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San found himself wondering if, in a different time, place, or even another life, he and Wooyoung could have been friends. After all, San usually had a knack for getting along with people.

But Jung Wooyoung was undeniably an arrogant jerk, and it seemed like he’d made it his life’s mission to ensure that he and San would not be friends.

Here San was, hours away from home at a soccer training camp for Seoul University, and in walked the bane of his existence (Jung Wooyoung, if you couldn’t guess) with his bright red hair and his cocky smile and his godforsaken ridiculously talented dribbling skills. Okay, so maybe he had the right to be a little arrogant, but personally, he thought humbleness was rather becoming.

Luckily, San had received an offer to play center midfielder in the middle of his senior year, full ride and all that jazz, and he quite literally couldn’t ask for a better way to spend his time in college. Soccer had been a part of him for as long as he could remember, probably as long as he could walk.

He’d played all through primary and secondary school, traveled with some of the best teams in the country, and enjoyed all the exposure that one of the top ranked players in the nation could have. He’d stayed up late practicing, even if no one else was there to train with him. He was constantly in the gym and on the track, lifting and running laps with a regimen that was specifically crafted for him. He’d given up vacations and relationships and school dances just so he could travel with his team, and he’d never once regretted it because he’d rather be playing soccer anyway.

Point being, soccer wasn’t just a hobby – it was a passion, and San hated when people took something he loved and twisted it into something ugly.

Wooyoung was a striker, San had learned very early on. He’d tried to be friends with him, truly. He was even excited to know that he’d joined the team because Wooyoung had a reputation too. Unlike San who grew up in Namhae, Wooyoung was from Ilsan, a city much much closer to Seoul, meaning the competition was obviously a little more fierce. Despite all that, Wooyoung was named one of the best upcoming strikers and was on every college scout’s watchlist, understandably.

San admired him – or at least he did until he tried to shake hands with Wooyoung after their first scrimmage, and Wooyoung had screwed his face up in distaste, promptly walking away from San without so much as a hello .

First impressions carried more weight for San than he’d ever realized, but oh had Wooyoung made him realize. In San’s opinion, Wooyoung was the epitome of hubris, all proud of himself for landing the striker position while San was only a lowly midfielder. Sure, Wooyoung had a huge portion of scoring responsibility on his shoulders, but in no way did that make him any better than the rest of them.

Soccer was a team sport, obviously. It was like clockwork almost – one cog was missing or malfunctioning and the entire system stopped working. Midfielders were vital to a team, usually being the most well-rounded because they had both offensive and defensive duties, as were the goalkeepers and the fullbacks with their own defensive and play set up duties.

It was a crime to not admire and acknowledge the various skills that were needed for each position, and San really had no idea how Wooyoung had made it so far when he had his head so far up his pretentious ass.

After that encounter, San had stared after Wooyoung’s retreating back for a good ten seconds before he shook his head and scowled. So much for making friends , San thought, brushing his sweaty hair off his forehead. As the striker walked away, San noticed that no one else tried to approach him either, either dissuaded by his attitude or already preoccupied with the groups they’d formed, most likely with the roommates they’d been assigned for the camp or high school teammates.

Further down the field to San’s left were his two roommates, Jeong Yunho and Park Seonghwa, their goalkeeper and one of the other midfielders, respectively. Yunho was tall and well built, showcasing a flattering amount of lean muscle and calves built by the gods. Seonghwa was a little shorter, though no less fit, and could just nearly keep up with San at his fastest. What he lacked in speed, though, he made up in leadership. He could command the field like no other, and San already held a high level of respect for him. He was older than him and Yunho by two years and already an established starter, though you wouldn’t have guessed by how readily he made friends with two incoming freshmen. Yunho waved him over with a friendly smile, and San jogged towards them, trying to shake off the sour mood Wooyoung had put him in.

“Hey guys! Good practice!” San complimented when he reached them. 

“You too!” Seonghwa said, his face just slightly red from the exertion and the sun exposure. “I think coach really liked what he saw from you guys today, and it’s only the first day. Might’ve set the bar a little high though, so it might not be as easy these next couple weeks.” Sweat soaked through his gray practice shirt, darkening the areas around his chest and armpits, and San assumed he probably also had a large stain on his back. He wasn’t much better, but he was lucky enough to not have worn a gray shirt.

“No pressure, though,” Yunho hummed jokingly, laughing when Seonghwa shoved his arm. “Hey, I’m just joking! And anyway, I think me and Choi here can keep up with those expectations just fine, right?” the goalkeeper looked at him, eyes alight with playfulness, and San rose to the challenge effortlessly without missing a beat.

“Of course we can,” he replied confidently. “Wouldn’t be here if we couldn’t,” he added at the end, which made Yunho’s grin widen.

“Right you are,” Yunho agreed, clapping him on the back with a large hand. “I honestly think that all of us freshmen are pretty talented, really. That Wooyoung guy does really well as a striker. Though he’s a little – mm, how do I put this?” He said, tilting his head and pouting his lips in a way that sort of reminded San of a puppy.

“Arrogant? Full of shit?” San filled in the blank, bitterness rising in the back of his throat. He glanced over at Seonghwa when he heard the boy snort.

Yunho, too, was amused by San’s outburst, giggling a little behind his hand. “I don’t think I would’ve worded it like that, but you’re not too off the mark. Seems like he’s got a bone to pick or something to prove,” the goalkeeper said objectively, shifting from one foot to the other. “Do you guys have history or something?”

Rolling his eyes, San replied, “Yeah, about five glorious seconds of him being a snobby piece of shit.” He wished he could go back in time and go for a nice slap rather than a handshake, but alas, he wasn’t a time traveler nor did he have Hermione’s time turner from the third Harry Potter movie. And he supposed that the threat of putting a wrinkle in time by there being two of him probably wasn’t worth it for someone like Wooyoung anyway.

“Maybe it was just a bad first impression,” Seonghwa suggested gently, though San could tell that the eldest also harbored his own doubts about the striker. “And anyway, it’s not good for you guys to be hating each other, especially this early. You’re gonna be on a team together this upcoming year, so I would suggest you at least find middle ground and leave it off the field.”

“He’s the one who brought it here in the first place,” San said petulantly, arms crossed as he pouted.

“Oh you poor baby,” Seonghwa cooed playfully, though he grew more stern with his next choice of words. “Frankly, I don’t care if he’s the one who started it because you’re gonna finish it, got it?”

San felt properly scolded, and he hadn’t even known Seonghwa for a full twenty-four hours. “Now how about we finish those laps coach wanted us to do and then get showers. The sooner we get done, the sooner we can eat and rest.”

Neither freshman argued, and without further ado or conversation, they headed towards the edge of the field to finish their training for the day.

The sun had dipped further towards the horizon by the time the three of them had finished their training, Yunho a lap behind because a goalkeeper wasn’t as speed based, but rather they trained their reaction time and agility. San was positive Yunho’s vertical and shuttle drill times would put his own to shame, but when it came to just running, he and Seonghwa had the upper hand. Once Yunho made it to them, they all went to the water jugs to refill their bottles before standing and catching their breath for a moment.

“Fuck, I hate distance running,” Yunho complained before squirting water into his mouth.

“Well, that checks out since you’re a goalkeeper and all,” Seonghwa observed, patting him on the shoulder in an attempt to comfort him before drawing his hand back and wiping it down the side of his shorts. “Gross, you sweat a lot,” Seonghwa muttered despite the fact that he himself didn’t look much better.

“Well spotted. It’s almost like we’re working out or something,” Yunho replied wryly, dodging Seonghwa’s attempt to swat him on the back of his head. San wasn’t sure why that was Seonghwa’s choice of response when he’d just complained about how sweaty Yunho was.

“I just meant that you sweat more than some of the other guys,” Seonghwa rolled his eyes, though he could tell that he was trying hard to hold back his amusement and failing pretty terribly at it.

“Well, I’ll try to keep it in mind next time you wanna pat me on the shoulder right after we get done running five miles,” Yunho smirked, laughing as Seonghwa pretended to squeeze his water bottle to squirt Yunho.

“You cheeky little shit,” the eldest shook his head. “I’m too tired for this.” They continued to have light banter back and forth and they went to grab their bags from the side of the field and change out of their cleats, paying little attention to what San was doing.

As his two roommates bickered, San slowly backed away, closer and closer to the soccer field exit before he made a mad dash for their dorms, cackling and ignoring the loud complaints from Yunho for voluntarily running again and the chiding remarks from Seonghwa because “he was his elder and he should let him go first.”

San, in fact, did not let him go first, more than ready to wash away the sweat and grime from the days activities and uncaring of his roommate complaints through the locked bathroom door as he stood under the warm spray and lathered up his hair.

When he walked out fifteen minutes later, Seonghwa flicked him on the forehead before pushing past him into the bathroom and shutting the door, clearly using his seniority over poor Yunho who was laying on the dorm floor, sweaty and making a foggy outline of his body on the hardwood. 

“You alright, Yunho?” San asked, toweling his hair dry while he moved to sit on the edge of his bed.

“No,” Yunho sighed out sadly, “I have to sit here all gross while you guys shower.”

“Good things come to those who wait?” San tried, turning to his side to hang his towel over the headboard of his bed.

“You suck,” was all Yunho said before closing his eyes, sweaty hair still plastered to his forehead.

San snorted, grabbing his phone from his bag to check his messages. He had a message from his mom checking in and his older sister Hanuel asking how the camp was. Hanuel had also played soccer, but she’d stopped after high school, preferring to focus on academics. That didn’t stop her from enjoying the sport or supporting San though, as she made sure to come to every game of his that she could so that she could cheer him on. He was forever grateful that he had such a supportive sister, as she’d given him motivation through hard times and practiced with him when no one else would. 

He made sure to answer both of them, detailing the training the team had done and the people he’d met. He purposely left off any complaints he had about Wooyoung, not wanting to worry either of them with some petty team drama. Seonghwa was right. They just needed to leave it off the field and try to find middle ground, whatever that may be.

At the edge of his vision, he could see Seonghwa coming out of the bathroom, hair drenched and dark with moisture, before Yunho got up and collected his things so that he could finally shower. San glanced at where he’d been laying, the full foggy outline of the goalkeeper on the floor making him snort before he sent a farewell text to his mother and sister.

“You know where the cafeteria here is, right?” San asked the other, setting his phone on his bed facedown. He assumed he did since he’d already been here for a year.

Seonghwa hummed in confirmation, his towel hung around his neck while he pulled on a pair of tennis shoes. “It’s not too far from here, actually. As soon as Yunho’s done showering, we can go.”

“Is the food any good?”

Seonghwa grinned, turning to look San in the eye. “Honestly some of the best food you’ll have here. They give us a bunch of protein options since it’s for training camp, and the sides are good too. It’s somewhat the same throughout the year, but they go all out for all the summer sports camps, so enjoy it.”

San nodded readily, stomach growling as he imagined what kind of food he’d be eating in just a little while. Yunho didn’t take much longer in the shower, just as hungry as San and Seonghwa, and he haphazardly threw his towel over his headboard and shoved on a pair of sandals before urging the other two out the door.

When they got there, both Yunho and San took a moment to check out the cafeteria itself, eyes roaming over the tall glass windows, the several pristine white lunch tables scattered around, and the large royal blue Seoul University insignia printed in the middle of the floor.

Some ways to their right were metal counters with glass overhangs, and from them, San could see the steam rising from the hot food. He could feel his saliva pooling in the back of his mouth from how hungry he was. Familiar faces were scattered about, teammates who’d managed to make it before them, as well as a number of people he’d never seen. He assumed there were probably multiple sports camps in session at the moment since it was mostly likely more convenient for both the school and the cafeteria staff.

The three roommates quickly made their way through line, loading their plates with rice, chicken, pickled bean sprouts, kimchi, and anything else they could fit on their trays.

When they left the line, Yunho paused, eyes surveying the cafeteria like he was searching for someone before they lit up and he waved at whoever he’d finally found. When San looked over, he saw one of the unfamiliar faces he’d seen earlier when they’d first come in.

He had fox-like eyes, a sharp nose and high cheekbones, and grayish-silver hair that complimented his complexion surprisingly well. Even in a sitting position, San could tell that this guy was tall, though he couldn’t tell if he was taller than Yunho or not. “Let’s go sit over there, guys!” Yunho said happily, not waiting around to see if Seonghwa and San were actually following.

Yunho weaved through tables like silver-haired guy would disappear if he didn’t get there fast enough while his two roommates followed closely behind, having one too many close calls with table corners and chair legs for their comfort.

“Mingi!” Yunho greeted happily, setting down his tray before pulling the boy into a chaste kiss. “I missed you,” he said, and San swore he could hear the lovesickness in Yunho’s voice, though if the other boy’s fierce blush was anything to go by, he wasn’t any better. San could almost see figurative cartoon hearts swirling around Yunho’s head in real time.

“I missed you too,” Mingi said a bit shyly, clearly happy with how outward Yunho was with his affection. 

“How’s summer going for you so far? Are you enjoying basketball camp?” the goalkeeper asked, so caught up in Mingi that it was like he’d completely forgotten his roommates were there too. Him and Mingi had quite a bit of back and forth, asking and answering questions and practically professing their undying love for each other right in front of everyone’s dinner. Okay maybe it wasn’t quite that bad, but it might as well have been. San knew now that Yunho had had more than hunger on his mind when he’d practically shoved him and Seonghwa out the door.

Seonghwa made eye contact with the guys Mingi had been sitting with, amusement written all over his face before he cleared his throat. “Are you going to introduce us, Yunho?”

Yunho froze where he sat, the tips of his ears reddening before he coughed, facing San and Seonghwa with an embarrassed smile on his lips. “Sorry guys. It’s been a minute since we’ve seen each other. San, Seonghwa, this is my boyfriend Mingi. Mingi, these are my new friends and roommates San and Seonghwa.”

“And this is Hongjoong and Yeosang,” Mingi gestured to his two friends, a little awkward in his movements. San figured he was probably still a bit embarrassed from earlier even if he didn’t need to be. Really, he thought him and Yunho were rather cute.

They continued to make small talk as they ate, Yunho and San going back for seconds once their trays had been cleared. 

“Yunho,” San singsonged, a teasing smirk on his lips as he bumped the taller man with his shoulder, “You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend.”

“It never came up,” Yunho said matter of factly as he walked beside him, “plus, I haven’t even known you and Seonghwa for twenty-four hours yet. It’s not like, vital information really.”

San sighed, “I guess you’re right, but still! How long have you guys been–” As he asked his question, someone ran into his arm, making him drop his tray with a loud bang that echoed around the cafeteria. He was glad he hadn’t gotten seconds yet, or this whole situation would’ve been much messier.

“Watch where you’re going,” the person grumbled from beside him. It was a voice he’d never heard before, but when San turned to see who it was, he nearly stumbled back in surprise. Standing before him with an irritated expression on his face was no other than Jung Wooyoung, the prick who’d been rude enough to ignore his attempt at a handshake after their scrimmage.

San thought about saying something – like, really thought about it– but he ultimately decided that it wasn’t worth it as Seonghwa’s words from earlier floated through his mind. “Whatever. C’mon Yunho,” the midfielder forced out, purposely ignoring Wooyoung as he picked up his tray and pulled Yunho along towards the line.

He could tell Yunho was staring at him, a questioning look in his eyes, but San didn’t really want to talk about it or he’d just be put in a bad mood again. “Just leave it for now,” is all he said, and thankfully, the taller boy listened without hesitation, knowing that there wasn’t really much to say or do about Wooyoung’s arrogance or dislike for him anyway. It was just some silly drama that was, frankly, out of his hands, and therefore, he had no reason to dwell on it. San could deal with whatever his issue was because at the end of the day, he wasn’t there to be friends with Wooyoung or make everyone happy. He was there to play soccer and help Seoul University win championships.

As it was, though, taking the high road was harder than San had anticipated. Much harder, and all San wanted to do was go low and take Wooyoung out by his damn kneecaps. He wanted to go so low he’d have to dig a hole just to manage it or take a submarine and dive down thousands of feet below sea level.

It started out small and manageable – just little things that rubbed him the wrong way. Dirty glances and muttered complaints about San’s general presence. San had absolutely no idea why Wooyoung disliked him so much. Sure, Wooyoung was pretty unpleasant with everyone on the team – even Yunho, who was one of the sweetest and most genuine people San had ever met – but something about the way he treated San almost seemed targeted.

The first few days were all pretty standard. They had team breakfast, were given their assigned lockers for the camp, and stretched after, which then led to laps on the track and an hour or so in the weight room before they were split off into separate groups depending on the position they played. Because San and Seonghwa were both midfielders, they were in the same group with a few others, similar to their four strikers, while the goalkeepers were limited to pairs. Everyone who played more defensive positions made up the last group.

After that, they were released for a quick lunch, and then they were back on the field to stretch again and regroup. One-on-one drills usually filled up this time, occasionally switched out with 3v3 games or cone drills that each player had to run through individually.

San rather enjoyed the 3v3 games because they forced him to utilize different skills he might otherwise not have to use. When there were less players, more responsibility fell onto each player, and while he usually dabbled in both offense and defense as a midfielder, he really had to focus when it came down to scoring or defending an opponent who was particularly skilled at dribbling (like Wooyoung, who’d most definitely outplayed San quite a few times, even with his speed and agility.)

As they got further into the camp, the head coach began to ask for more from them physically, and San could feel it in the way his arms, core, and legs were all sore at one time or another. They ran longer, lifted more, and were pushed to their limits during their drills. The scrimmages were few and far between, as the coaches were more focused on building fundamentals and discipline. When San had asked Seonghwa whether they would scrimmage more later in the camp, Seonghwa just gave him this knowing smile and replied, “You’ll see.”

Wooyoung also became more testy, with everyone of course but especially with San. His glares grew more heated and his mannerisms on the field became more aggressive. San was now sporting a huge bruise on the side of his thigh from where Wooyoung had come in to steal the ball from him, and he’d just barely outmaneuvered him and passed it to Seonghwa before practically getting slide tackled. Wooyoung had gotten an asschewing from the coaches and had to run laps around the field for the rest of the drill, so he supposed it wasn’t all that bad, but the pain in his leg definitely made itself known every time he so much as took a step.

Wooyoung slammed locker room doors in his face, shouldered past him whenever he got the opportunity, and continued to be unnecessarily aggressive on the field. San could tell that any time he did something well, Wooyoung hated it and pushed himself to be better. It didn’t matter if it was mile times, shuttle drills, or maxes in the weight room.

He was tired of playing nice and being Wooyoung’s glorified doormat, and he was so close to saying to hell with Seonghwa’s constant reminders to be the better person. Yunho too tried to reason with San, even going as far to try and prove that Wooyoung wasn’t as disagreeable as San believed he was. Somehow, Yunho’s golden retriever mannerisms had won Wooyoung over, and they were all buddy buddies now, much to San’s chagrin and Seonghwa’s amusement. 

In the end, his need to prioritize soccer and the team won out, and he continued to simply take whatever Wooyoung dished out. San could weather the storm and let bygones be bygones because he was here to play soccer, not to indulge in whatever petty drama Wooyoung wanted to drag him into.

He was doing good too – great even – until finally, the third day of their second week at camp dawned and the San had reached his limit.

They were finally scrimmaging again after three days of brutal training, and all San wanted to do was enjoy it. He loved the thrill of playing games, the adrenaline that pumped through his veins setting every cell in his body alight. It didn’t even phase him that much when teams had been sorted and Wooyoung ended up being one of their team’s strikers.

All was going well. Their team had just scored – courtesy of Wooyoung who’d beat his defender and kicked the ball into the net, its path curving into a beautiful arch over Yunho before hitting the back of the net – though he wouldn’t have had San not yelled, “Man on!” Wooyoung had made a quick change of direction that had allowed him to avoid the person who’d been coming up behind him.

Time passed, and the opposing team had scored while San and Wooyoung’s team struggled to put in another goal due to Yunho’s long arms and quick reaction time. San could see Yunho’s determination all the way from midfield, hell bent on not letting another goal past him, and he knew that Yunho would absolutely make it a Herculean feat for them to score again. 

“Seonghwa!” San yelled, passing the ball left to the other midfielder who was in the center. Further down the field were Wooyoung and Juyeon, their two strikers, and a bunch of defenders. Seonghwa, who was exceptionally good at passing as San had come to find out, found an opening and wasted no time in dribbling it up before passing it to Juyeon who kicked it to Wooyoung.

San realized that, in the chaos, the opposing team had left a large gap within their defense, and before he could so much as consider it, he was shooting through, making a break for the goal. Everyone was so focused on trying to stop Wooyoung that by the time San had made it closer to the goal, he only had one defender on him, but he knew that he could outrun him easily.

San searched for Wooyoung’s eyes, subtly motioning for the ball with a small wave. He knew without a doubt that Wooyoung had seen him, and he saw the way the striker seemed to contemplate his options. San didn’t understand what there was to consider, waving a little more urgently because he knew, no questions asked, that he could score right now, even with Yunho standing in front of the goal like some impenetrable wall.

It was like the world had slowed as Wooyoung looked away from him, and San fought the urge to stop and guffaw at him. He continued to move, even as he realized that Wooyoung was not going to pass to him. Instead, the striker tried his hand at dribbling through three defenders, one of them being Choi Jongho, their one and only stopper on the team whose entire purpose was to play defense like his ass was on fire.

He watched as he tried and failed to dribble through them, as the ball was stripped from his possession, as Wooyoung bit his lip knowing that he made the wrong decision, and suddenly it was like he’d lost all bodily autonomy because before he knew it, he was marching toward Wooyoung with enough anger to set something on fire with his fucking mind .

“You absolute asshole! You selfish, arrogant piece of shit!” San cursed at him, vision tinged red as he shoved Wooyoung’s chest with force enough to send him stumbling back. “I know you fucking saw me, but no! The great Jung Wooyoung is way too good to let a lowly fucking midfielder score. God fucking forbid!” He was huffing, chest rising and falling with the exertion of both running and yelling.

San waited for Wooyoung to open his mouth and say something stupid so that he could deck him right across his ridiculously chiseled jaw, but before he could, the coaches took matters into their own hands, blowing their whistles loud enough that the workers in the cafeteria could probably hear them. Wooyoung’s eyes darted to the coaches before returning his gaze to San, defiance and resentment oozing off of him in sickeningly potent waves.

Even as the coaches approached, San couldn’t help himself, stepping forward to fist the front of Wooyoung’s scrimmage pinnie. “I have been so patient with you this past week and a half. I haven’t uttered a fucking peep towards you, and you continue to be a dick for reasons I will never understand. I’m tired of being your doormat, of being someone who’s only here for you to fuel your insufferably large ego.”

“That’s enough, Choi!” the head coach barked, eyes steely as he finally reached the two, and San reluctantly let go, shoving Wooyoung back once more. “I don’t have the slightest idea what the hell is wrong with you two, but you guys are playing university level sports, and you should be able to leave whatever issues you have with each other off the field.”

San stayed silent, taking deep breaths to stabilize himself and keep himself from doing anything else rash. From beside him, he could see Wooyoung about to say something before their head coach cut him off.

“Nothing from you, Jung. This behavior is unacceptable, and either you need a new eye prescription, or your judgment is extremely poor. Dribbling through all those defenders when Choi was open, especially Jongho, was stupid. And no matter how poorly Choi handled it, he’s absolutely right that you were selfish. That is not the kind of play that got you a scholarship here, and you would do well to remember that.” 

Much to San’s enjoyment, Wooyoung looked properly chastised, biting his cheek in frustration as he stared down at his cleats.

Guilt lined his stomach as he began to cool off, making him uneasy and very remorseful. He casted a quick glance at Seonghwa, who only looked worried rather than disappointed or upset as San had originally expected. He turned back to the coaches, bowing low in apology. “I’m sorry, coach,” San said sincerely, truly trying to reign in his anger and bite his tongue. “I shouldn’t have lost my head like that.”

The coach nodded tersely in his direction. “I appreciate the sentiment, but this cannot happen again. We have very limited time to train you guys and get everyone conditioned and ready for university soccer. Losing valuable time like this is inconvenient to both us,” he motioned to the other coaches, “and your fellow teammates. You and Jung will run the field for the rest of practice, and hopefully, you’ll think next time before you act.”

San chewed the inside of his cheek as he nodded. “Yes, coach.”

Wooyoung echoed him before they both took off to run the outside of the soccer field, silent as they ran alongside each other. San didn’t care when Wooyoung started pulling ahead, as he was determined to just ignore his existence completely. Through his dark fringe, heavy with sweat, he saw Wooyoung briefly look back at him before he pulled further away, and San just let him.

Once the head coach called the end of practice, Wooyoung and San regrouped with the team and they broke out before being released for the evening. The midfielder felt like he’d lost out on valuable playing time which irritated him to no end, so he decided that he’d just get dinner alone and then come back to the field to practice later. He didn’t speak when he got to the locker room, hurrying to change out of his cleats before rushing out ahead of all his teammates.

As he was leaving the field, a hand caught his shoulder, and when he turned, Seonghwa was standing before him with his brows pinched in concern. “Are you alright San?” he asked genuinely.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He replied tightly, giving the older boy a smile that he knew didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Sorry for not listening to you earlier. I just– I lost control and it won’t happen again. I promise.” And he meant it. Disrupting practice was the last thing he’d wanted to do, and the fact that Wooyoung was the one who’d made him angry enough to do it only rubbed salt in the wound.

“San…” Seonghwa looked as though he was lost for words, which was a first because he usually always knew what to say.

“It’s whatever. I’ll see you later, okay?” He tried to sound reassuring, like he just needed to cool down and find his head and then he’d be fine, but Seonghwa didn’t look wholly convinced.

San didn’t try to persuade him any further, turning and walking away without another word. He could apologize and explain himself later when he’d worked through whatever mess was in his head, but for now, he just needed to find something to eat and make up for lost time.

Not wanting to eat heavily, San grabbed an assortment of vegetables and rice and went light on the meat. Filling and nutritious, but not enough to make him yack it all up later when he ran.

The cafeteria was nearly empty, only a few people here and there who’d probably forgone showers to eat first. San didn’t waste time, not wanting to see any of his teammates, and especially not wanting to see Wooyoung after they’d come to blows on the field. Even after cooling down a bit, he couldn’t promise a level head if Wooyoung said or did the wrong thing.

After ten minutes of hastily shoveling food into his mouth, he noticed a pair of his teammates, Juyeon and Jongho, walking into the cafeteria, and it was then that he decided he’d stayed long enough. Something akin to shame had woven its way into San’s skin, and he currently didn’t feel comfortable enough to face his teammates. 

Making a beeline for the tray dropoff, he quickly placed it onto the conveyor belt that would take it to the dishroom before escaping from the hall, his bag haphazardly thrown over his shoulder in his haste to exit. He made sure to take the long way so that he wouldn’t chance a run-in with his roommates, and when he finally stepped outside, he let out a sigh of relief into the warm summer air.

Once he immersed himself into his training, he knew the tight coil in his chest would unwind and he would finally be able to breathe again. Soccer had been his escape from – well, anything and everything. When he needed to right himself and find solid ground to stand on, there was nothing like a breeze blowing through his hair as he dribbled down a soccer field, blood pumping and lungs on fire.

His fingers shook a little as he laced his cleats once more and pulled some cones and a ball out of his bag. He would just do some dribbling drills and conditioning, maybe some shooting drills as well, before he called it a night. Overdoing it wasn’t his purpose, and he still needed to be in good condition for the last few days of training.

Once out on the field, he relished the familiar sight of the soccer goals on each side of the field and the feeling of the turf under his cleats. This is when he could truly say he was in his element.

Setting his ball down, he positioned his cones in a square-like shape, two in each corner, and then he began. He weaved and shuffled and spun, coming up with combinations and moves on the fly, and he finally stopped thinking. He stopped dwelling on his blunders in practice and instead focused on the task before him.

He was so focused, sweat rolling down his face and his back as minutes became an hour, that he didn’t notice the new presence on the field watching him until the person cleared their throat. Slowly, San came to a stop, taking a breath before facing them. He thought maybe Seonghwa or Yunho had realized his plans and come to talk to him, or maybe one of the coaches had caught him and was about to tell him to head back to his dorm, but standing a few feet away from him was no other than Jung Wooyoung, the absolute last person San wanted to see at the moment.

San bit his cheek hard enough to actually draw blood, sending Wooyoung the nastiest glare he could muster before turning away and continuing his drills. It went on like that for a while, San training and Wooyoung watching, but despite how long San had ignored him, it seemed as though Wooyoung didn’t plan on leaving. 

Once more, San came to a stop, fed up with Wooyoung and whatever he was doing. San’s training was a result of the striker’s petty, ego-fueled decision making, so the least he could do was let him train in peace.

“Don’t you have better things to do than stand here and bother me?” The midfielder gritted out, his back to the other.

“M’just watching,” Wooyoung stated, clearly uncaring of San’s obvious hostility. “Why? Am I making you nervous? Got performance anxiety?”

San ignored the innuendo. “No. I’m just not one to keep bad company, and I’ve gotta say, after today, you’re about as bad as it gets.”

“Oh, really? And why is that?” He asked, obviously taunting him. It seemed as though he knew he’d struck a nerve, and it apparently wasn’t enough, because right now, he was damn near tap dancing on it.

And Christ was he good at it. Maybe he should’ve taken up a career in that instead.

“Maybe it’s because you think you're God’s gift to Earth. Oh, or it could be that you think being a striker gives you the right to treat everyone else however you want,” San rounded on him, eyes blazing as he continued, “Or maybe, just maybe, it’s because you’ve got your head so far up your ass that you prioritize your stupid personal agenda over the team. I came here to play soccer and win championships, but you just seem to be here to fuck around and piss everyone off.”

“Oh like you’re a saint,” Wooyoung scoffed, arms crossed and head tilted in what San saw as the body language of someone who wanted a fight. “You sound so pretentious, you know that? Everyone here wants to play soccer, dipshit. You’re not special because you like the sport.”

“No, but at least I’m not a stuck-up asshole. From day one, you’ve been nothing but rude, and honestly, I don’t know if it’s from whatever glory you had in high school, or if you’ve just always been a shitty person, but everyone at this camp made it. Everyone here is playing college soccer for some reason or another, and you aren’t any different. You know, I used to be excited about playing on the same team with you, but now I think you’re just wasted talent.” San watched as Wooyoung’s fists began to clench, as his taunting expression melted into something more passionate. More involved , and San knew he’d hit a sensitive spot.

He didn’t have the inhibitions he would’ve had he been afforded the time to cool down. Instead, he just wanted to hurt. He wanted to squeeze until Wooyoung cracked under the pressure, wanted to add fuel to the flames until they were climbing so high that Wooyoung had no hope of escaping.

“Really, I don’t even know what the coaches saw in you.” San had driven the final nail into the coffin, and suddenly, Wooyoung was bounding forward before San could so much as take a step back.

With San’s shirt fisted tightly in his hands, he hissed out, “What do you know about me? You don’t know shit. You’re just some stupid midfielder with the perfect high school experience. I bet everyone just loved you, huh? The perfect, picturesque soccer player with a fuckload of friends and girls throwing themselves at you. You were just given shit because the talent pool was so small, and you were their only fucking hope.”

San’s eyebrows could’ve rocketed off into space with the intensity of his shock. Anger filled his lungs, invaded every cell, and embedded itself into his chest. He shoved Wooyoung so hard that he hit the ground with a muffled grunt. “Maybe I don’t know anything about you – I mean fuck , who would want to get to know you when you’re this shitty of a person?” He said as he stared down at the striker, “But you know nothing about me either. Whatever you’ve got going on in your fucked up little head isn’t my fault. I haven’t the slightest idea why I’m the one who has to put up with all of your shit, but I’m tired of it. It’s not my responsibility to cater to your fragile ego.”

Wooyoung slowly got up, face screwed into a hateful look that San had never seen before in all the days they’d been at the camp. Wooyoung had never spared him a glance with an ounce of kindness or patience or amiability, but this look was pure venom.

San didn’t wait before stepping into his space, less than a foot away from where Wooyoung stood. The striker didn’t back down, didn’t blink, didn’t so much as sway. They stared at each other for a good few seconds, the tension so thick it was suffocating. “Okay, Choi. 1v1 right now. I’ll show you exactly why I’m here,” Wooyoung finally said, shouldering past him to move the cones and grab the ball.

He said nothing in response, but he mentally prepared himself for whatever Wooyoung might throw at him. On the field at such a late hour with just the two of them, there were no set in stone rules or referees to act as a buffer. It was just San, Wooyoung, and the animosity that had been building since the first day at camp.

There wasn’t much time between the set up and the beginning of their little 1v1 game, but San had been practicing for a while, and he was still warm. Wooyoung, on the other hand, had not given himself any time to stretch, too impulse driven and determined to prove himself, and it showed in the stiffness of his movements.

He dribbled side to side a little as he decided on the most efficient way to score, barely inching forward before suddenly attempting to fake left and spin back to the right. Maybe it was the adrenaline. Maybe it was the fact that he was already warmed up. Or maybe it was just his determination not to lose. 

Whatever it was, it had made everything feel like it was in slow motion. In his mind’s eye, he could see exactly what he needed to do before he ever did it. 

San was fast, of course, but Wooyoung seemed to be particularly heavy footed that night which made it easy for San to strip the ball from his possession and outmaneuver him. They hadn’t specified whether they were only playing half the field, but San didn’t dare to hesitate and think about it.

Racing down towards the opposite end of the field with his heart rabbiting against his ribcage, he let experience take the reins. He didn’t let himself deliberate on choices or direction because he didn’t have to. Even as Wooyoung miraculously caught up, breaths heavy as he exhaled, he didn’t falter. 

Just as Wooyoung attempted to steal the ball back, San pulled a similar move to the one Wooyoung had failed to execute earlier, faking and spinning around him. The goal was looming closer and closer, so close that he could taste the victory on his tongue. Wooyoung was no longer of considerable concern as San’s subconscious zeroed in on the back of the net.

Push. Go. Run. Stretch.

Behind him somewhere, he could hear Wooyoung’s footfalls, heavy but quick, and he knew that if he didn’t shoot now that he wouldn’t get the chance to. Wooyoung may have not been warmed up, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t steal the ball if he really wanted to.

So he did it. He kicked hard , letting the responsibility of aim fall onto his muscle memory and praying that it wouldn’t fail him.

It didn’t. 

The ball hit the back of the net before falling unceremoniously onto the turf and rolling to the left. It was quiet for a moment, only the sound of labored breathing filling the humid night air. After Wooyoung hadn’t said anything for a while and San had caught his breath and let himself relax a little, he slowly made his way over and scooped up his ball.

When he turned back, Wooyoung had this weird look on his face. Something between disbelief and shame. His brows were creased and his lips were pressed together tightly, and if San didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought Wooyoung was about to cry.

“I know you didn’t stretch, so I had the advantage,” San said, looking past Wooyoung rather than at him. “You’re a good striker. No one’s doubting your skills. But you’re a terrible teammate, and playing soccer with you sucks all the fun out of it. I don’t know what happened or why you feel the need to be an asshole, but if that’s all I’m ever gonna get from you, then just do the mature thing and stay the hell away from me.”

San didn’t wait for a response or a reaction. He decided, as he packed up and changed out of his cleats for the last time that night, that he was done with the entire situation. From now on, he was solely here to play soccer.

He wouldn’t allow for any more distractions.

The final day of camp rolled around, and San finally realized why Seonghwa had been so cryptic about scrimmaging more.

All of the upperclassmen were already buzzing around the locker room by the time all of the freshmen had made it, and San was thoroughly surprised that Seonghwa hadn’t accidentally woken up him or Yunho while he was getting ready since he usually wasn’t very quiet in the mornings.

At first, San and Yunho had thought they were late, but when they checked their phones – after a good five minutes of hurriedly throwing on practice gear and brushing their teeth – they realized they were actually ahead of schedule.

“What’s going on?” San asked as he approached Seonghwa, puzzled by the excitement that was buzzing through the locker room.

“Well, it’s the last day of camp,” Seonghwa said, as though it was supposed to hold some sort of significance to him other than the fact that was finally gonna be able to go home and snuggle with his cat Byeol.

“And?” San asked tiredly. 

“The coaches have something special planned for us,” is what the third year said, and San wasn’t able to get any more out of him. With his questioning basically leading to a dead end, he had no choice but to hurry up and check it out himself. Yunho wasn’t too far behind him, also eager to figure out what all the fuss was about.

All the questions that San had in his head were answered the second he saw another crowd of guys, all looking college aged and sporting black jerseys accented in a lime green color. If San wasn’t mistaken, they matched the colors of Daegu University to a t.

Once their entire team had filtered out into the field, they did their usual dynamic stretching and warmed up a bit before the coaches finally rounded them up to explain what the plan was for the day. The head coach confirmed San’s suspicions that the other team was from Daegu University, and they would be scrimmaging them for their final day of camp. A true, full on match, forty-five minute halves, timeouts, and even referees.

San could feel the excitement building up in his chest as he listened to their head coach name off their starters, his name following Seonghwa’s as the midfielders were listed. Wooyoung’s name was called along with Juyeon’s, and Seon, another third year, was picked to be the goalkeeper. Jongho had been put in the back to cover once of the defensive positions, meaning three out of their eleven starters were freshmen. Yunho’s observation had been spot on when he’d said that the batch of first years were pretty talented this time around.

The sun was high in the sky as both teams took their positions after breaking out of their huddles, the air filled with anticipation and excitement. This was San’s first time playing competitive college soccer, even if the match didn’t truly count for anything, and he wanted to be sure that whatever he did today, he’d be proud of it.

San watched as the referees came out onto the field for the kickoff, and the rest of it went by in a blur. The match began in a flurry of energy and chaos, both teams eager to show off their own skills and specialties. For a minute or two, both teams aggressively fought for possession, but eventually, Seoul University came out on top as San took control of midfield. His ball control and speed, along with his ability to analyze the field let him maneuver through his defenders with minor difficulties.

With a swift pass to Seonghwa, he set the stage for a promising play, eyes following the ball as it left Seonghwa’s possession and landed in Juyeon’s, who made quick work of his defender and sent the ball hurtling towards Daegu’s goal.

The opposing defender dove for the ball, just barely a fingertip out of reach, but it was enough to have the ball sailing into the net behind him. 

Though morale was high, the celebration for the goal was short-lived. Daegu University’s team wasn’t phased by the early goal, possibly even more focused than at the beginning, and the game became something like a battle. Sweat rolled down San’s temple as he worked his ass off to intercept passes and disrupt the flow of Daegu’s offense. His quick footwork and spatial awareness granted him a bit of an advantage as he fell into more of a defensive midfielder role.

However, Daegu fought back relentlessly, and by halftime, they’d manage to equalize the score and then take the lead, now up two to one. Seon had tried his best as their goalkeeper, but he just wasn’t able to match up this game, and San knew that Yunho would undoubtedly be subbed in for the next half after the performance he’d shown these past two weeks. When the whistle blew, signaling the end of the first forty-five minute half, both teams filed into their respective locker rooms, sweaty and high on adrenaline. 

After all the conditioning they’d done the past two weeks, San wasn’t feeling especially tired, but he felt the pressure of the game. The mood was tense in the locker room as they waited for the head coach to walk in, and once he did, criticisms and strategies began to fill the air.

San didn’t mean to, but his eyes glanced over towards where Wooyoung had taken a seat, and he could see the frustration written all over his face. There hadn’t been too much offense for them aside from the initial play, and Wooyoung hadn’t really even been a part of that one. He knew the striker was itching to score.

With more determination, Seoul University made their way back onto the field and the second half commenced. Daegu started with possession of the ball, but San made quick work of the opposing team’s midfielders, more determined than ever to create chances for their strikers.

The game grew more intense as both teams' level of play developed with the flow of the match. They traded goals with each other, the score reaching 3-2, before San managed to zip through his defenders and receive a pass from Seonghwa that he then passed to Juyeon. Juyeon didn’t hesitate before kicking it over to Wooyoung, who was in prime scoring position and made good on the play, scoring his first goal of the day. The second one had been Seonghwa’s doing after he’d been able to break away and weave through the defense for a dead-on shot.

With the score sitting at 3-3 and only fifteen minutes left in the match, it was not only a matter of who could score, but who could counterbalance their opponent’s offense and avoid overtime as well.

San noticed that some of the Daegu player’s were getting tired and winded, clearly not having conditioned as well as Seoul University had, which put them at a disadvantage in the long run. San capitalized on the sluggishness of the midfielders, intercepting a poorly timed pass that he quickly moved up the field. Both Seonghwa and their other midfielder were covered, and San was in possession of the ball near the center of the pitch with about two minutes left.

The game’s outcome hung precariously over his broad shoulders as he scanned the field while also ensuring that no one was coming to steal it from him.

It was something like deja vu as San made eye contact with Wooyoung. 

Wooyoung was tirelessly working to get open, a bit of red hair dye mixed with his sweat as it rolled down his face. The pinched look on Wooyoung’s face spoke volumes. It told San that he wasn’t expecting to get a pass from him, and a part of him didn’t want to pass to Wooyoung, but San knew that too many passes would jeopardize their victory. 

And San had made a promise to himself. No more distractions. Soccer took priority.

He recognized the opportunity and with no more hesitation, gave one firm nod to Wooyoung before threading it expertly between the defenders, setting Wooyoung up for a perfect shot. Wooyoung received the pass, unable to hide the surprise on his face but not letting it distract him from his objective.

With nimble feet and nearly perfected dribbling, Wooyoung made his way around his sole defender and sent the ball soaring with a powerful strike, the net rippling with the impact of the ball.

The silence was near deafening before one of the referees blew their whistle, but then cheers erupted as their team flooded the field and raced towards Wooyoung. Seonghwa caught San by the back of the neck with a muscled arm and dragged him towards the buzzing huddle.

“That pass was fucking insane!” Seonghwa yelled in his ear as they reached the rest of their team. San went to say something to him, to thank him or maybe to wave him off with embarrassment, but he was unceremoniously dragged into the middle of the group before he could.

“Look at our freshmen!” Juyeon said, beaming from ear to ear. “You guys played one hell of a game!” He breathed, clapping both Wooyoung and San and their shoulders. San couldn’t help but smile as his teammates cheered for them, giving them a generous amount of high fives and ‘hell yeah!’s.

The team quieted down a bit once the coaches began to push through the crowd of sweaty players, all beaming and very proud of the outcome of the match.

The head coach held up a hand to silence the team completely before speaking. “The beginning of the game was rocky. There were a lot of defensive holes that we’ll need to patch before the year starts, but you guys held your own despite the fact that this was the first time you guys were playing as a real team. You fought with a lot of heart and determination that I hope will carry over into this upcoming season. However, I would like to specifically commend Jung and Choi for their performance, teamwork, and maturity.” San’s eyes widened a fraction as he risked a quick glance at Wooyoung who was also, coincidentally, looking at him with the same puzzled expression.

“Despite that you’ve had your… differences, this camp,” the head coach began, clearly choosing his words carefully, “You were able to come together when it counted and secure us a victory. You truly have proved that you both deserve to be here, playing college level ball.”

“Thank you, coach.” San thanked him genuinely, bowing deeply at the praise.

Wooyoung seemed at a loss for words, like he wasn’t expecting those words at all. To be fair, San hadn’t either, but he knew they held a different significance to Wooyoung, even if he didn’t know what it was. Wooyoung stuttered out a quiet but heartfelt ‘thank you’ as well.

The night they had their little one on one match, Wooyoung had clued him in on a lot of his internal struggles just by words alone. It almost seemed like he needed his soccer skills to be validated, and maybe in some way, he did. It didn’t justify his poor treatment of his teammates or San, but he supposed there could be a deeper reason than just Wooyoung being an asshole.

Their head coach made a few more announcements about the season, practices, and student athlete living accommodations before sending them on their way to clean up and get packed to go home.

San was about to run up to Yunho and congratulate him on quite a few great saves, but before he could, he heard a familiar voice calling his name. With a deep breath, he turned around, already knowing that it would be Wooyoung standing before him.

“Look, I just wanted to– well, I wanted to apologize. For everything. I’m sorry for how I treated you at the beginning,” Wooyoung slowly said, and San could see how hard the striker was trying to bridge whatever gap he’d wedged between them.

San hummed. “While I do appreciate the apology, it sucks that it only came after this.” He didn’t want to focus on the negatives or discredit Wooyoung’s apology, because it truly was genuine, but he also wanted it known that he would not tolerate being walked all over anymore.

Biting his lip, Wooyoung nodded in agreement. “You’re right. And you were right before.” San raised a brow, a bit confused at the vague statement. “About me having my own issues,” Wooyoung clarified, “It wasn’t right for me to project my frustrations on you, and I’m sorry for that too.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry too, for the insensitive things I said that night.” The midfielder knew that he’d also been a little loose-lipped and mean that night. 

Wooyoung smiled weakly. “Well, you weren’t wrong, and after everything, I think I deserved them.” The striker’s mannerisms were much meeker than they usually were, which made San frown. Past all their personal drama, they’d just won their first game together because they’d truly played as a team, and San felt like there had to be some joy in knowing that. Everyone on the team was here to play soccer, to enjoy the sport and uplift their team.

Wooyoung had been brave enough to apologize and make things right, and San didn’t want their victory to be stained by remorse.

“Wooyoung,” San said, getting the attention of the redhead who’d taken to staring at his cleats. The striker looked up. “You played well today. I was wrong that night.” Wooyoung’s eyes were wide as San spoke. “You do deserve to be here. I hope that, in the future, we can help our team win like we did today.”

Wooyoung’s mouth rounded out like he was trying to piece together enough syllables and vowels to give San a halfway dignified answer, but all he got out was, “Me too.”

“Have a good rest of your summer, Wooyoung.” And then San disappeared into the locker room, heart lighter than it’d been these last two weeks.

The rest of summer seemed to pass by in a blur. As soon as San had gotten home, he’d just taken up an even more intense training routine that nearly matched the caliber of their camp. During that time, he’d also sorted out his rooming situation. Yunho, Yunho’s boyfriend Mingi, and San would all be sharing a student athlete dorm along with another random roommate that they had yet to hear about.

The part of the university that was responsible specifically for dorm assignments seemed to have their hands full, so getting any answers from them was like pulling teeth. After San got his third automated email response when he’d inquired about their fourth roommate, he just decided that he’d find out when he got there.

He wasn’t really worried about it anyway since he had Yunho and Mingi, so whoever their fourth was wouldn’t matter all that much.

As his move in day got closer, his excitement grew. Being in Namhae wasn’t horrible or anything. It was beautiful, boasting crystal clear water, dense forests, and sandy beaches.

But he’d lived there all his life, and he was more than ready for a change. The hustle and bustle of Seoul drew him in like a moth to a flame. He wanted to experience the city’s nightlife, meet a ton of new people, and find all the niche cafes and stores that he could spend time in. 

He couldn’t wait for the team dinners and the traveling and the late night bus rides home that would be filled with excited chatter about their latest win. San, for so long, had lacked having passionate teammates. Most of the guys on his high school team were in it just for fun or for the letterman jackets, which was fine, but San wanted more. He craved the connections he could make with people who thought like him– people who loved soccer just as much as he did and wanted to win, to be the best. People who didn’t care about team politics because at the end of the day, they just wanted to be on the field with the wind to their backs and a ball at their feet.

A week before he had to leave, he was nearly all packed up. Anything he didn’t need for the next seven days was stuffed in his car’s trunk or packed up in his room and waiting to be moved. All of San’s important posters were rolled up and stored safely in tubes, his XBox was in its box and sitting with his TV and controllers, and his large collection of stuffed animals had been shoved into vacuum bags (he had quietly apologized to them as he watched the bag flatten out before his eyes because seeing Shiber’s head strangely elongated like that made him feel a guilt he never thought he’d experience.)

His sister had poked fun at him for being so ready to leave (it was her own way of saying that she’d miss him), and he could tell his mother was a little sad, so he made sure to spend plenty of time with the both of them before the week was up.

The four hour drive to Seoul wasn’t all that bad, even by himself, but the traffic once he got into Seoul was a little treacherous. San wasn’t used to being bumper to bumper on a highway, so he was a little anxious as he made his way through, but once he made it to SNU, it was just about finding where his dorm was.

Despite San’s initial reservations about SNU’s dorming system, it proved to be a much smoother process than he’d anticipated. There were huge signs with arrows and a ton of balloons floating around the place, making it pretty obvious where he needed to go.

The check-in was as easy as it could be when there were so many student athletes milling around the place trying to park, move-in, or find their friends. San was eventually able to get his room key and his student ID from the lady in the lobby, which meant that he then had to start the process of moving all of his things into the dorm. 

The dorm had trolleys that could be checked out, for which San thanked every divine being he knew, because he had a shit ton of things to move in, was on the third floor, and didn’t want to make a dozen trips.

As it turned out, Yunho and Mingi had arrived at around the same time – though earlier than San – and were already well on their way to being moved in, which San figured out once he’d made his first trip up to their dorm, number 3036, and saw them leaving to get the last of their things.

San made a couple more trips, the last one with Yunho and Mingi helping him, before he was finally able to collapse onto the living room couch and rest, sweat beading his hairline as he huffed. He felt the couch dip to his left as the other two took a seat beside him, looking no better than San himself.

“Christ, that’s a lot of student athletes,” San groaned, thinking about all the people he’d nearly hit with his cart or had been hit by as he traversed the halls.

“And what’s crazy is that this isn’t the only residence hall strictly for student athletes,” Yunho added, head lying on Mingi’s shoulder with his eyes closed.

“It isn’t the only move-in day either,” Mingi said, eyes cast downward as he scrolled on his phone.

“D’you think our roommate’s gonna be here today, or one of the other move-in days?” San asked.

Yunho hummed. “Mmm, I’m not sure. If you wanna check what their name is, all our doors had a paper with our names taped to it.”

San made a quiet noise of realization at Yunho’s statement. He was right. When San had first come into their dorm, his door was closed with a paper on the front labeling it as his. He’d been a little too ready to get the whole move-in process done, though, so he hadn’t even thought to look at the door across from his for their last roommate’s name. 

“I want to, but I also don’t want to get up,” San whined, his curiosity not strong enough to force himself up on his feet again.

“For a soccer player, you sure are lazy,” Mingi teased, making Yunho snort in amusement. San rolled his head to the left to direct a squinting glare in Mingi’s general direction. Yunho might’ve caught a stray, but San just decided to chalk him up as collateral since he’d laughed at him. “I’ll go check,” Mingi sighed. He shoved a very disgruntled Yunho off of him, who landed with his head on San’s lap, and ambled over to the door across from San’s.

San waited as the seconds stretched on, wondering what was taking Mingi so long to read off the name. Maybe it was foreign and he hadn’t heard it before, but then again, he’d probably say something if that was the case. “Well?” San asked, turning as much as he could without disrupting the blonde laying on his thighs.

“Uhm,” the basketball player cleared his throat, sucking air through his teeth as though he wasn’t sure he should tell him. “Jung Wooyoung wouldn’t happen to be that teammate you fought with during summer camp, would he?”

A second of shocked silence passed through the apartment before San shot up from the couch, uncaring of the way Yunho flopped back as he was abandoned once more. “You’re joking,” San forced out as he strode towards Mingi to read the paper on the door as well, hoping that Mingi had just severely misread the name. When he read it, though, and he also saw Wooyoung’s name, he suddenly wished the ground would just swallow him whole.

“You’ve got to be kidding me right now.” Disbelief colored his tone as he tried to rationalize how, out of all the SNU student athletes, they had been stuck with the one guy San didn’t want to room with. The world seemed to laugh at him while he stood there wondering just how this would all unfold. Mingi made his way back over to the couch, trying his hardest not to laugh at the entirety of the situation.

Realistically, San and Wooyoung hadn’t left on bad terms. San remembered their little chat at the end of camp where they swapped apologies and smoothed things over, but that didn’t mean they were on good terms either. He knew that just being in the same locker room would feel awkward after their brief but hostile beginning, so he truly couldn’t imagine living in the room over from the striker. All the terribly inopportune instances where they would bump into each other on the way in and out of the bathroom or be left alone with no buffer between them or – God forbid – be stuck third and fourth wheeling while Yunho and Mingi made kiss-me eyes at each other.

Because San was internally panicking, he missed the sound of the door opening and suitcase wheels rolling on the wooden floor, realizing belatedly that the very person whose arrival he was dreading had just walked right through the front door.

“Yunho?” He heard a familiar voice ask in a pleasantly surprised tone.

“Long time, no see, Wooyoung,” Yunho replied casually, and San could hear the smile the taller boy had on his lips. “Did you have a good rest of your summer?”

“No kidding,” Wooyoung said, oblivious to San’s presence as he moved farther into the room. “It was good! Just trained a lot. I wasn’t expecting to have you as a roommate though. How convenient, huh?” He paused, looking over at the boy sitting beside Yunho. “Oh, you must be Mingi, Yunho’s boyfriend! I think I remember seeing you this summer.” Wooyoung was so friendly, his body language open and relaxed, which was a complete one-eighty from when San had first met him. San wondered, had they met under different circumstances, whether they would’ve gotten along– maybe even been friends, but he guessed he’d never know. What was done was done, and all they could do was move forward. At least, he hoped they would enough to prevent a miserable year, both in soccer and as roommates.

“Nice to meet you, Wooyoung,” Mingi replied happily. San knew that Mingi had no reason to dislike Wooyoung or be awkward around him because he’d been entirely detached from the whole summer camp situation, but still, San felt a little miffed as he watched the interaction. “I’ve heard so much about you!” San narrowed his eyes at the thinly veiled implication.

“Good things, I hope?” Wooyoung laughed.

“Of course,” Mingi said easily– though San saw the quick glance he threw his way once Wooyoung was no longer looking at him. San flipped him off.

“Well, I guess I should finish moving my stuff in before it gets too late. Is our fourth roommate here?” the striker asked. Honestly, San was surprised Wooyoung hadn’t so much as glanced his way, but he supposed he should be thankful for that, since it had given him time to collect himself.

“Mm, he is. He’s been standing over there the entire time like a damn weirdo, though.” Oh, San was going to kill Mingi.

If San thought he wanted the ground to swallow him whole before, then he wanted the entire planet to just implode the moment Wooyoung met his gaze and his eyes widened. “Hi?” San asked more than said, horrified right down to the last hair on his head.

The only comfort, if any, was that Wooyoung seemed just as scandalized at seeing him, his mouth opening and closing a few times as he tried to form a coherent sentence. Ultimately, he just cleared his throat and looked away, eyes glazing over with one of the only emotions San could recognize on Wooyoung. Contempt . “I’m gonna go get the rest of my stuff,” he muttered flatly before rushing out and slamming the door behind him.

“Well aren’t you a charmer,” Yunho teased, eyebrows raised in amusement.

“Go to hell,” San huffed out, spinning on his heel and disappearing in his room to hide and mope about his shitty luck.

Later that night, after San had finally been dragged out of his room by Yunho (he prided himself on the fact that there was no kicking and screaming– just some whining that was unbecoming and very unfit for someone his age), he found himself sitting at the kitchen island with his three roommates as they made a list of rules and chores together.

They all agreed upon seven fundamental rules:

1. Don’t touch other people’s stuff or eat other people’s food w/o asking
2. Clean up after eating or cooking. Don’t leave food in the sink.
3. Quiet hours after 11pm unless otherwise agreed upon.
4. Don’t leave messes in the common area.
5. If you have an issue with a roommate, say something. No beating around the bush.
6. Let everyone know if you want to bring guests in case it’s not a good time/day.
7. Be considerate of others if you plan on fucking in the dorm. BE QUIET and NO PUBLIC SPACES! (Yunho and Mingi!!)

San had ensured that number seven was on the list, for his, and by association, Wooyoung’s, sake. He wasn’t sure of the type of physical relationship Yunho and Mingi had, but he didn’t really want to find out either, so it was better just to cover all of his bases now.

After they made their list of rules, typed up on San’s laptop to be printed later, they moved on to making a sheet for their chores. All four of them agreed on a rotating schedule where their duties would shift from week to week, and once they were finished, they could just check them off. Throughout their entire little rules and regulations debrief, San was relieved that he and Wooyoung hadn’t run into any conflicts, as he was fully prepared for Wooyoung to argue against him or disagree just to be difficult, but he didn’t.

After that, they all agreed to order takeout for the night and then settle in, because as San was coming to find out, moving took its own kind of toll. Along with the physical aspect of move-in day, there were also the psychological and emotional effects from saying goodbye to his mom and sister as well as acclimating to his new environment.

It was weird to not have the same walls, the same decorations, the same people, the same furniture surrounding him. It almost felt like he was about to begin an overly long hotel stay, but he knew that his time in Seoul had more permanence than that.

Luckily, Yunho hadn’t pushed the idea of them eating together, electing to watch a movie with Mingi in his room, which meant that San didn’t have to sit through an awkward dinner with Wooyoung or make useless conversation that might just shake the already unstable foundation of whatever rocky relationship they currently had.

The less San rocked the boat, the better their year of living together would go. He didn’t want to assume that Wooyoung would cause any conflict between them, but if he did, then San really didn’t see an outcome where he would be able to avoid it because they were A, dormmates, B, teammates, and C, friends with the same people.

San could only hope that that stage in their relationship was behind them.

Living with roommates for the first time taught you more about yourself than living at home ever would, and San knew that for a fact. At home, there was a sense of normalcy about everything. 

It wasn’t that his mom and sister didn’t annoy him from time to time, nor did it mean that their habits were stellar, but before moving, he hadn’t known any different. But now, he was beginning to realize what made him tick. There were preferences he didn’t know he had, boundaries that he’d never had to draw before, and pet peeves he’d discovered through the sudden feeling of annoyance that would rush through him anytime something irked him.

Yunho was really bad about forgetting to turn off the TV in the living room, leaving it to play in the background while he got distracted and moved on to the next thing on his mind. He was also exceptionally terrible about turning off lights and shutting doors, but he did like to keep things neat, and San never had to worry about a mess on his account.

On the other hand, Mingi was messy. Like, terribly so. Luckily, he mostly kept the mess inside of his room, but he didn’t do too well when it came to throwing things away or wiping down surfaces if he cooked or ate or spilled something. He also tended to forget his shoes in random places or throw down his books and bags as soon as he got in the door in favor of showering and napping. San had made sure to talk to him about it after he’d nearly eaten shit in the doorway after tripping over Mingi’s bookbag. Yunho tried to help by picking up after him, but even he’d gotten fed up at some point over the first two months and had a talk with Mingi.

And then there was Wooyoung. Honestly, as surprised as San was at first, Wooyoung wasn’t too hard to live with. He wasn’t messy, and he was a good cook. He made sure to keep on top of his chores, update their grocery list when needed, and wasn’t loud at night. He even went out of his way to make them snacks and cut up fruit for them, including San. The first time he’d knocked on San’s door with a bowl of blueberries, blackberries, and cut-up strawberries, San couldn’t do anything but let Wooyoung shove the bowl into his hand with an embarrassed look before scurrying off.

San did get a little irritated when Wooyoung would spend two to three hours in the bathroom in the evening, showering and whatever else he did during that time. He understood wanting to have a nice shower to relax or taking time to do skincare, but two to three hours? San never took more than an hour in the bathroom, so he couldn’t fathom what would take Wooyoung so long.

There was also a one off incident where Wooyoung had drank one of San’s protein shakes because he hadn’t had time for anything else before his morning run, but he’d amended that issue before San had even realized, buying him a new pack without so much as a word.

And then, there was the issue of words , or communication, to be more specific. Wooyoung, however civil he was as a roommate, wasn’t much more than that. Civil. It seemed that he didn’t want to talk to San, or maybe it was that he didn’t know how after their summer spat, but whatever it was, it made it almost impossible to have a normal conversation between them.

The most they’d talked was the two times Wooyoung came to San about roommate issues. 

The first time had been around 3am, maybe two weeks into being roommates, and San heard an irritable sounding procession of knocks on his door. Quickly telling his friends that he’d be back, he pulled off his headphones and went to the door, opening it to a very sleepy, very unamused Wooyoung.

“Could you keep the noise down? I have a test tomorrow and I’m trying to sleep,” Wooyoung sighed out, arms crossed over the front of his short sleeved tee like he was cold. His eyes were squinted against the glowing LED lights illuminating his room, and for a brief second, San thought he looked a little cute like that.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know I was being loud,” San said quietly, feeling a little bad that he’d been disturbing him.

“And also, why the hell are you up? We have practice in the morning, and I know tomorrow’s your busy day for classes.”

“Oh, uhm, I guess the time just got–”

Rolling his eyes, Wooyoung just shook his head, his faded red hair messy as it fell over his eyes. “It’s whatever, actually. I don’t give a damn. Just keep it down,” he cut him off.

San tried to wish him goodnight, but Wooyoung had shut the door on him before he could finish.

The second time was a little more jarring for San, as it had started with him coming face-to-face with a shirtless, freshly showered Wooyoung right outside their bathroom door. Steam rolled out of the door, barely there, though San could feel the waves of moisture as they invaded the drier air of the dorm.

In front of him, Wooyoung had one hand holding his towel to his hips, his opposite arm having what San assumed were his dirty clothes tucked underneath it. A couple water droplets rolled down his tanned torso, stopping once they hit the top of the towel.

“What the hell are you looking at,” Wooyoung snapped. His cheeks and ears looked a little red, probably from all the hot water he’d used while showering. San was sure he was gonna have to wait another hour before he could take a shower without the water going cold in the middle of it.

San flinched, eyes darting away from Wooyoung and at the next most interesting thing (the wall.) “Sorry, I didn’t mean–”

“And while I have you here, I’m just gonna ask you now. Please stop leaving your shit all over the bathroom sink. I almost knocked this into the drain, and I’m pretty sure it’s important to you.” Wooyoung held out his fist as far as he could with his clothes still tucked underneath his arm, and San gave him a look of confusion as he slowly held out his palm. When Wooyoung opened his hand, San gasped as he saw the necklace his grandmother had gifted him a couple years ago drop into his palm.

“Oh. Thank you, Wooyoung,” San said genuinely, grateful that he hadn’t lost the necklace, as it was the last thing she’d given him before she passed. He didn’t even care about Wooyoung’s snappy tone or harsh words at the moment. “I’ll do better about picking up.”

“Keep that in mind for the dishes in the sink too, then,” Wooyoung grunted out, before disappearing into his room just like he had the first time.

Other than that, they only exchanged brief words about groceries and meal prepping and chores or talked a little when all four of them were in the living room or eating together in the tiny dining area that definitely wasn’t made with four grown men in mind. Every now and then, San or Wooyoung would cut a joke that the other just couldn’t help but laugh at, or they’d unintentionally build on each other’s jokes without realizing because ironically enough, they had the same humor. 

San had noticed that Wooyoung was bad about making sure he ate before working out, so he would always pack granola bars and some sort of electrolyte drink because watching Wooyoung pass out during one of their practices once was nearly enough to send him into cardiac arrest. He made sure to bring something for Wooyoung to fidget with on game days because his pre-game nerves were bad, and he almost never failed to pack his extra shin guards because Wooyoung had left both practices and games with shredded shins that took weeks to heal.

Wooyoung, in return, always made sure to write reminders for San to pack his cleats because he had a habit of throwing them in the corner of his room and forgetting to pack them for practice. Whenever he did laundry, he always checked in to make sure San had clean jerseys, shorts, and socks because San was also, coincidentally, bad about doing laundry regularly due to the insane amount of clothes he had. 

Even with all of their… whatever they were doing (San wasn’t sure how to label it), they rarely spoke to each other at all aside from the times that they did without meaning to. They barely offered each other a few seconds of eye contact or a quick thank you, and neither of them asked for anything more either.

But San should’ve known that whatever fragile peace they had wouldn’t last forever, and of course, his downfall would be none other than Yunho, Mingi, and their god awful relationship. Okay, not god awful, but certainly inconvenient for San’s plans to coast through first year as unwilling but peacefully coexisting roommates and then getting the heck out of dodge.

Yunho and Mingi had decided to schedule some fancy date at a restaurant they couldn’t cancel because, “It takes months to get a reservation here. We’ll never get another chance!” And coincidentally, it just so happened to fall on the day that they had originally planned to do their meal prepping together.

San tried not to blanch as he watched the two of them happily walk out the door as though they weren’t leaving him to fend for himself in what he anticipated would be the most awkward couple hours ever. And yeah, maybe he could have bailed with some lame excuse, but Wooyoung didn’t deserve to be put on meal prep duty by himself just because San didn’t know how to hold a conversation with him.

And so that’s how San found himself shoulder to shoulder with Wooyoung in their small kitchen, chopping carrots and lettuce while Wooyoung cooked the chicken and steamed the rice. Wooyoung looked calm, no anxiety written anywhere on his face, unlike San who was sure his discomfort was practically announcing itself with a damn megaphone.

As the silence dragged on, San found himself growing more and more antsy, dying to say something, anything to break tension he felt.

What came out of his mouth was meaningless, but at least it wasn’t embarrassing, and he’d count that as a win. 

“Where did you learn to cook?”

Wooyoung paused for a second as though he’d forgotten San was even there, and then he resumed his cooking, flipping the chicken in the pan and adding a little more seasoning. “My mom taught me some, and I learned the rest on my own.” 

“Ah, I see,” San offered weakly, falling quiet again. Wooyoung didn’t attempt to elaborate or make any further conversation, which made San even more nervous than he already was. He decided to try again.

“Uhm, what’s your favorite thing to cook?”

Wooyoung let out a sigh that made San wince, but he answered the question genuinely. “Seollangtang, probably. My mom made it for me a lot as a kid during the winter, and it’s not too heavy.”

San hummed, raising the cutting board he was using and tilting it so that he could scrape the sliced carrots into the designated bowl Wooyoung had given him. “I’ve actually never had Seollangtang. My mom wasn’t much of a cook, and my dad– well, he wasn’t really around to make it.” 

A noise of what San thought might be sympathy made its way past Wooyoung’s lips. “Mm, that’s too bad. Maybe I’ll make some one night.” 

It was an offhand comment, one made as Wooyoung scooped a pile of steaming rice into each of the tupperware containers laid across their tiny dining table, his concentration probably almost entirely channeled into not getting the sticky grains all over the counter, but for some reason, the offer made San smile.

“That would be nice,” he replied, throwing the unusable parts of the head of lettuce he’d moved on to chopping in the trash before putting the rest in a strainer to be rinsed. “Hey, Wooyoung–”

“San,” Wooyoung cut him off, setting down the now empty pot that the rice had been in. San froze, any and all comfort leaving his body as he waited for what Wooyoung would say. What was he thinking, trying to bridge this gap between them? He should’ve just kept his mouth shut and bided his time until Yunho and Mingi came back. “Look, I appreciate you trying to make this less awkward, but…”

“But?” San breathed out.

“You know we don’t have the best history. And yeah, we talked some at the end of camp but… being roommates isn’t just gonna magically fix us one day,” Wooyoung said, eyes scrutinizing like he wasn’t sure what San’s intentions were.

San knew that. He knew that this forced proximity wouldn’t erase the damage done at camp, but damn him if he wanted to at least coexist in the same space without feeling like there was a ticking time bomb in the room across from his. “Jesus, Wooyoung. It’s not like I wanted to be stuck here alone with you either.” Wooyoung bit his cheek at that. “But we’re roommates, and this awkward limbo that we’re in is killing me. Like, I think I’m gonna start growing gray hair soon. It doesn’t make it any better that I don’t even know why you didn’t like me before.”

Taking a deep breath, Wooyoung shook his head. “I was just projecting, which you already knew. It doesn’t really matter anyway. It’s not like you’d understand.”

“Don’t do that,” San griped, forgoing washing the lettuce in favor of facing the striker, his lower back leaned against the edge of the sink and his arms crossed over his chest.

“Do what, San?”

“Deflect. It clearly does matter,” San deadpanned. “And what if I do understand?”

Wooyoung looked a little annoyed that San hadn’t dropped it when he should’ve, but San felt like he had a right to know after their sorry start to camp. Plus, getting to know Wooyoung more on a personal level might end up helping their relationship in the long run. “You don’t know me, and you won’t understand. I know you won’t.”

“You don’t know me either. Try me.”

“San, just fucking drop it,” Wooyoung grit out. His mannerisms in that moment reminded him of the combative, cold Wooyoung that he’d been familiar with at camp. “It’s none of your damn business.”

“I’d agree with you except, for some reason, you chose to involve me in that business when you decided that you hated me the first day of camp. You involved me every time you hurt me on the field and insulted me in practice. You involved me when you went for that goal instead of passing because for some reason, you hated the idea that I might score instead of you.” San had gotten closer to Wooyoung, close enough to punctuate each sentence with a firm jab to the shoulder.

“Oh God, get over yourself, San. It could’ve been anyone, and it just so happened to be you. Tough luck. Suck it up.” Wooyoung didn’t back down, a fire in his eyes that San hadn’t had directed at him since the summer.

“But it was me. I was the one who had to endure while you threw your stupid ass tantrums. Not Seonghwa. Not Jongho or Yunho. Not Juyeon. Me. ”

“Fuck off, Choi! You’ll never understand what high school was like for me! You’ll never understand what it felt like to be looked down on, and it wasn’t even a lack of talent or dedication that did me in! It was my fucking sexuality.”

“Your sexuali–”

“I’m gay, San! And they treated me like a freak because of it. They made every practice, every game, a living hell for me. They singled me out, ostracized me, made me feel like I didn’t belong, like I didn’t deserve to be there, and for a while, I kind of believed them. They made me hate soccer. Made me dread every second I was gonna be on that field. They didn’t pass to me at all, didn’t include me in team things or check up on me if I was sick or injured. They hurt me in practice and in the locker room,” Wooyoung’s eyes were wide with anger and unshed tears, fists shaking at his sides. The raw intensity of Wooyoung’s gaze resonated with a part of San that he thought he’d buried a long time ago.

“I’m sorry, Wooyoung. I’m sorry you went through that, because no one deserves to be treated that way, especially not because of something like sexuality.” San hoped that he sounded as genuine as he wanted to.

“Easy for you to say,” Wooyoung scoffed, voice watery as his tears finally escaped. San watched as he turned away, quickly swiping a hand over his cheek in an attempt to hide himself. “You’re straight. You’ll never understand what it’s like to be treated that way because of your sexuality.”

San bit his tongue, swallowed the scalding rage that burned on the way back down. Wooyoung had no idea what the hell he was talking about, and however upset it made San, he knew that anger wouldn’t get them anywhere. If Wooyoung was gonna suck at communicating, San couldn’t too. Two wrongs didn’t make a right, and San was determined to finally settle this once and for all. “Wooyoung, I do understand. If you had ever stopped to ask instead of getting all twisted up in your own head, I would’ve told you I’m bisexual.”

Wooyoung paused for a second and then looked up as though San had struck him across the face.

“I didn’t have a team like yours. That much is true. They loved me regardless of who I dated, but my father was different. My dad was so– so angry when I came out to him and my mother. It was right after I’d broken up with my girlfriend, and I guess he thought it was just some phase, that I’d grow out of it or something or that it was my way of coping with my breakup,” San recounted, deflating as he told Wooyoung his story. 

Wooyoung was speechless, unsure of how to respond after blowing up and then realizing he was wrong.

“Well, at first he just let me be, but when he caught me with a guy, he was so pissed . Called me any slur he could think of and said he refused to have a son like me. He wanted me to give in, to say that it was all just some phase or a mistake, but I knew who I was. I knew I liked girls and guys, and that wouldn’t change. And then I had to get a couple jobs to continue playing for my travel team because my dad wouldn’t pay for them anymore. He got– physically violent a few times too, until my mom finally kicked him out.” As San continued to speak, the memories surfaced, one by one in chronological order. But they didn’t hurt like before because San had healed those wounds a long time ago. It was obvious that Wooyoung hadn’t been afforded the chance to do so.

“I’m sorry,” Wooyoung said quietly, eyes so remorseful that it ate away at San’s heart. “I didn’t mean to assume– or maybe I did, I dunno. I just– I remember seeing you at a tournament once, with your girlfriend I think, and god, my teammates just couldn’t stop raving about how perfect you were. How you were the kind of soccer player they wanted, not me and I just– I saw you at camp, and it immediately sent me spiraling.” There was so much pain in his voice. “I just wanted to prove that I was better than you, that I didn’t need to be you to be accepted. I’m sorry that it made me treat you so terribly. I swear, I’m not usually like that.”

“Wooyoung…” San sighed, no thought behind his actions as he reached out to take the striker’s hand in his. “I’m not going to say it’s okay, because it’s not. But I will say that I understand, and I’m glad that despite it all, you ended up here with us at SNU. You’re not defined by your sexuality or your shitty ass high school teammates, and for what it’s worth, I really think you’re one of the best strikers I’ve ever played with.”

Wooyoung’s laugh was watery and only half genuine, but it was a laugh. He shoved San’s shoulder as he wiped his tear-stained cheeks. “You don’t have to suck-up, San, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

San chuckled a little too, relieved that the tension that had been there earlier was dissipating as quickly as it had come. “I’m being serious, Wooyoung. And thank you for telling me. I know that must have been hard for you, harboring it all like that.”

“I survived,” Wooyoung shrugged, his cheeks reddened from the rubbing and the crying. “And thank you for telling me too, even if I kind of forced you to. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

San let out a relieved sigh, sagging backwards against the sink. “I’m so glad we talked. I was serious earlier when I said all this tension was gonna give me gray hairs.”

Wooyoung gave him the warmest look he’d ever given him, his shoulders less hunched and his lips pulled into a small grin rather than a tight line. His eyes were still red and a little watery, but he looked more at ease than he’d ever been around San. “I’m glad too. Now, let’s finish meal prepping before Yunho and Mingi get home and destroy all our hard work.”

“Aye aye, captain,” San saluted him. He couldn’t contain the silly grin that came with the feeling of resolved tension.

“Oh, fuck off.” Wooyoung smacked his arm.

After they’d had their little talk and called a truce, their roommate situation became much more enjoyable. They actually held conversations without Yunho and Mingi around, even if it was about inconsequential things like ranting about one of their professors or discussing which dorm they thought was making the entire second floor smell like weed (luckily, it wasn’t their floor.)

It was late evening by the time Wooyoung, San, and Yunho had stumbled into their dorm, exhausted and sweaty after their soccer practice. Yunho had all but bolted towards his and Mingi’s bathroom, desperate for a hot shower, but San had lingered back, contemplating what post-practice snack he wanted. He was in no hurry to shower anyway because for some reason, their dorm showers never quite worked right if they were both in use at the same time. 

As San ambled over to their fridge, he realized that Wooyoung wasn’t too far behind him, probably in search of a snack as well.

Bent down, he rummaged through the fridge, groaning at the lack of food they had. “How is it that we’re out of literally everything?” he sighed out, reaching into the left drawer to pull out a sealed plastic bag with one single gala apple left in it. Silently, he removed the apple from the bag and moved to throw the bag in the trash.

Wooyoung chuckled, “Well, with thing 1 and thing six-foot-two eating as much as they do, it’s not that surprising, is it? Plus, we’ve been pretty busy these last couple weeks. I can’t remember the last time we actually went grocery shopping.” The striker caught the fridge door as it was closing, ducking down and coming back out with a half eaten container of strawberry banana yogurt in his hand. It seemed like clockwork as he grabbed a spoon from the drawer by the stove.

“I guess you’re right,” San shrugged, taking a bite of the apple in his hand.

“Guess that means we need to go grocery shopping, huh? Unless you want to live off of ramen and collagen jelly for the next week.”

He shuddered at the thought and shook his head. “I’m not sure I can handle that with the way coach makes us practice.”

“Mmm, tomorrow’s our rest day. How about we go grocery shopping after our classes?” Wooyoung suggested, finally popping off the top of the yogurt container and eating his first spoonful. San agreed easily, the threat of a poor diet being enough to scare him into doing a lot of things.

As they stood there munching on their snacks, their conversation drifted from groceries to their mutual hatred of a particular professor. San rolled his eyes, mimicking the droning voice of their professor. “And for the next two hours, we’ll be discussing the finer points of 18th century economic theory. I hope you’re all just as thrilled as I am.”

The hand Wooyoung was holding his spoon in flew up to his mouth as he giggled, nearly dropping the yogurt itself. “God, I don’t think I’ve ever heard a voice as monotone as his. I could sleep through that class and probably not miss anything important. But have you noticed that he wears that same ugly brown sweater every Tuesday?”

San snorted, wondering how anyone in their right mind could miss it. “Maybe it’s his designated ‘torture my students’ sweater. Nothing like economic theory to make you wish you were dead.”

They laughed together, the sound softly floating through the common space. Sometime after they’d grown quiet, they heard the sound of the shower turning off. San looked over at Wooyoung, who was looking right back at him with a particular warmth in his eyes. San found himself wishing that Yunho had taken just a little longer in the shower. 

Wooyoung broke the silence as he threw away the yogurt container and put his spoon in the sink. “Guess that’s our queue. Mind if I shower first?”

“Not at all. I have some homework to finish anyway,” he replied, tossing his apple core as well.

“Ah, can’t wait for a warm shower! And don’t forget, grocery shopping tomorrow!”

San let his eyes linger on Wooyoung’s back before the boy disappeared into his own room.

They also meal prepped more together, made grocery shopping trips, and chose to hang out with each other just because. On more than one occasion, Wooyoung had crashed San’s bedroom while San played video games, or San had invited himself to Wooyoung’s room for a movie night with popcorn. They even took trips into Seoul together when they were in the mood to find good food or go sightseeing.

San jumped as he heard his bedroom door swing open over the sound of rapid gunfire playing through his headphones. His momentary lapse of focus was only a second or two, but it was enough to get him eliminated until the next round. He couldn’t help but pout as he spun around to see who’d entered his room so suddenly.

“Sannie,” Wooyoung sighed out, flopping onto his bed face first without waiting for an invitation. San ignored the slight kick in his heart rate at the nickname in favor of not embarrassing himself. He wasn’t even sure when Wooyoung had started calling him that, but he did know that it made him fluster like a fool, and no, he didn’t want to think about why.

“Yes, Wooyoung?” San huffed out, trying hard to be irritated and failing miserably. It had left his lips sounding way too fond to be anything negative. Wooyoung was just too damn hard to be upset with.

“I wanted to watch that new horror movie on Netflix, but Yunho bailed on me to study for a test and Mingi’s out for a team dinner he forgot about.” Wooyoung flopped over onto his back, and San grimaced. Horror movies were definitely not his thing with the creepy music and the way it kept him on edge for hours after the credits rolled. But as his eyes wandered over to look at Wooyoung on his bed, his heart couldn’t help but soften at the way his hair splayed messily over San’s comforters and his lips were pursed into a cute pout. Oh, San knew where this would lead, and it would absolutely not be anywhere good because despite his extreme dislike for horror movies, all Wooyoung had to do was ask and–

“I’ll watch it with you.” He offered, surprising even himself. Oh, and look at that. Wooyoung didn’t even have to ask. All he had to do was waltz into San’s room, flop on his bed like a starfish, and sulk, and San was ready to offer himself up like a pig for slaughter. How he’d gotten this bad in the span of a month was beyond him.

Wooyoung sat up at that, eyes wide in wonder. “Really? I thought you hated horror movies.”

“You’re right. I do. But you know, I guess I don’t mind if it's with you.”

There was a pause, and San’s heart thudded against his ribcage. He didn’t know why he said it like that, and he waited for Wooyoung’s teasing comment to come, but it never did. Wooyoung’s gaze softened as he turned his head to smile at him– a genuine, devastating smile that made San’s stomach do a ridiculous flip.

“Thanks, San,” he said sweetly. 

Clearing his throat awkwardly, he turned to close his game window, mentally apologizing to the teammates he’d just abandoned before spinning back around to face Wooyoung. “Alright, let’s get this over with,” he sighed out, standing from his gaming chair.

“I’ll grab the popcorn!” Wooyoung said happily, jumping up from San’s bed to head towards the kitchen. “Meet me in my room! And bring Shiber if you have to!”

Shaking his head, San grabbed Shiber and held the plush tight to his chest. “Please save me,” he murmured. Whether it was from the horror movie they were about to watch or the way his feelings for Wooyoung were slowly leaning into something more, he wasn’t sure.

About two months after they’d smoothed things out, they found themselves spending an entire day in the city together. With a very particular craving and a special recommendation from a friend, they ended up eating at some upscale sushi restaurant. Soft lighting washed over them from above as they sat across from each other, several plates of beautifully crafted and purposefully placed sushi between them.

“It almost feels like a crime to eat this,” Wooyoung commented, snapping a quick picture to upload onto his instagram story before digging in.

His eyes lit up at the first bite, obviously pleased with the taste, and San smiled as he took a bite of his own. For the next hour, they exchanged sushi and discussed which ones were their favorites, only stopping to laugh when San accidentally dropped an entire piece of sushi into his soy sauce dish, the dark liquid splattering over the table.

After their lunch, they ended up wandering to one of the many historic palaces where they were able to dress up in rented hanboks, the fabric’s vibrancy stark against the dull colors of the palace and the verdancy of the plant life. They took several pictures doing various poses, a majority of them ridiculous and flamboyant in nature. Wooyoung insisted on snapping a couple selfies of them too, and who was San to reject such a request?

As they swiped through the photos they’d taken, Wooyoung shook his head, a smirk on his lips. “We’re never showing these to anyone, agreed?”

“Agreed,” San said, though he couldn’t help but think that some of them might be too cute to be hidden away forever. There was something about the way Wooyoung smiled, so carefree and unguarded, that made San want to cherish these photos forever.

Once they’d gotten their fill of the palace, they returned the hanboks and went on their way, only stopping once Wooyoung excitedly grabbed San’s arm and pointed over to a sotteok sotteok street food vendor. The savory smell of sausages and rice cakes smothered in sweet and spicy sauce filled their senses, and San was easily led over to the stand.

“Two, please!” Wooyoung requested, reaching for his wallet. “What a perfect way to end the day.”

But before Wooyoung could pay, San forked over his own cash with a casual smile. “This one’s on me.”

“But– San!” Wooyoung protested, eyes glued on the cash that was already safely tucked into the vendor’s hand. “I’m the one that dragged you over here,” he added weakly, trying to give San the cash for his skewer, but San pushed his hand away.

“Don’t worry about it, Woo. Consider it as thanks for making this day so fun.”

Wooyoung squinted at him before finally giving in and accepting his skewer from the lady. “Fine.” San chuckled at Wooyoung’s hum of satisfaction while he chewed on the sotteok sotteok, leaning against the railing they’d wandered over to while eating.

San couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment as he stood there with Wooyoung, sotteok sotteok skewers in hand. The moment was so simple– almost mundane, but the city, the food, the company—it all felt right. And as he watched Wooyoung happily munching away, San knew that the day had been one he would hold close to his heart.

Their steadily blooming friendship extended to the soccer field as well, with a little something extra bubbling under the surface. With San as a midfielder and Wooyoung as a striker, it was inevitable that they’d gravitate towards each other during practices. Though it originally started as random pairings, it morphed into something more of a routine, as more often than not, they found themselves paired up together. They pushed each other to their limits, lifting each other to standards that surprised both their coaches and themselves.

Sometimes, when they practiced outside of the required team ones, it was just the two of them. They’d hone their passes and work on anticipating the other’s movements and decisions, or they’d play one on one to work on their dribbling skills and reaction time. Wooyoung never failed to give San a run for his money when they played one on one, making him sweat in places he didn’t even know he had glands. 

But during these one-on-one sessions, San couldn’t help but notice the way Wooyoung’s body moved– quick and agile. He couldn’t ignore the glint of mischief in his eyes either, the way it shined through the intensity he always carried when he played soccer. Of course, the practices honed the unspoken rhythm between the two of them, something that couldn’t just magically appear between a midfielder and his striker, but for San, it wasn’t just about the game anymore. The thrill of the sport he’d loved for so long had been his sole motivation for as long as he could remember, but the chance to be close to Wooyoung served to be almost just as powerful.

When they were alone, San often found himself distracted by the little things Wooyoung did, staring a little too long when Wooyoung wiped the sweat from his brow or his jaw ticked the way it always did when he was about to undertake something he deemed as a challenge. His heart beat harder when Wooyoung’s body was leaned into his as they played one-on-one, harder than it already was with all the physical exertion. He wasn’t sure when his competitive drive had started to fizzle into something softer with Wooyoung, something that had his heart in his throat every time he flashed San that little crooked grin of his.

Wooyoung, however, seemed to be blissfully unaware of San’s predicament– or maybe he wasn’t. There were moments San would say that Wooyoung knew– that the glint in Wooyoung’s eye and the lingering touches on his shoulders and arms were because he was painfully aware of how San felt. But really, it was hard to read Wooyoung because he could’ve just been leaning into his usual playful personality. Deep down, San hoped that maybe there was something more to it, and each time their eyes locked in joy after a successful play or they laughed together over some inside joke, it only made that hope grow.

Other times, Yunho would join them, adding another layer of complexity to their training as the resident goalkeeper. But whether it was all three of them or just two, Wooyoung and San had undeniable chemistry on the field. They pushed and pulled in a way that brought them to new heights, chasing success for each other as much as they chased success for themselves.

Training together became something San cherished—not just for improving their skills, but for the chance to spend time with Wooyoung in the only intimate way San felt he could. With every practice, they grew more in sync, both as teammates and as something more complicated. And as the days passed, San found that it was becoming more and more of a challenge to hide his growing feelings, especially when every smile from Wooyoung made him wonder if maybe, just maybe, Wooyoung was starting to feel the same way.

Even with all these new, unexplored feelings, San couldn’t let whatever was happening with Wooyoung distract him from why they were there. They were there to play soccer, to uplift their team and make everyone who believed in them proud. This game was against Busan, and the rivalry between them and Seoul had never been the most sportsmanlike. The stakes were higher than ever and the tension on the field was palpable.

San was hyper focused, playing better than he had all season. His passes were all made with deadly precision, his defense top notch, his decisions swift and calculated. He could feel Wooyoung’s presence on the field without needing to see him. Like a well oiled machine, their team worked with each other in tandem around them, San and Wooyoung being the main facilitators of the game.

It was almost unsettling how in-tune they were with one another, and everyone knew that with the kind of teamwork they had flowing between them, it would be nearly impossible for Busan to catch up. The players on the opposite team were growing desperate, getting sloppier and more aggressive as the minutes ticked on.

San didn’t even realized until it was too late. One of Busan’s players, desperate and reckless, charged toward him full force despite him not being in possession of the ball. It was obvious that his only intent was to harm, and harm he did. San tried to dodge, but was too late– a hard kick made contact with his ankle, sending him crashing to the ground. Pain flared through San’s ankle, and knew immediately that something was wrong. 

He clenched his teeth, willing himself to stay calm despite the hot throbbing in his ankle. Deep down, he knew that he wasn’t getting back up to play anytime soon, but desperation clawed its way up his throat. Gritting his teeth harder, he attempted to push himself up from the ground, only for his ankle to buckle underneath him. The realization hit him hard– he was out of the game. As he struggled to come to terms with what had just happened, the referee blew his whistle, issuing the Busan player a red card.

Just as frustrated tears began to well in his eyes, Wooyoung’s voice broke through the air, loud and angry, cutting through the chaos of the field. “What the hell was that? You did that shit on purpose!” Wooyoung’s anger was scathing as he charged towards the Busan player, fists clenched and eyes blazing with a rage San hadn’t seen before– not even at their summer camp.

The Busan player didn’t seem intimidated in the slightest, sneering at Wooyoung, voice dripping in arrogance. “Yeah, so what? It’s just part of the game. If he can’t handle it, maybe he shouldn’t be on the fucking field.”

Wooyoung’s eyes narrowed, closing in on the man. His fury only seemed to grow in intensity. “So that’s what you call playing the game, huh? You and your sorry team have to resort to hurting other players to win. You’re just a bunch of untalented little cowards.”

“The fuck did you just say?” The player spat, getting impossibly closer to Wooyoung.

“I said you’re untalent–”

“Wooyoung, stop!” San pleaded, his voice strained with pain and anxiety. “Don’t. We can’t lose you too.”

Wooyoung spared a glance San’s way, barely softening when he caught sight of him before his gaze hardened and he was rounding on the Busan player once more. He obviously wasn’t ready to back down, raring for a fight as he unleashed a slew of choice insults and words San didn’t think he could ever repeat. Wooyoung’s protective instincts had long overtaken his normal composure, and it wasn’t until their teammates physically pulled him back that he finally relented, shooting one last glare towards the offending player before rushing over to San and dropping down onto his knees beside him.

San could still see the anger radiating off of Wooyoung in waves, but he could tell that his focus has shifted, the rage making way for worry. “Are you alright? Does it hurt a lot? Can you move at all?”

Grimacing as Wooyoung inspected his injury, San shook his head. “It’s… it’s bad. I don’t think I can walk at all right now.

Biting his lip in worry, Wooyoung looked him over once. “Hold on. We need to get you over to the bench so the trainer can look at you. Do you think you can use my shoulder, or do you need me to carry you?” If San had been in any less pain, he might’ve blushed at the thought of Wooyoung carrying him.

Fighting the pain, San gritted out, “Just help me walk. No need to carry me.”

Without further ado, Wooyoung gently helped him up, his face grim as he helped San over to their bench. “You can’t put much weight on it, right? I hope it’s not too serious,” Wooyoung fretted. Concern had wholly consumed Wooyoung, and while San didn’t like the thought of Wooyoung stressed, it also gave him comfort knowing that he cared so much. He felt his heart throb, though it wasn’t due to physical pain like his ankle. 

When they reached the bench, Wooyoung rushed off to grab a bottle of water, hurrying back to San’s side. “Here, drink some water while you wait for the trainer.”

San took the bottle gratefully, his fingers brushing ever so slightly against Wooyoung’s as he unscrewed the cap. Wooyoung settled beside him, his hand reaching up to briefly brush San’s hair away from his forehead, his touch gentle and unthinking. The casual intimacy of the gesture made San’s cheeks flush, and he tried to ignore the warmth spreading through him. This was no time for his heartbeat to be going haywire.

Wooyoung, however, didn’t seem to notice San’s reaction. He was too focused on ensuring that San was comfortable and getting the necessary help. As they waited for the trainer, Wooyoung never left San’s side, his worry evident in every furrowed brow and anxious glance.

Once the trainer did arrive though, San watched as Wooyoung made his way back onto the field. San could tell that Wooyoung was trying his hardest to simmer down, and he shouted as loud as he could, encouraging Wooyoung to take control of the game and channel his emotions into something productive.

And Wooyoung did. With every pass, every sprint, he pushed harder, driven by something more than just a desire to win. He wanted to dominate. He wanted to ensure that Busan would never even be able to entertain the idea of victory. He’d taken San’s injury personally, and San could see it in the way Wooyoung moved—faster, sharper, relentless.

In the final minutes of the game, Seoul was already up by 3 points with a score of 4-1, and yet there was so much tension. So much passion. So much desperation for complete domination. Wooyoung received a perfect pass from Seonghwa, and for a brief moment, time seemed to slow. San held his breath, his heart pounding in his chest as he watched Wooyoung weave through the defense with a skill and determination that left him breathless. He’d seen Wooyoung’s skills so many times before, and yet it never ceased to amaze him.

Then, with one powerful strike, Wooyoung sent the ball flying into the net, past the Busan goalkeeper. The stadium erupted in cheers, the sound deafening as Seoul University secured their win.

San couldn’t help but grin, pride swelling in his chest as he watched Wooyoung celebrate with their teammates from the sidelines. He wasn’t excluded from the celebration though as his teammates rushed over to the bench to celebrate with him too. Despite the pain in his ankle, San felt a warmth spread through him, knowing that Wooyoung had done it—for the team, for the victory, and maybe even a little bit for him.

As the final whistle blew, signaling their victory, Wooyoung’s eyes found San’s across the huddle. They shared a look—one that held more than just the thrill of victory. It was a look that spoke of something deeper, something that both of them were just on the cusp of understanding.

In the weeks that followed the game, Wooyoung had become something like a caretaker for San. His dedication to the role left San both grateful and a little flustered at the same time. San’s injury hadn’t been serious enough to warrant a cast, but he did need it wrapped and bandaged often, and Wooyoung had ensured that San would get the best quality care.

Wooyoung was now more often than not in San’s room, whether it was to bring him food, bandages and wraps, or class materials. He made sure to personally see to it that San was comfortable and had everything he needed. With his ankle injury, he’d been forced to use crutches to get any and everywhere, which made it hard when he needed to travel across campus for class. Wooyoung, ever the attentive one, never forgot to bring him any class notes he needed as well as any assignments he would’ve otherwise missed and subsequently had to make up at a later date.

Despite Wooyoung’s insistence that he wanted to help, San couldn’t shake a feeling of guilt when he saw Wooyoung hard at work taking care of him. “You don’t have to do all this,” San had murmured out one day, looking at Wooyoung with a mixture of gratitude and discomfort. “I can manage.”

Wooyoung had waved off his concerns with an easy smile. “It’s no trouble. I want to do this for you.”

One evening, about a week and a half into San’s recovery, San was propped up comfortably in his bed, watching as Wooyoung once again bandaged his ankle with deft hands, seemingly just as gifted at personal training as he was with just about anything else. The room was dim, only illuminated by the single lamp on San’s nightstand, and soft shadows were cast all across the room. It felt intimate and strangely– serene. Like there was no one else in the world aside from them, together in the quiet atmosphere of San’s bedroom. Wooyoung was focused entirely on wrapping San’s ankle, making sure that his movements were gentle so that he wouldn’t hurt San.

“Does it feel okay? Too tight? Too loose?” Wooyoung asked, glancing up with a look of concern.

“It’s perfect,” San replied, his voice soft with gratitude.

Wooyoung finished his task and placed the roll of bandages on the corner of San’s desk before sitting down on the bed beside him. His eyes were still full of concern, but there was also a warmth in his gaze that San hadn’t been able to catch before. They talked about trivial things—upcoming assignments, funny moments from their day, shared memories from the soccer season– everything just flowed so easily. The ease between them was palpable, a stark contrast to the tension of the rivalry they’d had just a few months ago.

San shifted slightly in his spot, chancing a look at Wooyoung whose gaze was fixed to a spot on the floor, clearly lost in thought. 

“Hey Wooyoung?” The man looked up, tilting his head slightly in question. “Don’t you think it’s funny, how much we’ve changed over the last few months?”

Curiosity and apprehension swirled in Wooyoung’s eyes. “Changed? How so?”

San took a deep breath, trying to phrase what he was feeling in the most accurate way possible. “I just think that we misjudged each other in the beginning. A lot. And– well I used to think you were just some self-important asshole, you know? And you thought I was some ignorant kid who had the perfect homelife. The more time we spend together, the more I think about how wrong I was back then.”

Wooyoung hummed, eyes wandering upwards to look at the textured ceiling of San’s bedroom. “Mmm, honestly, I think about it too, sometimes. I really do regret how unfair I was to you. It made things a lot harder for both of us, but for you especially, and what’s worse is that it wasn’t even your fault. I just got in my head about it and– well I’m just lucky you’re so forgiving. This could’ve been a very painful first year if you weren’t.”

A weak chuckle escaped San’s lips. “Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself. If you remember, I wasn’t very nice to you during those two weeks either. I said some things I shouldn’t have because I didn’t understand what they meant to you. I just wanted whatever I said to hurt.”

“And it did for a while.” San winced at that. “I forced myself to see you standing up for yourself as you being like my high school teammates, and that was wrong of me. I backed you into a corner and then expected you not to fight back, and I’m not proud of that. I was just– I was terrified that this year, or maybe even the entirety of college would just be high school all over, and I didn’t want to be the one who got hurt again. But I know now that you’d never do that to me, and I– I’m really happy that things turned out this way. For us, that is.” San’s heart clenched at how vulnerable Wooyoung was being, his fears and regrets laid bare for San’s to do with as he liked. 

“I’m happy too. This past season, I’ve seen a different side of you– one that I would’ve never associated with the Wooyoung I met at summer camp. The way you play and how we work together– it’s refreshing,” San confessed.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Wooyoung nodding in agreement, his faded red hair hiding his eyes. “Playing together, it’s like we’re constantly on the same wavelength. I’m more aware of your presence than any other teammate I’ve had. I never thought I’d find someone who made playing soccer so natural and easy, and for the longest, I always thought I’d have to beg and borrow and steal for everything I ever got. Work twice as hard for even a fraction of the recognition everyone else got.”

“Wooyoung…” San murmured, his heart heavy as he listened to Wooyoung’s words.

“But being here has given me a better concept of teamwork and a better relationship with soccer. You’ve given me a better relationship with soccer,” Wooyoung’s voice wavered for a moment, but he powered through. “I’m just– I’m glad that it was you.”

“I’m really glad it was me too,” he replied softly. “I love soccer. I always have, and yet, somehow I’ve come to cherish it even more now because of you. All through high school, all I could think about was how badly I wanted teammates who were just as passionate as I was. They were good people, but none of them wanted anything more than a high school experience. Here though, I’m surrounded by people who are like me. They care about the game, but more than that, they care about each other. And Wooyoung, you’ve been such a huge part of that.”

It was silent for a moment until Wooyoung’s snort broke the peace. “God, when did we get so sappy? I went from hating your guts this summer to spilling mine after wrapping your damn ankle.”

He shook his head at Wooyoung’s attempt to deflect from the heart-to-heart they’d just had, but San supposed they could lay off the sweetness for a while. He too was feeling a little too vulnerable at the moment. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to take us down this rabbit hole.”

Wooyoung sighed. “No, it’s okay. I think I needed this, really. I’ve carried this shit with me for too long. Thanks for, you know, being here and listening to me and– well, seeing me. Like, really seeing me.”

“Anytime, seriously. You deserve to be seen.” San said without hesitation.

As their conversation began to die down, San noticed the silence between them growing more charged by the second, the air thick with unspoken truths neither of them had been brave enough to share yet. They’d spilled so much, and yet there was so much more they’d yet to cover. Their proximity, the body heat they shared as they sat close, the soft look in Wooyoung’s eyes that San had slowly grown accustomed to receiving. It made him want to be even more honest.

The memory of their summer rivalry, when they’d both been at odds with each other, seemed impossibly distant now, melting away to reveal what could only be seen as an undeniable connection neither of them had anticipated.

San felt a pull he couldn’t ignore, like he was attached to Wooyoung by a string of fate and the only way he could go was towards him. When he turned to look at Wooyoung, the striker was already looking at him, eyes slightly lidded as he seemed to study San’s facial features. San’s heart raced, beating harder and harder in his chest cavity, so before he could second-guess himself or back out, he leaned in and pressed his lips to Wooyoung’s. 

The kiss was hesitant at first, both of them unsure of how far they could go, but it quickly devolved into something more passionate as both of them gave into all the feelings that had been building.

Wooyoung tasted like the strawberry banana yogurt he always ate and the vanilla chapstick he used religiously. The smell of his cologne wrapped around San and engulfed him until all he knew was Wooyoung, all soft lips and intense eyes and gentle hands that moved up to cup San’s cheeks. Wooyoung pressed harder into the kiss, and they somehow found themselves laying down with Wooyoung on top.

The curves and hard lines of the striker’s front seemed to fit perfectly as it pressed against San’s, the body heat and passion making it ten times hotter. San felt like he couldn’t breathe, but he didn’t even want to consider separating from Wooyoung. He’d rather die kissing him than separate.

While Wooyoung’s hands remained on San’s face, San’s had tangled themselves into Wooyoung’s long hair. So lost in the heat between them, he mindlessly tugged at Wooyoung’s hair, startling at the pleasured groan that Wooyoung breathed into his mouth. Heat pooled in his gut as he attempted to pull Wooyoung further down into him than he already was. He wasn’t sure whether it was even humanly possible. Getting any closer to Wooyoung probably meant fusing with him, but that didn’t sound all that bad at the moment.

San gasped into Wooyoung’s mouth as the striker gave an experimental roll of his hips. “Oh, fuck .”

San’s words seemed to snap Wooyoung out of whatever daze he was in, and he quickly pulled away, eyes closed as he gasped for breath. San let his hands fall from Wooyoung’s hair, though he couldn’t stop himself when he reached up to tuck some of the hair that was hanging down in Wooyoung’s face. Wooyoung leaned into the touch, still trying to catch his breath all the while. His cheeks were stained a pretty pink, hands planted on either side of San’s head.

Wooyoung, slightly embarrassed, lowered his head and rested it on San’s chest, his breath warm over the fabric of San’s thin sleep shirt. San could feel the rapid beating of Wooyoung’s heart, mirroring his own.

San gently stroked Wooyoung’s hair, his heart still pounding. It felt like it was about to burst right out of his fragile little chest. “I’m– I’m sorry. I should’ve asked. I didn’t mean to—”

Wooyoung tapped his finger on San’s shoulder gently, silencing him. “It’s okay,” he breathed softly. “Let’s just stay like this for a while.”

San nodded, eyes squeezed shut as he processed what had just happened. They lay there in silence, the closeness between them a new and comforting presence. For now, they were content to simply be near each other, letting the moment and their emotions guide them. There were no labels and no hurry to establish any. The bond that had formed between them was undeniable, and as they lay together, it was clear that their connection had evolved into something deeper and more profound than either of them had expected. They both knew that whatever was something that couldn’t be faked or replaced easily, and that was enough for now.

As the year progressed, soccer season drew to a close, and the atmosphere around Seoul University’s soccer team was buzzing with anticipation. Their soccer team had proved to be formidable despite three new additions to the starting line up, and practically the entire country expected great things from them. They were the favorites to win the Korea National University Soccer Championship, which meant a lot of pressure and grueling practices. 

As soon as he was healed, San was right back to practicing as though he’d never been injured in the first place, working twice as hard to make up for lost time. 

And San and Wooyoung had grown impossibly close throughout the season, their bond only growing stronger with each passing day. They were practically inseparable, and what had started as a rivalry had evolved into a friendship that set the stage for something much more serious.

In the final days leading up to the championship game, San and Wooyoung shared a quiet moment alone in Wooyoung’s bedroom. San, with a mixture of nervousness and determination, finally found the courage to voice what had been on his mind for the last couple months.

“Wooyoung,” San began, taking a deep breath. Wooyoung looked up, his complete attention on him. “I know we’ve been through a lot this season. It’s been a lot of ups and downs. A lot of trial and error, but I’m– I’m really thankful that it was with you. If anyone had asked me what I thought my relationship with you would be like, I never would’ve guessed it would be like this, that you’d come to mean so much to me– fuck, I’m rambling,” San cut himself off, trying not to flush at Wooyoung’s endeared chuckle. “I was just– I was wondering if you’d like to go out with me, maybe after this whole championship thing is over and we actually have time for a date?”

Wooyoung’s eyes widened in surprise and then softened with a smile. “I’d like that,” he replied, his voice filled with an almost unbearable amount of warmth. “I’d like that a lot, actually.”

The day of the championship arrived with all the pressure and excitement that one would expect from a national college soccer game. The game was fiercely competitive, each team fighting for the title of Korea’s best, but in the end, only one team could come out on top. Seonghwa’s field control, Yunho’s goalkeeping, Jongho’s defense, Juyeon’s leadership. With the cohesion and spirit of Seoul University and the unprecedented synergy between San and Wooyoung, when the final whistle blew, the scoreboard confirmed what everyone on their team had fought so hard for all season. Seoul University had won the national championship, 4-3.

Amidst the absolute joy and celebrations of their team, San and Wooyoung automatically found one another, eyes locked as huge smiles spread across their faces. San was smiling so hard his cheeks hurt, and he could see tears welling in the corners of Wooyoung’s eyes. He opened his arms without thought, and Wooyoung didn’t hesitate before sprinting forward and crashing into him, giggling happily as San lifted him from the ground. As in sync as ever, they met in the middle for a celebratory kiss, uncaring of the sweat and grime that had built up from the game.

They were just happy to share the victory together.

Their teammates came to crowd around them, whooping and wolf whistling as they broke apart. Seonghwa and Yunho came forward to crush them in hugs before Juyeon came over and held out the trophy to Wooyoung and San. They glanced at each other before they grabbed it together, thrusting it into the air as raucous cheers erupted from their teammates once more. With the trophy in hand and confetti raining down (courtesy of Jongho who’d somehow found a confetti popper), San pulled Wooyoung into a close embrace. Their faces were flushed with excitement and happiness, surrounded by their teammates, their friends, and the family in the crowd that had come to cheer them on.

San’s heart was so full that he felt it would overflow, and he couldn’t help but yell happily into the open air of the field. This moment, this victory, this connection that he shared with his teammates– it was something he knew he’d never forget.

A year had passed, and the summer training camp to prepare for the next year was in full swing. The air was filled with the familiar sounds of soccer practice, laughter, and playful banter, and a few new faces populated the field. The atmosphere was light-hearted and full of excitement as the team prepared for another season. Everyone had high hopes that it’d be just as successful as it’d been the year previous.

After their victory at the Korea National College Soccer Championship, San had wasted no time in taking Wooyoung on a proper date. They’d been dancing around the act of establishing a proper label for the month or so leading up to the championship game. San knew that, truthfully, him and Wooyoung didn’t need a label for what they had because just one wouldn’t cover all the things Wooyoung was to him. A teammate. A best friend. A confidant. But Wooyoung being his boyfriend just sounded a little too enticing for San to ignore.

And once they were official? They were absolutely insufferable. Attached at the hip and menaces to their friends. If San was somewhere, you’d probably find Wooyoung not too far from him and vice versa. San loved loudly, the only way he knew how to, the way Wooyoung deserved to be loved. He loved surprising Wooyoung with pre-planned days out and random little gifts that Wooyoung always chastised him for buying but accepted anyway after San’s soft, “But it made me think of you.”

They were both pretty physically affectionate, which basically meant that their friends were always prepared for the worst. They both knew when enough was enough, but occasionally, they enjoyed bending the rules just a bit if only to hear the annoyed but fond groans from their friends.

Sometimes, it was to their embarrassment too, mostly when it was unintentional though. There’d even been a small, penciled-in addition to their list of dorm rules that Wooyoung had seen after stumbling into the kitchen one morning looking like he’d nearly been mauled. His only comfort was that San really didn’t look any better.

1. Don’t touch other people’s stuff or eat other people’s food w/o asking
2. Clean up after eating or cooking. Don’t leave food in the sink.
3. Quiet hours after 11pm unless otherwise agreed upon.
4. Don’t leave messes in the common area.
5. If you have an issue with a roommate, say something. No beating around the bush.
6. Let everyone know if you want to bring guests in case it’s not a good time/day.
7. Be considerate of others if you plan on fucking in the dorm. BE QUIET and NO PUBLIC SPACES! (Yunho and Mingi!!) –> (SAN AND WOOYOUNG >:( !!!! )

Safe to say, they’d definitely apologized to their roommates as soon as they’d gotten the chance, no matter how mortifying it was having to do so with marks they hadn’t quite been able to cover.

During soccer practices though, their playful flirting and affectionate teasing had become a regular part of their interactions, much to the amusement (or chagrin, depending on the day) of their teammates. They often found themselves reminiscing about their first training camp, reflecting on how far they had come.

As they took a break from their drills, San nudged Wooyoung with a grin. “Remember when we first met at camp? I thought you were literally going to drive me insane.”

Wooyoung chuckled, wrapping an arm around San’s shoulders. “And I thought you were going to be my worst nightmare for the next four years. Funny how things turn out, huh?”

San’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Yeah, well, I can’t say it was easy, but I guess it was worth it, huh?”

Wooyoung smirked, leaning in closer. “Definitely. But don’t forget, I still owe you for all those times you tried to one-up me.”

San laughed, pulling his boyfriend into a playful headlock. “Oh, you’ll get your chance. But just remember, I’m not going easy on you.” Just then, their head coach blew his whistle, signaling that their water break was over.

“I’d have to kill you if you did.” Wooyoung replied, not missing a beat.

The two of them laughed together as they ran back to the middle of the field, hearts light in their chests. For all the ups and downs, all the fights and the misunderstandings they’d had between them, they’d come out of it better than before.

They’d found a place they both belonged, with their sport, with their team, with their friends, and with each other. They both joined the huddle, shoulder to shoulder as the rest of the team crowded in.

“Let’s make this a good season, yeah?” Wooyoung murmured to San before flashing him that crooked smile that always had his heart beating just a little faster.

Grinning, San nodded. “The best yet.”