scanning the inside of the lecture hall, his gaze chanced upon the last person he would had expected to find in that place and his frame because noticeably more tense. Jihoon scurried towards his seat, eyes not straying from his path anymore.
Woojin’s stomach might as well had been a washing machine with how he felt his insides rapidly turning. Jitters made him tap his foot restlessly. The psychology professor entered the hall not long after, and Woojin was genuinely thankful at the excuse to slip outside, because he wasn’t sure how much longer he could stare at the back of Jihoon’s frame before exploding into a billion specks of dust and butterflies. He tapped Daehwi on the shoulder in lieu of a farewell and hurried out, almost bumping into at least several people on the way.
~~~~~
Early to practice by a few minutes, as per usual, Woojin decided to be productive with his borrowed time and head to the equipment room to take a few cones out to the field for agility practice. When he pushed the heavy door to the room open and flicked the light switch on, though, the usual sight of orange cones stacked together in the corner was missing.
Woojin went inside to dig through both dusty and muddy piles of equipment for various sports. In the middle of mentally cursing the track and field team for taking stuff without asking again, a noise came from behind his back and startled him. He dropped whatever he had been holding in his hand when he saw Jihoon’s head poking in through the door with a smug expression.
“Looking for something?” Jihoon asked, blatantly waving an orange cone in the air.
Shock was quickly dispersed by the sting of mischief making Woojin’s blood heat up. Woojin sprang to his feet to chase after that dumbass that had made his heart roll down the entire spectrum of emotions more than once in a matter of days. Jihoon disappeared back outside, cone still in hand, running away as fast as his feet allowed him.
They were running around the storage building like in an old-school slapstick comedy. The both of them should’ve been aware that Woojin was the better runner between them, so Woojin wasn’t sure what the goal here was. Yet, pointlessness of it all aside, the situation hit him with such a strong sense of familiarity that made him feel exhilaration coursing through his entire being, he couldn’t help but indulge.
Sharply rounding one of the corners of the building, Woojin faltered in his steps. Jihoon was suddenly nowhere in sight. Woojin wasn’t left to soak in his confusion for long before he felt himself being pulled by the arm.
Jihoon dragged him back right behind the corner, cone thrown somewhere to the ground nearby. Both of them were breathing heavily after the ridiculous chase, hair and clothes an utter mess to top it all off. A few weeks ago, Woojin would’ve been nothing short of pissed after an exchange like this, but at that exact moment, after all that had transpired, there was nothing but relief laced in his every breath.
When Jihoon finally regained his composure, he looked up at Woojin with what could only be described as determination emanating from him. With a few aimless hand motions to get his words to cooperate with him, he finally began, “I think I have a lot of things to thank you for.”
Woojin opened his mouth to interject, but Jihoon raised a finger in front of his face to shut him off “Wait, let me finish, I’ve been gathering courage for this conversation for days now and I might just die,” he carried on. A deep inhale preceded his next string of words. “First off, thank you for that night. At the, uh, club,” Jihoon once again tried to aid his words with vague hand motions, and Woojin swore he should’ve found it annoying, but he didn’t. “I’d like to think you saw the note, but even so, a lame piece of paper really isn’t enough for what you did for me. I just… I really worried a ton of people,” he said, and his gaze fell downwards, as did his tone.
“Hey, no, don’t be like that. That could’ve happened to anyone,” Woojin replied with newfound confidence. “Seriously, nobody deserves that happening to them, so you don’t need to thank me.” His hand was hovering over Jihoon’s shoulder, worried whether the contact wouldn’t be a bit too much for a situation like this, but when Jihoon looked up with those big, slightly sullen eyes of his, the action came naturally. Jihoon didn’t seem to mind; on the contrary, it felt as if he was leaning into the touch.
“And I probably have a lot to apologise over, too. If I put in as much effort into taking notes as I did into being an asshole to you, I could’ve been on a scholarship.”
Woojin let out a fond snort at that. “Aren’t we pretty even there? Try and count all the times I’ve screwed with your club’s equipment.”
“Guess you’re right. We’re both assholes,” Jihoon uttered through the smile trying to curl his lips upwards. “It’s always been… Impulsive. Natural, even. It just felt right to try and piss you off.”
“I get what you mean there,” Woojin hummed in affirmation.
With every second that withered away, Jihoon felt the nervousness that clouded his first words gradually ebb away. Even the silence felt light. Jihoon didn’t even try to stave off the smile that lit his expression up anymore.
“And thanks for the coffee,” he added, tone sunny and rosy. “How did you know Americano was my favourite, anyway?”
Woojin scratched the nape of his neck in hesitation. “… An educated guess,” he replied without looking Jihoon in the eye. It was a bloody lie. In his attempt to trash Jihoon’s locker once, he had miscalculated the time he had available, so when he had heard steps approaching from the hallway, Woojin had simply stuffed himself in one of the empty lockers to avoid getting caught. Hence why he had managed to unintentionally listen in on an entire conversation between Jihoon and one of his teammates as they got ready for practice. That was a memory meant to be taken to the grave.
That seemed good enough of an answer for Jihoon, thankfully, seeing as he didn’t pry any more. His gaze strayed from Woojin once again, but his smile didn’t falter as he asked, “Feel like going for coffee some time? The rivalry habits are acting up. It feels like a loss, not knowing what your regular order is.”
Woojin felt those familiar by now jitters dash over his skin once again. “Is this a peace offering?” he asked, coyness finding it way onto his expression.
“I’m going to be honest here,” Jihoon started, “getting you mad is pretty damn fun. Quite a rewarding hobby. I don’t think I can lay that off,” he explained while trying to stifle giggles. “A war on two fronts, I’d call it.”
“I think I can live with that,” Woojin replied, eyes curved in amusement.
Jihoon’s smile fell the slightest bit when he felt Woojin’s hand slipping off his shoulder, but when he saw Woojin simply open both his arms in an invitation for a hug instead, the glow that set his every single feature alight was nothing short of blinding. After that short-lived chase earlier both of them were a bit nasty, but Jihoon couldn’t find it in himself to mind at all as he dived in for an embrace. Covered in dirt, donned in a creased jersey, drenched in sweat, Park Woojin looked his best.