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1
Chenle is leaving the locker room after an extra gruelling basketball practice when Renjun approaches him. The basketball team had underperformed grossly at their last match, and their coach is out for blood; Chenle isn’t in the best of moods, but Renjun’s proposition provides a much-needed distraction— even if it’s a baffling one.
“What?” Chenle asks, incredulous. He’s sure he must be hearing things. “You want me to join the volleyball team?”
Renjun nods. “One of our wing spikers got injured, and our reserve is still trying to master the basics. You used to play volleyball. We need another player to qualify for matches, and our club barely has enough members to stay open. You know how it is.”
Chenle does know— their school’s volleyball club had been established only several years ago, and already found itself on the brink of shutdown multiple times. Unfortunately, Chenle also hasn’t forgotten that Renjun is a traitor who refused to go to basketball tryouts with him in middle school on the grounds that he “didn’t like sports”, only to quit the acapella club to join volleyball a month later. Chenle doesn’t consider himself a petty person, but some betrayals are unforgivable.
Chenle snorts. “I’m in the basketball club. I’m not interested in volleyball.”
“Which is why you showed up to every one of our matches last season,” Renjun says.
Chenle finds himself staring— how does he know?— but Renjun continues before he can say anything. “I know you’re not interested in volleyball. But I also know you’re interested in someone who’s interested in volleyball.”
“It’s not you,” Chenle clarifies.
“God forbid,” Renjun mutters. “Well, we’re pretty desperate, so you probably won’t ever get yelled at during practice. And you’ll get to spend as much time as you like with Jisung. And stand on the court as a regular, instead of being permanently benched.”
That last one stings. “You drive a hard bargain,” Chenle tells him.
Renjun’s smile is wry. “Are you in?”
Truthfully, it’s been getting harder to drag himself to basketball practice each day, especially to wear himself to the bone in preparation for matches he’ll never play. Maybe Chenle does need a change of pace. More than that, there’s a challenge underlying Renjun’s question, and Chenle has always found it difficult to step down from a challenge.
Which is how he finds himself in the school’s third gymnasium the following week, surrounded by the volleyball team— some faces familiar, others not so much. The captain introduces himself as Mark, and Chenle instantly feels at ease around him.
“Injunnie found us a spiker,” Jaemin sings, jostling Renjun affectionately as Jeno ruffles his hair. Chenle recognises both of them as Renjun’s volleyball teammates from middle school. He watches Renjun laugh with them and wonders if they know that Renjun is evil.
“Volleyball is more fun than basketball,” is vice captain and setter Donghyuck’s straightforward opener. He grins. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy your stay.”
And then, of course, there’s Jisung.
Chenle has watched Jisung in countless matches— seen the complete fluidity with which he moves on the court, the pure power behind his serves and precision of his blocks. Admired the fire burning in his eyes when he’s in the middle of a game. There’s something about Jisung that draws Chenle in like a magnet, something about the way he plays volleyball that makes Chenle feel wistful.
The Jisung off the court is practically unrecognisable in comparison. “Hi,” he says with a shy smile, a little awkward, and Chenle feels his crush grow several sizes.
“Alright, let’s see what you can do,” Mark says, after Chenle explains that he played a bit of volleyball before high school and spent the past week bringing himself up to speed. “We’ll play a short three-on-three. Chenle with Jeno and Jisung. Jaemin and Donghyuck with me. No pressure, just take it easy.”
They get into position, Renjun in charge of keeping score on the sidelines. “Focus,” he calls. “Stop staring at Mark-hyung’s ass.”
Mark half-turns, a look of alarm on his face. “What? Who’s staring—”
“Jeno,” Donghyuck says without missing a beat, ignoring the bewildered noise Jeno makes at the accusation. Donghyuck clicks his tongue loudly. “Have some self-control.”
Chenle smothers a laugh as the match begins.
It isn’t long before the ball comes his way. Mark hits it over from the other side of the net, a high and gentle arc for Chenle to receive. Chenle watches the ball carefully, willing himself not to mess things up with Jisung watching. As the team’s new wing spiker, a lot rests on him.
In theory, he knows exactly what he’s meant to do. He’d even practiced his moves at home. Unfortunately, years of muscle memory kick in, and Chenle all but snatches the ball out of the air with both hands and slams it to the ground like a basketball before catching himself.
Silence follows, punctuated by the sound of the ball bouncing several times before rolling off court. Donghyuck, who seems to have something to say about everything, looks stunned. Jaemin looks like he’s not sure whether to laugh. The panicked look Jisung sends Mark says, will we be okay?
Chenle recalls the exchange he’d had with his basketball coach back when Chenle had informed him that he’d be leaving the club to try something different. You need to think before you act, his coach had chided. Life is like a basketball match. You can’t always live in the moment. Impulsivity will get you nowhere.
For the first time since making his decision, doubt creeps into Chenle’s mind. Maybe it had been unrealistic to think he would be able to play on a team with a bit of past experience, and none of the other prerequisites. Maybe he had been too impulsive in joining the volleyball team. Maybe he’ll only end up holding them back.
But none of these possibilities, Chenle thinks as he watches Jisung worry at his lower lip with his teeth, are quite as devastating as the realisation that there’s no worse way to gain the attention of the person you like than by sucking at their favourite sport.
Well, shit, Chenle thinks.
2
To Chenle’s surprise, it’s not his rusty skills that end up being the biggest hurdle in the team’s race towards spring season qualifiers.
After his initial screw-up, Chenle decides to start staying back after regular practice to get in some extra serves and receives. This turns out to be a good idea— especially since Jisung seems to be in the habit of doing the same. A few shoddy hits into his first session and Jisung even offers to give him pointers. Chenle spends the rest of the afternoon trying to focus on Jisung’s advice instead of the smooth baritone of his voice, wondering if his own sore lack of skills might actually have worked in his favour.
“You pick things up really quickly,” Jisung tells him, which is a nice compliment coming from the record-holder of first-year with the most points scored in an official high school season.
They’re sitting on the floor in the middle of the court, taking a breather after hitting serves for over an hour. Chenle grins, exhaustion making him giddy. “Why do you like volleyball so much?” he ventures.
Jisung looks surprised. “Well…” He considers the question for a while. “It’s fun, I guess. There’s always something to improve at. And there’s no point being good at it on your own— you have to work with your team.” His eyes sparkle the longer he talks, and Chenle finds himself unable to look away. “I started playing on a whim as a kid, and I’ve never wanted to stop. There’s just something so satisfying about trying out a move and succeeding, or scoring a point at the end of a long rally, you know? I want to keep playing and get better and better. I want our team to go to nationals.”
He looks at Chenle with a flush on his cheeks, embarrassed by his own impassioned speech. Chenle doesn’t think it’s embarrassing at all— quite the opposite.
“That’s cool,” Chenle says, unable to hide his smile. “Let’s go to nationals, then.”
It doesn’t take long for Chenle to get into the swing of things. After several weeks, the team he’s on for each three-on-three is no longer guaranteed to lose, and Mark compliments him on his improved receives. Chenle tries to carve out a niche for himself among the rest— Jeno already has the most intimidating serve and Jaemin’s blocking instincts are unparalleled, so Chenle focuses on a supporting role, always being in the right place at the right time to pick up the slack.
So it’s not Chenle’s skills that end up being the biggest hurdle for spring season qualifiers. The biggest hurdle turns out to be their captain and setter’s sudden and growing inability to get along for more than ten minutes at a time.
“Donghyuck,” Mark says tightly during their post-match debrief, after losing their first practice match with another high school. “You have to take it easy. Not all of us can keep up.”
“Then try harder,” Donghyuck bites. “I don’t set balls that are impossible to hit. Do you think we’re going to make it to nationals by playing it safe?”
Chenle had performed decently in the practice match, but probably only because Donghyuck went easy on him. Mark, Jeno, and Jaemin had all struggled to hit the balls Donghyuck sent their way; Renjun’s job as libero doubled in intensity as a result. Their opponents had looked none too happy to rack up point after point while barely lifting a finger.
“There’s a difference between playing it safe and playing it smart. We won’t get anywhere if we’re not consistent.”
Donghyuck seems to disagree. “We’ll never be a strong team if we don’t take any risks,” he argues hotly. “And I’ll never be a good setter if I don’t push everyone to their full potential.”
“Not everything is about you,” Mark snaps, the first time Chenle has heard him raise his voice since joining the team.
Chenle feels Jisung stiffen beside him. Nobody says anything for a while.
Eventually, Donghyuck grabs his bag and slings it over his shoulder. “Why did Chenle even join the team if we’re just going to roll over and lose?” he mutters, the last thing he says before storming out of the gym and slamming the doors shut behind him.
“He didn’t mean that,” Jisung says to Chenle quickly. “He just meant that after all the hard work you’ve put in—”
“I know,” Chenle replies quietly.
But it would be a lie to say he hasn’t thought about it too. Fights aren’t uncommon in basketball— the difference is that if two members on the team no longer work well together, they can always be swapped out for other players. The volleyball team has no such luxury. The tension between Mark and Donghyuck throws off their tempo, the first tear in their previously seamless teamwork. Their greatest strength as a tight-knit group now a gaping weakness. Despite everyone’s best effort, they lose their next practice match miserably.
Chenle watches Donghyuck brush roughly past Mark without a word during practice, and wonders when their cold war will end, if it ends at all.
3
Contrary to expectations— and Jaemin’s worst fears, as he’d been exceedingly vocal about— Mark and Donghyuck’s relationship appears to mend itself just in time for the bi-annual volleyball training camp. The club takes a chartered bus to the facility in Changwon, where they’ll stay for several days and get a first look at some of the teams they’ll be competing against in the upcoming spring season.
Both Mark and Donghyuck know some players from other schools, but the rest of them largely stick together for meals and during their free time. Jisung, in particular, seems spooked by crowds of unfamiliar faces, refusing to venture as far as the drinks machine down the hall unless Chenle accompanies him.
“Don’t worry,” Chenle tells him, amused, after tagging along on a toilet trip and snack run, then going with Jisung to scope out the Woollim team, who have been on Jisung’s radar since last season. “I’ll protect you.”
Jisung looks confused. “Protect me? From what?”
Chenle shrugs. “From whatever you need protecting from.”
Jisung looks like he still doesn’t understand, but he says, “Thanks,” and Chenle can’t hide the affectionate laugh that bubbles up in his throat.
Hanging out with Jisung and gossiping about which players look strong feels like the most natural thing in the world. Unfortunately, the same can’t be said about practice matches, which begin early the next morning. Brain murky after staying up late to listen to Donghyuck’s ghost stories, Chenle’s legs carry him automatically to the water bottle refilling station before he realises that this time, he’s not here as an extra— he’s playing on the team.
“Never again,” Renjun mumbles while rubbing blearily at his eyes, the team huddled around for Mark’s pre-game pep talk, and Chenle doesn’t feel quite so alone.
They lose their first few matches, struggling to find their feet amidst shifting team dynamics that have yet to stabilise. The other teams are strong. Chenle does everything he can to stay useful, keeping a close eye on the ball when Jisung and Jaemin jump to block incoming spikes, diving even for balls that seem impossible to reach. Safe isn’t a part of Donghyuck’s vocabulary, but on more than one occasion he sends Jisung ball that seems to suspend him in time, Jisung’s arm reaching an impossible height to blast the ball through the opponent’s defence.
Slowly but surely, they start to improve. In their last match of the day, Donghyuck sets a ball halfway across the court for Mark to slam down a straight, earning their first victory— twenty-five points to the opponent’s eighteen. A clean win.
Chenle can tell Jisung is in a good mood that night because he’s humming as they lay out the team’s futons, casually abusing their joint responsibility by arranging Jeno, Renjun, Jaemin, and Donghyuck’s bedding in a space clearly meant for three, then placing Mark’s futon horizontally at their feet. The rest of the team are busy fighting for the showers, but Chenle is perfectly content to wait until later.
He splays out on his own futon as Jisung does the same on his, turning to face Jisung and seeing his grin reflected on Jisung’s face.
“Today was tiring,” Chenle sighs. “It feels good to lie down.”
“Tiring but productive,” Jisung amends, scooting a little closer. Chenle suddenly becomes aware of just how much space separates them— Jisung’s hair is still slightly matted with sweat, and Chenle can see the faint flush on his cheeks after a full day of volleyball.
“I think we can do it,” Jisung whispers, like he’s sharing a secret. “We can go to nationals in spring before Mark-hyung graduates.”
Chenle has never really thought about Mark’s graduation. He’d known it would happen— Mark is the only third year on the team— but in basketball, half the team would graduate with the captain, and there would be plenty of players to fill their roles. He supposes things are different with a small club. It’s somehow a hard pill to swallow, the knowledge that the volleyball team has already gone through at least one season without him, that they’ve built a bond he doesn’t quite share.
Chenle opens his mouth to respond, but he’s interrupted by Jaemin’s voice.
“Nice sleeping arrangement. Is it a good idea to put the lovebirds so close together, though?”
“Huh?” Chenle says, rolling over, because they deliberately hadn’t laid Donghyuck’s futon next to Mark’s. “What are you—”
He stops talking as he sees that Jaemin, Renjun, and Jeno aren’t looking over at their own row of futons, but at his and Jisung’s.
“Maybe you two can share so that we can put Donghyuck further from us,” Renjun suggests, as Jeno buries his face in his towel to laugh. “His snoring is no joke.”
Chenle finds himself at a loss for words. He’s not easily embarrassed by teasing, but Jisung— Chenle turns in time to glimpse the mortification on his face before Jisung stands abruptly, cheeks aflame. “I’m… gonna get a drink,” Jisung mumbles, eyes glued to the floor, and the next second he’s out the door, rounding the corner to the drinks machine.
Jisung doesn’t look at Chenle for the rest of the night, opting to swap sleeping positions with Mark when they inevitably end up rearranging everything. Chenle lies awake for a long time, listening to Donghyuck’s snores and thinking about how, even though joining the volleyball team had undoubtedly brought him closer to Jisung than before, Chenle somehow feels further from him than ever.
4
By the time the first flowers in the school courtyard have reached full bloom, the team is playing better than ever before. The gears in their teamwork have finally started to click into place, a single-minded determination driving them towards their goal. There’s a shared sense of urgency in knowing that the upcoming season will be Mark’s last. In spite of previous conflicts, Donghyuck and Mark have been playing in perfect sync, pulling off an impressive number of quicks together that their opponents never see coming.
Donghyuck has made some compromises on the court, but he pushes their hitters as far as he’s willing to toe the line, and the team is better for it. It’s give and take— you win some and lose some, just like with matches. Chenle and Jisung are no different. Their awkward spell thankfully doesn’t last long, especially considering how well they get along. There isn’t a member on the team who doesn’t have a soft spot for Jisung, so the teasing quickly eases as well. Chenle is willing to maintain the balance between them no matter what it takes. It doesn’t matter if Jisung doesn’t like him back— Chenle just wants to be able to talk and joke with Jisung freely, to see Jisung laugh in that contagious way that shows off his gums and turns his eyes into crescents.
“Hyung, that’s mine,” Jisung says, as Jaemin picks up his bottle during a water break, a week away from the spring qualifiers. There’s a nervous energy abuzz in the gym, everyone focused on sharpening their skills as much as possible before setting foot on a grander stage.
“Oh, sorry,” Jaemin hands the bottle to Jisung and picks up the next closest bottle.
“That’s mine,” Jeno says.
“Not sorry,” Jaemin says, taking a big gulp of water from it.
Chenle laughs. This is what it means to be the underdog, he realises, looking around at the team. They have no reputation to speak of, no history to live up to. But their members are strong, and incredibly hardworking, and most important of all, passionate. Chenle has never wanted anything in his life as much as this team wants to go to nationals. He vows to help make it happen.
He shares a bit of this sentiment with Jisung as a bunch of them leave practice together— Jisung, Jeno, Jaemin, Renjun, and him. The three second-years are busy bickering over how badly Mark would lose in a fistfight to the captain of the swim team, Lucas, or something equally trivial. Jisung frowns when he hears Chenle’s words.
“Help?” he echoes. “You say that like you’re not one of us.”
“Well, I’ve only been around for a few months,” Chenle points out. “Which is, like, half the time you’ve been playing with the team.”
Jisung doesn’t look satisfied with his logic. “Still,” he mumbles, the frown on his face persisting.
They’ve reached the school gate before Chenle realises he’s left his headphones in the locker room. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he tells the rest as he doubles back to get them, trying not to think too hard about how Jisung pouts cutely when he’s dissatisfied with something. Maybe once they make it to nationals together, Chenle will finally feel like he’s earned his place on the team.
He’s so distracted by thoughts of what he should work on during tomorrow’s practice that Chenle doesn’t notice the muffled noises coming from behind the locker room door until he’s pushed it open.
He freezes.
The door is open wide enough for him to see Donghyuck and Mark, which would ordinarily be fine, except that today they’re a little too close for comfort. Like, making-out-against-the-lockers kind of too close for comfort. In fact, it’s not so much Donghyuck and Mark as it is Donghyuck-and-Mark, because they might as well be one entity given how closely they’re pressed up against each other. They don’t seem to notice Chenle at the door, and Donghyuck’s arms come up to snake around the back of Mark’s neck as Chenle takes an automatic step backwards.
Chenle opens his mouth— to say something, or scream, or whatever, he doesn’t know— but for once in his life, his voice fails him.
After a short while that feels like a long while, they break apart. “Donghyuck,” Mark breathes, voice low and uneven, which sets off every single alarm bell in Chenle’s head because he never needed to hear his captain like that. “We’re in school— we really shouldn’t—”
“Don’t be boring,” Donghyuck says, and Chenle can hear the whine in his voice. “It’s not like anyone will see.”
Like with most things apart from volleyball, Mark gives in a bit too easily, and then they go back to not talking. Mark makes a loud, breathy noise as the locker he’s backed up against rattles, and Chenle wishes for death.
Finally, he regains control of his body and manages to make his escape before they start losing articles of clothing, or something— Chenle doesn’t know and he doesn’t want to think about it. It suddenly makes more sense how the two had miraculously regained their perfect synergy sometime between now and training camp. Chenle tries to recall how often Mark and Donghyuck hang back after the rest of them have left practice, then immediately wishes he hadn’t thought about it.
At least, he tells himself gravely, it had been him who had caught them— Jisung would surely have been scarred, and who knows what the others might have done. Probably tried to take pictures to show the rest of them. Actually, Chenle’s not sure this is any consolation after all. He’d much rather have found out the intimate details about their captain and vice-captain’s relationship second-hand, or ideally not at all. Why me, Chenle thinks sadly.
He’s walked halfway to the school’s back gate before he realises his mistake and has to do a one-eighty. To his surprise, Jisung is waiting for him at the front gate.
“What’s wrong?” Jisung asks immediately, brow furrowed in concern. “Didn’t you find your headphones?”
“No,” Chenle answers tiredly. “No headphones. No. Only trauma.”
Jisung looks confused. “What?”
Chenle sucks in a deep breath to clear his head. Unfortunately, all that seems to do is give him a clearer mental replay of what he’d just witnessed. “I saw things,” he says. “That no one should ever have to see.”
“Okay,” Jisung says slowly.
He doesn’t press the matter. If Chenle weren’t so preoccupied trying to purge the memory from his mind, he would probably be heartened by how well Jisung can read him and how much Jisung seems to trust him.
As they walk in silence to the bus stop, Jisung occasionally looking over worriedly, Chenle lets his face fall into his hands. “Why did I join this club,” he groans, tormented not only by the thought of how he’s going to look Mark in the eye at practice tomorrow, but also the fact that now, he can’t stop thinking about what it might be like to kiss Jisung.
5
Jaemin gets injured during the spring season quarter-final match, just three wins to go before their team would have qualified for nationals.
They’re two points behind in the last set, seventeen to nineteen, and the opponent team’s ace is in the front rotation. Every point lost is a point further from making it to the next round. Chenle’s body is heavy with exhaustion, his uniform soaked through with sweat, but when he sees the enemy spiker jump with only Jaemin to block, he knows he has to do something.
Truthfully, Jaemin and Jisung have been struggling to consistently shut down the opponent team’s attacks. With an opponent team that specialises in raw power, Jaemin’s guess blocking is far less effective than usual. Three sets in and the cracks in their defence are showing. Jeno had scored no-touch service aces in both the first and second sets, but on a whole, brute strength isn’t their team’s style, nor is it a good match-up for them.
Chenle dashes to Jaemin as the enemy ace leaps for the ball, praying he’ll make it in time. There’s no time to think. Chenle is running on adrenaline; he trusts his body and jumps. The opponent’s palm connects with the ball with a resounding smack. Chenle feels his shoulder bump Jaemin’s as they both reach upwards.
The ball grazes Chenle’s fingers. It loses momentum as Mark dives for it, a clean receive that he sends to Donghyuck. I did it, Chenle thinks. I made it in time. And that’s when he hears the sound of Jaemin hitting the ground.
There’s pain in Jaemin’s expression. That’s the first thing Chenle notices. The second is that Jaemin is trying to tell him something, mouth forming words that Chenle can’t hear over the ensuing commotion and his own sheer panic. He doesn’t even hear the whistle calling for a time-out. All he can think about is that he had collided with Jaemin. This is his fault.
Chenle drops to a crouch beside Jaemin. “I’m sorry,” he babbles. “I’m so sorry—”
“Win,” Jaemin whispers as their coach and manager appear to escort him off court. “For Mark-hyung, and for me. Please.”
Chenle stands numbly as the game is put on hold to assess Jaemin’s state. A twisted ankle from a bad landing after their collision, they eventually find out. Mark comes over to place a reassuring hand on Chenle’s shoulder as Shotaro is called from the bench to warm up. “Not your fault,” Mark says firmly. “You did what you could. Accidents happen.”
The game resumes ten minutes later. It’s okay, Jisung mouths, reaching out to give Chenle’s hand a soft squeeze when he walks past him to his starting position, though Chenle can see the nervousness written all over his face. Renjun and Jeno look shaken, but they move swiftly to their places as well. Donghyuck gives Chenle a reassuring nod.
“Let’s get this,” Mark says.
It’s a difficult fight with the odds stacked against them. Jaemin’s absence leaves a glaring hole in their formation; Shotaro does an impressive job for his first official match, but his inexperience shows. They’ve lost any momentum they built up, and Chenle has never felt more helpless as spike after spike from the opponent team make their way through his and Jisung’s blocks.
They don’t win the match.
The worst part isn’t that Mark is disappointed. On the contrary, Mark doesn’t seem disappointed at all. Their loss means they’ve been knocked out of the running for nationals, but Mark gathers the team around with a smile, tells everyone that he’s proud of them without an ounce of shame at the sappiness or any hint of insincerity in his voice.
The worst part about losing isn’t the disappointment. The worst part is seeing Jisung cry, frustrated tears that he tries to hide behind his hand, and Chenle knowing that there isn’t a single thing he can say to make things better. Renjun cries too once they’re in the locker room, Jeno going over to rub his shoulders comfortingly, and Chenle knows from the way Donghyuck is avoiding everyone’s eye that he’s trying hard to hold it together. Guilt weighs heavy on Chenle as he thinks back to the look on Jaemin’s face after he’d fallen, and Chenle is struck by the desperate, fleeting thought that maybe, if he had been the one to twist his ankle after a bad landing, they might still have won that match.
The bus ride back is quiet. Chenle takes a seat in the back, unintentionally giving himself a perfect view of how defeated everyone looks. Still, he doesn’t cry.
Going to nationals hadn’t been his dream. But maybe making the team’s dream come true had been his dream. Or maybe, at the end of it all, Chenle just wanted to be able to consider himself one of them.
Jisung closes his eyes in his seat by the window, tear-tracks still visible on his face. All Chenle had ever wanted was for him to be happy. His heart aches in a place so deep he doesn’t know how to reach it, and for the first time, Chenle wonders seriously if it would have been better if he’d never joined the volleyball team at all.
+1
The end of the school year arrives in the blink of an eye. Club activities have long since stopped running, but restlessness and a frustration difficult to ignore following their spring season loss drives Chenle to the third gymnasium to practice all the same. To his surprise, he slides open the doors and finds every member of the team, with the exception of Mark, already there waiting for him.
“Glad you could make it,” Jisung says, though his smile says, I knew you’d come.
Sometime during the last week of school, Chenle finds Mark outside the gym, staring silently up at the building when Chenle arrives early to practice. Mark stays like that for a long while, only turning when Chenle takes several steps towards him, sneaker scraping gravel.
“I was the only first year when I joined the volleyball club,” Mark explains to him sheepishly. “And now, three years later, I’m graduating as captain. Feels kinda crazy. I almost wish I could go back and do it all over again.”
“Sorry,” Chenle says, a familiar guilt tugging at his conscience. “We were supposed to go to nationals.”
“What are you apologising for?” Mark laughs. “Don’t be sorry. I’m not sorry. Maybe we could’ve done some things better, but I feel like I can graduate without regrets.” He seems to have finally noticed Chenle’s bag. “Wait, are you here to practice? Didn’t club activities end weeks ago? Don’t tell me…”
Chenle offers him a weak smile. “You know the volleyball team. They’re dedicated.”
Mark frowns. “We’re dedicated,” he corrects.
“What?”
“Repeat after me,” Mark says slowly, meaningfully. “We’re dedicated.”
It takes Chenle a while to respond. “You know the volleyball team,” he repeats after a few seconds, because it’s difficult to speak around the growing lump in his throat. “We’re dedicated.”
Mark nods, satisfied.
There’s a blur of movement, and suddenly Donghyuck has appeared on scene, practically leaping on Mark in a crushing hug. Chenle averts his eyes. “What are you doing here?” Donghyuck asks, as Mark tries half-heartedly to push him off. “Couldn’t stay away, huh? Are you here to give your cute juniors some words of encouragement?”
“Like you need my encouragement,” Mark wheezes as Jeno, Jaemin, and Renjun show up as well to crowd around him. Jisung approaches last, coming up to stand beside Chenle. Chenle makes a face at him and Jisung grins.
“Jeno and I have been practicing our personal time difference attack,” Donghyuck tells Mark. “Wanna see? As long as you don’t get jealous of our amazing chemistry.”
The second-years lead Mark forcibly into the gym, and then it’s just Chenle and Jisung standing outside, under the shade of the sheltered walkway. Jisung turns to him, cool spring breeze tousling his hair, and it reminds Chenle of one of those high school dramas Jaemin likes watching where the protagonist musters all of their courage to confess to their crush behind the school right before graduation.
All of a sudden, Jisung looks hesitant. “So,” he says.
“So,” Chenle echoes.
Jisung fidgets. “I was wondering,” he starts. “If you’d like to— um—”
“To?” Chenle asks, bemused. Jisung looks so nervous that for a moment, Chenle wonders.
“To play volleyball with me again next year,” Jisung blurts. He looks like he’d actually just confessed his feelings— eyes wide and hopeful, a flush high on his cheeks.
Without realising it, Chenle is laughing. “Of course,” he says, heart lifting at the smile that breaks out on Jisung’s face. “We’re still going to nationals together, right?” They’re standing a lot closer to each other than Chenle remembers. In his excitement, Jisung reaches out to take Chenle’s hands in his.
“I’m really glad you joined the team,” Jisung murmurs, and that alone makes everything worth it.
Chenle isn’t sure how long they stay like that. When Jisung takes a step back, it’s with some reluctance that he releases Chenle’s hands. “Once Sungchan’s leg is better, we’ll have a full team again,” Jisung says, the flush never leaving his face. “With some practice, Shotaro could make for a mean pinch server. And then, by the time the fall season comes round—”
“Can I kiss you?” Chenle asks.
Jisung stops talking.
“You can say no,” Chenle assures him quickly. “I just—”
“Yes,” Jisung answers, then looks mortified at his own response. “I— I mean! It’s not like I’ve thought about it, or anything like that…”
“Really?” Chenle teases, enjoying the way Jisung flounders. “Because I’ve thought a lot about it.”
“You have?”
“Uh huh.”
Chenle steps forward. The kiss is sweet, Jisung’s lips pliant under his, a hint of lemon from whichever vending machine soda must have taken Jisung’s fancy this week. When Chenle pulls away, Jisung’s eyes flutter open to blink adorably at him, stealing Chenle’s breath a second time.
“Sorry for interrupting you just now,” Chenle says with a grin, taking Jisung’s hand in his and pulling him towards the gym. “Please continue nerding out about volleyball, it’s my favourite thing in the world.”
“Are you sure?” Jisung asks softly.
Chenle turns back to look at him, nose wrinkled. “Sure about what?”
“This,” Jisung says, looking down at where their hands are conjoined. “You sure you won’t change your mind? You won’t have any regrets?”
“I’m sure,” Chenle is confident this time. “No more regrets.”