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“When do they get a touchdown?” Seongwoo snarks.
His sister rolls her eyes, “Ha ha, real funny.”
“Oh, come on. You gotta give me points.”
“Nope.”
“I pulled out a football reference.”
“None.”
“An American football reference.”
“You probably read up on it for a role,” She fires back, smirking.
Well played, sis. Well played.
Ong snickers and shrugs, defeated, “Maybe so. I- I know baseball is like- oh, oh I think something’s happening!” He points to the massive screen at the back of the field.
His sister’s company apparently had some employee appreciation week with lots of random raffles and giveaways. Prizes included stuff like tablets, headphones, gift cards for cofee chains and massage vouchers. Of all the rad, expensive things she could’ve scored, she ended up with a pair of tickets for the Hanhwa Eagles game (along with some food and drink vouchers). Initially, she got super hyped to take her husband, but it turns out he had some scheduling conflict with work. In conclusion, Ong won the revered prize of being her seatmate for the god-knows-how-long-it’ll-be ball game.
Seongwoo’s actually been to a few games in his time. Mostly as a kid. The highlights back then were almost all entirely cotton candy related. And, upon engaging in the experience as an adult, he’s found that- yeah, okay. It’s pretty much the same. But, like, booze is added now. So that’s cool.
Ong decides he hasn’t had enough when it’s inning number four and he’s still bored. Baseball is very stop and go, and he realized that eighty percent of the fun part is the weird antics the mascot does between innings. Occasionally the camera pans in on the pitcher or the dugout, too. Ong makes another fun, new discovery because of it. He realizes that baseball players are quite a diverse bunch.
There’s dudes in their mid thirties with little guts, lanky ones with tan skin and hands nearly as big as the gloves, and then there’s-
“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god-! There he is!”
Seongwoo jumps at the sudden shriek from his sister. It’s so damn loud - and then he realizes, it’s not just her.
Hold up a minute.
He checks the seats in front of them and beside them. He cranes his neck to look at the rows way above and behind. There’s long hair, short hair, brown and dyed blond. There’s minimal makeup, no makeup, and heavy makeup. High giggles and fervent whispers. They come in all shapes, sizes, and ages, but oh god they’re everywhere: fangirls.
“Wh- Uh, has there been some push for young womens’ interest in baseball?” Ong asks his sister who, he realizes, is completely starstruck. He follows her gaze to the big screen, and that’s where the true understanding dawns upon him. They’re not here for baseball. Or maybe they are. Fangirls are dedicated people. Odds are, they’ve fostered a genuine appreciation and understanding for the sport in lieu of passing through their gateway.
The gateway being the devastatingly handsome player squaring up on home base.
“Go Daniel!” Someone behind Seongwoo yells. Ong squints to check the last name on the guy’s jersey.
“Kang… Daniel?” He feels like he might’ve heard it.
“Oh my god, can you believe this?!” His sister coos beside him. “With you here I don’t even need to hold back he’s so- he’s so-!!”
“Breathe. Breathe,” Ong urges her. “Just- I mean, so, okay he’s- he’s-”
The guy cracks a smile toward the camera. For what? Why? Is he just trying to flex on everyone in the stadium with his million watt smile? Maybe he’s some playboy who knows how hot he is and that’s why he’s smiling. Yeah, Ong thinks. He’s probably just some arrogant pro-athlete celebrity asshole.
Because there’s no way a guy with that face and those shoulders - jeez, they’re wide - would be nice. No. Way.
Daniel nods, and apparently that signals the rest of those on the field that he’s ready. Probably. Or he’s got a neck pain - Ong doesn’t know in-depth baseball. No, Seongwoo thinks. He was right. Because the pitcher stops pacing around and squares up on the mound. Ong glances at home base and watches the batter’s boyish air completely dissipate. It’s like he’s shedding an outer layer. Beneath there’s not a giggly, flirty guy but a focused athlete ready to perform. He fixes his gaze forward and waits.
Seongwoo can’t help but scoot forward in his seat. Time to see if Mr. Hottie is as hot on the field as he is off.
The announcer’s voice booms through the speakers, “-Lee’s on second. Here comes the pitch for Kang, and-” “Craack!”
Holy shit.
Daniel’s lightning fast and precise. The bat immediately makes contact with the ball, sounding out so loudly that Ong hears it from his seat. First pitch, and the ball’s already soaring. The entire arena cheers as it flies far, far, far toward the outer reaches - in the direction of Ong’s seat, actually. He leans over and glances at the screen, elbowing his sister.
“Damn, this guy’s good, huh?” He asks loudly as people cheer around him.
She nods, “He’s a beast! And- Wow, that ball’s definitely out of the field.”
Ong eyes the screen and smirks, “Damn, you think one of us could catch it?”
“That’d be pretty lucky! Oh my god, if you do, I have dibs. My husband would love me forever.”
“Sure. Except knowing my luck it’ll probably just-”
“Craaaack!”
Oh.
Oh god.
Oh god that hurts.
Ong hears a collective gasp, but he can’t see much. He’d reflexively squeezed his eyes shut when he saw a baseball three centimeters in front of his face. Burning pain radiates from his poor, abused (and likely bruised) cheek. Suddenly, a chorus of “Are you alright?” “Is he okay?” “Oh my god- that hit him square on the face?” “Why didn’t he move?” “Are you okay, sir?” fills his ears.
Most loud, however, is that of his sister, “Oh god, Seongwoo- are you okay?! Shoot- You’re gonna need ice for that.”
Ong can already feel the heat needling at the tender skin of his cheek. People always tell him he looks like a chipmunk, now he’ll look like one, too. Well, half of one. (Which is even sadder, really).
Seongwoo groans, pained both literally and figuratively. It’s a terrible curse he’s had all his life. Balls fly and find his face. It’s like he’s got some magnetic pull. Balls just want to hit his face.
“Iunno about that Daniel guy,” Seongwoo pouts, awkwardly filing past the other people in his row in search of a first aid station. “I don’t think I like him.”
“I mean, we got a free ball out of it.”
“You’re right. That makes everything better,” Seongwoo groans. Screw the Eagles, he’s gonna be a Bears fan or something from now on. And screw that Daniel guy. Most of all: screw the aching pain spreading across his entire face.
“Oh god, right on the face,” Woojin snorts as Daniel trots down the steps to the dugout.
“Shit, I feel bad,” Daniel frowns.
“I mean, it was kind of hilarious. How often does a ball nail a guy on the face?” Woojin insists.
“Yeah, but- Aw look at him, he’s pouting,” Daniel mirrors the pouty lips he sees on screen. Damn. He’d feel guilty no matter what, but the guy is cute. Like cute cute. Hot cute cute. He’s got a gorgeous, cut jawline and perfectly styled comma hair. Well, it was probably perfect. Before the whole ball to the face thing. Now it’s a little ruffled (whcih does nothing to detract from him at all).
“Oh, damn. He’s a bit, uh…” Woojin trails off.
“Hot?” Daniel finishes the thought for him.
“I mean- Okay, yeah. I was gonna be a bit less obvious, but-”
“No, no he’s gorgeous.”
“Like a model. Do you think he’s a model?”
“Maybe an actor?”
“Definitely has the face for it.”
“The face I smashed with a ball…”
“Wh- Come on, dude. It’s his fault for not looking,” Woojin insists.
“But I still feel bad,” Niel worries at his lower lip.
Suddenly, like a light flickering on without warning, he gets an idea.
“I still feel bad…” Daniel repeats himself.
“Well, not much you can do for him. I’m sure he’s going to first aid now,” Woojin replies.
“I’ll see about that,” Daniel starts walking off toward the manager.
“You’ll see about what?” Woojin shouts after him. “Daniel? Daniel- you’ll see about what? Daniel? Daniel where are you going? Daniel-!”
“It might take a bit for the swelling to go down,” The paramedic informs Seongwoo.
Ong sulkily nods in the sterile first aid office he’d been brought to, “Mmkay.”
“And don’t hesitate to take something if the pain is bothersome. Naproxen or ibuprofen will help with the swelling.”
“Mhm,” Seongwoo presses the ice pack to his cheek and nods again. What a way to spend an evening.
“Alright, why don’t I walk you back to the dining area- though I suggest you get some-”
“Knock. Knock.”
The door isn’t closed, so whoever’s knocking must be rapping on the doorframe. Seongwoo gives a quick glance at the person before going back to moping.
Then, he does a double take, and his eyes blow wide open.
“You-” Ong starts.
“C-Can I come in?” The baseball player smiles sheepishly, scratching his nape.
“M-Mr. Kang!” The paramedic clearly is trying to sound professional. “What a- what a surprise to see you.”
“I, uh, I wanted to see how the, uh, patient is doing,” He replies. God, his smile is like sunshine. Blinding sunshine. If he hadn’t been hit square in the face by the guy’s ball, Ong would probably be swooning. Now he’s just sort of swooning.
“Hi, I’m, um, I’m Kang Daniel. The, uh, the one who-”
“The one who hit my face with his ball?” Seongwoo finishes dryly. It draws out another pained sounding laugh from the ball player. That’s right, Ong thinks, feel uncomfortable. Wallow in the weirdness. Wallow! Serves him right for being so well endowed with good looks, broad shoulders, a deep husky voice, a cute mole under his eye, a charming smile and- well, lots of things!
“Right,” Daniel breathes out. “Are you, um, are you alright?”
Ong purses his lips, pouting, “Yeah, I’m okay. Just sore.” He tries to play it off, look tough.
“You good enough to maybe take a walk?” Daniel raises his brows inquisitively.
“U-Uh-” A walk? What does that mean? Is that weird baseball lingo that Ong isn’t in on? He turns to the paramedic as if she’s got the answer. She just returns with a completely clueless but entirely professional grin. Oh dear. “Yes.”
Daniel’s shoulders sink with relief, and he nods out the door, “Least I can do is get you a drink or something for your troubles.”
“O-Okay. Um, yeah. Don’t you, um, shouldn’t you be out there? Playing the game?”
Daniel shakes his head, “I did my job. I’m resting for now, I’ll go back up in a couple.”
“Okay then. Uh- Lead the way.” Ong went from somewhat irate to incredibly nervous. His heart flutters around restlessly as the other leads him out of the labyrinth of hallways he’d walked to get there.
Daniel swirls the red wine in his glass, smiling at the burgundy liquid. He treated Ong to a drink as he’d promised before proimptly returning to the dugout. Seongwoo thought that’d be the end of it. They had a lovely conversation, discussed work. Compared the wacky antics of theater actors to baseball players (turns out, all performers are crazy). Seongwoo quickly developed a huge crush and started planning their life together - as a normal person does when they get a crush, of course.
Seongwoo thought he’d leave with a funny (albeit painful) story to tell.
Then he got approached by a staff member toward the end of the game.
“Mr. Ong, would you come with me?” They said. Ong remembered being confused and asking if his sister could come, too. The pair of them ended up being escorted down to the guts of the stadium yet again . Seongwoo figured it would be another paramedic checkup. Then he saw a very giggly, broad-shouldered player at the end of a corridor. His sister made up an excuse real quick when she caught on.
It somehow came up that Daniel had never had wine before, and when he insisted on taking Ong out for real after the game, Seongwoo knew just the place.
“It’s bitter but addictive,” Daniel notes.
Ong nods and smiles. A warm buzz runs through his veins. Not enough to dull the senses, just enough to make him feel a bit warm and giddy. Daniel could say almost anything at this point and Ong would probably giggle, though. He’s funny, charming and surprisingly down to earth.
“There’s a lot of depth to it,” Seongwoo responds with a grin. “I think that’s part of why people love it so much.”
“Yeah. Yeah…” Daniel seems to be considering the glass heavily for a second. His gaze shifts to Seongwoo’s eyes, though, and Ong shudders a bit beneath the weight. “Yeah I get that. It makes it more fascinating. It makes you want more like… You wanna figure out everything.”
“Exactly,” Ong nods. “Of course, it’s not like every wine drinker or occasion is like that. Sometimes it’s just, like, eleven on a sunday and you want rose.”
“True!” Daniel tips his glass toward Seongwoo with a grin.
“Excuse me,” The waitress shuffles up to the cozy corner booth the two had occupied. “I’m- I’m sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to inform you that last call will be in ten minutes.”
Ten minutes?
This place?
They close the bar at two-thirty. There’s no way it’s that late. Seongwoo takes his phone out, ready to correct her and- oh god. It’s five after two. In the morning. Holy crap- how did that happen!?
Daniel lets out another one of his sheepish little chuckles and gives her a few words of understanding. All the while, Ong just gapes at his phone like a goldfish.
“I think we’re good, right Ong?” Daniel asks, leaning over.
Seongwoo can just barely feel the other’s breath on his face. He swears they were on opposite ends of their booth at the beginning of the night. Then their butts just sort of migrated of their own volition. Now, they’re centimeters apart, knees just barely brushing.
“I think I’ve had enough, yeah,” Seongwoo replies. Has it gotten hotter? It feels hotter. Could be the physical embodiment of sunshine next to him, perhaps. Or maybe just global warming. Who nows.
“I’ll walk you to the train station,” Daniel says.
What a gentleman. That’s another thing Ong has learned. Daniel’s a gentleman. He’s polite and kind to everyone from employees to old people who walk too slow on the sidewalk in front of him. His mom raised him right (he’s a mama’s boy, Ong learned that, too). All of those fantastic charms just make Daniel even more of a hearthrob. Which, in turn, make the reality that this night is coming to an end really soon even more depressing. Ong gets mopey just thinking about it.
“Unless you don’t- don’t want me to?” Daniel asks awkwardly.
“Hm?” Ong wakes up from his self-pity daze. “Oh, no, no, it’s not that, it’s just that I-” Don’t want this to end. No, he can’t say that. He grasps for something else, fiddling with his wine glass. “I’m not that tired.”
Daniel’s eyebrows raise, “No?”
“U-Uh yeah. I think I’ll, um, go get coffee afterwards. You know there’s a twenty-four hour diner a few blocks down. They’ve got good coffee that doesn’t cost like four dollars. And killer pie.”
“So…” A smile teases at the edge of Niel’s lips, “You wanna do dessert after this?”
“I mean, I’m definitely open to it. Heavily considering… Dessert,” Seongwoo tries. It comes out sounding way dirtier than he wants it to. He prays Daniel doesn’t expect anything.
“What kind of pie do they have?” Daniel asks in all seriousness. Oh, good. He was actually talking about dessert.
Seongwoo feels like a zombie when he approaches the steps of his apartment building. They’d managed to draw their night out until five in the morning. It wasn’t exactly a huge effort. They finished their drinks and went to get pie, as they said. Then they talked. And talked. And talked. Coffee is bottomless and the waitresses fill it up without a word which makes it easy to lose track of time. Thank god it’s a weekend. Still, Seongwoo is but a shadow of the party animal he used to be. He’s fairly certain the only reason he got home at all is because Daniel is half carrying him.
“This is me,” Ong tells the other, hoping he doesn’t sound as sad as he feels. He puts his hand on the door, trying to think of any excuse not to open it.
“You might want this,” Daniel laughs behind him.
Seongwoo turns around and gasps when he sees the other brandishing his phone.
“Oh, oh god I didn’t even realize-”
“You left it on the table at the diner. Here,” Daniel hands it over. “Let me know when you get up okay, alright?”
“Yeah, for sure,” Ong takes it. Then he pauses, “Wait- How would I let you know-?”
“Put my number in,” Daniel says.
Smooth, smooth Daniel. Seongwoo’s mad. Usually he’s assured enough to make the first move himself. If that’s what this is. Niel’s got a big, bleeding heart. He really could just be concerned. But then again who stays up until five with someone they’re just concerned about?
“Thanks,” Seongwoo flashes the best grin he can with half his face puffy.
“And don’t forget to ice that!”
“I won’t.”
“Good night,” Daniel says, his smile faltering.
“Night, Daniel. Thanks for the great night.”
“It was nothing. It was cool. Like, really, really cool.”
“Yeah,” Ong replies.
“Yeah.”
Yeah.
Wait, nobody’s moved. The awkwardness seems to dawn on them at the same time, and they fumble to find word sto cover it up:
“Uh-” “Um, I should probably-” “Let’s-” “We should do it again?” “Why don’t we-”
“Um-” Ong speaks over Niel, “-Have- have a safe night, Daniel.”
“Morning, more like,” Daniel laughs. “But, yeah. I will. See you around, Seongwoo.”
Oh.
See you around. As in again . As in he wants to see Ong again . Seongwoo feels his heart flit around his chest for the hundreth time that night. In an impulsive burst of boldness, he hops off the stoop of his building and grabs the departing Daniel by the sleeve.
Breathlessly, he says, “Daniel, one more thing.” Then, he leans forward and plants a kiss on his cheek.
Daniel freezes for a second before returning the kiss.
Wait. Returning it? With his cheek. Ong blinks his eyes just slightly open and realizes that Daniel had turned his face all the way. Sly bastard.
Thank god the sly bastard is also strong, because his arms wrapped around Ong’s waist are the only thing keeping him on Earth. Otherwise, he’d probably just float away. A rush comes over Seonwgoo as Daniel returns his kiss. Though chaste, it still makes the embers in Ong’s guts smolder.
When the two separate, Seongwoo can feel the heat on his cheeks (this time not related to a baseball injury). He heaves a sigh of relief because, goodness, he’s wanted to do that all night. Daniel appears to be a similar state, his lips upturned and eyes squinted, fond.
“I’ll see you real soon,” He says softly this time, like a whisper. Just between them.
Seongwoo nods, “See you soon, Niel.”
“-now, Ong insists he didn’t get any brain damage,” Woojin snickers loudly. “But obviously we all saw what was printed on the invitation.”
As expected, the best man’s met with laughs at the dig to his good friend, Kang Daniel. The story of how he met his fiancee- no, husband - is always a winner. Typically hitting a baseball into someone’s face is the opposite of what you’d want to do to impress someone. Ong Seongwoo however, turned out to be different than the celebrity clinger types Niel had gotten fooled by before. Woojin watched a few relationships turn sour. However, the second Daniel texted him with dozens of emojis, ecstatic that he “just scored a date with the hot ball guy”, Woojin got a vibe that things were different for them.
“Alright, alright,” Woojin waves to calm down the laughing crowd. He looks to the head table - an unfussy yet stunning wood piece heaped with a floral arrangement - and nods to the couple. Mr. Ong Seongwoo and Mr. Ong Daniel. Seongwoo and Daniel both return the best man’s regard with smiling eyes. Woojin can tell they’re being all cutesy under that tablecloth - he can just tell they are. Because they’re that brand of unbearable. Always hidden and never able to keep their hands off of one another.
“Now I’ve gotta get serious,” Woojin tells everyone. “I promise, we’re almost done. I see you all eyeing your dinner plates-” (There’s a few more hushed laughs at that - nailed it!) “-but first, we all have to raise our glasses in a toast. Daniel, you’re one of the most genuine, kind people on earth. You’ve got a heart the size of the moon, and now you’ve finally found the most beautiful, perfect stars to light your sky. I wish you two nothing but happiness and understanding moving forward. So, without further ado-” He lifts his own glass, “-to Seongwoo and Daniel, everyone.”
“To Seongwoo and Daniel!” The guests echo.
“Cliink! Clink-clink- cliink!” Champagne flutes meet left and right, filling the reception with a resounding clink.
Woojin beams watching the two saps be totally gross for one another. Usually it’s obnoxious but, hell, it’s their wedding day. He’ll let it slide. Romance isn’t his thing but it’s definitely theirs.
Woojin heaves a sigh of relief and starts striding back to his seat. He weaves between tables and people ambling around to chat. All he can think about is food when an abrupt force knocks him to the side. It happens in slow motion, like a movie:
Woojin stumbles to the side. The person who’d bumped into him (a friend of Ong’s, Woojin thinks) apologizes. Woojin’s mouth opens to respond, but his champagne flute ends up tipping. The contents pour out into the lap of some unsuspecting guess. Said guess gasps in shock from, well, obviously champagne being poured into their lap. The others at the table also gasp.
“Wh- Oh- Oh fu- I mean oh gosh, I’m sorry,” Woojin cringes at his own mistake. He doesn’t even think twice before grabbing the nearest cloth napkin and blotting the guy’s lap liberally. Champagne is light, so it’s not normally an issue. Unless you spill it on the one guy who chose to wear a lighter colored suit. It’s a lustrous blue material that looks really pretty and also probably really expensive.
“Oh god, I’m so, so sorry,” Woojin continues blotting like his damn life depends on it.
“Uh- Uh it’s fine if you could just, um- maybe we should-” The guy looks at Woojin, and Woojin finally remembers human decency and etiquette. He looks the guy in the face and chokes a bit.
Oh no, he’s hot.
Woojin swallows hard before choking out, “Sorry, um-” He checks the nametag on the guy’s spot, “Jihoon.”
“It’s not a big deal. Woojin, right?”
“Right.”
“That was a nice speech you gave.”
“Oh, thank you. Nice to meet you, Jihoon.”
“Uh… Likewise?” The redhead lets out a little chuckle, and the bubbly sound makes Woojin’s heart leap.