Archive of Our Own ^beta

It’s kind of ironic, if Hyunjin stops to think about it. How he has attended a stupid amount of baseball games in his lifetime but still can’t fully grasp all the lingo, much less talk strategy with any amount of confidence.

Seungmin, bless him, has been trying for years, even using condiments as placeholders for the different positions on the field, mostly in a good-natured effort to explain what his team has been working on to a very amused Hyunjin while they sit together to have dinner at their small kitchen table.

And if Seungmin hasn’t been able to install the information long-term in Hyunjin’s brain, the weirdly pushy stranger sitting next to Hyunjin on this game day definitely won’t.

“I don’t understand what Yang Eungseong is doing. Isn’t he supposed to be an aggressive hitter? Why’s he letting this pitcher play mind games with him?”

“Hmm, yeah, dunno,” Hyunjin answers distractedly, tilting forward on the edge of his seat. Seungmin’s getting into position at the mound again, and between the energy of the crowd and the basic baseball knowledge that Hyunjin actually does have, thank you very much, he can tell that a strikeout is imminent.

“What did you say your name was?”

“I didn’t.” Hyunjin spares barely a second to look pointedly at the man, because while he doesn’t care for his interest, he understands that a foreign suit sitting in the team’s reserved box usually means investor, and he does not want to put that in too much jeopardy if he can help it.

Hyunjin can’t be sure if he actually sees or just knows that it’s there, but Seungmin’s gaze hardens right before he winds back his arm to pitch, and it doesn’t really matter in the end: that is Seungmin’s very mean slider, and the batter at plate can only strike out.

It’s actually an away game for the Lotte Giants, but with how their star has been on the rise these past few seasons it doesn’t feel like it at all. Part of the crowd groans, of course, but the cheer that rises from the stands is louder, and Hyunjin jumps out of his seat to join the wave of celebration.

Down on the field, Seungmin basks in the moment and looks up at where he knows Hyunjin is sitting, lightly kissing his ring finger before pointing up at the stands. The cameras follow his direction, and suddenly Hyunjin is filling the big screen with his glee, cheering and doing a little dance for the delight of the fans, who by this point know exactly what to expect.

He sends a final heart to the camera, then sits back down with a contented sigh. When he turns back towards the suit, who is now sporting a rather unfortunate face, he grins.

“I’m Hwang Hyunjin, professional cheerleader,” he claims, gleefully. “And that down there is my husband, ace pitcher Kim Seungmin.”

The suit doesn’t bother him again for the duration of the match.

Hyunjin cannot actually put “cheerleader” in his curriculum, as funny as it would look between his ever-growing collection of professional accolades. His day job (and evening job, and night job, and any-time-the-fancy-strikes job) is being an artist, and while it usually ends on paper or canvas, his chosen medium changes with his mood.

This raw and emotional thread running through and connecting all his pieces has been there since the very beginning, a mark of his personal style stamping his work since he started to seriously consider fine arts as a career choice.

Hyunjin has always loved painting, from being a very prolific toddler on the walls to his parents’ chagrin, to the increasingly complex doodles decorating the sides of his notebooks at school. The growth spurt that puts him ahead of most of his classmates once he enters high school is nothing compared to the cosmic-level expansion of his feelings within, and he ends up finding an outlet in the arts room, where it’s quiet, and the sun hits just right, and he always has a blank canvas waiting for him to unload all of his teenage angst onto.

Hyunjin thinks he first falls in love with Seungmin from that same arts room window, looking down onto the school grounds where the baseball team gathers everyday, and watching the nerdy cute boy from his class as he goes through the motions of perfecting his throws, even alone once his teammates go home. On sunny days, Seungmin’s brown hair lights up in shades of gold when he pushes it back between plays, smile wide and shiny with his braces, and Hyunjin will lay his brush down just to watch, absolutely mesmerized, from up in his tower.

Hyunjin can’t be sure how many of his pieces from that time are influenced by Seungmin’s mere existence in his periphery, but the number is for sure far from zero. And it only grows once he gathers enough courage to actually talk to him outside of schoolwork.

Thing is, Hyunjin is generally good at sports, a consequence of natural-born athleticism that is the envy of many. Just because baseball has not been his primary choice doesn’t mean he won’t be good at it too, right?

Wrong.

The first time Hyunjin offers to play catch with Seungmin when his classmate is alone at the grounds ends with Seungmin almost suffocating with laughter while Hyunjin defeatedly sits his ass down on the dirt and pouts, because Hyunjin may possibly have overestimated his general baseball knowledge just a smidge in his haste to secure Seungmin’s time.

Seungmin is kind though, his amusement good-natured, and Hyunjin is willing to forgive him anything if Seungmin keeps scrunching his nose in that cute way he does. And so it is that Hyunjin keeps coming back for more, rejoicing in how the Hyunjin-shaped space at Seungmin’s side becomes more and more apparent, and before they can even realise what’s happening they have become inseparable.

This is the first time Hyunjin is directly confronted by the fact that there is a crucial distinction between being good at something and being really good. Hyunjin is good at football, the best striker in his team even, but Seungmin is really good at baseball. Even with Hyunjin’s limited knowledge he can tell how their high school team is built around Seungmin’s presence and play style, designed to exploit their ace’s talent in all available ways. Seungmin’s dedication bleeds into hours of practice, the careful study of professional games, and notebooks full of strategy notes and statistics that grow so much they end up becoming spreadsheets.

It’s genius cut down to its building blocks, and Hyunjin is amazed.

“You know you are also really good at something, right?” Seungmin tells him one evening, sitting together in a quaint little café at the outskirts of their neighbourhood. It is the winter right before their last year of high school, and Hyunjin had been explaining his reasoning why Seungmin is a shoe-in for the KBO League draft once he graduates.

“You know our football team is not winning any competitions, Seungminnie.”

“I don’t mean sports, I mean your art. I’ve seen your recent pieces and how much you’ve improved, you’re a really good artist.”

Something deep inside Hyunjin threatens to bloom with the comment, because he knows Seungmin never doles out false compliments just to please. Something equally deep rebels against the notion though, that something that always whispers insidiously in Hyunjin’s ear that his art can never be anything but a hobby.

Ignoring the push and pull in the back of his mind, Hyunjin eyes his smiling boyfriend warily. He is quite familiar with that look of sweet stubbornness on Seungmin’s face that precedes an argument Hyunjin can’t win. Still, he tries.

“You know nothing about art.”

Seungmin’s smile doesn’t dim one bit; if anything it grows, corners pulled up in that way Hyunjin finds terribly endearing. “And you know nothing about baseball, but here you are. Still sure I’ll get picked.”

“A sports career is different, you can tell when someone is outstanding. They will come looking for you.”

“And they will come looking for you too, if you put yourself out there,” ignoring Hyunjin’s groan, Seungmin turns to his backpack, rummaging through the contents until he finds what he is looking for. Hyunjin sighs dramatically when the brochure gets handed to him but still takes it, even though he already knows what it is and he’s not sure anything good will come from looking at its contents. “Why haven’t you signed up for that, hm?”

Seoul National University’s arts program is one of the most prestigious in the country, and they run an art contest every year for high school hopefuls trying to get their portfolio seen by the right pair of eyes. The top prize comes with a full scholarship; a dream opportunity to sweeten the brutal selection process that pits all the best budding artists against each other, leaving broken dreams in its wake.

Hyunjin is well aware of the existence of such a contest, having been eyeing that same brochure in the arts room since the day their teacher announced the sign up period would begin shortly.

“Seungmin-”

“Look, I know it’s a risk most people won’t take. It feels too much like putting all your eggs in one basket, betting your life on a future that is not guaranteed in any way. Ask me how I know.” Seungmin softens, and his hand is warm where he laces his fingers with Hyunjin’s over the table. “But I believe in you. Our teacher believes in you too, if you need the opinion of someone who actually knows shit about art.” Hyunjin snorts at that, and the atmosphere lightens, Hyunjin able to breathe normally again. “I really think you should try, Jinnie. It’s what you love, and I’m afraid you’ll regret it if you don’t give it your best shot.”

Seungmin is no art connoisseur, even less as a high school teenager, but he tries . He always listens when Hyunjin talks about his process, is game for museum dates when a new exhibition opens, and remembers tidbits even from Hyunjin’s most unhinged rants when he gets going about styles he is really passionate about.

What Seungmin does have is an eye for detail, and a big brain capable of compiling data into patterns. His predictions are usually good.

And he knows Hyunjin; maybe even better than Hyunjin knows himself, at this point.

“I’ll think about it, okay?”

It’s a promise. Once winter break is over, Hyunjin does reach out to their teacher, who is only too happy to pile her own belief in Hyunjin’s talent on top of Seungmin’s. She helps Hyunjin choose a handful of his latest pieces to carefully prepare his application, and then offers direction as Hyunjin continues to broaden his portfolio during the new academic year, confidence building with each checkpoint he passes with glowing reviews.

Hyunjin’s win and consequent acceptance into SNU comes in even before Seungmin’s invitation from the KBO draft. In his haste to share the good news, Hyunjin proceeds to bowl over Seungmin when they meet at their usual spot after Seungmin’s done with practice, joy too bright to even kiss his boyfriend properly when he pulls Seungmin close by the collar of his uniform.

“Seungminnie, I did it! They liked me, I got in!”

“Of course you did. I told you you were really good at art.”

The sun starts to fall in the horizon, but rises in Hyunjin’s eyes.

Hyunjin’s biggest hurdle as a newly-minted baby artist in training turns out to be media attention. He knew that SNU’s art contest turned a lot of eyes within the industry, of course, but he could not have expected the waves that his choice of presentation would make.

When he learns that his future advisor at university is going to be the famous Choi Yunho, who is also one of the head curators at the biggest independent gallery in Seoul, Hyunjin has to do a double take to make sure he’s not mistaken, but he’s not. The man himself is there in the flesh, as if taken right out of the back of Hyunjin’s favourite textbook on perspective, waiting for him at his office when they arrange Hyunjin’s visit to the campus, and he sounds way too excited.

“We don’t usually get this much outside attention for novel students, I’m sure you’re aware, but your submissions have just been the talk of the town. Everyone wants to know about you Hyunjin, they have asked us to create a full blown profile to distribute in the press.”

“Oh. Really?”

Hyunjin’s lukewarm reaction to this news is not what was expected, he can read it on his advisor’s face. Unfortunately, experience has taught Hyunjin that a lot of people will take one look at him and think they know all there is to know already, which is not a pleasant feeling and a situation he would like to avoid, if possible. Hyunjin’s not naive: he’s very aware of what he looks like, and that this fact can help open certain doors for him. Is it so wrong that as a person, as an artist that deals in brushstrokes, he wants to be seen for so much more than that, though?

“You’re under no obligation to do it, of course,” his advisor explains kindly, trying to assuage Hyunjin’s hesitation while still being honest. “But I do think it’s a good opportunity to cash in on your momentum and that it will help you establish yourself in the long run.”

“I just…” Hyunjin falters for a moment. “Could I do it without showing my face? You could print my name, but no pictures.”

If his advisor understands where Hyunjin’s reluctance is coming from, he doesn’t show it. But he’s not judging him either, and it helps Hyunjin relax.

“That’s fine, don’t worry. I’ll let them know to arrange it, okay?”

Seungmin, on the other hand, understands perfectly where the issue is coming from. He doesn’t judge Hyunjin either, but the soft resignation in his tone is something that Hyunjin has put there and wishes he could make disappear.

“You know you’re so much more than your face, right? Your pieces are so emotional, anyone can see that you put your soul into them.”

“I just want that to be the first thing they see,” Hyunjin argues softly. “No distractions.”

“You are not a distraction-”

“Seungmin.”

Seungmin sighs; he has also been very good at knowing when he’s lost a battle, historically, even when it’s for a war he will keep diligently chipping at until the message gets through Hyunjin’s insecurities.

“So. Mysterious artist Hwang Hyunjin it is, then?”

“Yep.”

“Quite the mouthful for me to introduce you.”

“You tell me.” Hyunjin winks cheekily, and gets himself unceremoniously shoved off his seat for the innuendo. “Imagine if that catches on, though?”

“It may. It has a nice ring to it.”

The speed with which Hyunjin’s name establishes itself as one to keep an eye out for in the near future of Seoul’s art scene is only paralleled by Seungmin’s own meteoric rise in the baseball league.

Cruising into the KBO draft after a high-scoring season in his last year of high school, Seungmin has his pick of teams waiting to add him to their roster after graduating. He even gets offers from some of the bigger teams in the Seoul area, but the moment he gets a call from the Lotte Giants he knows in his heart what he wants his choice to be.

Still, it’s not an easy choice to swallow. Hyunjin has his path laid out for him in the capital for at least the next four years while he works on his degree, and Seungmin wouldn’t dream of pulling him away just to follow Seungmin’s own career path, even after Hyunjin graduates.

If Seungmin moves base to Busan, it would mean being separated from Hyunjin for the first time since they met, with the prospect of spending more time apart than they have spent together up to this point. Seungmin does not want them to break up, not now and, as far as he can tell, not ever . Is it really worth it to risk straining their relationship with distance when he has (arguably better) options closer to home?

And all of it for Seungmin’s sentimentality.

“No.” Hyunjin has to fight tears for a moment when Seungmin lists off his options, because he understands exactly what thoughts are running through Seungmin’s mind. And then doubles down, because he will not be the altar where Seungmin sacrifices his martyr self at. “You should go with the Giants, Seungmin. I don’t even know why you’re questioning this.”

“I got offers from bigger teams. Better teams, if we look at recent results.”

“You don’t care. It’s a good offer, and the Giants are your favourite team.” Hyunjin smiles wistfully, carding his fingers through Seungmin’s hair where he is laying his head in Hyunjin’s lap. Seungmin’s frown doesn’t fully fade, but he leans into the touch. ”Remember how you nagged at me everyday until I returned your favourite jersey from them?”

That breaks Seungmin into a smile. “You are welcome to steal anything from me, except for that.”

“There you go.” Hyunjin leans down to leave a peck on Seungmin’s lips, then straightens back up and gets serious again. “You know what you would’ve chosen if I wasn’t in the picture, Seungminnie.”

“But you are in the picture.” Seungmin sighs, resigned. They both know in their hearts that the decision was made the moment Seungmin got off the initial call, but that doesn’t mean they have to like everything that comes with it. “I’d be based on the other side of the country, Jinnie.”

“So what? Busan’s like a two hour train ride away. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“The KTX is expensive, though.”

“And my boyfriend’s going to be a hotshot baseball player, so what’s your argument, hm?”

Seungmin chuckles, tension bleeding out of his shoulders. Hyunjin can feel his solid weight sinking closer against the soft flesh of his thigh. “I’m not there yet, Jinnie-ah. I may not even make the starter rotation until next year, and that’s me being generous.”

“You’re almost there, come on. They’d be stupid not to use you.” Hyunjin huffs, haughtily. He may never become an expert, but he knows enough to be sure that the pride he takes in Seungmin’s talent is not misplaced. “But anyways: good thing I’m going to be a hotshot artist myself! Not to worry, I will be able to pay the sporty people to throw a little ball around for my amusement all on my own. I do love how your ass looks in those pitching pictures.”

“I don’t really want to think about people staring at my ass while I’m on the mound, but thanks, I guess.”

“Tough luck; you’re the hottest pitcher I know.”

“I’m the only pitcher you know.”

“Exactly!” Hyunjin can’t help but laugh at Seungmin’s deadpan look, his mirth enough to almost send his boyfriend off his lap in a huff. He quickly pulls Seungmin back down into place, still giggling lightly. “But seriously, Seungmin: the Giants are your team. You’ve always loved them the most, even when they could not get a winning streak going to save their lives. Don’t you want to go make some history?”

“It won’t be much history to me if you’re not there.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I will study, and paint in my studio, and languish in my dorm waiting for my future husband to come back from baseballing, but I’m not leaving.”

It is said so casually, that it could be passed off as a joke. It wouldn’t be the first time either: they have been so entwined since they met, that it has always felt natural. But on that day, on the cusp of making a choice that will have their paths diverging for the foreseeable future, it seems more pointed than ever. A foregone conclusion.

An honest, candid offer, extended; and then, gladly taken.

“Future husband?” Seungmin raises a hand, fingers delicately tracing the shape of Hyunjin’s jaw. Hyunjin can feel the goosebumps rising on his arms. “I like the sound of that.”

“Yeah. Something to look forward to, hm? While we wait.”

Seungmin’s touch slides lower to grab Hyunjin’s shirt and tug him down into a kiss. Hyunjin goes willingly, a little huff of breath leaving his lips when Seungmin pushes him down onto his back.

“While we wait.”

When Seungmin makes the trek down south with his family to sign his first professional contract with the Lotte Giants, Hyunjin goes along as well. They make a little vacation out of it, spending a few days alone afterwards, taking the chance to explore what will soon become Seungmin’s new city. None of them point out how it feels a little bit like a honeymoon, walking along the coast with their entwined hands swinging between their bodies, because the sweetness of starting the rest of their lives comes with the bitter aftertaste of separation looming right beyond the horizon.

Still, when the time comes to officially move into his first apartment in Busan, Seungmin is ready.

The rings he chooses are nothing very fancy design-wise, but they are quality and made to last. Stainless Steel, so they will not tarnish, and with a brushed exterior for Hyunjin to enjoy the soft matte texture while he fiddles with it. Hyunjin wears his proudly on the middle finger of his left hand, where it is kept mostly safe from paint hazards; a chain around the neck keeps Seungmin’s safe and close to his heart, where it should always be, and leaves his fingers free to grasp a pitcher’s hold around his dream.

Seungmin is usually the better predictor out of the two of them, but in this case they are both spot on.

Seungmin is too young and inexperienced still to be close to his ceiling as a player, which is a bit terrifying to think about when the sheer talent he has been cultivating all his life explodes on the national stage. His debut season ends with the Lotte Giants making it into the playoffs for the first time in a depressing amount of years, and Seungmin comes back to Seoul for Christmas with the Rookie of the Year award in his luggage.

(He also comes home with the title of “Little Giant” that the fans have gleefully bestowed upon him like a crown; after all, Seungmin remains on the lithe side of the spectrum, and is officially the shortest pitcher in his team.

Both Hyunjin, who is barely a couple centimetres taller , and Jeongin, who is Hyunjin’s best friend from uni and is even shorter, thank you find this hilarious. Only Hyunjin gets to abuse his boyfriend privileges and get away with it though, because Seungmin is not averse to putting a newly acquired friend into a headlock when they deserve it.

Jeongin deserves it. Hyunjin has a great time watching two of his favourite people bond.)

Hyunjin applies himself to his growing courseload in the very competitive environment that surrounds a top class program, but never loses his spark. He continues to broaden his horizons, experimenting with medium and form, always building on what becomes more and more his style with every piece he puts a final signature on.

Always at the top of his class, his name never truly disappears from the wagging tongues of the community both inside and outside campus, but it is Jeongin who finally unlocks Hyunjin’s true potential as an upcoming artist.

Viral potential, that is.

A business student with a keen eye for fashion and aesthetics, Jeongin is already a semi-famous personality on social networks himself when he makes the decision to apply his know-how to Hyunjin’s portfolio and revive his hyung’s basic online presence. Hyunjin gets very little say in the matter.

“This is the 21st century, you need that online audience to tune in if you want to get somewhere.”

“Art critics are not on Instagram, Innie.”

“Says you. Do you want that sweet, sweet revenue to afford going down to surprise loverboy in Busan or not?”

Hyunjin knows when someone makes him an offer he can’t refuse. He immediately surrenders his phone to Jeongin, with one single condition. “Can we still keep my face out of it, though?”

“You don’t need your face,” Jeongin scoffs, as if offended by the mere notion. His scrolling through Hyunjin’s last two years of posts is scarily calculated and too quick for Hyunjin to follow. “Your art is good enough, you just need better presentation and a plan.”

It’s comforting, to be so incontestably supported by the people he loves. Hyunjin’s heart grows in his chest. “I’ll leave it into your capable hands then, Jeongin-ssi.”

And so it goes. From reels to aesthetic shots, passing through the silly TikTok memes telling the story of what it means to be a budding artist student, Hyunjin’s new and improved content soon breaches the containment of his peer sphere for good. Without a face to the art, his personality and creativity shine through the screen, both fun and raw in the candid openness of his emotions; a shining beacon of his generation’s place in the world.

All in a semester’s work for genius networking mastermind Jeongin, who continues to monitor the growing numbers with a level of satisfaction that Hyunjin can’t fault him for.

(Hyunjin pays for both their KTX return trip tickets to Busan on one weekend when the Giants are playing at their home stadium. It’s the spring of a new season, and the weather is lovely as they fly through the countryside.

“You know I’m never letting anyone else manage my business after this, right?”

“Good.” The way Jeongin can look so extremely smug while sipping his coffee should be studied. Hyunjin feels an itch in his fingers to sketch the particular tilt of his eyebrows. “I expect to be rewarded handsomely for my services.”

“You mean you’re going to bleed me dry until I wither and die.”

“I’m sure you will be able to afford me, eventually.” Jeongin grins for a moment, then looks away casually. Too casually . “Actually, there’s something you could do for me right now.”

“Oh?” Hyunjin is intrigued, leaning forward over the table separating their opposite seats.

“It’s something small, really. You can get it so easily.” Jeongin’s eyes flit towards the window, unable to hold Hyunjin’s as his eyebrows keep rising in question. Jeongin’s voice gets small when he finally comes out with it. “Could you get Seungmin-hyung to sign something for me?”

“Innie!” Hyunjin makes his best effort at a grab over the table, but Jeongin gets mostly away. His loud glee is, otherwise, undeterred. “Of course! Oh my god, that’s so cute!”

“I resent that statement.”

“You know you can ask Seungmin directly though, right?”

“Absolutely not! He cannot know that I think he’s cool.” Seeing Hyunjin’s huge grin, Jeongin rushes to correct himself. “Not like I think he’s cool! No-!”

“I.N-AH!” Hyunjin forgoes all further attempts at bridging his love over the table and rises to go around it, before grabbing Jeongin in an octopus hug. “Nothing wrong with thinking Seungmin’s cool and your favourite player. I also think he’s the shit.”

“That's because you are an absolute simp. But I’m different.”

“You guys are so weird. I love it.”)

If there is one good thing that comes out of their chosen career paths, it is that Hyunjin can make art anywhere, really. He needs nothing more than a blank canvas, a chair he can perch himself into in increasingly contorted positions and, most importantly, a stroke of feeling carving through the inside of his chest.

Hyunjin always feels the most when Seungmin is there, so for him the decision is not so much taken as expected: once he graduates from university, Hyunjin will be free to take his genius wherever he wants, and what he wants is Seungmin’s modest but sunny apartment in Busan.

Seungmin has never dared to ask for Hyunjin to move, not even during the nights where the distance between Busan and Seoul stretched way too long and the longing to be together in the same place again throbbed with each painful heartbeat. But there is no need: following after Seungmin has always been Hyunjin’s plan, and when the time comes he is ready.

After all, he has always known that Seungmin chose to buy that particular apartment because the spare room was nice and airy, with good natural light. Hyunjin has spent a not inconsiderable amount of time planning his studio set-up in that same room since his first visit once Seungmin moved in, envisioning himself in the space that Seungmin lovingly keeps open and ready for him, silently hoping that Hyunjin will choose to take his place at Seungmin’s side once again.

It is his rightful place, and Hyunjin’s only ever been too excited to reclaim what belongs to him.

“I know it’s for me, so let me have it, alright? No questions.”

The wet glint of happiness in Seungmin’s eyes is worth all the patience Hyunjin has had beaten into him by the years apart.

“I can’t wait to have you here with me, Jinnie.”

“Missing your favourite cheerleader? I’m sure everyone feels my absence in the stands.”

Seungmin laughs, and while the unshed tears fade away, his happiness only glows stronger.

“Our manager does say the energy is just not the same when you can’t make it to games.”

“Of course it’s not! I’ll have you know that I work very hard at being the loudest fucker in that crowd.”

“I know. My dedicated Hyunjinnie is the best boyfriend.” Seungmin smiles, so soft that it melts Hyunjin’s yearning heart. “I love you.”

“I love you too, you terrible charmer.” Hyunjin knows his ears are getting hot under the praise, Seungmin’s love covering him like a blanket against the persistent chill of late winter. “You better not be using said terrible charms on other unsuspecting pretty boys, eh?”

“You’re the only pretty boy that I want.”

Seungmin winks at the camera, puppy smile on its highest brightness, and Hyunjin inevitably squeals.

It’s a look into the future they’ve always wanted, the future they’re about to start living in, and it’s like the universe finally rights itself.

When Hyunjin packs his life in Seoul away, it is with a light heart.

Hyunjin meets Lee Minho quite early after the move. Being on the team, Seungmin gets him tickets in the team’s box, which is reserved for the player’s entourage and other team guests. Hyunjin gets acquainted with a few personalities due to his newly reinstated position as a regular in the home crowd, but no one quite like Lee Minho.

“So what, are you a WAG, too?” Minho opens with one day, after they have been crossing paths into and out of the team’s box for a couple of weeks.

It catches Hyunjin by surprise. “WAG?”

“ Wife and girlfriend . Very limiting, I know, but you can’t argue with the sentiment.” Minho shrugs, as if downplaying the fact that none of them would fit that category in any case. “So are you?”

Hyunjin is still confused. “Excuse me?”

Minho rolls his eyes, but steps closer and points towards the field, where both teams are warming up before the game starts. “Which ball-obsessed little man is yours?”

“Oh.” It takes Hyunjin barely a moment to find Seungmin, who’s stretching low on a side lunge while he talks with one of his fellow teammates. “That’s him. Kim Seungmin, number 11.”

“Oh-ho~” Minho’s expression doesn’t really change from its placid setting, but somehow his eyes sparkle in glee and Hyunjin feels like he should be afraid. “Kim Seungmin, eh? I know who he is. Ace pitcher, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Of course he is.”

“And you?” Hyunjin asks in turn, fascinated by the weird energy coming from this man. “Do you also have a… ball-obsessed little man?”

Minho outright cackles, and Hyunjin has no other option but to giggle along, carried by the bombastic gesture of the man beside him.

“Yeah, mine’s the bench coach. Curly hair, cute dimples, absolute dumptruck of an ass?” Hyunjin chokes on air, but laughs right after, uncaring of the few eyes they’ve been turning with their exuberant conversation. He finds the person Minho’s pointing at, and can’t fault his description. “Bang Chan. Future national team coach, I’m calling it now.”

“He’s that good?”

“Got scouted right out of the Australian league, so you tell me what else they were hoping to find in there.” He offers his hand to Hyunjin. “I’m Lee Minho. My husband is obsessed with your Kim Seungmin’s technique, so I’m making sure he stays on the team.”

“Hwang Hyunjin,” he answers, taking the handshake. Minho’s grip is firm, but not overpowering. “Not sure how I fit into that mission of yours, exactly, but it’s nice to meet you.”

“Well, for starters you are wearing the same ring your Kim Seungmin has been carrying around his neck since I met him, so I think it’s safe to say you’re here to stay.” Minho sits them down as they settle, body still turned towards Hyunjin’s. “I’ve been to some team dinners, and he always has the dumbest, most besotted smile on his face whenever he mentions this childhood sweetheart that’s waiting for him. I’m guessing that’s you?”

“We met in high school.” Hyunjin blushes, busying his hand by turning the ring around his finger. “So yeah. That’s me.”

“Good. From what I hear he’s going places, but don’t let his spotlight push you to the side: you’re meant to shine together, and if someone thinks any different then fuck them.” There’s a quiet strength to Minho’s comment, something that belies a not-so-great experience. Hyunjin gets to admire his candor for a moment, and then it’s gone behind a simple smile. “So what do you do when you’re not cheerleading, Hwang Hyunjin?”

“I’m actually an artist. I paint.”

“And how’s it going?”

Hyunjin’s just about to close the deal on his first solo exhibition, a passion project headlined by his former university advisor that promises to be a big success, and his last compilation reel already has more than a million views and counting. His vision reaches further every day.

He grins, delighted, because Minho clearly doesn’t know; Hyunjin has always enjoyed the moment when he gets to pull the curtain away on unsuspecting people.

“I’m kind of a big deal myself, actually.”

(It’s always received with raucous laughter by their friends, whenever Minho recalls the story of their first official meeting. Something he does quite often, mind you, because he likes to make as big a scene as possible and he’s never going to let Hyunjin live past it.

“ I’m kind of a big deal , he said. Fucking genius artist Hwang Hyunjin with the bazillion followers who was already selling out his current portfolio out of uni, the audacity-!”

“Hyung-!”

“Kim Seungmin! Tell your idiot husband that he is amazing and that you’re blessed to kiss the ground he walks on. Right now.”

“You’re amazing, babe,” Seungmin easily concedes, grinning beatifically while Hyunjin tries to bat Minho away. “I am not worthy of your talent.”

“Stop enabling him!”

“Your puppy husband might be evil incarnate, but at least he knows his place.”

“Minho!”

“Sorry, my love, I forget that you people only care about balls.”

Chan sighs into his palm, and the laughter and general chaos only grows from there.)

When Hyunjin starts to go viral in a completely different way, it cannot be said to be his fault only.

Seungmin is fresh out of an Olympic season, all eyes on the starlet ace with the monster control that took the national team up to semifinals, and although the public doesn’t know, his new title of husband is what is making him glow brighter than even last year’s Top Starting Pitcher award did.

What the public does know and has been all too happy to have incorporated after the international games is the newly minted dance-cam. What had been the traditional big screen showing the camera panning over the crowd in between plays in search of a new fan to feature, has become something of a dance competition between attendees, different kinds of people busting a move for the enjoyment of all present and the next sports newscast’s audience.

Some people choose to keep it simple, waving their arms around while showing their team’s colours, while others make a habit out of preparing the latest dance challenge to show off for an audience that only grows as the new phenomenon establishes itself as one of social networks’ favourite new trends.

Enter Minho: shadow choreographer extraordinaire with a penchant for chaos and a unique capacity for dragging other people into schemes.

And enter Hyunjin: gullible dance hobbyist with a new husband to cheer on and enthusiasm to spare.

“Don’t you want to add some flair back into this game?” Minho insists as they stretch. He’s doing Hyunjin a favour, joining his yoga class and putting out enough unapproachable energy that the well-meaning but out-of-luck wannabe suitors give them both a wide berth. “It could definitely use some, you know it.”

“I don’t disagree.” Hyunjin groans, as something pops in his back and relief floods his system. He really needs to stop sitting like a shrimp in front of his easel. “That new catcher they just signed almost threw me into a wall the other day when he went to slap my back in greeting. I appreciate the enthusiasm, but holy shit, the man is shredded.”

“Oh, Seo Changbin?” Minho smirks, folding into the next pose. His face is all red, but nobody would be able to tell otherwise that he is, in fact, making a big effort to keep his body in position. “No need to worry about that one, he has a boyfriend waiting at home.”

“Really? How do you know these things?”

“Because unlike some, I’m quiet and observant.” Hyunjin cannot keep a very undignified snort in and almost falls out of his pose. Minho may be observant, but he wouldn’t call him quiet . “And also because Channie told me. Changbin’s partner is also from Australia, can you believe it? Massage therapist, apparently he came to Korea as an exchange student and just stayed. Fell in love with the locals, from what I hear.”

“Oh my god.”

“Yep. Love story for the ages. I’ve seen a couple pictures of the famous Felix, he seems quite darling. I’m definitely planning on adopting him if he starts showing up to games.” Minho pauses to breathe as he unfolds his body out of position, then pulls Hyunjin up by the hand to stand for the next pose. “Maybe we should invite him to join our dance crew too, hm?”

“I haven’t even said yes yet.”

“You will. If you need a push, just think about Kim Seungmin’s fool face plastered all over the big screen when he sees you.”

Hyunjin does. He knows exactly what Minho means, because he’s been witness to Seungmin’s awe and adoration while watching Hyunjin dance before. His eyes always sparkle with a mixture of pride, amusement and hunger that Hyunjin has been historically unable to resist.

He folds this time, too.

“Ugh. But nothing fancy, okay? I’m not one of your spry trained dancers.”

“Just trust me. We are going to have some great fun.”

The rest, as they say, is history.

They come prepared. They deck out in the team’s colours. They go all in, together or apart.

Their unique mix of evident professionalism and unabashed silly enthusiasm gets to everyone, and the internet promptly falls head over heels in love with the dancing entourage of the Lotte Giants.

Hyunjin is the most visible of their new little dance crew, since his flexible schedule allows him the grace to go to all the home games, and the people manning the cameras very quickly learn to pan from Seungmin down on the pitch to Hyunjin revving it up in the stands.

As the team’s community manager excitedly puts it, it’s a dream come true for the marketing department. Hyunjin’s dance of the week gets shared and reposted until it leaves the confines of the baseball sphere, and it becomes a widespread phenomenon.

And this is where the conundrum comes in: it is evident that Hyunjin is there for the country’s new star pitcher, but nobody actually knows his name.

Seungmin has never hidden that he has a partner, both in the general sense to the public nor to the people closer to him on the team. There was just never much need to go further than putting himself in the “very much taken, thank you” category, as he has always tried to keep his public persona about his career and separate from the more personal aspects of his life away from baseball. This also worked well for Hyunjin’s particular situation, since his name still wasn’t connected to a face in the bigger arts sphere and he could continue to operate under just his name, unbound by mundane things like personal appearance and society’s expectations, completely unaffected by how Seungmin’s presence got bigger and bigger in the public eye.

But now they find themselves at a crossroads.

“Our press chief came to see me today,” Seungmin starts one evening.

It’s meant to be casual, but Hyunjin can feel the underlying trepidation in how his husband’s body tenses where he’s plastered against Hyunjin’s side, head resting on Hyunjin’s shoulder as they sit together before Hyunjin’s latest canvas, watching the colours come to life with every stroke of his brush. Seungmin likes to unwind and just be together at the end of the day, and Hyunjin has always rejoiced in having the person that makes his heart sing the most close while he works, so it’s nothing unusual.

Still, Seungmin is clearly bracing for something on this occasion. Hyunjin pauses to consider for a second before placidly continuing with his downstroke. He knows what this must be about and has already made up his mind, but it seems like his husband still finds issue with the situation at hand. Hyunjin just wants to see how it plays out.

“Oh?”

“She said they keep getting asked for more information about you, both from actual press outlets and the fans. They want me to make a statement.” Hyunjin can feel Seungmin’s jaw working, can picture that stubborn pout of his exactly as Seungmin gears up to dig his heels in in spectacular fashion. “I’m not saying anything that will put you in jeopardy.”

“Seungmin-”

“I’m not. I don’t care about their arguments, we don’t have to do anything.”

“They’re your employers.”

“Our private life is none of their business.”

“Would you really be okay with risking your position for this?”

“I can always find another team.”

“You love this team.”

“So? I’m in high demand these days, I’ll survive.”

“Seungminnie, please.” Hyunjin is endeared by the show of loyalty, he is, but he can’t contain his amusement anymore. He turns his face to nuzzle a kiss against Seungmin’s hair, soft and airy after his shower just like the giggle Hyunjin hides there. “This is stupid. You can just tell them, it’s okay.”

Seungmin’s eyes widen, back suddenly ramrod straight as he searches Hyunjin’s face. “But you’ve been so careful all these years.”

“And I always knew that this moment would eventually come. Can’t live in the shadows forever.” Hyunjin reaches to pick up more pigment on his brush, then winks at his husband before focusing back on the canvas. “You’ve always been a star on the rise, love, and if I want to stay close to you I’ll have to allow that light to shine on me, too.”

“Please don’t make this decision because of me. It’s not worth it.”

“Who says I’m only doing it because of you? I am famous darling artist Hwang Hyunjin, after all.” Hyunjin finishes his stroke, light reflecting off the pupil of the person in his painting, then softly puts his brush down. “I have my own light. I just think it’s time to let everyone know that you’re mine too, hm?”

Seungmin smiles, stars in his eyes. “I think everyone already knows I’m yours. You don’t understand the levels of teasing I go through in that dugout whenever you’re on screen.”

Canvas forgotten, Hyunjin slides onto Seungmin’s lap, hands running through his husband’s hair as he tilts Seungmin’s head up for a kiss.

“Good. Let’s give them something more to talk about.”

They don’t discuss further details that night, too preoccupied with each other and the euphoria of taking that final step into the open. Seungmin does show up to practice the next day with a couple of very high, very conspicuous hickeys complementing his wide smile, and their press chief chooses not to comment when Seungmin confirms that they will be going public soon.

Everyone wins.

“What a game that was! I am here with Kim Seungmin, who has just been named MVP for today.”

“Hello~!”

“Wow! Seventh win in a row for the Lotte Giants, you’re accumulating quite the streak. What’s the secret?”

“No secret. We’ve just been pacing ourselves and trying some new strategies that are working well so far, so we hope to keep putting out good performances.”

“And good they are! The home crowd was on fire! How does it feel to have this much fan support?”

“It’s great, of course. It gets really intense and tiring down here on the field, but we can always count on fan chants to keep our energy up.”

“Speaking of energy- oh! There they go! The Giants’ Trio of dancers are going all out today, too!”

“Yeah, they never miss a match if they can help it. We’re very grateful for their continued support.”

“Everyone and their mother wants to know, Seungmin-ssi: who are they? They’ve been taking the internet by storm.”

“I can only speak for mine, really, but that one’s my husband. Hwang Hyunjin.”

“Oh, wow! Very enthusiastic reactions from Hyunjin-ssi indeed. That heart beam was super powerful! Can we get a microphone to him in the stands? Yes?”

“Hey Seungmin, Seungmin!”

“Hello, love.”

“Seungminnie fighting~!”

“-and off he goes to meet with his number one fan! I guess that’s all for our post-game interview today. Back to you guys in the studio!”

(The crowd goes absolutely wild when Seugmin bounds up to the edge of the pitch, Hyunjin running down the stands to meet him halfway. The kiss is brief but euphoric, smiles pressed together for a moment while the audience applauds and hollers their approval.

The videos proceed to break the internet in a kaleidoscope of different angles between official sources and fancams, full of Seungmin’s besotted face and Hyunjin’s endearing laughter. The moment goes so viral it makes it out of the sport news sphere and into the general media, and the whole country bears witness to Hyunjin and Seungmin’s crowning achievement.

Their newly minted pairing name trends for several days in a row.

It’s a fun time.)

(“Do you know who it’s not fun for? ME!” Jeongin complains a couple of days later, on his weekly meeting with Hyunjin. “You could’ve at least warned me!”

“Sorry, Jeongin-ah. It was a spur of the moment decision.”

“Spur of the moment my ass. I know that terror husband of yours doesn’t make a move without planning, so he must have prepared beforehand.”

“Come on, don’t be mean. You love Seungmin.”

“I appreciate that he keeps you happy and inspired, which ultimately puts money in my pocket. And I love money.”

“You have his signed picture on display at the office.”

“I put that up for you.”

“You asked him to sing at your graduation party.”

“Just because he can carry a tune doesn’t mean I love him.”

“You cried, it was so beautiful!”

“So what!? I’ve been fielding calls all day from people asking me to confirm if my mysterious artist Hwang Hyunjin is actually baseball star Kim Seungmin’s cute husband! He’s the worst!”

“Sorry, Jeongin-ah.”

“Stop laughing, hyung, you know how much I hate phone calls! At least with the emails I can use a template and go on with my day.”

“How bad is it, really?”

Jeongin sighs exasperatedly on the other side of their video call, pushing his reading glasses up his nose. He grabs a stack of papers, arranges them neatly on the table, then looks back up with a sulky glare.

“Great, actually. We got serious inquiries on all your remaining pieces, it’s looking like they’re going to go above current market price. And a couple new galleries got in touch for a solo exhibition.” Jeongin’s tone is deadpan, and Hyunjin’s grin grows. “Congratulations on cementing your celebrity status, I guess.”

“We’re celebrating next time I’m up in Seoul.”

“You’d better be paying or I’ll hand in my resignation.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to take Seungmin with me as well so you can put him in a headlock if you want, too.”

“Suddenly my day’s gotten so much better, thank you very much.”)

The months after the big non-announcement are like a treasure hunt for the general public, as people apply themselves to finding new, previously hidden, pieces to the puzzle that is the country’s new it couple. Resourceful people end up digging up more material from the archives, connecting dots between previously vague social posts and unearthing older pictures and video from Seungmin’s early career, trying to construct their story from snippets.

In the end, the consensus goes like this:

Nerdy baseball hopeful Kim Seungmin meets romantic artist Hwang Hyunjin in high school, and it doesn’t matter how popular they become to the rest of the student body, because they are inseparable from the start and no one can compete. Nobody can tell for sure when they start dating, since they always exchange gifts on Valentines and White Day with each other, but there can be no doubt that they are because they can be seen kissing in the background of a couple of pictures from their graduation class.

Hyunjin’s outstanding talent gets him a full ride to SNU’s art program after winning their entrance contest, but Seungmin’s budding professional baseball career takes him south to Busan to join the Lotte Giants. They spend four years long distance, with Hyunjin’s art presenting a deep well of longing and desire that overflows into anger and rebellion between strokes, a direct look into his heart that starts garnering outside attention due to its compelling rawness and particular use of colour. Seungmin’s own longing from this time manifests more quietly, in the wistful tone of his photography and captions on Instagram, and the way he always grabs at the ring hanging from his neck before stepping onto the field.

People can retroactively tell when Hyunjin was in the crowd for games just by looking at Seungmin, because his smile was always the widest when focusing on that one part of the stands.

And then, the reunion. Hyunjin graduates with honours, work cemented as one of the best upcoming artists to watch, and he continues to be on demand fresh out of university. Seungmin is now a regular starter, doing his part in pulling the team to new heights. The date of Hyunjin’s move to Busan is right there immortalised in Seungmin’s Instagram post, where the room full of boxes in the photo also shows the edges of what turns out to be several of Hyunjin’s paintings stacked against the wall.

It becomes a fun little pastime for some people, going through their respective profiles and catching the little snippets of the other. Diffuse, before; but now in full colour thanks to the added context.

The timeline gets much easier to follow after that, because the moment when the formerly mysterious artist Hwang Hyunjin intersects with Kim Seungmin’s dancing partner in the stands comes right away. Any person with time to spare and a working internet connection can spend some hours jumping from video to video about Hyunjin’s dance crew in the Giant’s games and his Little Giant husband beaming at him from the pitch.

When they got married exactly is a highly contested debate in seungjin circles, but it is clear that they do. It is also clear that they are very much in love, and have always been.

It’s the biggest love story to hit the news in Korean modern history.

Parallel to their status as one of the country’s sweetheart couples, their lives aren’t that much affected. The initial craze never dies down completely, of course, but it does settle down into a simmer that is, in general, perfectly bearable.

Just because the public now knows their names and can follow along their careers doesn’t mean they know them , and both Hyunjin and Seungmin stick to their particular blend of showing enough to keep the public satisfied, while not really telling much and keeping their private lives mostly private.

Hyunjin still doesn’t post much of his own face to his socials, which remain mostly focused on showcasing his own art and related stuff, but he does start officially showing up in person to his own events. Curious patrons finally get the opportunity to discuss some of his pieces directly with the artist and, from time to time and league schedule permitting, witness in person the full charm of Kim Seungmin, Husband of The Artist, as he becomes both art critic and salesman right from his place on his husband’s arm.

(“You know what? I kind of like this business of being arm candy.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah! It’s like a competition where everyone’s doing their best to butter you up and catch your attention, so I feel right at home.”

“Seungmin, please.”

“And I’m always winning, of course. You know how I like to win.”

“I’m telling Jeonginnie you just called yourself a trophy husband unironically.”

“Please do. You’ll make his day.”)

Seungmin wins the MVP Award at the end of that season, which goes quite well with their league champions trophy and his new and improved contract with the Lotte Giants. Hyunjin and crew still attend all the games they can, and by now are also happily welcomed even by away crowds, their dance of the moment eagerly awaited and followed by the fans both present at the stadiums and watching through their screens. As much as he has to stay focused during games, Seungmin’s love blooms everywhere else, where there is always a heartfelt thank you for Hyunjin’s support, a lovely caption to a photograph posted on his page under Hyunjin’s recommendation, a row of hearts when his favourite subject is in frame.

(“You always take the best pictures of me, Seungminnie.”

“It’s because the love gaze is affecting the camera settings.”

“What?”

“Hmm. It’s science.”

“You, Kim Seungmin, are an incorrigible flirt. People think you’re so serious, what with your big shiny trophies and all your strategy, but you’re actually really silly.”

“And you’re gorgeous.”

“...yeah, you’re not drinking any more today. Gimme that champagne bottle.”

“But we won! We are the champions!”

“If you start singing that again I’m divorcing you.”

“You can’t divorce me, we’re married!”)

Such is married life.

“I’m Hwang Hyunjin, professional cheerleader,” he claims, gleefully. “And that down there is my husband, Kim Seungmin.”

“Oh shit, I bet that one stung.”

“You should have seen his face during the rest of the game, Seungminnie. Like sucking on a lemon.”

“Sucks to be him. Should’ve chosen a better career path.” Finishing up on the ensuite, Seungmin turns off the light and walks into the bedroom, where Hyunjin is already laying on the bed, arms open in waiting.

“What, as opposed to rich foreign investor?”

“I myself think ace pitcher works better, if you’re trying to pull a genius artist cheerleader. But that’s just my opinion.” Hyunjin slaps him on the chest, because while true, it’s never good to let Seungmin think he can just get away with everything, even though he most definitely can. “How long did this streak last, around three months?”

“Two and a half.”

“Yikes. You would think there’s nobody left in this country that doesn’t know we’re very happily married, but I guess there’s always someone out there optimistic enough to try shooting their shot.”

“I’d say stupid enough. Even if they don’t know who I am, my whole being a walking advertisement for all Kim Seungmin simps should be enough of a deterrent.”

“I think it’s very cute.”

“Of course you do. I take great pride in my ability to fluster the immovable pitcher Kim Seungmin whenever I so wish.”

“Hmmm. I’ll show you just how immovable I can be.”

Lips on lips, a smooth touch running up the inside of Hyunjin’s thigh under the covers. Hyunjin smiles.

“You know we have a gallery opening in two days.”

“I know.” Seungmin moves his kisses along Hyunjin’s jaw, on a sure descent towards his neck. “So, above the collar?”

“Above the collar. Let them see.”

Seungmin grins, then bites down.

All Hyunjin feels is bliss.