Chapter Text
In a bathroom stall, between three boys all decked in varying degrees of padding and other sportswear, a tower loomed.
Or rather, a card with a drawing of a tower facing up stared at them from its position atop a toilet seat. It was only the first card of three that Wonwoo had set on that flat surface.
The boys’ expressions, varying only in levels of disappointment, could be seen on their faces. But in all honesty, Wonwoo had expected it. Despite all their attempts at witchcraft and fortune telling to foresee a different outcome, they knew what they were up against—it just hurt to see.
There were only five hours left until the NCAA Men’s Hockey final and the Golden Gators had resorted to tarot reading. This was a common habit for these boys, with several fan blogs claiming them to be the “hockey witches of the west”. Wonwoo had first suggested doing tarot readings as a fun way to stop them from overthinking the more technical aspects of the game, which was met with a lot of skepticism from the team. But after an abysmal previous season, the boys were pretty much desperate enough to try anything short of murder to get themselves out of this funk.
Surely enough, they were able to produce unexpected results to make it to the NCAA final this year despite not bringing in a lot of fresh blood. More logical fans and analysts had claimed that the Gators’ rise was mostly due to the recent emergence of their senior goalie, Kwon Soonyoung, and new coach, but the boys had attributed their success to their unorthodox game preparation.
And just when the Gators needed lady luck to smile upon them most, she had given them the middle finger.
“I’m so fucking sick of losing against them,” an aggressive growl emerged from the group of boys. This came from the team’s leading scorer and left winger, Mingyu, who had a face that was usually comparable to an early sunset, golden and glowing, but now its shade matched the sweat patches on the team’s maroon uniforms. “Do you think this’ll last forever? Even after I’ve graduated or gotten a job or had children or when I’m lying on my deathbed, will I still be reminded of how much better the Lightning are?”
Mingyu, whom all the boys were particularly fond of (although they would hardly admit it) and would take any number of hard hits for, was prone to spinning tall tales and drawing irrational conclusions whenever hysteria caught his whimsy. But in the face of seemingly impending defeat and utter humiliation, Wonwoo couldn’t help but agree with his teammate’s hissy fit this time.
“And don’t even get me started on the articles and videos that come out after we lose to them. All the puns about lightning and thunder and storms and winds. And God, I can’t take it anymore,” he continued ranting.
“And you know who’s fault that is?” Chan, the team’s new mainstay defender and chronically online freshman, pulled up his phone and started searching, scrolling until he found what he was looking for.
The bright screen took Wonwoo by surprise, his eyes taking a few seconds to adjust to the light before he was met with a garish Teen Vogue article titled: “Meet Lee Jihoon, the NHL’s Next Rookie Darling”. The accompanying picture below the title showed a young, round-faced guy wearing a black-white-and-gray Lightning jersey, smiling brightly in front of a blue backdrop.
Wonwoo found himself feeling claustrophobic for the first time since squeezing into a bathroom stall with his two other geared up teammates, all in bulky hockey wear. He couldn’t feel anything other than a violent buzzing in his chest and ears, irritated at the familiarity of the person he least wanted to exist.
“Here, look. ‘Korean hockey wonder, Southfield Lightning’s Lee Jihoon’. And who could’ve seen this coming, it’s another pun… ‘strikes America’s heart.’” Chan used his scrolling finger to make a gagging motion before he continued dictating the rest of the article.
“‘After hearing his name called in the first round by the Seattle Spades at this year’s NHL draft, Lee made history by being the first South Korean player to be drafted first overall. He exhibits extreme poise and creative playmaking ability, while also possessing one of the sharpest shots in his draft class. Those who have seen him play describe his playing style…’ I am genuinely sick of reading this.”
“Did you read the part where he said that he considers the Gators his rivals for this season?” Mingyu’s voice slightly raised at the thought of Jihoon’s very obvious and public provocation. “We lost against the Lightning in all four of our meetings against them this season, and Jihoon scored a hat trick in every single one of those games. ‘Rivals’, my ass.”
Gritting his teeth, Wonwoo spoke for the first time since the tower card was revealed. “He can talk to fucking Teen Vogue or Vanity Fair or Cosmopolitan about us all he wants, we’re not gonna let him humiliate us again.”
Mingyu and Chan’s faces steeled at Wonwoo’s declaration—determination infectious and quickly growing among the bathroom trio.
“Let’s move on to the next card. Maybe it’ll tell us more about how to defeat the Lightning,” Chan suggested.
Wonwoo had started to fan the deck out in front of the other two, silently asking them to pick the next card to determine their fate, when the bathroom door slammed open, causing the cards to fall across the porcelain floor and on top of the toilet seat.
“I told you to start setting up the cones fifteen minutes ago, Chan,” the Gators’ coach’s voice boomed from in front of the closed stall door. Wonwoo swears he could feel the vibrations in his skull. “And since both of our alternate captains are here as well, I’m sure they’d love to accompany Chan in doing an extra set of drills for every minute he’s been late.”
“Yes, sir,” the three boys replied defeatedly. Although they couldn’t see their coach’s face, they were sure he had a grin on his face–he sure liked giving out extra drills for fun.
Once the Coach had left, Wonwoo sighed as he bent down to pick up the fallen cards. He had made sure that Mingyu and Chan went ahead first so that all three of them wouldn’t get extra extra punishment for staying too long in the bathroom to clean up. Thankfully the floor wasn’t wet or dirty, but Wonwoo was sure he’d burn these cards as soon as he got home, unwilling to let voodoo logic win out over proper hygiene.
There was still one card facing down on top of the closed toilet seat beside the Tower card. Curious if the answer to beating the Lightning–to beating Jihoon – was held in this card, Wonwoo flipped it over.
“Oh, shit.”