Archive of Our Own

“Pom team is not stupid,” Chaeryeong says, emphatic. Yuna arches a perfect eyebrow from across her roommate’s twin-sized bed. Yuna’s roommate is out, the only reason they can splay like this, some upper-year named Ryujin who Chaeryeong knows Yuna is obsessed with, even if she hasn’t told her yet. Yuna is sneaky like that.

“It’s not even a sport. Not even, like, dance, which is respectable. You perform at other people’s sports’ games.”

“And events!” Chaeryeong feels wronged. “We dance at events, and parades, and charities! And stuff. Not just games!”

Wronged, and wounded, and by her best friend, no less.

“And pom team is dance!”

Yuna scoffs. “You scramble to sync up a routine with pom-poms during a thirty second halftime while the football team takes a water break. Give me your hands.”

Yuna doesn’t know anything about football.

“I’m not even doing football cheer this term,” Chaeryeong grumbles as she lays her hands flat so Yuna can paint them.

“Oh?” Yuna doesn’t hide her disinterest as she paints blue polish over Chaeryeong’s nails with clean, even strokes. “What are you on?”

“Volleyball,” Chaeryeong sniffs, then snatches her hands back, blue streaking her fingers and making Yuna yelp. “And I said I wanted pink!”

“It’s my nail polish, and I want to do blue!”

“Liar,” Chaeryeong says haughtily, holding out her hands dangerously. “You just don’t want to use your expensive pink on me.”

The wet nail polish threatens to streak marks onto Yuna’s bedsheets and she lets out a shriek, grappling for Chaeryeong’s fingers.

Chaeryeong brandishes her hand like a weapon. “You try auditioning for pom team and see how much it takes!”

“Please,” Yuna groans, fanning desperately at Chaeryeong’s nails. “They would stake me in the heart.”

᳂⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Chaeryeong loves pom team. Honestly. Fully, headfirst, without a doubt.

She had never really been the cheer type in high school. Too busy hanging out with her sisters, going into the shopping district to fish for gacha machines, and studying, studying, studying. She hadn’t been the best student, either, but still. Chaeryeong tries.

In her first year of university, though, she and her new best friend Shin Yuna from next door—some genius who had gotten into university a year early, who had had such a shitty roommate that she insisted on spending all her time in Chaeryeong’s room to escape her, nothing like how it is now, with Chaeryeong having to bang on her door to even see her best friend, Yuna too obsessed with her new, cool, older roommate Ryujin, Chaeryeong swears she’ll kill her one day—had perused club orientation, and pom team had beckoned them over with nothing but a pair of pom-poms and matching bright smiles.

They told her to audition, that she never knows, and that pom team could be it, for her!

So, in a way, Yuna’s been there from the very start.

Still, excluding Yuna, who was less of a friend and more of a parasite, something awful and beautiful that glued itself to her side and sucked the life out of her, Chaeryeong made her first real friend through pom team, too. Choi Jisu, a student in the year above with great hair, and who swore she would be pom team leader by the time she was in fourth year. Chaeryeong believed her ardently, and now, in her second year with Jisu in her third, she still believes her, and more ardently too, if that could even be possible.

Jisu is kind of like a mentor figure. Chaeryeong is friendly but shy, prefers to stick with her own crowd, and sometimes the crowd is herself, her two sisters, her best friend Yuna, her best friend Yuna’s roommate Ryujin who had to pull a Yuna and also be enough of a genius to graduate a year early and be in Jisu’s year, even if they’re the same age, God, she and Yuna are made for each other, Chaeryeong hates them, and Jisu, who taught her everything there is to know and love about pom team, and about life.

Pom team is awesome. It’s taught Chaeryeong everything there is to know about girlhood, too. There’s nothing quite like getting glammed up before a game and sitting in the first row of the bleachers with her tiny little pom team skirt, pom-poms in hand, ready to jump up and skip and dance to an eight-beat pattern in the time between basketball quarters, or football halves, or volleyball sets, or anything else. Nothing quite like going to the party afterwards, Jisu’s arm over her shoulder, Jisu and Yuna like twin black holes shoving so many drinks into Chaeryeong’s hands that they have to carry her home afterwards, and not without mountains of photographs of Chaeryeong doing karaoke, beer pong Chaeryeong, Chaeryeong dancing with some stranger, Chaeryeong et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. There’s just nothing like it.

So, yeah. Chaeryeong’s second year of pom team is setting up to be a good one.

᳂⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Yuna is never impressed with her, even on game days. 

“So, how much do you actually know about volleyball?”

“My sister played in middle school!” Chaeryeong retorts, sat cross-legged on her dorm room floor doing her make-up in the full length mirror on the back of the door. There’s no real requirement to get dolled up for pom team, but Chaeryeong hears the unspoken rules as clear as day. She loves it. What it will take to get Chaeryeong not looking her best, she’ll never know.

“Yeah?” Yuna raises another sharp eyebrow. Her favorite face to give Chaeryeong lately, especially when it comes to pom. “How’s volleyball even scored?”

Chaeryeong pauses, eyes narrowed in concentration as she draws on her eyeliner. “Incrementally.”

“Oh, fuck off.” Yuna leans backwards on Chaeryeong’s bed, messing up her sheets on purpose.

“You fuck off!” Chaeryeong caps her eyeliner pen with a satisfied flourish. “Not my problem, I’m not the ref, just cheer. Are my eyes even?”

Yuna scrutinizes her with a single, terrifying gaze. “Perfect.”

᳂⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Chaeryeong wasn’t lying. Chaemin did play in middle school, she was her team’s main setter. Chaeryeong and Chaeyeon would go to her games every weekend, sit on the sidelines and scream obnoxiously loud, just to embarrass their favorite dongsaeng to Mars and back.

So, Chaeryeong knows a little about volleyball. Enough to say that their university team is good, better than she would have assumed. It’s not a bad assumption. Their football team sucks. Chaeryeong isn’t in it for the points, after all. She’s just pom team.

She does enjoy watching the games, though. Something about striding into the stadium, court, field, whatever, with five reserved seats in the front row of the bleachers calling her name. Chaeryeong thinks that she gets off on the paper signs reading RESERVED FOR POM TEAM as much as she gets off on pom team itself.

She takes her usual seat beside Jisu at the end of the line and gives a little wave to Yuna who returns it lazily, sloping up the bleachers to sit in the row behind her. For all of her bitching and moaning, Yuna comes to every game, and definitely not because she gives a single fuck about the score. For all of her bitching and moaning, Yuna always screams the loudest when Chaeryeong gets up to dance.

“Looking sharp, Chaeryeong.” Jisu grins at her, slinging an easy arm over her shoulder, and Chaeryeong grins back at the attention.

“You too, unnie.”

“Excited?”

“Of course!” Chaeryeong brightens. “First cheer of the season.”

Jisu laughs, clapping Chaeryeong’s shoulder and dragging her closer. “That’s my girl.”

Jisu’s hair is tied back in a slick ponytail, and Chaeryeong leans over briefly to tug at it, just so Jisu will bat her away. Pom team usually requires their hair to be down, but Jisu has never cared about the rules. Just one of the things she plans to change, when she becomes captain.

“How’s running going?” Chaeryeong asks, to which Jisu scoffs.

“Good. It’s still early, so hard to tell, but it should be mine.” Jisu frowns. “Ahin says that they’ll give it to me for sure, but Ahin just says anything.”

“You’ll definitely get it, unnie.” Chaeryeong earns a quick side-hug in response.

“That’s my girl.”

Chaeryeong hasn’t really been paying attention, but she knows just as well as anybody else that when the whistle blows, it’s time to focus. She watches as the six athletes on their side of the court straighten up, and can feel her face scrunch up as her eyes follow the player striding up to the backline, ball in hand.

“Is that… Ryujin?”

Jisu hums, eyes on the court. “She’s on the starting team this year. Middle. She’s starting in the back row, though.”

Chaeryeong whips around as fast as she can, eagle-eyes finding Yuna behind her with all the laser focus of a best friend with shit to chew on. Yuna doesn’t meet her eyes, resolute, but the faint pink on her cheeks matches the hoodie she snatched from Chaeryeong’s closet just before they went out.

“Yuna,” Chaeryeong hisses. “You’re a liar and a thief.”

“Shut up,” is Yuna’s tight response. “Ryujin’s serving.”

“Liar, and thief.”

The whistle blows. Ryujin bounces the ball once, twice, and tosses it up. Chaeryeong turns back to the game. Ryujin looks good, Chaeryeong admits, in the tank top and shorts they call a uniform, hair pulled back into a tight scrunch as she leaps, eyes narrowed, mouth pursed, and her right hand meets the ball with a deafening smack as it shoots across the court, just over the net. The other team dives for it, and off they go.

Chaeryeong loves watching live sports. Less of a symptom of pom team and more of a product of her love for action, for hard work, the give and take of the body and the trust given to it. It’s why she loves pom team, after all, as much as Yuna will ridicule her. Sure, the routines are easy, and yes, they don’t dance for very long, but they do sit in a little circle when they’re planning moves, and they do have fun in the thirty seconds they have, dancing their little hearts out on front of the bleachers. And it’s cheering on athletes! What’s not to like?

The ball comes back over the net in a high arc, Jisu mutters, “Free ball.”

It’s not a mandate to understand the sport they’re cheering for. Jisu likes to go above and beyond.

Chaeryeong vaguely recognizes the libero who receives the ball, shirt reading KIM 5, and similarly the setter who tosses it high up, UCHINAGA 2, but less so the voice that shouts next, loud and commanding through the center of the court.

“Mine,” a player calls, before backing up several calculated steps, swinging her arms behind her and stepping forward, leaping off the court, propelling herself into the air.

She looks like she’s flying, Chaeryeong thinks, with all the wonder and clarity the front row brings her. The player’s hand meets the ball, as clear and easy as her run-up, and sends it on a straight path downwards, right in front of the net. The other team’s hurried dives to rescue it do little to mask the sound of the whistle, the shouts of their opponents, fists in the air and grins clear on their faces. Point.

“Who’s that?” Chaeryeong asks Jisu without looking away.

“Hwang Yeji. Number one. Started in her first year. Hitter.”

“She’s good,” Chaeryeong marvels, and finally turns to meet Jisu’s grin.

“Isn’t she?” Jisu smiles wider. “We shared a couple intro classes last year. Volleyball’s her whole life.”

“Cool,” Chaeryeong says, distant as Ryujin slaps Yeji on the back, the ink on her shirt reading HWANG 1 rippling with the movement. She watches as Yeji takes a moment to collect herself, tossing her ponytail over her shoulder and using the palms of her hands to scrape at the bottom of her sneakers, bending her knees to lift her legs up behind her one by one, like they do on TV.

“She wants to go pro,” Jisu says, noncommittal, and Chaeryeong hums in response.

“She could.”

Jisu laughs. “Since when did you know anything about volleyball?”

Chaeryeong doesn’t say anything back, but as HWANG 1 makes her way back to the center of the court, exchanging a high-five with the setter who grins back at her with all the confidence in the world, she thinks, I could learn.

᳂⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Their team takes the first set in an easy twenty-five to twenty, Jisu stands up sharply.

“Okay gang,” she says, casting glances around her. “It’s go-time.”

Chaeryeong runs her hands through her hair, grinning as she reaches for her pom-poms. Go-time.

Chaeryeong loves pom team. Loves it as she stands, straightening her skirt and assuming position next to Jisu in front of the bleachers, waiting for Jisu’s count, and performing their routine, as simple as it may be, in easy four-count steps. Loves waving her pom-poms through the air, hearing them shuffle with the movement, and loves blowing kisses at Yuna, who grumbles and waves her off, but always makes sure to return them. Loves it as she spins, careful not to bump Jisu, and spins again, glancing over at the volleyball team to make sure that they’re still in timeout, only to find a pair of eyes on her, and Chaeryeong flushes despite herself, under the weight of Hwang Yeji’s bright, slim cat eyes, the little smirk in the corner of her mouth.

She crosses her legs, holds her arms out, all in tune, all to beat, and finishes with a little flourish, grinning at Jisu who only grins back. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Ryujin and Yeji standing together across the court, and, meeting their eyes, she gives Ryujin a little wave. It’s only polite. Ryujin smiles and waves back, and turns to Yeji, saying something that Chaeryeong can’t make out over the ruckus of the court.

Jisu grabs her arm and leads her back to their seats. Chaeryeong twists around to meet Yuna’s eyes.

She grins. “Is Ryujin playing well?”

Yuna swats at her, and Chaeryeong defends the best she can with her pom-poms.

“Shut up.” Then, “She’s doing great.”

“You would know,” Chaeryeong hums, teasing, turning back to the game, but not without Yuna’s annoyed tap on the back of her head that she waves off, uncaring.

The second set goes just as well as the first. The team just has this synergy, something that delights Chaeryeong, makes a little fire bubble up in her stomach, thrilled as she watches the ball fly, the players soar, the runways they make for themselves as they swing their arms, carry their momentum, take off. Like people growing wings, to carry them above the necessary height of the net.

Because they do, really, fly. Chaeryeong can’t even imagine what it must feel like to jump as high as Hwang Yeji does, rubber soles like propellers, wingspan and hang time and vertical taking her up, up, up. Chaeryeong watches, delighted, as Yeji takes off, and volleyball players are meant to be tall and Yeji is far from short, but she makes up for the difference between herself and the net with pure, scathing firepower. Chaeryeong watches, feeling a little like she’s back in high school two long years later, as Yeji draws her arm back, eyes squinting and face stern with all the focus of in-air motion, and brings her palm down against the ball tossed right in front of her, clear and easy as if summoned.

“Unnie.” She elbows Jisu beside her. “Is Yeji left-handed?”

Jisu makes an affirmative noise. “They call it a southpaw. Makes the ball spin differently. Harder to receive—”

The opposing libero dives for the spike, but it ricochets off her extended forearms as quickly as it came spiralling down, flying untouched to the other end of the court.

“—or something.”

Yeji turns around, grabs her setter’s outstretched arm with a roar and a huge, blinding grin, and the bleachers scream with her. Chaeryeong, feeling a little like she did in high school, flushes at nothing in particular.

᳂⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

It takes a couple games, but, in the end, Yeji comes to her.

The season is going well. Chaeryeong loves pom team whether the team wins or doesn’t, it doesn’t concern her, after all. It does make everything just a tiny bit more fun, though, hearing the court cheer along with them and knowing they’re dancing for a better cause. Chaeryeong’s never taken pom team more seriously, not when Jisu’s shaping up to be captain and she’ll certainly make Chaeryeong vice, and the volleyball season is on its deadliest win streak to record.

And, Hwang Yeji. Watching the home team varsity left-side hitter play every weekend helps, too.

Chaeryeong sees her sometimes, after the games, glimpses of her arm thrown over Ryujin’s shoulder or her arm-in-arm with the team’s main setter, and sometimes, Jisu even catches her after a game, giving her a wave with a fluffy pom-pom held high in the air. Yeji returns it, always, and Chaeryeong might just be crazy, but sometimes her eyes linger on her, too. Sometimes she’s ready, and she’ll shoot a little nervous grin across the court, cheerleader to athlete, and hope that the message gets across. Sometimes, there’s little she can do but startle, the least nonchalant she’s ever been, with the hope that she looks like she’s looking at Jisu, at the court, the crowd, anyone, anyone but Hwang Yeji and her steady, steady eyes.

Like now. Chaeryeong desperately tries to meet Jisu’s gaze, a lighthouse among a dark sea, but even worse than being ignored, Jisu misunderstands. She raises her pom-pom high in the air, gives Chaeryeong a tall, wide wave, and, arms linked with Yeji, starts making her way towards her.

Chaeryeong loves her unnie, more than anyone, but sometimes, she could just kill Jisu for the unforgivable sin of knowing absolutely everyone on campus.

The distance from sideline to sideline feels like an ocean, roiling and heavy, and Chaeryeong doesn’t know where to look, jagged rocks, so many places to crash and drown, between Jisu’s friendly grin, the shouts and clusters of people and audience, and the gleam in Yeji’s eyes, easy and confident, as she looks at Chaeryeong like that.

“Chae!” Jisu grabs her by the wrist as she draws close. “Finally. I need to introduce you.”

She tugs Yeji closer with the arm looped around hers. Yeji complies easily, unbothered and unwavering as Jisu jolts her back and forth, swaying on the balls of her feet. She smiles when Chaeryeong meets her eyes and Chaeryeong catches a glimpse of canines, sharp and white at the back of her mouth.

“Chaeryeong, Yeji.” Jisu uses the hand still latched onto Chaeryeong to gesture, entirely missing the panicked look Chaeryeong shoot her.

“Yeji, Chaeryeong.”

Yeji grins with all of her teeth. “Been talking about me, Lia-yah?” She asks, tugging at Jisu back, easy, who only scoffs, looking as unfazed as Chaeryeong isn’t.

“Nice to meet you, Yeji-ssi,” Chaeryeong manages, and doesn’t quite know what to do with her pom-poms. Maybe they are as ridiculous as Yuna says they are.

Yeji turns her eyes over to her.

“Cute.” She shoots her another sharp, lazy grin. “Cheerleader?”

Chaeryeong swallows, feeling a flush rise up her neck. “Pom team,” she manages, and Yeji doesn’t let up on her smile.

“Cute,” she repeats, all teeth.

“Chae’s on pom team with me,” Jisu says, unaware to whatever frenzy is happening in Chaeryeong’s head.

Yeji shakes her head at this, laughs, and her giggle, small and breathy, is even worse than the grin.

“Pom team,” she says, sighing. “What a bloodbath.”

“Don’t I know it,” Jisu returns, grimacing, and whatever awful attempt at a response Chaeryeong is about to make is saved by a firm arm wrapping around her waist from behind. Yuna.

“Yeji-unnie!”

Yeji brightens, turning to her. “Yuna-yah,” she says, teasing. “Didn’t know you were a fan.”

Agape, Chaeryeong turns to Yuna, who only scoffs, giving Yeji an ugly sneer.

“You know each other?” Chaeryeong asks, and Yuna nods.

“Yeji-unnie’s Ryujin’s friend. Comes over sometimes, makes a ruckus.” Yeji waves her off, pretending not to hear.

“Always complaining,” she sighs, grinning at Chaeryeong. “Yuna’s always moody when I steal Ryujinnie away from her.”

Chaeryeong can laugh at that, at least, always relieved with the opening to poke fun at her best friend.

“Don’t I know it,” she replies, smiling back. “She never comes to see me when Ryujin-unnie’s in the room.”

Yuna yelps, smacking at Chaeryeong, but Yeji laughs agreeably, eyes crinkling in the corners. “Ryujin-unnie,” she repeats, quiet and thoughtful. Then, she says, “Call me unnie, too.”

Chaeryeong sputters. "I don't call Ryujin that. Only sometimes. When she makes me."

Chaeryeong resolutely ignores the look Yuna shoots her. She can only watch as Yeji’s eyes dart between the two of them, steady, assessing.

Whatever Chaeryeong wants to say, whatever she can’t even begin to think, is interrupted by the shape of Ryujin, jogging up behind them. Yuna straightens beside her; Chaeryeong can’t even bring herself to laugh.

“Yeji,” Ryujin calls, hairline shining with sweat. “Stop fraternizing. Team meeting. Hey, Yuna.”

“Hi, unnie,” Yuna says, voice even as Yeji relents to Ryujin’s tugging at her shoulder, smiling at Jisu and giving Yuna a little wave.

“Duty calls,” she says, and turns to go, but not before shooting one final grin at Chaeryeong, appraising. “See you around.”

Chaeryeong can barely return a shaky, “You too,” before Yeji gets swept away, already laughing at whatever Ryujin hisses at her as they rejoin their teammates on the opposite sideline. Jisu claps Chaeryeong on the shoulder too before rushing off as well, to whatever team duties happen to be taking up every corner of her life, this week.

So, the worst happens. Chaeryeong is left alone with her best friend.

“So,” Yuna starts, shit-eating grin sneaking its way onto her face. “Yeji-unnie, huh?”

“Yuna,” Chaeryeong says urgently, only feeling slightly faint as she tugs Yuna away, forceful, arm-in-arm. “Yuna, you have to get me in.”

᳂⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

First row of the bleachers is a dangerous place to be. Chaeryeong gets into the guilty habit of just watching. Because, to her own credit, there is so much for her to watch.

Volleyball. Volleyball is fun, she has to admit, like an adult game of hot potato, fully grown athletes hitting and receiving and tossing a ball as far away from themselves as they can, but more than volleyball, it’s Yeji. It’s just Yeji.

Yeji, as she stands in the center of the court, feet planted and arms steady, eyes glued to the ball flying at the speed of kilometers Chaeryeong can’t even begin to parse. Yeji, eyes narrowed and brows furrowed as she traces her steps with lightning, laser focus, hair pulled tightly back and beads of sweat dotting her forehead. Yeji, arm raised, calling for the ball with a loud, commanding shout, with all the certainty and training in the world. Yeji, as she begins her run-up and it looks like the whole world stops, parts, waits for her to fly. Yeji as she takes off, like she is flying, wings for arms and gymnasium lights like some ghostly, reckoning halo, casting a long midair shadow across the court, looming, deafening, and when her palm hits the ball it’s like the whole room hushes and goes silent.

It doesn’t. Shouts and cheers erupt and overflow, but all Chaeryeong ever hears is the ringing in her ears, the awe, the delight, the excitement of the game, whatever fighting power that Yeji holds tight in her fist, close to her chest, that seems to hold all the answers of the world.

Yeji scores, lands, and spins around to face her team, fist held high in the air, a victory. Her teammates find her and they huddle, shouting, faces gleaming with smiles and sweat, and Yeji’s eyes are bright, bright, bright, whatever glimpses of her Chaeryeong cranes her neck to catch before she gets lost in the flurry of the game and Chaeryeong loses her from sight.

But, just in that moment, the hush, Yeji feels like the center of the world.

᳂⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The third time she sees Yeji is at the afterparty. Season victories for her are common, Chaeryeong is quickly learning, but this one is special. The volleyball season continues on in the spring, but the fall term does not, giving the team several weeks of hard-earned rest from both competitions and school, but the several weeks of winter bring them something important. Winter break means something special to everyone, but to no one more than the student athletes, spared momentarily from surprise drug tests and substance prohibitions.

For student athletes, winter break means parties.

Chaeryeong is on pom team, and faces no such deathly requirements. She is no stranger to functions, even sees athletes there, sometimes, mingling, dancing, laughing, but it’s always a cup of water, soda, some mocktail concoction that acts as less of a drink and more a pillar of sobriety, commitment.

For student athletes, winter break means, at least for a couple days, letting fucking loose. For Chaeryeong, it means her favorite part: pregaming with Yuna while they get ready.

“I don’t know what to wear,” Yuna whines, making a mess of Chaeryeong’s bed as she throws outfit after outfit onto her duvet, glaring at her reflection on the back of Chaeryeong’s door as if personally responsible. On her own bed, clambering out of the mountain of clothes Yuna has made of her pillow, Chaeryeong groans.

“How can you not? You brought your whole closet here!” She sits up, sifting through Yuna’s pile and picking out a simple white tank top, an offering. “How about this?”

Yuna thanks her in the form of taking the tank top and throwing it right back at her as hard as she can, all of her hundred-seventy centimeter fury. Chaeryeong yelps as she disappears back into the pile of clothes.

“Why didn’t you just ask Ryujin? You could have gone together, you literally live together.”

The horror with which Yuna looks at her makes Chaeryeong feel like she just asked her to go naked.

“I can’t ask Ryujin, pabo, and she was already there with the team, anyway.”

She sighs, stalking over to Chaeryeong and picking through her pile as if possessed. “Stop being so useless and help, or you can just fuck right off, too.”

Chaeryeong throws her hands up. “You’re the one who asked me to pre with you.” Then, because she can’t have a best friend without an ulterior motive, says, “Dress me, first?”

Yuna looks up, appraises her with cool eyes. “Stand there.”

There is little for Chaeryeong to do, then, but just, well, stand there. Yuna sighs, tongue between her teeth as she surveys her clothes, digging through them with long, manicured nails.

She picks out something small and black with strips of thin fabric trailing off the ends, tossing it in Chaeryeong’s direction without looking. “Try this.”

Chaeryeong hastens to catch it, lest she subject herself to yet another beating.

“I don’t even know how to wear this,” she says flatly, but Yuna only huffs.

“Just try it, for fuck’s sake.” Then, because she is, in the end, Chaeryeong’s best friend, “I’ll help you.”

Chaeryeong sighs, shrugging off her t-shirt obediently, and Yuna turns to rifle through Chaeryeong’s cupboard. “You have a good pair of jeans, right?”

“I have jeans for days,” Chaeryeong replies, listless, and is rewarded with a heavy thump of denim against her chest.

“Wear those.”

“Yuna—” Chaeryeong abandons Yuna’s top in favor of sliding into the jeans instead. “I literally don’t even know where you found these. I’ve never seen them in my life.”

“They were in your drawer! And whatever, they look good.”

Chaeryeong surveys herself in her full-length mirror. They do look good. Low-rise is back in, apparently.

“Now let me help you with that top.”

Behind her, Yuna works some kind of magic, tying pieces of fabric together that Chaeryeong can’t even begin to wrap her head around, but Yuna is right, she has to admit, peering at herself in the mirror. She looks good. She meets Yuna’s eyes in the reflection, who raises her eyebrows in question.

“Okay?”

Chaeryeong nods. “Okay.”

“Great!” Yuna claps her hands. “Do your makeup, then help me.”

Already rifling through her box of eyeliner, Chaeryeong glances back at the mountain of clothes on her bed and points at random. “How about that?”

Yuna follows her finger with scathing eyes, then softens, a slow smile spreading across her face. “Chae-yah, finally. Knew you could pick something fucking good.”

᳂⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“Yuna! And Chaeryeong-ie!” Ryujin greets them at the door, red-faced and smiling. “Knew you guys could make it.”

She knocks her elbow against Yuna’s, leaning against her and giggling. “Sorry I left first.”

Yuna huffs, but holds Ryujin easily as her roommate presses all her weight into her. “Left me on my own,” she grumbles, but Ryujin only laughs.

“I had faith in you. And I was right!” She winks, failing only a little. “You look hot.”

“Unnie!” Yuna protests, and luckily for her, the light is too low for Ryujin to see the pink spread over her face, and even luckier, Ryujin is clearly too drunk to see Chaeryeong poke at Yuna’s flush, finger digging into her cheek and giggling. Yuna scowls, using her free hand to knock Chaeryeong away.

Ryujin straightens, slipping between them and taking them each by a hand. “Come in! Need to get some drinks in you.”

Yuna rolls her eyes but lets herself get pulled along. “Give jocks two weekends of freedom,” she mutters, and Chaeryeong giggles, helpless as she, too, is pulled into the fray.

“Where’s your drink?”

Ryujin turns to her and winks again, a little more successfully this time. “Finished,” she whispers too loud, and Chaeryeong laughs harder as she and Yuna are dragged through the threshold.

Inside is chaos. Chaeryeong reminds herself to limit her athlete parties to once a month. They just don’t know how to take it easy. She glances over at Yuna, who clearly thinks the same. The two of them usually attend the student media parties, student newspapers, campus radio and the such. They know how to take it a little easier.

The party life is a marathon, and not a sprint. Chaeryeong knows this all too well.

Ryujin clearly doesn’t. Neither does the women’s varsity volleyball team.

The house is dim but crowded, swaths of people draped over sofas, leaning against walls, sat cross-legged on floors, and the speaker system overhead is booming with some recent pop track Chaeryeong’s heard vaguely off of Yuna’s phone. Chaeryeong catches a glimpse of the back door propped wide open with a trash can, and she can spot of fairy lights and a huddle of people outside, too. The distinct sound of cheering, maybe.

Ryujin jostles her back to attention.

“Rina made the punch,” she calls, passing out cups to Chaeryeong and Yuna both. “She said it’s a little too sweet, sorry.”

Chaeryeong surveys hers suspiciously. She loves pink as much as anybody, she’s a girl after all, but a drink this bright is bound to make her suspicious.

Yuna clearly has another agenda. “Who’s Rina?” She yells back, attempting to be heard over the noise.

Ryujin furrows her eyebrows briefly before her eyes light up in understanding. “Jimin!” She leans in closer. “You know, Yu Jimin?”

Yuna scowls, drawing closer. “I don’t.”

Chaeryeong nudges the side of Yuna’s shoe with her own, laughing at the look it gets her, but Ryujin grins, oblivious.

“I promise it’s good,” she says. “I’ve had some.”

“We can tell,” Chaeryeong says, grinning back as she taps her cup against Yuna’s. Yuna, still scowling, takes a sip.

“It sucks,” she says lowly, into Chaeryeong’s ear, and Chaeryeong wrinkles her nose in confusion.

“The punch?”

“Yes.”

Chaeryeong takes a cautious sip of her own, then bursts into giggles. “You freak,” she says, drinking a little more. “It’s fine. Good, even.”

She glances over at Ryujin to find her standing with her arms crossed, watching the two of them with a wide, beaming smile.

“You guys are so cute,” she announces, happy and lazy, when she catches Chaeryeong looking. Yuna, despite herself, flushes.

“Come on, unnie,” she says, passing Chaeryeong her cup to grab Ryujin with both hands. “Let’s get you some water. Come on, Chae-yah.”

Ryujin only giggles, throwing an arm over Yuna’s shoulder as Yuna leads them off. Why Yuna knows the layout of the women’s team’s house, Chaeryeong will never know, especially because Ryujin lives with her and not the other way around, but Yuna leads them deftly to the kitchen with both arms tucked around Ryujin’s waist, so Chaeryeong follows, both hands holding their cups.

The kitchen is similarly crowded, though graciously better lit. Yuna flips on the faucet with one hand, the other still holding Ryujin, and takes a cup from the top of a stack sitting on the counter, holding it under the running water.

“I’m not sure if you’re meant to drink that,” Chaeryeong says, and Yuna doesn’t turn around, but does tell her to fuck off, loudly. Ryujin full-body laughs, forcing Yuna to tighten her hold, and Chaeryeong is about to put her drinks down to cuss at Yuna right back, poor drunk girl in her arms be damned, before a voice cuts through the kitchen, friendly.

“Yuna-yah,” Yeji says, leaning against the kitchen door threshold, grinning. “Leave the poor girl alone.”

If Chaeryeong stands a little straighter, well that’s her business and no one else’s. At least she doesn’t have to worry about what to do with her hands.

Yeji looks at home here, even in the chaos, arms crossed and one foot resting on the other. She pushes off the doorframe with a shoulder, striding over to them and helping Yuna with Ryujin’s weight, taking Ryujin by the arm easily and with a little laugh.

“Ryujinnie,” she sighs, laughing a little as she helps Yuna hoist her up onto the counter. “What are we going to do with you?”

“Unnie,” Ryujin chirps, an arm still over Yuna’s shoulder for balance. “You made it.”

“I live here,” Yeji says dryly, patting Ryujin on the leg. “Drink your water, jagi.” She turns to Yuna. “You got her?”

Yuna rolls her eyes, but doesn’t let go of Ryujin. “Yes, unnie.”

“Good.” Yeji cracks a smile. “You’re the one who’s going to have to take her home tonight.”

Yuna flushes. “Unnie.”

Yeji throws her head back, hair messy in the kitchen light. She lets out a cackle, grinning at Yuna and throwing her a final wave behind her back, before circling to Chaeryeong. She takes Chaeryeong by the arm, mindful of the drinks in her hand, and leads her towards the kitchen threshold.

Chaeryeong shoots her a glance, and Yeji matches it with a small flash of teeth.

“Let’s leave them alone,” she says, and that, Chaeryeong can agree with, letting out a laugh of her own as she looks over her shoulder at Yuna, who glares daggers at the both of them. Yeji leads Chaeryeong outside by the elbow, a gentleman, and Chaeryeong tries her best not to flush.

She can blame it on the punch. She glances down at her cup, nearly entirely full. Maybe not.

She finally decides that she can blame it on the pregame, blame it on Yuna, before Yeji pulls her to a stop, hovering before the stairwell leading upstairs to the bedrooms. This section of the house is darker, less natural light filtering through, and Chaeryeong thanks the darkness as she takes a moment to balance the cups in her hands.

She looks up at Yeji expectantly, then blinks. She’s not really sure what she’s expecting.

Yeji only grins at her, loose and warm. She leans against the wall behind her and appraises Chaeryeong, a quick up-down look that has to be deliberate. Chaeryeong thinks fast.

“Come here often?” She asks, and gets rewarded with a surprised bark of a laugh.

“She can joke.” Yeji grins, all teeth. “Why, trying to get me upstairs?”

Chaeryeong laughs, too, prepared. “Buy me a drink first,” she says, smiling, and Yeji nods at her hands.

“Both yours?”

Chaeryeong makes a face. “No. Yuna didn’t like it.”

Yeji hums, nonchalant. “She wouldn’t, the brat. Give it here, would you?”

Their hands brush as Chaeryeong passes Yeji the cup. Yeji’s nails are cut short and neat, right to the fingertip. Chaeryeong wonders if the pads of her fingers would be smooth, soft, if they would give under her gentle probing, or if they would feel hard, tough, keep their shape and calluses, proof of hard work, of dedication.

It’s easy to forget, in the low light, why Yeji’s here at all. Even aces deserve a break.

“Drink up, ace,” Chaeryeong says, taking a sip of her own cup. “You deserve it.”

Yeji laughs low but obliges, drinking from Yuna’s cup. “I love volleyball as much as the next person but—”

She sighs, glancing out into the hallway. “This sobriety thing. It’s tough work.”

Chaeryeong laughs, then gives a faux-sigh of her own. “I wouldn’t know.”

“Brat.” Yeji eyes her, but she’s smiling. The stairwell is dark, secluded but not empty, music is drifting in from the living room and the song has changed, something nostalgic Chaeryeong remembers from high school, and she feels happy. Chaeryeong is happy.

“How long have you been playing?”

Yeji’s head leans back, hitting the wall behind her with a quiet knock. She sighs, musing.

“How long has it been now? Started in middle school, never looked back.” Her face takes on something thoughtful, even through the faint flush dusting her face from the drink. “There’s just something about it.”

Chaeryeong nods quickly, eager to agree. “It’s amazing,” she says, honest. “It’s the most fun I’ve ever had watching games.”

Yeji grins. “Watch a lot of sports? While you dance your little heart out?”

Chaeryeong grins back. “I’m on pom team,” she boasts. “I dabble.”

Yeji’s drink sloshes as she laughs.

“Pom team.” She whistles lowly. “What a shitshow. Never would have thought it.”

Chaeryeong leans forward. She loves pom team talk. “Did Jisu-unnie tell you?”

“What doesn’t she tell me should be the question.”

“You would never believe it otherwise. It’s actually so serious. Did she tell you she’s gunning for captain next year?”

Yeji groans. “Please. I hear it every week. Obsessed, that one.”

Chaeryeong waves her drink, haphazard. “She deserves it. She’s been on the team longer than anyone.”

“If that were the case,” Yeji sighs, taking another sip, “Aeri would be captain by now.”

“Oh?” Chaeryeong loves this kind of talk. “Who’s Aeri?”

“Our setter,” Yeji supplies, smiling fondly. “She’s here tonight. The best ever.”

“And she didn’t get it?”

“Didn’t want it.” Yeji shrugs. “Beats me. I would have snatched it up the second I had the chance, if I were her.”

“Next year?” Chaeryeong asks, teasing, but Yeji meets her with a sharp, lazy grin.

“Just watch me, Chaeryeong.”

The sound of her name in Yeji’s mouth sends a little shiver down her spine. She blames it on the drink, the temperature, Yuna’s ridiculous open-back top, anything but the smirk in the corner of Yeji’s mouth and the way her eyes narrow as she looks at Chaeryeong, daring, confident, open.

“You and Jisu-unnie,” Chaeryeong says, finally. “Ruling the court.”

Yeji scoffs. “I’ll drink to that.”

She reaches across the distance between them with her cup, Chaeryeong meets her easily. The last of the punch she drains tastes a little sweeter, simmering in the back of her throat.

“I like your shirt,” Yeji says, putting her own empty cup down. She lurches forward, suddenly, and Chaeryeong prepares to catch her, but Yeji only reaches out, catches one of the loose ties on her top to touch.

“It’s Yuna’s,” Chaeryeong manages, as Yeji thumbs through the fabric. Yeji hums.

“Looks good.” She glances up. “Wear something of your own next time.”

Chaeryeong swallows. Divert, divert, divert.

“Yuna’s tall. It’s too big on me, right?”

“She’s so tall,” Yeji agrees. “I keep trying to get her to try out for us. But, if you’re asking, no.” Yeji meets Chaeryeong’s eyes, suddenly, square and steady.

“You look good.”

Yeji smiles, and Chaeryeong knows better than to linger on her canines, sharp and enticing.

“Come see me again, then,” she says, low and happy, buzzing with something like excitement. “I’ll put on a little show for you.”

And, Yeji isn’t a player for nothing. Her grin widens, Chaeryeong loves it.

“I’ll hold you to it.”

᳂⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Jisu scrutinizes her with a look.

“Sleep well or something?”

Chaeryeong tilts her head in confusion, but Jisu only shakes her head.

“Nothing. You just look excited. It’s cute, Chaeryeong-ie,” she says, laughing when Chaeryeong frowns at her. “Don’t get all offended at me.”

She winks. “It’s kind of attitude I’m looking for in a vice-captain.”

“Calm down, unnie,” Chaeryeong says, breaking and laughing back. “You have to get elected, first.”

“Watch me,” Jisu promises, and she sounds like Yeji, but not nearly. Not quite. Chaeryeong thinks of her then, of Yeji, huddled in the dark, full of promise, of attitude, and turns to find her, a sweeping beacon on the court.

And, there she stands. She waves when she catches Chaeryeong looking, and Chaeryeong grins wide, shakes her pom-pom right back.

Good luck, she mouths, and Yeji’s answering grin blinds the whole court away.

Behind her, Ryujin makes her way to the end line, ball in hand, mouth screwed up in concentration. Ryujin starts on the backline, Chaeryeong has learned, so she serves first every time. She bounces the ball once, then again, and Chaeryeong feels the fondness well up, Ryujin’s own little serve routine.

Ryujin looks up, shoots a smile in her general direction, but Chaeryeong knows it’s not for her. She doesn’t care how obvious she’s being when she turns around to look, and Yuna meets her eyes, sheepish, happy.

All Chaeryeong can do is be happy for Yuna, after all. She turns back to the game.

“I really like volleyball,” she says out loud, and Jisu nudges her, approving. The whistle blows, and Ryujin, Yeji, they’re off.

Chaeryeong’s gotten used to the routine, now. Loves it. Loves watching the team, synchronized, synergized, a well-oiled machine in action. Loves the way they play in tandem, loves watching the ball float back and forth, the faith of twelve pairs of hands. And, Yeji. Most of all, she loves how Yeji loves it.

She wants Yeji to know. Wants her to know how much she loves it, how much has happened to her, just by watching Yeji play.

“Go-time,” Jisu says next to her, but Chaeryeong doesn’t need the reminder. She stands and straightens her skirt, pom-poms at the ready.

Jisu flips her ponytail. “Hana, dul, set, net!”

Chaeryeong dances. Chaeryeong knows the routine as well as anybody on pom team, which is to say, the most. She kicks her leg out, grinning as Yuna rolls her eyes at her, and spins, arm-in-arm with Jisu, and when she throws her hands high in the air, pom-poms shaking, she laughs, hearing the cheers of the bleachers, the ruckus of the courts. Chaeryeong loves sports. Chaeryeong loves pom team.

When she finally turns around, flushed and happy, Yeji’s eyes are on her.

᳂⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

They lose the game.

It isn’t Yeji’s fault. Or Ryujin’s, or Aeri’s, or anyone’s, but Chaeryeong watches guiltily as they stand across the net from their opponents, shaking hands, exchanging compliments, wishing well, and Chaeryeong watches the slump of Yeji’s shoulders as she trudges back to her team, already huddled in a circle with their coach in the middle.

She averts her eyes. Yuna winces, but Jisu shakes them both off.

“They’ll be fine,” she tells them, brisk. “It happens.”

Yeji says the same, when she and Ryujin finally drag their feet over to them, but Ryujin slumps onto Yuna’s shoulder, disheartened, and Yuna slips an arm around her waist, sympathetic, and doesn’t even comment on Ryujin’s sweat soaking into her shirt as she turns them around, so Chaeryeong knows it must be a tad serious.

Jisu compensates by slapping Yeji on the back, hard, enough so that Yeji stumbles and shoots Jisu a look. She brushes Yeji off.

“Don’t be broody,” Jisu scolds. “Walk it off.”

“Easy for you to say,” Yeji sniffs, but cracks a smile as Jisu swipes at her again.

“I have to go study,” she says, fastening Yeji with a stern glare. “I can’t hang out. But don’t brood. Another game next week, ‘kay?”

Yeji salutes her and Jisu strides off, but not before twisting over her shoulder to yell at Chaeryeong, “Don’t leave her alone!”

Yeji snorts but turns, sheepish. “Ignore her,” she says, letting out a small laugh. “Sometimes it feels like she thinks she’s older than me.”

“She’s right.” Chaeryeong frowns, sympathetic. “I can’t leave you alone now.”

“Guess you’re stuck with me, then.”

“Let me take you out,” Chaeryeong insists, and she doesn’t know why, but she grabs Yeji’s arm, as if she would run away.

“I’m sweating,” Yeji protests, but Chaeryeong rolls her eyes.

“I don’t care,” she insists. “Jisu-unnie’s right. Let me take you to dinner, or something.”

“I can’t do that,” Yeji admonishes her. “I’m your unnie.”

Chaeryeong only shrugs. “Buy me something then. But let’s go out.”

Yeji raises an eyebrow, Chaeryeong is undeterred. “Unnie,” she insists. “Yuna’s taking Ryujin back to their room to mope, I can’t leave you here all alone.”

Yeji looks so small suddenly, sheepish, defeated, but she’s just as pretty, eyes smiling, hair matted with sweat, the number one on her jersey like a lighthouse, grounding her to the court.

“Fine.” Yeji cracks a wry smile. “Dinner’s on me.”

Seeing Yeji so demure is rare, to Chaeryeong. Chaeryeong is used to her standing straight, tall, back confident and head tilted up to gymnasium lights, wide, sly grin and all, so the little tilt in the corner of Yeji’s mouth rubs Chaeryeong the wrong way. She doesn’t like it, the hesitance. She wants Yeji on top of the whole world, or not at all.

She tightens her grip on Yeji’s wrist.

“Come on,” she says. “Let’s go.”

Yeji follows.

᳂⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Dinner ends up being a large-size cup of tteokbokki, but it’s okay. More than. They start towards the city center, looking for a ramen restaurant, maybe, a hot stone plate of something, but Chaeryeong drags Yeji towards the street market once she catches sight of the yellow lights strung up against fabric, red lanterns and handwritten signs calling out to her.

“I haven’t done this since high school,” Chaeryeong says happily, twirling the wooden toothpick in her hand. She and Yuna make tteokbokki in the dorm all the time, but it’s always better from an ahjumma who coos at their uniforms and tells them to eat up and study hard.

Yeji raises an eyebrow. “Tteokbokki?”

“No,” Chaeryeong says, rolling her eyes and feeding Yeji another piece. She watches Yeji’s mouth close around the toothpick as she takes it obediently, cheeks full like some kind of sweet little animal.

“I mean this.” She waves her free hand around the air, haphazard, to explain. They haven’t moved far from the market, sat like teenagers on the curbside of the alley, so few cars pass and people walk by in pairs, groups, most uncaring but some casting a curious eye to the two of them, perched like birds. Chaeryeong sends them a sunny smile.

“I used to do this in high school,” she explains, speaking slowly through a mouthful of food. “After I picked my sister up from school we would get a snack together, before I took her home.”

Yeji smiles. “You have a sister?”

“Two. I’m the middle.”

Yeji takes the toothpick from her, fishing one out to feed ricecake into Chaeryeong’s mouth instead. “Cute. It suits you.”

Chaeryeong takes it with her teeth, grinning. “What about you, unnie?”

“I have a sister, too. Older. She says that I’m too much of a boy. When I was younger I used to call her noona to piss her off.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Chaeryeong says, laughing. “You’re not a boy at all.”

“Oh, yeah?” Yeji grins. “Not too much of a boy for you?”

“No.” Chaeryeong reaches for the tteokbokki, smiling down at herself. “No, not at all.”

᳂⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“Hey, unnie?” Chaeryeong asks one afternoon, warm and cozy tucked into her bed. “If you aren’t captain, why are you number one?”

Yeji looks up. “My jersey, you mean?”

Chaeryeong grins. “It suits you.”

“Yeah, well,” Yeji drops down at the foot of her bed. “Next year, I’ll earn it.”

Chaeryeong rolls her eyes. “We know.”

“Jimin says it’s mine!” Yeji protests, but Chaeryeong uses her blanketed feet to shove at Yeji until she relents.

“Don’t care, unnie,” she grumbles. “You’re just like Jisu. And where’s my malatang? I only let you in because you said you brought food.”

“Dropping honorifics, Chae?” Yeji asks, eyebrow raised, but she hands the bag over nonetheless.

“She’s not here,” Chaeryeong says, stubborn, but sends a silent apology to Jisu-unnie anyway.

Free of her delivery, Yeji flops down fully onto Chaeryeong’s bed until she squawks, but Yeji is heavier than her, and stronger too, so Chaeryeong sets the bag down on the floor to flip the covers up over her as she sits up, laughing, laughing, laughing.

᳂⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“Unnie!” Chaeryeong says, happy and surprised. “The courts are that way, you know.”

“Shut up,” Yeji says, pushing off the wall outside Chaeryeong’s lecture hall. “I came to pick you up.”

“Shocking.” Chaeryeong hands over her bag, and Yeji slings it over her shoulder. “I didn’t think you knew people went to school here.”

“Fuck off,” Yeji says, laughing as she slings an arm over Chaeryeong’s shoulder to lead her away. “I have to maintain an average to stay on the team, you know.”

“Scraping by, unnie?”

Yeji mimes shoving her away but Chaeryeong resists, holding her tight and laughing, whining her name over and over again until Yeji forgives her. Yeji smiles; Chaeryeong loves it.

“Come on, brat. Lunch is on me.”

᳂⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Chaeryeong loves pom team. It’s an inescapable fact of life. Chaeryeong lives for it, the dressing up, the pom-poms, the awful little skirts. Jisu-unnie and Yuna and the bleachers, fields, courts, gymnasiums.

And, Chaeryeong loves volleyball. She watches lots of sports, has partied with the hockey team more than anyone in her life, but there’s just something about volleyball that makes it different. Something about the toss and frenzy, the sheer ridiculousness of it that gets her all swept up, six players on a team becoming one, or maybe it’s just one of the players after all, that gets Chaeryeong sitting up a little straighter, a little brighter on game days.

She sees Yeji outside of games all the time now, but it doesn’t make the court any less special.

It’s just something about the court. Something about watching Yeji flower under gymnasium lights, sweat gleaming and eyes all lit up, alive, feet planted like roots, steady and waiting and ready.

Yeji jumps, and Yeji flies. Yeji could take over the world with a run-up and a well-aimed spike. When the ball lands, untouched and unobstructed on the other side of the net, an earthquake landing home, no one cheers louder than Chaeryeong.

Yeji looks up, ready and waiting, meets Chaeryeong’s eyes with a blinding grin. Slowly, amidst the ruckus, she lifts an arm and points to Chaeryeong, laughing, joking, utterly serious.

Chaeryeong can almost hear it. That one was for you.

She laughs, to no one in particular, and ignores the glance Jisu sends from beside her. She’s happy. Chaeryeong is so happy. The number one on the back of Yeji’s jersey catches the light, and Chaeryeong feels herself light up with it.

“Yeji-unnie!” She yells, waving her pom-poms furiously. “Nice hit!”

Yeji sees her and laughs, back straight, head thrown back, ponytail messy on top of her head, and she glances at Chaeryeong, moments before Ryujin lands on her, elated and proud, and Yeji smiles, all teeth.

That awful grin. It’ll kill her one day, Chaeryeong swears, but not today, not under the lights, not today. Chaeryeong swears that she’ll die by Yeji’s grin, white and blinding, sharp teeth and laughter and those awful, awful eyes, and Chaeryeong will die by this, she will, she will.

The team is shouting, whooping, circling Yeji, and Yeji’s eyes are nowhere, on nothing but Chaeryeong. Chaeryeong feels rooted to the ground, the first row of the bleachers, her front seat to Yeji, to the world.

Yeji grins with all her awful, sharp canines. Chaeryeong is in the center of the world.