Chapter Text
The man with the tattoo races around the area, tackling and wrestling with his opponent, the grace and fluidity of his attacks catching Sung-bin’s eye. His primal ferocity and aggression, coupled with his pure muscular power, intrigue Sung-bin, and maybe even impress him.
Sung-bin is not a man easily impressed, which makes the man in the area that much more interesting. He finds himself clapping his hands in approval when the man catches the other in his grip and thrusts his hips to boost his opponent out of the muddy pool of water. Sung-bin thinks that this man must have done something like pit-wrestling before, his stance and technique a dead giveaway.
Sung-bin asks the man to his left— Cara? Carrot? Carl? —if he knows who the tattooed man in the pit is.
“You don’t know?” the man asks in genuine surprise, slightly cocking his head.
Is it Cora? Cabo? No, wait, it’s definitely Caro. Sung-bin tries not to feel like too much of an idiot when he shakes his head in denial.
“Oh.” Caro gestures to the tattooed man in the area holding the other man down as the final seconds tick down on the clock. “His name is Cha Hyun-seung.”
The name prickles at the back of Sung-bin’s head in faint recognition.
“What does he do?”
Caro huffs out a laugh. “We call him ‘ the son of Netflix’ because he was in another Netflix show before this. Have you ever heard of ‘ Single’s Inferno’ ?”
The title sounds familiar. Sung-bin has the faint memory of watching an island-themed reality dating show on a lazy summer night a year ago. “Isn’t that a dating show?”
This time, Caro lets out a full-out chortle. “ Hell yeah . Get this: our guy Hyun-seung shows up midway through season one, immediately becomes the most popular dude on the show, and doesn’t even end up with the girl at the end of it.”
Sung-bin fails to see the relevance of Caro’s explanation of Hyun-seung’s career as Single’s Inferno ’s hotshot star. “I meant what he does apart from that.”
“Well, he is an actor.”
“And?” Any regular actor just doesn’t have the physique worthy of Physical: 100, so clearly, there’s something special about Hyun-seung that sets him apart from the other mediocre reality TV actors and actresses.
Caro scratches his head thoughtfully. “His mydramalist profile says that he’s a Youtuber and—something else I’m forgetting.”
“Are you guys talking about Hyun-seung?” a short woman butts in. Upon receiving a nod from Sung-bin, she claps her hands in excitement. “Isn’t he so cool?”
“I guess?”
“Who do you think will win?” she energetically asks, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet.
“I think that farmer guy has a better chance of winning,” Caro responds. “He’s bigger.”
He’s not wrong , but as a professional athlete who’s seen one too many sports performances go down the drain because some huge meathead had no sense of speed or balance and slipped on the ice, Sung-bin knows that speed is a major component of a great athlete; judging from the way Hyun-seung dashes around the arena like a gazelle, he has an equally good chance of winning this match.
“Well, I hope Hyun-seung wins,” the woman tells them as the additional one-minute match begins and both the farmer and Hyun-seung burst out of their respective gates.
“He’s a professional dancer, did you know that?” she asks Sung-bin as they watch the farmer slam Hyun-seung into the side of the pit. Sung-bin fights the urge to wince.
Sung-bin did not know that, but his profession makes total and complete sense; no random buff and fit Youtuber contains that much fluidity in their motions.
“He’s danced with Sunmi.” Sung-bin tries to not show his annoyance at her constant chattering. “ The Sunmi.”
“Good for him,” Sung-bin says offhandedly. A burst of exhilaration courses through his body when Hyun-seung keeps the ball turtled out of the farmer’s reach, the last thirty seconds of their match left on the giant digital clock.
“Oh!” Everyone in the stands screams as the farmer pins Hyun-seung, still curled around the ball, down in the water.
He could drown , Sung-bin thinks as the dancer thrashes around in the muddy water, head held fast and submerged by his opponent.
Maybe it’s the general excitement of the first match of the first mission ending on such a thrilling note, or maybe it’s the way Sung-bin’s eyes remain locked on the tattooed man that causes him to be swept up into the buzzing of the stands. Half engrossed in the fight and half alarmed by the way Hyun-seung still doesn’t come up for air, Sung-bin finds himself cheering for Hyun-seung alongside the screaming woman beside him.
The crowd hoots and hollers as the clock runs out and the buzzer sounds, signifying the end of the death match.
The farmer lets go of Hyun-seung, who immediately pops his head out of the water and throws the ball to the side. Sung-bin watches as Hyun-seung wipes away the dirty water from his red-rimmed eyes and pushes his bangs out of his face.
“Looks like you were right,” Caro says to the woman and Sung-bin, a look of slight disappointment on his face. “It was kind of crazy how he held onto the ball like that. He almost died for that thing.”
“Pretty exciting for a first match, huh?” some random Youtuber— Bbulkup? —cackles. “Mine will be better, though.”
Sung-bin is inclined to agree with him—well, not with the part about his match being better than Cha Hyun-seung’s. Sung-bin doesn’t think it can get more exciting than Hyun-seung’s match, save maybe for his own.
Down in the sandy area, Hyun-seung holds his left side, inhales labored as he attempts to catch his breath. Sung-bin watches as he stumbles to his feet and shakes hands with the farmer before they both retreat back into the ready rooms. The scoreboard facing the spectators flashes black and then suddenly switches feeds to the cameras in the ready rooms. Hyun-seung and the farmer face their plaster statues, each as winded as the other.
Sung-bin hears the faint sound of shattering pottery as the spectators watch the farmer smash his torso with a hammer. On the other half of the split screen, Hyun-seung reaches out and pats his statue like it’s an old friend.
“Do you think he can win?” the woman asks Sung-bin, who carefully studies the fierce glow in Hyun-seung’s piercing eyes on the screen.
Sung-bin tells her that at this point, he thinks that anyone in the competition can win the three-hundred million won prize and claim they have the best physique in all of South Korea. Sure, his answer is a bit fake because there are definitely some people who do not deserve to be standing with the strongest in all of South Korea, but his skeleton coach has taught him and drilled him relentlessly about answering questions about other competitors during a competition.
Yes , Sung-bin thinks as the screen switches back to the scoreboard and the next pairing is called down to the area, I think he definitely has a chance of winning .
It’s not a lie, because Sung-bin can easily recognize the killer instinct to be the best when it’s inside him as well, when his own self-determination and the help of his family and teammates and coach have gotten him a gold medal at the Olympics. Hyun-seung’s victory reminds him why they are here, competing in Physical: 100 , and Sung-bin gets it.
Physical: 100 isn’t just some television show to let random people parade around, showing off their muscles, but it’s a reminder that one always has something to improve in oneself. The show should really be called “ Get Humbled: 100 ”.
A clamor of loud shouts and claps emerges when Hyun-seung makes his way up the stairs and back to the spectator’s area.
Later, after he wins his own match and when their first mission is over, Sung-bin gets chosen as the first team leader out of the remaining contestants. His ears still burn from when he had tripped on the platform and almost fell on his face.
Sung-bin looks down at the disorderly group of people lined up in front of him, with the power to choose whoever he wished for his ultimate lineup as the team leader. Short, spikey hair and tattoos catch his eye when he’s instructed to choose the people he wants on his team. Sung-bin doesn’t hesitate to add his skeleton coach, Kim Sik, to his team first– why wouldn’t he want his athletic father figure on his team? –and then zeroes in on the tattooed man standing in the middle of the mass.
“Cha Hyun-seung,” Sung-bin announces. The dancer meets his eyes, both surprised and gleeful. Sung-bin can’t help but let out a small chuckle at the way Hyun-seung pumps his fist in victory.
After eliminating two from his lineup and the rest of the leaders have chosen their teams, Sung-bin hops down from his platform and holds out his hand to the dancer, who readily accepts his handshake.
“Welcome to the team.”
If Hyun-seung had to guess, he’d say this all began during the second week of filming.
He’d just finished his interview before team leaders were announced for the second mission of the hit television reality game show, Physical: 100 , and had walked back to the gallery to join his fellow contestants.
No matter how many times Hyun-seung has faced the spotlight, has been thrust in front of a camera, has spent countless minutes staring into that little red light, he still feels hopelessly exposed in front of the bright lights piercing into his eyes and illuminating every single aspect of his face for the world to see. Despite the charming, sincere, and self-assured mask he dons for television and his YouTube videos, Hyun-seung is actually a really uneasy guy.
He resists the urge to fidget with the mic hanging on the collar of his shirt.
“Who was your first pick for team leader?”
The image of an intricate tattoo immediately appears in his head and Hyun-seung can practically still hear the sound of a man getting tossed into a wall like he weighs practically nothing. Hyun-seung doesn’t even have to think twice before responding, “Yun Sung-bin.”
The staff member interviewing him doesn’t look all that surprised, motioning for Hyun-seung to elaborate on his choice.
“I kept noticing him,” he tells the camera. The woman behind the camera nods in approval and gives him a thumbs up, already speaking into her headset to call for the next contestant. The little red light in the corner of the camera blinks off and Hyun-seung almost trips over his feet in his rush back to the gallery.
Hyun-seung suspects his answer correlates with that of many other contestants. The Olympic skeleton racer is a born leader, his dominating presence already established among the remaining fifty contestants. His cool and nonchalant immediately stood out to Hyun-seung, Sung-bin’s confidence justified by his easy victory in the first mission.
Needless to say, Hyun-seung is relieved—he won’t go as far as to say ‘ overjoyed’ because he refuses to be some common ‘ Yun Sung-bin fanboy ’—when Sung-bin chooses him to be on his team. He can’t help but do a discreet fist-pump when he meets the team leader’s eyes and thanks him with a smile. The edges of Sung-bin’s mouth quirk up for a millisecond and Hyun-seung feels a rush of pride when he knows that he’s made the unshakable Olympian smile .
A pat on his shoulder startles Hyun-seung. He turns around and is met by the curious expression of Kim Sik, the National skeleton team coach and the first person chosen to be on Sung-bin’s team.
Under the coach’s analytical and narrow-eyed stare, Hyun-seung can’t help but feel extremely scrutinized.
“Hello, sir,” Hyun-seung greets, feeling a bit awkward.
“Hyun-seung, was it?” the man asks. Upon Hyun-seung’s confirming nod, Sik gives him a small smile as he introduces himself. “Kim Sik.”
Hyun-seung shakes Sik’s offered hand and bows. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“So, what do you know about this ‘Sung-bin’ guy?” Sik asks him, eyebrow raised. In front of them, Sung-bin finishes selecting his team members, and the people he didn’t choose move to different lines. After their line thins out, Hyun-seung is pleased to see that made a pretty strong lineup; their team is relatively well-rounded, with some specializing in speed and agility and others in strength—Sung-bin, of course, being all of the above.
“Not a whole lot,” Hyun-seung admits. “Just that he’s an Olympic skeleton racer and a YouTuber.”
It’s a little embarrassing, how little he knows about Sung-bin, because everyone else in the competition seems to know so much about him, from his vertical jump record to the exact brand of chicken breast he buys from the grocery store.
“I see,” Sik says, stroking his chin. “Why’d you want to be on his team?”
If Hyun-seung is being completely honest, he feels like he’s being interrogated. The older man is making him nervous with his impressive arm tattoo and critical expression. Hyun-seung regrets his choice of shirt style for his uniform outfit—he suddenly feels too exposed under his lightweight tank top.
“I guess I liked his personality,” Hyun-seung says. “He just seems like someone who can lead well, not to mention he’s likely to win this game.”
He can practically feel the camera hanging in the corner of the room swivel to watch him and Sik.
“You’re probably right,” Sik agrees. “He works out a lot. Too much, in my opinion.”
“I’ve learned this all from his Instagram and his YouTube, of course,” the coach adds at Hyun-seung’s confused "huh?" “You might say that I’m a fan of his. But who wouldn’t be?”
Sik chuckles and nudges Hyun-seung’s arm, his sudden shift in demeanor relieving Hyun-seung, who no longer feels like he’s on the chopping block. “So, Hyun-seung, what do you do? I heard something about ‘ Netflix ’ from the other players.”
This actually brings a laugh out of Hyun-seung. “Is that what they’re saying?”
Sik nods. “I think they’re calling you the ‘son of Netflix ’,” he says. “Are you an actor, or something?”
“Something like that.” Lord knows that Single’s Inferno was definitely scripted at times, and Hyun-seung is no stranger to putting on a show for an audience. “I’ve been in a couple of reality TV shows.”
The older man nods, brow furrowed thoughtfully and then Hyun-seung adds, “I’ve also danced as Sunmi’s main backup dancer.”
“Oh!” Sik eyebrows shoot back up. “ That’s where I’ve seen you! I swear, you looked familiar so I just had to come introduce myself to you.”
He laughs and claps Hyun-seung on the shoulder.
“Have you seen one of her performances before?” Hyun-seung really hopes that the guy hasn’t seen Sunmi’s—
“—Wait.” Sik takes a closer look at the tattoo on Hyun-seung’s arm, stopping his heart cold. “Was that you at Waterbomb in 2018?”
Hyun-seung wants to shrivel up and die. Of course the performance the national coach had seen was the one where he was extremely shirtless and dripping wet.
“Yes,” he weakly replies. “I didn’t take you as the type to go to Waterbomb, to be honest.”
Now, with the team selection process over and done with, when Sik laughs again it’s loud enough to draw Sung-bin’s attention. Hyun-seung internally panics when the skeleton racer begins to walk over to them.
“Boy, I sure was,” Sik manages to say, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. “The internet went crazy over you! I hadn’t seen so many people thirsting over a tattoo before like that!”
Hyun-seung knew he’d regret his tattoo at some point in life. He just didn’t think it’d be at the ripe age of thirty-one.
“Who’s thirsty?” Sung-bin steps directly into their conversation, and by default, right into Hyun-seung’s personal space. The tattoo on Hyun-seung’s arm burns.
“Twitter, apparently,” Sik remarks. “By the way, thanks for choosing me, Sung-bin. I’m honored.”
Sung-bin nods at the man and Hyun-seung notes the familiarity that the two seem to share. He’s still too embarrassed to repeat the sentiment to Sung-bin.
“Hyun-seung here was just telling me about his job,” Sik tells Sung-bin, who then looks up at Hyun-seung expectantly.
“Um—yes.”
Sung-bin gives him a once-over. “Welcome to the team. Dancer, right? ‘ 502bright ’ on Instagram?”
Hyun-seung is rather shocked to learn that the athlete knows who he is. “That’s me.”
Sik sends Sung-bin some unidentifiable look which the latter ignores.
“I liked you on Single’s Inferno ,” says Sung-bin. To Hyun-seung’s surprise, his tone is completely honest; Hyun-seung guesses that Sung-bin is just that kind of guy—straightforward and self-assured enough to not worry about his “masculine” image being ruined by the fact that he has watched one of the most popular dating shows on the internet.
Sik’s jaw drops. “You’re a fan of reality dating shows?” he asks Sung-bin, who shrugs and half-nods his head.
“I like them enough. The endings can be a little disappointing sometimes. Right, Hyun-seung?” Sung-bin sends Hyun-seung a small smirk.
He must be talking about the ending of Single’s Inferno season one, the part where Hyun-seung’s scripted love interest had chosen to leave the island with his friend instead of himself. All Hyun-seung can do is blow out the breath he didn’t even know he was holding in and laugh awkwardly.
“Not everyone gets a happy ending,” the dancer admits, scratching the back of his neck. “You make some good friends along the way, though.”
Sik looks like he’s holding back a laugh and Sung-bin bites his lower lip in thought.
“Should I be expecting that on this show?” Sung-bin asks Hyun-seung. Then, he playfully knocks his shoulder into Hyun-seung.
Hyun-seung allows himself to smile. “What, making friends?”
“Well, this is a competition. People get cutthroat, and I’m not too ashamed to admit that I’ll be doing my best to beat everyone here.”
He doesn’t even say it in a mean way, just matter-of-factly and in such a way that Hyun-seung can’t help but admire him.
Hyun-seung takes a quick glance up at the video camera in the corner of the room. Its sights are now—thankfully—set on Cho Sung-hoon conversing with the extremely tall baseball player, Dustin Nippert.
“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to try to get to know people better, though,” says Sung-bin, like it’s an afterthought. “Right, Sik?”
The coach agrees, patting the skeleton racer on the shoulder encouragingly. “Yes, Sung-bin.”
Sung-bin then turns back to Hyun-seung and sticks out his hand.
“Let’s take care of each other, then.”
(Now, looking back at their first conversation, Hyun-seung realizes that it was easy to shake his hand, even easier to notice the way the corners of Sung-bin’s smile aren’t completely even.)
Sometime after the contestants have gathered in the waiting room post-filming, Hyun-seung goes up to Sung-bin and lightly taps him on the shoulder, who gracefully cuts off his conversation with some YouTuber and turns to Hyun-seung with a curious smile.
“Hey,” Hyun-seung greets. He feels a bit awkward. “Can we talk?”
“Hyun-seung,” Sung-bin replies, “What’s up?”
Sung-bin allows Hyun-seung to bring him to the corner of the room, where Hyun-seung bows his head down to get closer to him and gestures for the athlete to get closer.
“You’re kind of making me nervous here, dude,” Sung-bin says in a low voice, his raised eyebrow betraying his calm and collected appearance.
Hyun-seung wastes no time in telling him, “I’m injured.”
Sung-bin, to his credit, doesn’t really seem that surprised.
“You never did catch your breath after your match, did you?” the shorter man asks. His eyes drift down to where Hyun-seung is gently holding his ribs.
“What is it?” He actually sounds genuinely worried. No wonder he was chosen as a team leader.
“Fractured ribs,” Hyun-seung says, wincing a bit when Sung-bin goes “ oof ”. “It hurts like a bitch, but my doctor put me on some painkillers.”
“That sucks . Did that happen during your death match?”
Hyun-seung nods. “Look,” he tells Sung-bin, tone grave, “I won’t hold it against you if you want to switch me out for someone else.”
Sung-bin tilts his head and lifts an eyebrow in surprise. “Why would I do that?”
Maybe Sung-bin’s brain got a little rattled during his fight because–“Did you miss the part where I’m injured ?” Hyun-seung asks him.
Sung-bin rolls his eyes. “No.”
“I’m just trying to say that I’m not all that useful with a busted rib.”
“So prove yourself wrong.”
Wow . Hyun-seung had not known the man was so stubborn.
“I’m trying to do what’s best for the team,” Hyun-seung tells Sung-bin with a hard stare. “I don’t want to drag you guys down.”
Sung-bin scoffs and places his hands on his hips, defiantly staring the man down despite their height gap. “And you won’t .”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because,” Sung-bin says, returning Hyun-seung’s glare, “I don’t do the whole ‘ regret ’ thing. You deserve to be on this team, whether you believe it or not. I don’t give a damn whether you’re injured or not. You’re still a valuable player regardless.”
“Wait, you still want to be on my team, right?” Sung-bin looks alarmed. “If you want to go, you can go, I’m not trying to keep you here against your will or anything
Hyun-seung opens his mouth to argue, but Sung-bin has made up his mind. “You’re staying, fractured ribs or not. You’ve earned your spot with us.”
Like a chastised child, Hyun-seung pouts but nods and follows Sung-bin back to their group. They’re soon dismissed by the staff, telling them they have a day off from filming and that they should be back in two days, ready to compete.
Kim Sik finds Sung-bin as they finish filming their final segments for the episode.
“Nice job with your team, Leader-nim .”
The use of the honorific startles a laugh out of Sung-bin. “Thanks, Coach.”
“I really liked your first choice,” says the older man. “He seems like a reliable and trustworthy pick.”
Sik pats his tattooed arm and dramatically sighs. “He has a really cool tattoo, too. I guess us tattooed folk stick together, eh?”
Sung-bin rolls his eyes. “Training under your tutelage for more than ten years has nothing to do with my choice, obviously.”
“Of course not,” Sik agrees. “I know you’re too strategic to choose teammates based on your biases.”
“Your second,” the coach adds, stroking his chin, “isn’t too bad either.”
“Who, Hyun-seung?”
“He’s got a sick tattoo.”
Sung-bin shrugs, the swirling design of Hyun-seung’s tattoo easily visible in his mind’s eye. “It’s pretty cool, I guess.”
Sik gasps, laughs, and claps Sung-bin on the shoulder as if Sung-bin has just revealed the secrets of the universe to him.
“Caught your eye, has he?”
Sung-bin shrugs again. “You could say that. I think he’s a good fit for the team.”
There’s a look in the older man’s eyes, containing something Sung-bin can’t quite decipher. He goes “ hm ” once, twice, and then nods.
“I see,” he cryptically says. “I’ll see you in a couple days, then.”
Sung-bin has long since learned the lesson that he shouldn’t really question anything his coach does anymore. He knows the man will think what he thinks and say what he says anyway. After so many years, Sung-bin has grown to know that his coach makes his decisions based on what’s best for those he cares about so he’s not all that worried about the man publicly dissing the other members of Sung-bin’s team.
“Bye,” he says, holding up a hand in parting. Sik waves back.
“I think it’s a great pairing, by the way,” the coach says before he walks away. “The one they fear”–he points at Sung-bin–“and the one they underestimated”–he points at Hyun-seung, who is currently trying to teach Miracle some incredibly suggestive dance that isn’t exactly television-appropriate.
Sung-bin watches the duo as Hyun-seung shows Miracle how to properly lift up his shirt and do a hip-thrust-body-roll combination. Miracle attempts it, miserably fails, and Hyun-seung laughs for a second before he abruptly stops and clutches at his side, a pained expression on his face.
The skeleton racer looks away and follows his coach off of the set.
Sung-bin goes home that night, flops onto his couch with his dinner, turns his TV on, opens Netflix , selects Single’s Inferno , and lets it play.
Consider it a refresher course. Sung-bin hadn’t really been watching all that carefully on his first watch, but this time around, things have changed.
At around the fifth or sixth hour of the show, Sung-bin’s eyes, half-lidded from exhaustion, snap open at the sound of a familiar voice.
“My ideal type?” Cha Hyun-seung asks the interviewers.
“Sure,” he says after receiving confirmation from one of the staff members.
“Someone who has a pretty smile,” Hyun-seung shares with a thoughtful look in his eyes. “A smile completely separate from their facial features. You know, there are people who can make you happy just by looking at their smile.”
Without realizing he does it, Sung-bin smiles–well, it’s more of a grimace, really–and glances at his reflection on his phone screen.
That certainly leaves something to be desired . His face drops and he shoves a forkful of bok choy into his mouth.
“My number one priority,” says the dating show contestant, “is that our personalities match well and that we’re on the same wavelength.”
Hyun-seung pauses for a moment and cups the back of his neck with his hand.
“I’d also like them to be someone who knows how to take care of themselves to some degree,” he finishes.
As Hyun-seung continues talking and answering questions about his preferences, Sung-bin, out of pure curiosity, counts off the traits he has that Hyun-seung likes. Surprisingly, Sung-bin puts up more fingers than he’d anticipated.
Sung-bin watches as Hyun-seung joins the other male contestants in the pit, noting the not-so-discreet glances Hyun-seung and his gym friend are sending each other. A whistle blows off-camera and the men begin circling the pit like lions on the hunt. Hyun-seung examines each of his opponents, sizing them up like they’re pieces of meat at the butcher’s.
One of the men grabs at another in a pair of bright green swim trunks and the rest of the men follow suit, each choosing an opponent and grappling with each other. The fight is a flurry of limbs and water, the occasional gasp or two coming from the female contestants watching from the sidelines. In the pit, Hyun-seung gets onto all fours and quite literally prowls toward some bearded guy with an odd patch of hair in the middle of his chest, muscles tensed like he’s about to lunge onto the man and tear his head off.
Sung-bin doesn’t even realize his jaw is hanging wide open, a faint “ oh ” slipping out while the fight unfolds. The way Hyun-seung fought in his match with the farmer suddenly makes sense when he grabs the bearded man and boosts him out of the pit, utilizing his whole body to lift his opponent out.
Sung-bin watches, captivated, as the men throw each other out of the pit until two remain–some guy named Se-hoon and Hyun-seung.
“Yeah, I made the right choice,” Sung-bin applauds himself, darting his tongue out to wet his lips when Hyun-seung grapples with Se-hoon. They wrestle closer and closer to the edge of the pit, right up until Se-hoon’s back hits the sandy wall and Hyun-seung manages to hook both of his arms under Se-hoon’s body..
“ Yes! ” Sung-bin rockets out of his seat and whoops after Hyun-seung finally heaves Se-hoon out of the pit, finishing the game with two victorious fists in the air. Sung-bin barely manages to catch his dinner plate before it hits the ground and sets it on the table in front of him.
He takes a deep, calming breath when he realizes how hard his heart is beating. On-screen, Hyun-seung pushes his wet bangs out of his face, tongue hanging out momentarily before it retreats back into his mouth.
Sung-bin ends up re-binging the entirety of season one that night.
Team Sungbin faces the Moving Sand quest with no small amount of faith in their leader–Sungbin doesn’t necessarily outline a specific plan for them, doesn’t really boss them around, and trusts them to put themselves where they think they’d do best. They’re up against Tarzan’s team, a formidable force that puts on a brave face as they shake hands before the match.
A small part of Hyun-seung knows that there’s a very good chance that Team Sungbin will emerge victorious. Sure, Team Tarzan has harmony and a damn good plan—that much is obvious when they’re able to complete the bridge much faster than Hyun-seung—but what they don’t have is Yun Sung-bin.
Toting the sandbags proves to be extremely difficult and Hyun-seung’s ribs seem to creak with every step he stumbles up the stairs. Not only is the challenge physically taxing, but the fact that none of them knows how full each of their sandtubes is? Terrifying. It looms overhead Hyun-seung’s head like a stormcloud, threatening to steal the win from Team Sungbin. The only thing Hyun-seung can do is keep chugging along, no matter how many times he stumbles or almost faceplants on the stairs.
The pain in his ribs multiplies by three when the last forty seconds hits. He barely has enough time to finish dumping his sand into their tube before a sharp spike of pain rips through his entire body, leaving his knees wobbly and head spinning. All Hyun-seung can do is tumble to the floor with the grace of a newborn giraffe.
Ten seconds pass, and his teammates are still moving the sand, sandbags heavier with the increased weight of their sweat. They look like hell. The only saving grace is that Tarzan’s team seems to be hurting just as much.
Out of nowhere, Sung-bin pops up to the top of the stairs and sprints across the bridge, breathing even as if he’s on a morning walk. Hyun-seung’s chest hurts.
“Hey,” Sung-bin dumps his sand, “you good, man?”
“How’s the rib?” he asks, quieter after Hyun-seung winces. “Does it hurt?”
“I’ve seen better days, that’s for sure.”
He’s got an amused smile on his face now. God, Sung-bin isn’t even breathing that hard. In fact, his forehead is the only thing that betrays his calm facade, glistening ever-so-slightly with sweat.
Sung-bin nods, pats Hyun-seung’s shoulder twice, and takes off in the direction of the sandbox.
Not even eight seconds later, he bounds back up the stairs. Hyun-seung watches, amazed, as the muscles of Sung-bin’s back ripple and flex under the weight of two of the biggest sandbags in their pile.
“Shit,” he mutters to himself when Sung-bin makes yet another trip up the stairs. Now that’s an athlete, he thinks when Sung-bin shows no intention of slowing down, not even in the last fifteen seconds.
Sung-bin moves like a cougar–all ferocity, focus, and precision. Hyun-seung has to close his eyes to stop himself from examining the way Sung-bin practically leaps across the bridge with legs that rival Kang-nim’s.
The last bag of sand gets dumped into their tube, and the clock runs out. Sung-bin smiles down at Hyun-seung, victorious.
“That was some nice cardio,” he says as if he’s commenting on the sunny weather and blue sky. “It kind of reminded me of playing in the sandbox at the playground as a kid.”
He hauls Hyun-seung to his feet, careful not to jostle his side. Hyun-seung rolls his eyes at the Olympian’s cockiness.
True to Hyun-seung’s prediction, they do win the challenge. (Not that Hyun-seung ever doubted their abilities, not for a second.)
After the results are announced, Kim Sik initiates a group hug, Sung-bin and Hyun-seung on opposite sides of the little circle.
Over the top of Ki-Kwan’s head, Hyun-seung looks across the circle–only to find Sung-bin staring right at him.
“You good?” Sung-bin mouths at him.
His heart, lub-dubbing at an all-time high, skips a beat. The skeleton racer’s concern ignites a small, warm feeling in Hyun-seung’s gut–suddenly, the pain from his ribs isn’t so bad.
He nods back at Sung-bin, allowing himself to smile and bask in their victory.
Yes, Hyun-seung thinks. I am good.
It’s all going well, really–which should be the first indication that something’s about to go terribly wrong.
How the fuck, Sung-bin gapes at the massive two-ton pirate ship in front of them, are we going to move that.
Beside him, Hyun-seung bounces on the balls of his feet, alight with nervous energy. Sung-bin wants to put an arm around the taller man’s shoulder to calm him down, his anxious vibes already rubbing off on the Olympian.
“We can totally do this,” Caro tells the team–well, he’s probably talking to himself more than the rest of them.
“Uh, yeah,” MIracle agrees, “We’ve got the power of Kang-nim’s thighs!”
Kang-nim, the gentle giant, proudly showcases his weapons of mass destruction. A-reum coos at him as the timer counts down from twenty seconds.
They line up at a line drawn in the sand, some of the team already shirtless. When the whistle rings through the arena, Sung-bin wastes no time in singling out the largest oak barrel. Sik follows him and they dig through the sand with their bare hands, flinging sand to the left and right.
Sung-bin’s getting really sick of sand.
Out of the corner of his eye, Sung-bin watches Hyun-seung grab a sledgehammer and lug it over to a wooden box.
Hyun-seung winds the sledgehammer back, but as the hammer comes down, he misses. Sung-bin’s eyes examine the dancer’s body for injury, landing on the spot on his tank top where his bandage lies beneath.
Hyun-seung rights himself with a hand clutching his side, and Sung-bin feels a pang of sympathy as the man swings at the box again, this time able to break it open to reveal the oak barrel inside.
“Focus, Sung-bin,” Sik chastizes him. “We need to get this on the ship.”
In the end, their team is able to pull through. Once the loop of rope is secured on the post, everyone collapses to the ground, limbs the consistency of jello and three years of their lives lost.
(Sung-bin doesn’t know what compelled him to hip-thrust the ship to move it those last two inches. He chalks it up to delirium.)
Hyun-seung doesn’t even want to talk about the fourth quest.
“You know Sung-bin threw that round of rock-paper-scissors for you, right?” Sik tells him after they choose their challenges. They sit on one of the circular pieces of the couch in the lounge, Hyun-seung closely monitoring the way Sung-bin stretches his calves against the protein-powder-tub wall.
He turns to the coach. Somehow, Sung-bin’s self-sacrificial act seems to be pretty on-brand for him.
“He would’ve done that for any of us.”
Sik shrugs. “Eh. Maybe.”
There’s something the coach isn’t saying, and it nags at Hyun-seung.
“And?”
Sik, the wise man, smiles vaguely.
“I’m just saying, Sung-bin has a soft spot for you.”
Hyun-seung scoffs at the absurd notion.
“No, he doesn’t.”
Sik just goes “mhm” with a knowing look in his eyes.
Later, after Hyun-seung has almost busted his ribcage apart, alight with white-hot shards of pain gutting him like a fish, he watches Sung-bin bear the punishment of Sisyphus.
Looking down at him from the balcony, Sung-bin looks even shorter than usual. Hyun-seung can hear the contestant’s grunts of effort as they shove at the boulders. His chest grows tight, watching the men drop one by one and hang their heads in disappointment.
Anxious, his eyes stay glued to the former Olympian. Hyun-seung barely registers Sik’s and Caro’s presence at his sides.
His breath catches in his throat when Sung-bin slows his tempo for a lap; his hands wring themselves together when Sung-bin takes a break at the top of the hill, face twisted in agony with every inhale he takes.
Hyun-seung won’t lie—he’s panicking a little bit, worry eating away at his insides as the brave, the courageous, the fastidious, the incredible Yun Sung-bin loses his footing on the incline of the hill. Sung-bin stumbles on his way down, barely making it back to the boulder in time to push it back up the hill. Hyun-seung feels numb from his toes to his fingertips, wishing he could pour all of his strength and energy into the skeleton racer, no matter how exhausted the dancer is.
Sung-bin takes his shirt off.
Noise floods back into Hyun-seung’s ears, cheers and hollers of his fellow contestants reverberating against the walls of the stadium.
“His muscles are so pumped up!” Jung-myung, the luger, screams into his double’s, Jin-Yong, ear. Jin-yong peers at his double curiously, a laugh escaping his mouth.
His shoulders look like coconut shells, Hyun-seung thinks, observing the way Sung-bin’s shoulders shine in the fluorescent lighting of the arena.
“They really do!” Jung-myung excitedly agrees.
Hyun-seung freezes, mind gone static.
Did I really–
“–say that out loud?” Caro laughs. “Yeah, buddy, you did.”
Hyun-seung wants to crawl up into a hole and wither away from embarrassment.
“Geez, I don’t want to hear that kind of stuff,” Sik says, nudging Hyun-seung’s arm. “Keep the admiration down to a minimum, would you?”
From Sik’s other side, Jin-hyeong chuckles and shakes his head.
“Let the kid live,” he tells Sik before sending Hyun-seung a wink. “Our Sung-bin is quite the specimen, huh?”
“Please don’t talk about my student like that.”
“Yeah, Hyun-seung,” Caro taunts, tone whiny like a nine-year-old’s. “Restrain yourself, lad!”
Though Hyun-seung knows their teasing is borne out of a place of brotherhood and camaraderie, he can’t help but grow even more embarrassed at their ridiculing. Cheeks growing hot, he turns his attention back to the challenge.
Sung-bin’s resting at the bottom of the hill.
Why hasn’t he gone? Isn’t the timer still running? Hyun-seung looks at the digital clock hanging on the wall in a hurry.
12 seconds.
“Go,” he tells Sung-bin, who definitely can’t hear him. “Go.”
Sung-bin goes. He pushes, he heaves, he looks about to puke. He makes it to the top, shoves the boulder down the hill, and promptly collapses on the spot.
Hyun-seung nearly jumps off of the balcony in his rush to get to the fallen Olympian, instincts screaming to get to him, to see if he’s okay, do you need the paramedics, are you hurt?
Sung-bin’s chest rises and falls in a shaky rhythm, air stuttering in his chest. The dull ache in Hyun-seung’s torso spikes when Sung-bin’s labored breathing shows no signs of letting up.
After a heart-stopping minute, he opens his eyes. Hyun-seung can finally breathe again.
(Sung-bin turns out okay. But that doesn’t mean that the pressure in Hyun-seung’s chest has let up—in fact, not at all.)
On one of the last days of filming, the day before the final quest, the remaining contestants gather in the lounge and sit on the semi-circle couches in the middle of the room. Sung-bin claims his spot on the bottom row of couches, Hyun-seung to his left and Sik to his right.
Miracle hops down from his spot on the second row and waves a hand at Hyun-seung, who deviously grins back and pulls out a portable speaker from behind a couch cushion. Sung-bin watches as they get up from their seats to stand in the middle of the circle of couches. Hyun-seung connects his phone to the speaker as Miracle waves to get everyone’s attention.
“Hey, everyone!” Miracle shouts. The conversations die down and everyone gives Miracle their undivided attention. Nippert even folds his hands on his lap.
“So, Hyun-seung and I have been working on something for a while, and we wanted to share it with you all on our last day,” Miracle explains.
Someone claps. “Whoo!” Jung-myung and Eun-sil cheer, leaning forward in anticipation.
“Presenting Cha Hyun-seung and Miracle,” the Physical: 100 announcer’s voice booms from the ceiling, “performing Stray Kid’s ‘Taste.’”
As soon as the announcer finishes, the lights dim and a spotlight appears on the dance duo in the center of the circle. A few people clap. Deep, synthetic waves of music flow from Hyun-seung’s speaker, and the two dancers launch into a dance that’s both incredibly fluid and suggestive.
Sung-bin feels his heart freeze in his chest when Hyun-seung sweeps his eyes over the crowd, finally setting on Sung-bin’s as he slides himself across the floor with hooded eyes.
He doesn’t even register Sik’s giggles from beside him, or Eun-sil’s gasps when Miracle head-bangs to the precise beats of the song. Jung-myung and Jin-Yong tittle excitedly when the dance twists into a complicated sequence of hand movements. Nippert whispers to Sung-hoon that he hopes his children aren’t watching this. On that note, Sung-bin can relate—he’s an adult, for fuck’s sake, but even he feels the tips of his ears heat up as the dance progresses.
It’s incredibly overwhelming. The Olympian has half a mind to look away, to pick at the bits of sand still stuck to his shorts. He can’t, though. Hyun-seung has his full, undivided attention, even after the song ends and the lights flicker back on. He physically cannot turn his head away, compelled to absorb Hyun-seung’s every movement and file them away in the corners of his mind.
Sung-bin, for possibly the first time in his life, is shaken straight to his core. And he is afraid.
Wordlessly, he abandons his seat and the contestants; with the chatter and buzz surrounding Miracle and Hyun-seung’s performance, it’s actually quite easy.
With his head kept low and gaze averted down, Sung-bin sneaks off to the bathroom and locks the door behind him. Feeling a bit light-headed, he grips the edges of a porcelain sink and stares into the mirror before him.
“What?” he asks the man in the mirror, who’s staring at him with something akin to disappointment.
“You can’t run forever, you know,” the man tells him with a glare, unimpressed. “We don’t run from our feelings, Sung-bin.”
Sung-bin is inclined to disagree. Why deal with messy, tangled emotions when you can just shove them deep down and ignore yourself with the satisfying pain of a punishing workout?
“Yes,” he corrects himself, “I can.”
Faster than anticipated, Physical: 100 comes to a close. They’re sitting in the viewing room now, counting down the final hours of filming as Hae-min and Jin-yong the Crossfitter struggle through the final challenge: the Infinity Rope.
A short buzz from underneath his left thigh startles Hyun-seung and he takes a quick peek under his leg to read the notification glowing on the phone screen. Hyun-seung isn’t supposed to have his phone with him during filming, but the threat of getting kicked off-set doesn’t really scare him anymore, especially four beer bottles in.
1 New Notification
1 New Message From: Yun Sung-bin
(13:27)
how’s the challenge going
Hyun-seung glances up at the huge television on the wall and watches Hae-min and Jin-yong heaving at their respective ropes for a few seconds before replying,
(13:27)
they’re still pulling
😭
—and then a question that had been bugging Hyun-seung for the past hour—
why aren’t you here?
did they not invite you back?
Three little dots appear on Sung-bin’s end of the conversation, then disappear as he deletes what he had written, and then appear again as Sung-bin types something else. His response doesn’t come in until a few minutes later.
(13:30)
i got invited but i didn’t really want to go
punishment really took it out of me i guess
if that makes sense
(13:31)
you didn’t hurt yourself, did you?
(13:34)
no
i mean i thought that the viewing would be fun and all
but i’m kind of sick of it, you know?
Hyun-seung sighs and takes a sip of his current beer. He gets it, he truly does, and whatever disappointment he had felt after losing his challenge must be amplified ten-fold for Sung-bin because Sung-bin is a natural-born athlete who treats losing like the death penalty and thinks that placing second makes you “weak” and “first-place loser.” Hyun-seng can’t really do much to change Sung-bin’s mind but that doesn’t stop him from feeling a bit disappointed that the skeleton racer was sick of, well, the show—and by extension, him because filming for Physical: 100 had been the only times that he and Sung-bin had really interacted.
“Is that Sung-bin?”
The sudden low whisper in his ear sends a jolt of panic through his body and Hyun-seung immediately stuffs his phone back under his thigh. He looks to his left and Sik looks back at him, the coach’s eyebrow raised in what he hopes is curiosity and not a bad impression of Dwayne Johnson’s skeptical meme face.
Hyun-seung realizes that the coach is waiting for him to respond and quickly says, “N–no.”
Sik’s expression morphs into one of disbelief and disappointment and Hyun-seung doesn’t exactly know why —-maybe because the man has gradually become something of a role model to Hyun-seung—but he suddenly feels bad about lying to him.
“Okay, yes,” Hyun-seung admits with a heavy sigh, taking another swig of beer. “That was Sung-bin.”
Sik’s face clouds over, his fatherly concern flooding in. “How’s he holding up? Did he say why he isn’t here today?”
“He did.” Hyun-seung hesitates before adding, “He said he just needed a break from the show. Allegedly.”
Sik hums in consideration, then nods and slowly turns back to the screen. Hyun-seung can still feel the coach watching him through the corner of his eye and resists the urge to fidget and check his phone again.
They watch silently for a few minutes before Sik finally turns to Hyun-seung again.
“Has he said anything else?”
Hyun-seung wishes Sung-bin would. It’s not that watching the competition from the lounge is boring , but it’s just not at the front of his mind at the moment—just like clockwork, every time Sung-bin starts a conversation with him, Hyun-seung tends to drop everything he’s doing to give the athlete his full attention. He doesn’t even mean to do it, it’s just that he thinks that Sung-bin, for some reason, should get his full, undivided attention.
Hyun-seung isn’t sure when that switch happened, when he went from being just one of Sung-bin’s teammates to one of the people Sung-bin texts his inane dog-dad selfies to, but he’s found that he genuinely enjoys talking to the guy—not just in a “the cameras are rolling so we have to act friendly” kind of way but in a “let’s get dinner together tomorrow night” kind of way.
And right on cue, Hyun-seung’s phone pings! and his fingers fly across his phone screen with a mind of their own. A picture of Sung-bin and Genie appears on his screen and Hyun-seung has to stifle a laugh at Sung-bin’s ridiculous expression, the man mimicking his dog with a tongue sticking out of his mouth. They’re wearing matching hairclips that have little red bows on the top and Sung-bin is cuddling Genie to his chest with one arm, the other holding the phone up in the air.
‘ who wore it better? ’ captions the selfie.
“You really need to silence that thing’s ringer,” Sik mumbles, peeking over Hyun-seung’s shoulder to look at the picture.
“It’s fine, nobody’s looking,” Hyun-seung whispers back, already typing his reply to Sung-bin.
(14:00)
definitely genie
but both are equally cute :)
“ Really ?” Hyun-seung can feel Sik’s judgemental stare but sends his text anyway. “ That’s what you’re replying? Some lame attempt at flirting?”
“It’s not flirting,” Hyun-seung denies, though his text is certainly toeing the line between playful teasing and flirtatious banter. “And it’s not lame,” he thinks like a petty child.
“Not only have you toed that line, you two have lept over it like you’re trying to jump over the damn Great Wall. It’d also be less lame if you just asked him out or something, instead of sending each other these cringey text messages.”
Whoops . It turns out Hyun-seung spoke his previous thought aloud.
“Wait.” The coach grabs Hyun-seung’s phone and zooms in on the photo. “Is he shirtless ?”
Hyun-seung hadn’t even noticed Sung-bin’s lack of shirt, but now, it’s all he sees. It’s pathetic, really, because Hyun-seung has seen Sung-bin topless many times before, like during the “Punishment of Sisyphus” challenge and on his YouTube channel, and it shouldn’t affect him now like it didn’t before.
But, nevertheless, the little sliver of Sung-bin’s tattoo waves at him from the screen, and Hyun-seung can’t seem to take his eyes off of it.
He really needs to get a grip. Maybe he shouldn’t have drank all three of the bottles of beer he grabbed from the cooler.
Someone—maybe Jung-myung, whose eyes are still red and puffy from watching his double compete in the shuttle run challenge—loudly gasps and Hyun-seung forces his eyes away from his phone and onto the giant screen in the room.
“They’re getting close to the end!”
“Wait—who’s ahead?”
“Isn’t that Hae-min?”
“No, that’s Jin-yong the Crossfitter.”
“They’re really close, aren’t they?”
Hyun-seung feels a sudden rush of emotion as he realizes that the end of Physical: 100 is upon them. He and Sik both turn back to the screen to watch the final moments of the final challenge, Sung-bin’s selfie forgotten as they scream at the final two contestants.
Over the cheering and shouts that bounce off of the walls of the lounge, Hyun-seung doesn’t hear the quiet buzz of his now–silenced phone.
When Hyun-seung checks his phone after they finish filming and he’s back in the privacy of his apartment, he sees two Instagram notifications floating at the top of his screen. Upon reading the second message, Hyun-seung can’t help but feel as if he’s missed something major.
1 New Notification
1 New Message from: Yun Sung-bin
[This message has been deleted.]