Work Text:
Take order.
Pour the beer.
Give the glass.
Wipe the counter.
Check texts.
Glance at the TV.
South Korea still isn't up.
Repeat the process.
This has been Jo Yeong's work routine for three hours. The sports bar where he works has been steadily busy since its opening, receiving people on their lunch break or ones in search of a livelier ambiance to watch the final men's figure skating tournament. They're all enjoying themselves at the tables, taking advantage of the bottomless beer pint promotion that came with the beginning of the Olympics in Pyeongchang.
On his side of the bar, nothing has stopped, from the refills to the mixing and the overthinking.
He can practically hear Gon telling him to relax, I'm going to be fine, I'm not the King of the ice for nothing, and his cheerful I'll text you when I'm next in line!
Yeong knows his boyfriend will be fine. These are not Gon's first Olympics, and hopefully not his last, even if he claims twenty-six years old is too old for an Olympic-level figure skater. Yeong has watched him jump, twist, and spin since they were kids, so much that he's practically memorized the entire routine Gon is about to perform in front of millions of people.
It blows him away every single time, and he knows it'll blow him away again when he sees him on the Olympic rink too, what with the dozen of cameras capturing every angle of his performance.
Yeong knows he'll finally relax when he watches Gon give it his all on the ice. But for now, he barely remembers how to speak, and his throat stays dry despite the several gulps of water he takes every minute.
It isn't the performance itself that traps Yeong's throat every time he hears a new name being announced, no.
It's the thought that this is the biggest moment of Gon's life, this is Gon's moment. Realistically, these aren't Gon's first Olympics, but to Yeong, it feels like the pressure of the entire world's eyes is weighing down on his shoulders and sending his thoughts spiralling into a tornado every time he looks up at the screen. He's aware that he's taking in too much pressure, that it's not him who's actually going to skate, but trust Yeong to always feel responsible of handling people's stress as if it were his own.
Especially Gon's stress.
The anticipation has been slowly eating at him since Gon was selected for this year's Olympic representatives a year ago at the Russian championships, and he's even had to wipe away sweat that has gathered at the back of his neck all morning. Yet it's nearly three PM, the tournament has been going on since noon, and the South Korean men still haven't been called for their individual long programs.
Jo Yeong snaps back to reality when a coworker approaches him with a new order. He gathers the liquors, the glass and the ice in a familiar dance of his own, tossing and shaking the ingredients professionally. He finalizes the drink and places it on the counter when they pass by again.
In his apron pocket, his phone buzzes.
Glancing around to make sure he's not caught by his boss or a customer, he discreetly pulls out his phone and unlocks it, hands mildly sweaty.
-> up next!!!! 😁😁😁
The performance adrenaline that must be rushing through Gon's veins drips into the way he texts, and Yeong's heart picks up the pace as he types a short response.
He tries to keep a neutral expression on his face, though. He's got a reputation to uphold.
can't wait to watch you 😍💞💞 your parents would be so proud of you
-> i love you moonie <3
I love you too, my Sun 🥰 You didn't forget to drink water, did you?
Three dots come up. They retract. Yeong tries his best not to smile.
Gon sends a message after three hesitations.
-> and how would you know that I forgot to drink water in the last two hours (lll￢ω￢)
Boyfriend instincts 😉
He can't help the smile that dances across his lips before he shoves his phone back in his pocket. He bites his lower lip, willing his smile back into its usual mysterious-bartender-don't-mess-with-me face (Gon's words), and gets back to work. He's fully aware that his moves are slower, less automatic than usual—his heart and his head are racing far, far away from the restaurant, all the way to Pyeongchang, but he's also got to think of, well, not getting fired.
A new pint to refill is handed to him. He moves to the beer dispenser, but he doesn't reach for the tap just yet.
The Spanish competitor on the TV strikes his final pose. He moves to the waiting area to receive for his results, and Yeong anticipates them with him, ready to memorize to compare them later—
A rough hand slapped on Yeong's shoulder startles him out of his trance, and his grip tightens on the pint to avoid a mess of glass.
"Hey, go take your thirty minutes to refocus. You're going to spill everything if you try to do it blindly."
He nods at Sin-Jae, silently hoping that his expression stayed neutral, and takes the hallway that goes through the kitchen and to the basement. When he's reached the stairs and made sure nobody's looking his way, he starts running down the steps, his only destination in mind the break room's corner table he usually hogs. His hands are already fumbling for his earbuds in one pocket and for his phone in the other.
He forgoes his locker and his meal. He practically slides in the chair of his non-officially assigned table, his back to the wall, uncaring of the side-eyes from the busboys and servers arriving for the evening shift. It's not his usual demeanour, he's aware, but every second that ticks away is another second closer to Gon's performance.
Earbuds, 100% charged, connected to Bluetooth.
Phone, 100% charged, connected to Bluetooth.
Employee Wifi and VPN, connected.
YouTube livestream, on.
Yeong is just in time to watch Gon skate to the middle of the rink. His breath catches in his throat when the lights settle on him, and the conversations of the commentators and the crowd become background noise. The cameras sweep over Gon's form, his outfit, his face.
Yeong's jaw almost hits the floor when he sees, for the very first time, his boyfriend's Olympic ensemble. He closes it quickly with a clack of his teeth, his eyes glued on the screen.
Apart from the signature black glove on his right hand to hide the scar on his palm, Lee Gon is dressed in a sparkling sapphire loose-fitting top with a V cutout exposing the tanned skin of his chest, from his collarbones—is that glitter they applied on him?—to his sternum, with wide bell sleeves that end in frills at his wrists. The pants are more simple, a plain white with blue strips of the same shade as the shirt sewed along the entire length, standing out above his black skates.
And, oh, he definitely has silver glitter on his cheeks and over his eyes, highlighting the perfect angles of his features. Only a blind man would miss the glimmer on his face when the camera angle switches.
Yeong adjusts the bowtie around his neck. He silently curses himself for forgetting his water bottle upstairs, because it surely is getting hot in this room, no?
A coworker of Yeong's moves closely in the corner of his eye. On instinct, he holds his phone a little closer to his face, hoping his screen protector hides enough of what's playing from curious eyes. He leans his chair a little further back, too, just for good measure.
On his screen, Gon strikes his starting pose. He rights his face into a hurt expression, eyes closed, his hands pressed over his heart and his right leg stretched out in front of him, the dented point of his blade carefully placed in the ice. Yeong can't help his fond chuckle (but promptly hides it with a cough) — his boyfriend takes pride in theatrics that could only compete with reality TV celebrities, even for the most basic and sappiest choices of songs. Yeong briefly wonders if eccentricity is some Lee gene, or if it comes with the job.
Or maybe it's just a Lee Gon thing.
The music starts. Yeong focuses back on his boyfriend.
Chasin' the beat of my heart
Been counting every second of the day
The face glitter catches the light of the overhead neons, and the breath is knocked out of Yeong's chest.
And dying to be seeing your face
Yeong might be aware of his own good looks, but he pales in comparison to the work of art that is Lee Gon.
Wishing you were at the door
Can't take another minute more
Yeong holds his breath. Gon's first jump is about to come.
Someway and somehow
I'm through, anticipating (oh oh oh)
The scrap of the blade against the ice resonates all the way to Yeong's heart. The landing looks perfect to him, and he has to restrain himself from jumping out of his seat when the technical chart's first square blinks green.
Right here and right now, it's true
Instead of waiting
When was the last time he's felt so high-strung? He doesn't remember acting like this when he was waiting for his own admission at the engineering school, and yet—
OH!
Another green square! ⭐️
I'm going home and I'm coming to you
Chasing the beat of my heart
Lee Gon's right hand reaches dramatically towards a camera while the other one rests at his heart, his blinding smile on full display. Upon this sight, Yeong's heart doubles in its already intense rhythm—he has been on the receiving end of this smile for almost two decades now, and nevertheless it still hasn't failed once in making his heart race crazily.
Heading for all that I knew
Gon lets his back fall backwards before pushing his body back in time with the motion.
Chasing the beat of my heart
And then, with his arms reached out at his sides and speeding backwards, Gon's sleeves billow artfully, recreating the quick beating of Yeong's heart.
(Oh woah) you and I
As the pace of the song quickens, Gon performs a perfect butterfly spin—one of two terms Yeong ever managed to memorize.
(Oh woah) together again
In time with the song, Gon's footwork accelerates. Even at this speed, Yeong can still see the unwavering expression of pure joy on his boyfriend's face.
(Oh woah) you and I
Chasin' the beat of my heart
The camera chases his gaze, switching from the full-body angle to catch his expressions as he ends his spin.
No matter what I've done or where I've gone (gone)
The next technical square blinks yellow. Gon's split jump looked half-aborted, as if he almost forgot it, but obviously there is not time to fret over it.
You still have been where I belong
Been livin' in emergency
Gon raises his leg high up in the air—a perfect 180 degrees that the judges don't hesitate to reward with a new green square. Yeong tightens his fist discreetly in victory while Gon takes on a shorter spin.
Because you haven't been here with me
Lee Gon swings his leg forward, stopping in his path for a beat.
Some way and somehow
I'm through anticipating (oh oh oh)
He takes off on the ice and drops his body to balance himself on one foot, never losing his speed, then gets back up like a spring on the mark of the music.
Right here and right now, it's true
A more complicated spin follows, the one that Yeong likes to call the Tornado Beyblade.
Instead of waiting
OH!
Gon lands a green square with his spin and rises on the tips of his blades to pose in time with the shout in the song. Yeong remembers each and every fall, every reconsideration that preceded this successful execution—Gon's determination rewards him a new green square.
I'm going home and I'm coming to you
Yeong silently prays that this new streak will last.
Chasin' the beat of my heart
Moving on. Almost halfway.
Heading for all that I knew
The crowd starts clapping with the beat of the song as Gon performs various rhythmic slaloms.
Chasin' the beat of my heart
(Oh woah) you and I
(Oh woah) together again
Gon's expression eases for a moment.
(Oh woah) you and I
On the close angle of the camera focused on Gon's face, Yeong notices his eyes frowning, focusing on a point in the crowd—
Chasin' the beat of my heart
Oh, the triple axel jump in coming. The triple axel jump is coming.
Oh-oh, oh!
Gon launches himself into the air, arms crossed tightly over his chest. It happens so fast that Yeong barely has time to admire his form that his eyes are darting at the technical chart.
A green square!
So you can you hear it, c-can you hear it?
He almost chokes trying to contain his shout of victory, and instead sends the chair loudly tumbling back when he stands up abruptly. Lee Gon immediately transitions into a dance segment.
It's beating out of me, oh, oh, oh
Yeong's heart rhythm doesn't die down. Instead, it seems like it's beating even faster in his ears.
So can you hear it, hey, hey can you hear it?
Yeong straightens back in the chair, his eyes locked on his phone.
It's where I wanna be, oh
Gon runs on the tips of his skates and lets himself glide in a squat, his only true downtime in the routine.
I'm going home and I'm coming to you (to you)
Gon slowly lowers his body, stretching out his left leg behind him, and lets himself glide along the ice.
Chasin' the beat of my heart
He rises once more. Yeong, on his side, has had his heartbeat synced up to the beat of the song for a while now, and at this point he's accepted that it won't slow down.
Heading for all that I knew
Chasin' the beat of my heart
I'm following you and you lead
Gon pushes himself in a Biellman spin, his leg high above his head.
Chasin' the beat of my heart
Heading for all that I need
Even when he puts his leg down, he keeps spinning, spinning, hands graceful as they reach to the sky.
Chasin' the beat of my heart
He gets out of his spin. Yeong, behind his screen, braces himself for the final chorus of the song.
(Oh woah) you and I
His radiant smile comes back in full force with the acceleration of the song, and Yeong feels like fireworks are exploding in his heart.
(Oh woah) together again (together again)
(Oh woah) you and I (oh oh, oh)
After one last jump, Gon spins once, twice on his right foot, his left leg elevated in a 90-degree angle.
Chasin' the beat of my heart
⭐️ Slowing down his pace, he finally lowers himself on his left knee and lets his upper body slowly arch backward, his right arm following the same movement above him. The quick rise and fall of his shoulders is the only visible indication of his breathlessness. The crowd cheers wildly, and the last technical square blinks green.
Yeong, unable to look away from his phone, comes to the realization that he's breathing as fast as his boyfriend on screen, his shoulders hunched over. When Lee Gon lets go of his final pose to bow, Yeong lets his phone drop on the table, the screen still in view, and releases his tense muscles. As the replays flash one by one, he starts feeling normal once again.
He looks up just in time to see Gon make eye contact with a camera and blow a kiss to the lens, cheeks red from the exertion and hair now poking every way.
The crowd inside of the rink cheers even louder. Jo Yeong, in his tiny corner in the basement of a Seoul sports bar, has a feeling that one was for him.
He angles his head down to hide the smile that's blooming on his face, rubbing his neck to give others an excuse as to why he's bowing his head so low. His heart makes a happy dance inside his chest while he waits for the results of his boyfriend's performance.
Gon makes himself comfortable on the couch of the waiting area, accompanied by his coach. Having known her for a long time, Yeong is convinced she feels just as jumpy as him, but she hides it better from the cameras with her tight brown bun behind her head and her straight face as the results appear.
Yeong's eyes jump directly to the podium place his boyfriend receives. Second place.
On the screen, Coach Cheon's lips raise into a microscopic smile, and Gon nods towards the camera.
Jo Yeong can't help but feel his heart squeeze when he takes in the resigned smile on his boyfriend's face. Yeong hopes Lee Gon isn't beating himself down too harshly because of the missed jump.
On his side of the screen, though, he sighs with relief. The Hanyu kid rightfully earned the gold, Yeong will give it to him, so to secure the place right below is just as good in his eyes.
Had it not been for the missed jump, Yeong idly wonders, the gold wouldn't have been so far from reach—but as it is, a single silver amongst the numerous trophies and golden medals on his boyfriend's display shelf won't hurt the eyes too much.
Gon exits the lounge and bows one last time to the cameras before he shuts the door of the trainers' lounge behind him.
Yeong exits the livestream and immediately switches to his messaging app.
You did so well. Don't beat yourself up too much about a single mistake 💞 you still made it to the podium, didn't you?
Yeong waits. He won't take his eyes off his phone before Lee Gon responds.
-> thank you, yeongie. I promise I'm fine. I watched his performance, YH was going to be difficult to take over either way ＞︿＜
You promise you're fine? 😟 You can call me. I'm on break.
-> I'm okay :* go eat
-> thank you for texting me ❤️
-> I love you 🌙
I love you too ☀️
He eats, and goes back to work feeling somewhat lighter. He even gets to watch the podium ceremony from the bar before he punches out and heads to his apartment.
Until he comes home, Yeong will have the pictures Gon sends him during the night, of his mirror selfies in the makeup chair next to Yuna-ssi to the after-party extravaganza, and of him on the podium with his tiger plush and his medal.
⛸
A week later, his boyfriend calls him during a lonely dinner at the apartment. Gon's bags are packed, and the closing figure skating gala was a success. It's finally time for the athletes to go home.
The South Korean delegation is divided in five buses, Lee Gon tells his boyfriend during their call—three are going directly to Seoul and dropping the athletes off at a hotel, where most of them have booked a room to sleep in before going home ; and the last two buses are driving down to the Cheonan-Asan train station on the yellow line, for the athletes whose families live away from the capital.
Lee Gon decided ahead to skip the hotel and add an extra hour of taxi to the four-hour trip between the Olympic grounds and the city. Yeong thinks it's a bit ridiculous, since they will be both dead tired by the time Lee Gon arrives, but he can't deny the giddiness that comes with the knowledge that his boyfriend, too, doesn't want to waste a single minute before coming back home.
"Do you want me to come pick you up at the hotel?"
"I'll take a taxi, moonie. We're supposed to arrive in Seoul at two in the morning, don't you have a morning class that day?"
"It doesn't matter, hyung," Yeong tries to argue. He raises his eyebrows towards his phone, even if his boyfriend can't see him.
"Yes it does? Just sleep," and Yeong can picture him raising his eyebrows as well, just by his tone. "I'll text you when I'll be in the taxi."
"Call me when you're in the taxi. I'll be staying up until you come home anyway."
"Okay, fine. I've got to go now, I love you!"
"I love you too, my Sun."
The day after, Jo Yeong makes himself a coffee around eleven-thirty, trying to keep his drowsy eyes open with all his mighty strength. He scrolls on his Facebook timeline, watches Gon's performance on YouTube, and slowly sinks lower into the couch. He won't go lie in bed, though, even if his father's voice at the back of his head keeps nagging him for his posture.
Don't lie in the couch like that, you'll get a headache from bending your neck!
A small price to pay to be up when Gon comes home.
God, his eyes are so heavy. He will just put down his phone for a moment, nothing else. He won't fall asleep.
⛸
His phone rings at two-fifteen in the morning. The buzzing against his chest startles him out of his accidental nap, and his eyelids feel as heavy as lead when he blinks to wake himself up. "Hmm?" He squints against the bright light of the living room lamp that he left open.
A headache is starting to pound at the front of his head.
"Yeong-ah, I'm in the taxi. You can go to sleep now."
Yeong shakes his head and sits up. "Gonna get coffee." He leans against the counter, which digs into his sides and provides some grounding to reality as he sways, half-asleep, and starts the coffee machine. The smell that wafts into the air helps with the ache and tempts him to lie down again, but he won't, he won't, he wants to be awake.
In his ears, Gon's soothing voice is telling him how he and his noona are planning a new kpop dance cover on ice. Yeong wishes he wasn't struggling with catching the details, since his boyfriend sounds so enthusiastic about the project.
Lee Gon suddenly sing-songs his name.
"Yeongie, your coffee is ready." Yeong just hums. "Go to sleep, you can't even hear the machine beep."
Yeong nods, reaching his hand out on the counter. He drags his hand on the marble surface, barely catching his phone when he accidentally drops it, and pushes himself to walk over to the couch again. He lies down, his phone on his chest, and closes his eyes. "I just want to rest my eyes a bit, I already have a headache. The light in the living room will be on when you come home," he mumbles.
"Alright. Goodnight, Yeongie."
"I'm not sleeping."
The only sound left on the other side of the line is the car moving and Lee Gon chuckling. Jo Yeong sighs, and relaxes into the couch.
⛸
When Yeong wakes up with his usual alarm at six on the dot, he has more difficulty getting out of bed than usual, and a strangely realistic dream wanders in his head. In his dream, Gon came home in the middle of the night, helped him walk from the couch to the bed, and tucked him under the covers.
Yeong doesn't understand why it feels so real, when he hasn't spent a single night with his boyfriend since he went to Olympic bootcamp seven months ago. But he has to admit—he misses him, and so this dream was likely a result of that longing.
The thing is, though...Yeong remembers falling asleep on the couch. He must have woken up, gone to bed to fall back asleep, and promptly forgot all about it.
It's not like waking in the middle of the night is unusual for him, what with his light sleep pattern. But most of the time, the memory of getting up is way more clear.
Wait. What is that?
He blinks through the darkness in his room when he notices an unfamiliar shape. Body still heavy with sleep, he squints in the low light provided by the neon street lamps that filter through the cracks of his blinds.
A stuffed black and white tiger wearing an ushawa sits on top of a gym bag and a suitcase. Neither items belong in his stuff—he doesn't remember going to a store to buy a plushie, since they've been selling out so fast in the cheap tourist traps, and he uses an old backpack to go to the gym. His suitcase is black, too, not metallic gray.
A loud sniff startles him and something strong, holding him down from above the sheets, tightens around his middle.
When he turns around, Gon lies still, deeply asleep, his hair hiding the top half of his face.
Yeong sighs, relaxed at once. The travel gear and the plushie are Gon's, obviously. Him coming back wasn't a dream, after all.
Turning back to his nightstand, he checks the time on his phone. A new notification captures his attention: his professor sent an email two hours ago to cancel the class. Yeong doesn't bother checking the content of the email and smiles to himself, silently thanking whatever deity permitted this happy coincidence.
Gon shifts behind him, and slowly pushes his hair away from his eyes.
"Yeong-ah?", the gravelly voice of his still half-asleep boyfriend murmurs. "Was that your alarm or mine?"
"Mine," he whispers back. He puts down his phone on his nightstand and turns back into his boyfriend's arms. "I was supposed to have class."
"Hmm. You don't have to go anymore?"
"It was just cancelled. Which means I have all day to stay home," Yeong finishes before closing his eyes.
After making himself comfortable again, his own arm slung on top of Gon, he falls back asleep with a contempt smile on his face.