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Mingyu hates penalty shoot outs. Not because he’s bad at them– he’s fine. He’s never missed a shot, but he’s had a few blocked by goalkeepers. He hates penalties because of what it does to the team.
Those last few minutes of extra time always feel like an infinity when you’re on the field. He can feel his heart beating in his throat, his muscles ache from being on the field for near 120 minutes, and the tension between them all– it’s thick enough that you’d need a chainsaw to cut through it. They all want this so badly it hurts. They’re so close. Just one last goal. One last goal, and they don’t have to do penalties.
But this time, they don’t get it. The referee whistles and the game comes to a shrieking halt, and Mingyu doubles over, hands gripping his thighs as he breathes hard. Someone places a hand on his lower back, rubbing concentric circles into his skin.
“Hyung,” Mingyu says. “I’m sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?” Seungcheol asks, laughing. “You’re fine. You did your best.”
“But I could’ve– I should’ve done more, Jeonghan hyung would’ve–”
“No,” Seungcheol says firmly. “No, don’t do that. You did a damn good job, and nobody expected you to be Jeonghan.”
“But–”
“No,” Seungcheol says again. “Come on, team meeting.”
Mingyu sighs, but stops arguing and follows Seungcheol off the pitch. He feels sort of sick. He knows, rationally, that nobody had expected him to be like Jeonghan just because he’d taken Jeonghan’s spot while he’s injured, but it doesn’t help. Jeonghan would’ve scored, or he would’ve opened up an opportunity for Seungkwan or Soonyoung or one of the other forwards.
Jeonghan is a better midfielder than Mingyu, and they all know it. There’s a reason the opposing team had been going for the right side– Mingyu was the weak point in the midfield.
And Jeonghan– Jeonghan has gotten off the bench, free hand waving at the team as they come off the field, his injured arm in his sling. He’s smiling. Mingyu’s sure it’s not meant for him.
“Cheol-ah,” Jeonghan calls affectionately to the captain, who scoffs and shakes his head in response. “Are you taking the first penalty shot, or will Mingyu-ssi be taking my place there too?”
A sudden silence falls over the team, who had seconds before been buzzing with nerves. Everyone is staring at either Jeonghan or Mingyu.
“That’s up to the coach,” Seungcheol replies, giving Jeonghan a quick but scathing look, which quickly softens into something more stern and leader-like, and less angry. “Coach?”
“Mingyu’s taking the first shot,” the coach replies. “He’s a good shot, steady. It’ll be a good start.”
Mingyu’s ears are ringing. He’s staring at Jeonghan, who’s staring right back, neither of them willing to back down. The others are still quiet, and only Seungcheol appears to not be bothered by their staredown.
“Cool,” Seungcheol says. “And the rest?”
The coach launches into the lineup, and the explanation, and their plan– he says something about the opposing goalkeeper and his weak points, but Mingyu doesn’t hear it, he’s still in the world’s second most important contest of the night; his staring battle with Jeonghan.
It doesn’t stop until the team meeting breaks up, and people start going off to drink water or stretch, and then Seungcheol walks in between them and grabs Jeonghan’s arm, dragging him off to the side to murmur something in his ear. Jeonghan doesn’t look happy about it, whatever it is. Mingyu can imagine it well enough; ‘stop taking your anger about being benched with an injury out on the team,’ or something along those lines. Maybe ‘stop lashing out at Mingyu,’ specifically. Well, he deserves it, Mingyu thinks vaguely.
Seungkwan has just come up to him and he pats his shoulder, “ignore him,” he says. He doesn’t have to say who.
“I’m trying,” Mingyu sighs. “But he’s making it really fucking hard.”
“Just score,” Seungkwan says. “Prove him wrong.”
Mingyu scoffs, “Just score? Sure, alright.”
“You’re a good shot,” Seungkwan says, shrugging. “There’s no need to be nervous.”
Seungkwan’s casualness is somewhat comforting; at least someone believes in Mingyu’s ability to score. That’s a 100% increase from the zero people it was before.
A few moments later they’re called back onto the field. They win the coin toss and get to go second, and they get to shoot in the goal backed by their fans. Cool. This is fine. Minghao takes the long walk down to the goal, the rest of the team following after him to stand along the edges. Jeonghan is standing off to the side, sulking.
And Mingyu gets it– he really does. He doesn’t blame Jeonghan for lashing out; if he had to be benched from an injury during probably the most important game of their team’s career, he’d be in a pretty shitty mood too. Especially if he had to watch someone do his job, and do it worse.
The first penalty taker from the opposing team walks up to the spot, breathing hard. Minghao is crouched down, staring at him like a cat watching a mouse. He takes the shot– Minghao manages to get his fingers on it, and the shot isn’t strong enough that it doesn’t derail its course away from the goal. Cheers erupt, both in the stands and from his teammates around him, but Mingyu barely notices.
Minghao switches out with the other goalkeeper, and Mingyu walks up to the spot. Someone off field gets him a new ball, and he places it down in front of him, and he breathes in through his nose.
The noise of the stadium fades away. All Mingyu can hear is the sound of his heartbeat in his ears, loud and staccato like. He looks up at the goalie, who’s bobbing up and down on the soles of his feet, staring at Mingyu hungrily.
Okay.
The whistle blows. Mingyu waits, just a few seconds, then runs at the ball, and he looks up at the goalie in the last second, time freezing for just a moment– the goalie’s already going to his right, probably feinting. Mingyu kicks the ball as hard as he can, and shoots through the air, and–
It’s in. A perfect shot, right in the cross of the upper right corner. The goalie flails to the left, scowling at the fact that his feint hadn’t worked.
With a deafening roar, the sound comes back to Mingyu, screaming and cheering and his teammates are running up to him, but Mingyu is looking for Jeonghan.
Jeonghan’s rooted to his spot, arms crossed over his chest. He’s staring right back at Mingyu.
Mingyu lifts his arm and points at Jeonghan, and his teammates crash into him, but he holds Jeonghan’s gaze and he keeps his finger pointed at him until it’s physically impossible due to Soonyoung jumping into his arms. Mingyu finally breaks into a smile, patting Soonyoung’s back and shouting at the members to relax, they still have four more shots to go.
They eventually calm down, mostly due to Seungcheol shouting at them.
They walk back to their spots, and Soonyoung still has an arm around Mingyu’s shoulders, and Seokmin is on his other side, grinning from ear to ear.
The rest of the penalties are a blur of cheering and waiting with bated breath– the other team manages to get their second shot in, but they miss the next. Soonyoung and Seungkwan both score. The other team score.
And then Seungcheol scores, and they’ve won– they’ve won. They won. They’re through to the next round. Mingyu gets swept up in the cheering and the excitement, and he loses sight of Jeonghan and doesn’t see him again until they’re back in the locker rooms, hurrying to change and get back to the hotel for some much needed rest.
Jeonghan and Mingyu’s eyes meet across the room, and the expression on Jeonghan’s face is unreadable. Mingyu wants to crack open his skull and look inside.
They get out of the locker rooms, and they’re swept off into interviews– Seungcheol does one first, as the leader. Then Mingyu is pushed forward, a microphone shoved into his face and a camera pointed at him. He’s been dreading this interview since the coach had announced he’d be filling Jeonghan’s spot.
“Mingyu-ssi,” the reporter, a woman in a nice suit, says. “How do you feel?”
“Ecstatic,” Mingyu replies, putting on his best smile. He knows his role, what he’s supposed to do and say. He’s the good looking guy, the guy who flirts with the camera and with fans indiscriminately, the guy who gets the photoshoot bookings and whose skills are rarely mentioned. It’s fine, he’s used to it. “I don’t think it’ll feel real until we’re back in the stadium for the semi finals.”
“Already looking forward to it? Then, can you say anything about what position you’ll be taking? Are you gonna keep filling out Jeonghan-ssi’s spot?”
The team who’d been buzzing at Mingyu’s right and lost in conversation between themselves, suddenly fall quiet. Mingyu can’t see him, but he can feel Jeonghan’s eyes on him like a red hot burning on the back of his neck.
“Nobody could take Jeonghan’s spot on the team,” Mingyu says firmly. “He’s irreplaceable.”
“Right, of course,” she says. “But will you be playing it next time?”
Mingyu feels the annoyance bubbling up in him. “I can’t reveal our starting line up, especially since I don’t know it yet.”
She laughs airily, “of course, of course!” She waves a hand in the air apologetically. She’s not sorry at all. “Then can I ask if Jeonghan-ssi gave you any advice before the match?”
Mingyu stares at her, and wonders for a second whether or not he should lie. He could lie, and say yes, Jeonghan was very helpful, or he could tell the truth– Jeonghan had protested, then scoffed, and then ignored him until after the match where he’d lashed out at him just before the penalty shoot out. That would make a story, wouldn’t it?
“Jeonghan hyung was really supportive,” Mingyu says instead. He looks over to his right and finds Jeonghan, who looks back at him with wide anxious eyes. Obviously, he’d been unsure what Mingyu would do too. “He gave me a lot of great advice. I couldn’t have done it without him.”
That part is true, at least. Without the little Jeonghan scowling at him and snapping at him for every dumb move he’d made in the back of his mind, he’s sure he would’ve screwed up a lot more than he did. He’s still looking at Jeonghan. This time Jeonghan looks away first.
The lady says something else, and then he’s rushed off to join Seungcheol on the other side.
Seungcheol gives him a curt approving nod. Mingyu feels sick.
The rest of the interviews are, in comparison, a lot easier. No hard questions, just the usual ‘how do you feel’, and ‘are you excited for the next match’. Within half an hour they’re on the bus heading back to their hotel.
Jeonghan goes straight to the back, taking a seat in the corner. Mingyu sits down in the front. There’s a feeling rolling around in his stomach that’s as heavy as a stone, and he doesn’t know the name of it.
They get back to the hotel and immediately scatter off into groups, some want to eat, some just want to shower and sleep. Mingyu is part of the latter. He goes straight to his room and pulls off his shirt and shorts, throwing them into his open suitcase, and goes into the shower.
He turns it up as hot as it’ll let him and gets in. It’s scalding, but it’s good, and when he’s done he feels clean, and a little less sick. He dries off and pulls on a pair of boxers and his sweats, not bothering with a shirt. He pushes the door open, towel in his hand and drying his hair roughly.
Mingyu stops in his tracks outside the bathroom, staring wide eyed at Jeonghan, who’s standing with his back to the window with his arms crossed over his chest, staring at Mingyu.
“How did you get in?” Mingyu asks, blinking at him.
“I told the guy at the desk clerk you’d lost your keycard and he gave me an extra one,” Jeonghan replies, shrugging. His fingers are fiddling with a loose thread on his sling.
“Why, though?” Mingyu says. His hands drop to his side, one of them still clutching the towel. He’s suddenly very aware that he’s fresh out of the shower and shirtless, and that Jeonghan is fully dressed.
Jeonghan seems aware of this too, with how he’s avoiding looking at anything below Mingyu’s head.
“That’s what I wanted to ask you,” Jeonghan says, gesturing with his chin towards the door, as if referencing something that had happened on the other side of it. “Why did you do that? Why’d you lie?”
“What was I supposed to say?” Mingyu retorts, throwing the towel onto the desk. He feels the annoyance bubble up inside him again. “Jeonghan hyung didn’t give me any advice. What he said was more along the lines of ‘you’re the worst midfielder I’ve ever seen.’ Oh, and he tried to throw me off right before the penalties, which was great for team morale. Really cool guy.”
“Something like that,” Jeonghan says. “I would’ve deserved it.”
“I didn’t want to,” Mingyu says. “You were an asshole, yeah, but you don’t deserve to be thrown to the wolves for it. I’m sure Seungcheol is eager to give you an earful instead, if that’s what you want.”
Jeonghan scowls, looking away. There’s silence for a moment.
“Why are you here, hyung?” Mingyu asks. “Really, why are you here?”
“I don’t know,” Jeonghan says. He’s still scowling.
“I don’t want your apologies, if that’s why you’re here,” Mingyu says, and it comes out a bit rougher than intended. He’s not mad, just frustrated. Jeonghan’s scowl grows a little meaner. Mingyu doesn’t need this, not right now. “I don’t deserve them either. I know I did a shit job, alright? Let’s just leave it at that.”
“What?” Jeonghan says. He falters slightly now. “Mingyu, you did really fucking good.”
“What?”
“What the hell did you think I was mad about?” Jeonghan asks, gesturing wildly with his good arm. “I’m mad because you were good! You were perfect, you– the team was fine without me! They didn’t need me, they had you, the perfect player with better stamina and physique, the most good looking member on the team, the golden boy. I’m easy to replace, and you–” he groans, gesturing again, this time to Mingyu’s… everything.
Mingyu stares at him blankly for a few seconds before saying, “you think I did good?”
“Obviously,” Jeonghan snaps. “If you did a shit job, at least I’d have that to comfort me. Instead I’m the one who feels like shit, and you’re the guy who kicked a clean penalty, and stepped up to fill my shoes and succeeded. And then you had to get the moral high ground too by lying for me.”
At some point during their exchange, they moved closer to each other. Jeonghan’s taken a few steps away from the window, and Mingyu’s taken several steps forward. They’re inches apart, and the air between them is crackling with electricity.
They’re locked in another staring contest, eyeing each other with half anger and half… What is the other thing flickering in Jeonghan’s eyes? Is it in Mingyu’s too?
Mingyu’s eyes glance down at Jeonghan’s parted lips, and the only thing he can hear is the sound of Jeonghan’s heavy breathing. He looks back up into his eyes, but Jeonghan’s looking at Mingyu’s lips. He tears his eyes away and looks up at Mingyu like he wants to eat him alive. Mingyu wouldn’t mind.
And Mingyu closes the gap between them, and he takes Jeonghan’s face in his hands perhaps a bit too roughly, and he smashes his lips against Jeonghan’s– they meet like two cars meeting in traffic.
It’s all teeth and tongue, all want, Jeonghan is clawing at Mingyu’s bare back with his good hand, trying get him closer; Mingyu obliges, picks Jeonghan off the floor and presses him up against the window– he thinks, vaguely, about how Jeonghan must have closed the blinds when he came in, because Mingyu knows he didn’t do it himself. Had Jeonghan foreseen this?
He doesn’t get to think about it any further, because Jeonghan starts pressing open mouthed kisses to his neck, hot and wet and teeth grazing against pulse. His hand is in Mingyu’s hair now, tugging and pulling, maneuvering his head around so he can press a kiss to the soft spot below Mingyu’s ear.
It’s rough and it’s intense, until Mingyu tries to pull off Jeonghan’s shirt and Jeonghan yelps in pain as his bad arm is hit.
“Shit,” Mingyu mumbles, “shit, shit, shit, fuck, hyung, I’m so–”
“Shut up,” Jeonghan growls. Everything’s slowed down now, and it’s starting to settle in what they’re doing, which probably isn’t good. This isn’t good. What are they doing? “Put me down so I can get my shirt off without you breaking my arm.”
Oh.
Mingyu puts Jeonghan down gently, and Jeonghan starts trying to get his shirt off, but it’s a little awkward and slow– very carefully, Mingyu reaches out and helps, pulling the shirt over Jeonghan’s head and helping it over the cast.
Now they’re both shirtless, standing chest to chest, Jeonghan backed up against the wall by Mingyu.
“Hyung,” Mingyu says, and Jeonghan looks back up at him.
Jeonghan doesn’t reply. He pulls Mingyu back down for another kiss, and that’s answer enough, Mingyu supposes. He picks Jeonghan back up and carries him over to the bed, laying him down and staying hovering above him, their noses knocking together as they breathe each other in.
“I’m sure,” Jeonghan says, answering the question that Mingyu hadn’t gotten to ask. “Mingyu, I want you to fuck me.”
“Shit,” Mingyu mutters. “Fuck, okay. Yeah, okay.”
Jeonghan grins, and for the first time Mingyu’s sure the grin is meant for him. Only for him. Jeonghan cranes his neck up and meets Mingyu’s lips in another kiss, and Mingyu kisses back.
When Mingyu wakes up the next morning, Jeonghan is curled up at his side, his bad arm resting on Mingyu’s stomach. His cheek is pressed to Mingyu’s chest. They fit together pretty well, Mingyu thinks.
Jeonghan stirs awake, and looks up at Mingyu, and for one tense moment, Mingyu isn’t sure what’s going to happen next. Is this the part where they realize they’ve made a terrible mistake?
No, it’s not. This is the part where Jeonghan leans up and kisses the side of Mingyu’s mouth, and smiles, threading his fingers through Mingyu’s hair lazily and pushing it out of his forehead.
“Mingyu-yah,” Jeonghan murmurs. “I think I need to start picking fights with you more often.”