Work Text:
1. Sight.
“Coach!” Jun called out, walking outside of the changing rooms. “How does it look?” he asked, smiling sheepishly.
Conrad almost spat his Gatorade when he looked up from his phone.
Some skaters decided to try on their new costumes for the upcoming season and train with them on, and Jun was a part of those. His body was tightly (yet elegantly) hugged by the lace, the black and shiny fabric, the rhinestones around his chest… Fate of the Clockmaker would be one heaven of a short program.
“Looking amazing, Jun!” Tracy complimented with a smile. Jun returned the gesture, looking even more like an ethereal sort of fairy. Conrad sipped from his drink, trying not to look too obvious that he was ogling at Jun’s impromptu messy curls, blushing face and shyness towards everyone’s compliments by the rink. He looked as if he were having the time of his life, and by God if that wasn’t what the young man deserved.
A wolf whistle took him out of his daydreaming. “I bet you wouldn’t be able to pull out something like that,” Bruce teased as he elbowed Conrad.
The blond looked almost offended. “Bold of you to assume I would ever pull out some of Jun’s outfits. He’s unique like that.”
And as he watched Jun curl into himself from embarrassment as Jason showed him a videocall— probably Zhenya squealing at how cute he looked, Conrad smiled. Yeah, no wonder. Amelia told him once that Jun’s Korean fans considered him a sort of idol–prince to them. They were right. He either looked ready to dance a popular choreography or ready to stretch his wings out and fly away, since he looked so charming and ethereally pretty, just like that.
And as he thought about fairies and angels with a goofy smirk on his face, Bruce suddenly wiped his mouth harshly with his gloved hand, cackling. Conrad glared at him in question, and the other one laughed louder. “Dude, just clean your drool by now.”
“I wasn’t–”
“Oh, you totally were–”
“Hey guys,” a voice interrupted them. Conrad turned his head so quickly at the sound, he would have broken his neck. Junhwan in the flesh, looking stunningly good with that costume, smiling at them and playing with his fringe. “Does this look good?”
Bruce kicked his shin discreetly. Conrad took a breath.
“Yeah, Jun,” he said, attempting to look casual enough for the boy not to find out his internal fanboying over him, “Looks great.”
“Yeah, man,” Bruce added on. “Totally charming everyone and taking their breath away in here!” he teased, emphasizing on how Conrad was visibly wanting to die at any second due to his embarrassment.
Jun blushed in his adorable ways, chuckling a little. “Well, it’s part of the regular charisma during a program, right?” he commented, shrugging a little.
Conrad was so going to kill Bruce. For exposing him indirectly and for making Jun almost giggle like that, threatening his poor heart rate.
2. Smell.
Conrad was used to the classical scents by TCC. Deodorant, ice (he swore there was a specific smell for ice), sweat and now disinfectant. Those weren’t his favorite aromas at all, but he quickly grew used to them within weeks. And that’s precisely why whenever a foreign smell hit his nose by the rink, he suddenly wanted to find the source of it. Sometimes it was a fruit juice somebody would bring, the somewhat usual yet not quite common coffee someone would take inside the building by accident, Zhenya’s citrus perfume, etcetera.
So, following that line, it was natural for him to sniff the air at the changing rooms when he felt a sweet, floral scent coming from the benches. Neither Alison nor Amelia were there and it came from the men’s room, so unless something weird was happening there were no possible girls wearing that scent on their clothes or bags. Besides, wouldn’t the perfume ruin its scent when mixed with sweat?
Only when he heard curses in Korean was when he finally came to a conclusion, and his cheeks tinted themselves pink when he thought about it. But, the curses. Jun must have been in a pinch. He quickly walked to the closed cubicle and knocked on the door softly, thrice.
“Hey, Jun. Is everything alright?”
The sweet scent got even stronger and he even had to wrinkle his nose to avoid it. Jun made a desperate noise.
“No,” he whined. “Mom switched our colognes and now I have to wear this until I come home. And I hate it!” he complained. Conrad suppressed a chuckle, recalling Jun’s discreet, somewhat woodsy cologne whenever training and exercise were too demanding. Yeah, he got used to that smell as well. But now…
“It's as if I had stepped into a tub filled with flowers,” Jun continued. “I like flowery scents, but— I hate this cologne specifically!”
The cubicle door opened and Jun walked out, pouting and wrinkling his face in disgust. Conrad couldn’t take it anymore and bursted into laughter.
“Yah! Don’t laugh!”
“I’m sorry,” Conrad apologized between chuckles. “It’s just that I sensed that smell from outside the changing room doors.”
Jun groaned loudly. “This is on me for not tolerating smelling like sweat. This is karma,” he mused angrily.
Jun looked like an angry ball of doom, and Conrad couldn’t be any more entranced by that. The scent was strong, yes, but also sickeningly sweet. Unconsciously, he was already relating those two factors from Jun’s mother’s cologne with Jun himself. His programs had always had fierceness, determination and courage in them, but also had that charismatic delicacy he always delivered whether on or off ice. He thought… that this scent ironically fitted Jun perfectly.
“Hello? Earth to Orzel?”
Conrad flinched. Not this again. “Yeah, I was just thinking.”
Jun tilted his head. “About what?”
“That smell… does kind of fit you.”
Jun blinked and a myriad of emotions swirled in his face, Conrad noted. Surprise, embarrassment, offense and finally resignation. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
“Thanks, I guess. Now I’ll go home thinking that Conrad Orzel thinks my mom’s obnoxious cologne fits my aesthetic,” he mockingly sulked, dramatically.
Conrad laughed loudly, watching the adorable flower boy in front of him. Ah, he would never get tired of Jun.
3. Taste.
“Mmmmmph!”
“Don’t be such a baby! You said you didn’t have balm so stick with this!”
“Zhenya!”
“Jun!”
Conrad idly watched the bickering. Jun’s lips were seemingly chapped beyond repair (Zhenya’s dramatic words, not his. Why was everyone in this rink so extravagant sometimes?) and he didn’t bring any balm with him, so she lent him by force some of her cherry flavored lip balm. And he didn’t want to use it, but the older young woman was quicker than him. Joseph cackled.
“It’s just lip balm,” he commented. “I myself have a flavored one. Coconut flavored, specifically,” he gestured with a proud smirk. “My lips are saved from dying and I save myself from starvation. Psychologically at least.”
Conrad knitted his brows together. “You’re a menace. That’s what you are,” he retorted, standing up from the bench he was sitting on as his break time ended. He had to practice his spins, but he almost fell on his butt as Jun accidentally bumped into him, trying to run (skate?) away from Evgenia. Conrad held his lower back so Jun wouldn’t fall, but his breath was knocked outside of his lungs as he glimpsed at Jun’s puppy face, now adorned with a glossy red shade on his lips, making them plumper and even more tempting. Conrad was only human.
“Be… careful,” he simply said, patting his shoulder. Jun chuckled and skated away to where Joseph was.
After a while, Jun still had the shiny, glossy lip balm on him. Zhenya reapplied it as he fell onto his face –and left a reddish, shiny trace onto the ice– and chapped his lips even more, if that was possible. “It’ll go away soon!” Zhenya had said. Oh, well.
Jun skated over to Joseph again, and grabbed the first bottle he found near him.
“You know that’s Conrad’s, right?” Joseph asked, still considerate of his friend’s feelings as he wasn’t a stranger to the blond’s stupid crush on the boy. Jun looked at the bottle, shrugged as he raised his forefinger over his face and kept on drinking. They would share some things sometimes, like earphones, backpacks, snacks, etcetera, so a little secret between them wouldn’t be a big deal. He left for another round of jump training and stretching, as Conrad skated off the rink a few minutes later and placed his blade protectors on. He was done for the day.
He yet raised an eyebrow at Joseph’s constipated gaze on him. “Anything the matter?”
Joseph flinched. “Ah, n–no, not at all. Uh… want to drink from my spare bottle?”
Conrad frowned. “No, don’t worry… I have my own one, remember?”
Joseph pursed his lips and nodded, silently throwing it at him. Conrad caught it on time and uncapped it, still suspicious as he brought the bottle to his lips.
And then he felt it.
The slightest tinge of cherry flavor on the bottle’s edge; and if he were more delusional, he would’ve even felt the former warmth that those lips would have left on the bottle when drinking. When did this happen? How…?
He chugged down a lot of the juice the bottle had, just to forget the sweet aftertaste of the balm remains and to ignore the fact that following some of the Asian cultures, he had just indirectly kissed Junhwan Cha.
Joseph made an inhuman noise and Conrad didn’t know if he was wheezing or wincing in pain.
“Dude, you’re scaring me.”
“Just… you know who drank from it, right?” Joseph hissed in a whisper. “I swear I tried to stop him, but… he didn’t even think twice before drinking from it and— are you okay with that?”
Conrad finally realized his friend’s panic and chuckled. “Don’t worry. I don’t believe in indirect kisses by that matter. Anyone could’ve drank from my bottle by accident, so I probably would panic over my Gatorade magically disappearing rather than me stealing someone’s first kiss during training,” he commented. “Besides, if he himself didn’t look bothered by it, then it’s fine,” he reassured Joseph with a cool shrug. “I don’t mind.”
Joseph was almost convinced, until he properly looked at Conrad’s face. He was blushing like a madman.
“Yeah, sure,” he mused with a weird look. And Conrad got even redder.
If he heard Conrad talking to Zhenya about the cherry lip balm later on, he didn’t comment on it; neither did when he found Conrad staring at his bottle as if it would give him all the answers he craved for.
But when he saw Conrad staring holes into Jun’s back for the next day, he was done with it.
“Shall I bring you his bottle so you get retribution?”
Conrad choked on his own spit. “ What— ”
“Or just kiss him directly, man. Stop being a coward,” Joseph said nonchalantly, snickering at the blond’s glare on him and his blush covering his face by the second. “What? What if he tastes like cherry—”
“Joseph—”
“Or leaves gloss remains on you mouth—”
“ Joseph Phan, I swear to god— ”
“Like, you really went all Katy Perry on him. You kissed a boy and you liked it, the taste— ”
A deaf sound echoed through the rink, followed by loud cackling. Jun and Yuzuru turned their heads in curiosity as Conrad stomped out of the rink, pinker than a salmon and visibly agitated. Joseph laid on the floor, a backpack covering his face, still laughing.
Conrad stumbled upon Zhenya, and he didn’t have the courage to look at her. “Please don’t lend him that balm ever again.”
And when Zhenya figured out why, she bought Jun a brand new cherry lip balm, just for him.
4. Hearing.
Conrad knew Jun could sing. He was an all-rounder, so it was a matter of time before he would know that his voice was actually quite melodic. But he didn’t expect himself to hear Jun singing when they were the last skaters on the rink, Jun not knowing that Conrad was still there as he quietly sung a song in Korean.
The lights were off, and the only light there was the moonlight reflecting on the windows and the ice. Conrad was entranced as he watched from a corner out of Jun’s sight, as he took in the musical notes and the way Jun closed his eyes and waved his hands a bit at the rhythm, as if he were performing in front of an audience. It was thrilling, as chills traveled through his body. It was almost like a fairytale scene, but…
… but sadder. Jun wasn’t singing in happiness. His voice was drenched in nostalgia, a melancholy that tugged at Conrad’s heartstrings. The piano instrumental was amicable, but had a tint of sadness to it as it went on, Jun singing and hitting all the high notes. The echo the empty place caused only added onto the cloudy mood, as if Jun were singing an ode to a current loneliness. Was he homesick? Did he miss his home? He couldn’t understand, and even less when he sung the chorus, seemingly, with an almost broken voice out to the open air. Each verse was as if he were afraid to continue singing, yet he took a deep breath before continuing, pouring his heart out in his voice and spirit.
Conrad felt like he shouldn’t have been there, witnessing something so personal, so intimate and almost sacred. The sensation only grew bigger when after some kind of bridge, the piano stopped and only continued as the singer’s voice, Jun’s voice, was singing the chorus again, but in a more paused, even sadder way. And if Conrad wasn’t already dealing with goosebumps as he quickly Shazam’ed the song, the sniffle he heard almost made him leave his hideout and run towards Jun to hug him. He glanced into the rink, and Jun was sitting on the ice but leaning on his skates, face down and forearms hanging against his knees, almost hugging himself in a moment of grief. Conrad didn’t like that; Jun deserved to be happy, to laugh and receive all the medals he promised himself to get. What could’ve happened that he was looking so heartbroken in that moment?
Jun’s voice pursued him into the late night, as he was reading the translation of the song and finally understanding, even more with such a grieving context about the singer. Maybe Jun was sympathetic over what happened to him, or he simply related to the song, or both things at the same time. Yet, if the second option was the correct one, who was the lucky person Jun allegedly felt happy with by just looking at them? Without doing anything about it, and waiting for spring to come and to be mentally okay to finally act up on his heart. Who was the one responsible for his tears? For his hopelessness? Maybe someone in Korea? Or was he singing to himself, promising that he would be okay soon to finally improve? Or was he singing to all his fans and supporters, just like the singer did?
Conrad turned onto his back on his bed, looking at the ceiling. Did he really know Jun that well? Was he really okay, deep down his press smiles, his puppy eyes and his antics? Has he asked Jun lately how he was doing? He couldn’t recall; and that was what pissed him off that much.
His heartbroken voice followed him to his dreams, and he recalled the past days where all that his mind could process was Jun himself. If Conrad were less of a coward, he probably would have confessed his feelings by now, hugging him tenderly as he whispered those secret, sacred words. But he was afraid, afraid to cause those same tears he dislikes so much on Jun. He preferred to keep his heart at bay and silently watch over him, as Jun had a life of his own and most likely didn’t like him back in that way.
Before our spring comes by…
5. Touch.
He didn’t get to confess his feelings, but he did get to hug Jun. He got to hug him, as he was alone in the changing rooms, clad in his Fate of The Clockmaker costume, staring at the mirror as he cried. Conrad’s eyes went wide open and rushed to his side, almost making him lose his balance due to the strength of his embrace.
“What happened?” he whispered, feeling the texture of the lace and the soft skin against his.
Jun sniffled. “Nothing. Pent up stress.”
“That isn’t ‘nothing’ Jun,” Conrad reprimanded with no bite in his voice. “How long… how long have you bottled this up?”
He remembered the time he heard Jun break down at the music of a bittersweet song, and everything around him started making sense. He clutched Jun around him, digging his chin against the other’s shoulder, one arm around and against the light fabric of his back and his other hand tangled in the silky, curly hair the boy he cherished that much had. He could even feel Jun’s round cheek against his, wet from the tears. The boy was quietly crying, hugging back in a weak way. In a tired way.
“Do you have those moments of…,” he started with a thick, broken voice, “of ‘what the hell am I doing here’ sometimes…?”
Conrad held him with no hesitation. “Of course, Jun, we all have those moments. We all have our doubts. We all have those gaps between our skill and what we want,” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. Jun whimpered.
“I don’t have the right to feel like this,” he admitted. “I’m an Olympic medal candidate… I am letting them down,” he muttered, his voice trembling in anxiety.
Conrad swallowed hard and parted their hug, only to cup Jun’s cheeks and make him look slightly up. Ah, they were cold to the touch.
“Even the greatest of all times have their moments like this,” Conrad started tenderly, “it’s burnout, like every artist, athlete, and normal person can have.” He wiped the other’s tears with his thumb. Cold. “We know a very specific person who fits the category, right?” he chuckled.
Jun weakly nodded. Conrad smiled.
“So, it’s valid. It has been rough for you, being in the eye of the Korean media and sport followers, and judges and competitions. But you’ve been doing amazing thus far, and all of us know. All of Korea knows. Okay…? We all are proud of you. Your fans, your former and current coaches, your friends, your family. They are all proud of your hard work.”
Jun was leaning against one of his hands, eyes still glassy and face still blushing. He’s getting warmer.
“I mean it,” Conrad added, caressing one of his cheeks with his thumb. “You’ve been doing well for all these years, ever since you were a kid.”
And just like that, he had a stupid impulse that he couldn’t hold back. He instantly held Jun’s nape and pulled the other boy closer, closing his eyes and softly pressed his lips to his forehead.
He’s warm. Soft, and warm.
He stayed there for a few seconds, gently pulling away to his demise. But he was all bewildered when Jun was staring at him in shocked expectation, not disgust or anger or anything he expected from him.
“Means protection,” Jun whispered. Yes. A kiss on the forehead meant care and protection. A silent I will be here for you . His skin felt way terser when he touched it with his lips, and Conrad had to make mental cartwheels to not sink in his desire to test how Jun's lips would feel against his.
So he simply nodded, caressing his face, brushing his eyelashes with his fingertips, combing his hair with his fingers and holding him just there, with his eyes still closed but able to map everything thanks to his fingers. But he didn’t expect nor foresee the sudden softness, velvety texture that touched his cheek.
It stayed there for a while, then it parted with an almost inaudible sound. Conrad’s eyes fluttered open, and Jun was even closer than before. His eyes weren’t as glassy anymore, but the blush was endearingly pinker now.
“… Thank you,” he shyly said, nodding in acknowledgement. “I… was having a crisis, and… I needed that reassurance.” Jun wasn’t meeting his eyes, and Conrad repressed a chuckle.
“Whenever you need it, you know.”
“I just get tired and homesick and sad and—”
“No, Jun, really. It’s okay. It’ll always be okay,” Conrad nodded determinedly, hugging Jun again. This time, his cheeks were dry and quite warm; warmer than before, definitely. And to be frank, Conrad preferred Jun’s embarrassed warmth a hundred times more than a desperate, hopeless cold presence to the touch. He made him laugh, he made him worry. But in all his senses, Conrad was happy to drown in the presence that was Junhwan Cha.
6(+1). Overwhelming .
After the crisis he had, Conrad’s presence was overwhelming to Jun. His five senses would focus on him, and it was torture. Once he stepped into the rink, Jun would dig his gaze on him and his princely looks. Did he cut his hair? He looks good. He’s smiling. I bet he got the bigger part of the cake yesterday night, he’d muse to himself, smiling as well until Joseph would smack him on the head (why was he so annoyed at them? He’d never know) and his own blush would betray him.
Jun would also pay more attention to Conrad’s voice, to his laughter or when his casual tone was hiding stress and worry. He’d listen to him talking, ranting, singing off key and overall taking in the world around him. It was quite the experience, to be frank. But not as ridiculously embarrassing as the time he fell under Conrad on the rink, because even if Conrad immediately had risen up and helped him stand back up again, his strong cologne scent got attached to his clothes and surprisingly, it didn’t come out until three more washing processes. By then, the musk would probably have become the death of Jun, causing him to blush madly whenever he felt it around him. It wasn’t his fault that he went to sleep after a tiring day with his training clothes on! He definitely didn’t expect Conrad to appear in his dreams as he fell asleep surrounded by that scent, drowning him in his attraction. In those times, Jun wanted to bury himself in the snow. And Joseph, the fucker, would snort and instead of supporting him, he’d say he’d take pictures when that happens.
And, well. Conrad had his ways to make his poor brain short circuit. And that happened whenever they hugged, bumped each other’s shoulders or bumped against each other at training. Jun would have intense flashbacks to that moment: their mixing breaths, Conrad looking at him tenderly, him stroking his face with his soft thumbs, his lips pressing against his forehead, Jun kissing his cheek out of impulse—
It was enough to drive him mad. Enough for him to remember the texture, along with the feelings and sensations Conrad’s skin against his caused him. Enough for him to crave more and more. And of course the bubble had to pop sometime, because when they finally (and to the relief of everyone in TCC) kissed on the lips, everything was 100% more vivid and intense than he could ever recall.
“Curious,” Conrad panted when they parted for air. “You’re not wearing that lip balm Zhenya gave you, yet you effectively taste like cherries.”
Jun was so panicked he yanked the taller boy towards him to capture his lips, just to shut him up and shut his overloading brain off.
Yes. In all senses, Conrad was overwhelming, but he couldn’t get enough of that.