Chapter Text
The late afternoon sun cast golden rays across the school's sprawling football field, bathing everything in a soft, amber light. The distant hum of cicadas blended with the roar of cheering students, their voices rising in excitement as the game neared its end.
San, the team captain, was in the thick of it, effortlessly dribbling the ball past two defenders with fluid precision. His movements were sharp, each step calculated, and the crowd was on their feet, urging him forward.
With a final, powerful kick, the ball shot toward the net. The goalkeeper lunged, but it was too late—the ball struck the back of the net with a satisfying thud. The cheers from the crowd were deafening as San's teammates swarmed around him, lifting him in the air.
"San! That was incredible!" Mingi exclaimed, clapping him on the back. Their teammates crowded him, chanting his name in unison, basking in the victory.
"Thanks, guys," San grinned, his chest still heaving with the rush of the game. He ran a hand through his sweaty hair, savoring the attention. The praise, the cheers—it all felt so good.
Football wasn't just a sport for him; it was a way to be seen, to be admired. And in moments like this, he felt like the whole world was watching, all eyes on him.
"Man, you're practically a celebrity," Yunho said as they made their way toward the locker room. "It's a wonder you're still single. I mean, with all the attention you get, I'm surprised someone hasn't already snatched you up."
San smirked, a playful glint in his eyes. He shrugged nonchalantly. "Guess I haven't found the right person yet." His voice was light, though his mind briefly flickered to someone, an image that had been lingering there since the first day of school.
It wasn't anything too serious—just a fleeting thought, really. The person had caught his eye when he first saw them in the hallway, their features sharp and striking. Pretty for a guy, he thought with a small smile.
There was something about them, a certain charm that stood out. Maybe it was the mole beneath their eye, the little imperfection that somehow made them even more interesting. But it was nothing to dwell on.
San quickly shook the thought off, turning his attention back to his teammates.
"Maybe I'm just waiting for the right person to catch my attention," he added, brushing the thought aside like it was no big deal.
It wasn't like him to get caught up in anything too complicated. He was content with his life as it was—after all, he had everything he needed right here.
---
Across campus, in the pristine halls of the main building, Wooyoung walked with the poise of someone who owned the place. His presence was undeniable, like a quiet storm passing through.
Every step he took was deliberate, measured—his movements fluid, like he knew exactly where he was going and what he was about to achieve.
The crisp lines of his uniform were perfect, nothing out of place, and the way he carried himself only reinforced the aura of authority he exuded.
As the school president, Wooyoung wasn't just a figurehead; he was the embodiment of everything the school aspired to be. His mere presence commanded respect, and wherever he went, students parted like the sea to make way for him.
Some greeted him with a nod or a smile, their voices tinged with reverence, while others simply watched from a distance, whispering in awe about his latest achievements.
"President Jung, here's the updated student council report." A nervous sophomore approached him with a file in hand. She looked up at him, clearly intimidated but eager to please.
Wooyoung accepted the report without a word of greeting, his sharp gaze flicking briefly to the student before returning to the contents of the file.
"Good work," he said flatly, his voice cold and measured. He barely spared the student a glance as he tucked the file under his arm, moving on with his purposeful stride. The sophomore stood frozen for a moment, unsure whether to speak or simply retreat.
Wooyoung had that effect on people—his aloofness was like a shield, a barrier that few dared to cross. But his brilliance couldn't be ignored. It was impossible not to respect someone who excelled at everything they touched.
As Wooyoung passed by, a group of students murmured quietly, their conversation low enough to avoid his attention but loud enough for those around them to overhear.
"How does he do it?" one student whispered, her voice filled with a mix of awe and curiosity.
The other student, her friend, leaned in, her eyes flicking over Wooyoung's retreating form. "I heard he's even good at sports," she said, her tone full of disbelief. "But he doesn't bother with them. Says it's a waste of time."
It was true. Wooyoung was the kind of person who excelled at everything he set his mind to. He was the top student in every subject, a natural leader who carried the weight of the student council with ease.
His academic achievements were unmatched, and his peers often looked to him for guidance, knowing that his word carried weight.
But beyond the classroom, Wooyoung's talents extended into every arena—he could have been a star athlete, an incredible musician, or an award-winning artist.
Yet, he remained detached from it all, preferring to focus on the things that mattered most to him, leaving others to wonder how he managed to juggle so many responsibilities without breaking a sweat.
And it wasn't just his academic or intellectual achievements that made him stand out. Wooyoung had a way of carrying himself that made others feel small in comparison.
His unshakable confidence radiated from him like an invisible force field, and while some found it intimidating, others couldn't help but admire him.
He was the kind of person who seemed untouchable, above everyone else, but at the same time, his brilliance demanded attention and respect.
"Everything he touches turns to gold," another student remarked, watching Wooyoung as he disappeared down the hallway. There was a sense of awe in their voice, but also a hint of frustration—how could someone be so perfect, so effortlessly superior in everything they did?
As Wooyoung walked on, he didn't notice the whispers or the envious gazes of his peers. He didn't need to. To him, it was all just background noise—a small price to pay for the life he had crafted. After all, being at the top had its privileges, but it also had its burdens.
---
The school's football team was no exception to Wooyoung's indifference. As the team celebrated their victories—cheers echoing through the air, students surrounding the field, and teachers offering congratulatory smiles—Wooyoung remained untouched by it all.
He walked past the scene with a quiet confidence, his gaze never wavering, his steps purposeful. The celebrations went on without him, as if he were a world apart, unaffected by the pride his classmates took in their athletic achievements.
For Wooyoung, the world of sports was just one of many things he didn't need to care about. His focus was elsewhere, always somewhere beyond the reach of others' admiration.
For San, this indifference stung in a way he couldn't quite explain. He poured his heart into every game, led his team to countless victories, yet Wooyoung—who was good at everything—couldn't even spare them a glance.
"Who does he think he is?" Mingi muttered, frustration tinging his voice as he watched Wooyoung stride past the field, his figure tall and composed. "We've brought so much pride to this school, and he can't even acknowledge us."
San didn't respond immediately. His gaze lingered on Wooyoung's retreating figure, noting the way the president moved with effortless grace, as if he owned the entire campus.
It wasn't just the aloofness that intrigued San; it was the sheer air of confidence that surrounded Wooyoung, the way he was always at the top of whatever he did, whether it was academics, leadership, or, it seemed, just existing.
Wooyoung had a way of making everything look effortless, like he was the ace of the school, the one who could do it all and never break a sweat.
It was hard not to admire him—even if it was frustrating. San couldn't help but notice the small details. Wooyoung's sharp profile, the precision with which he carried himself, and that one little feature San couldn't shake from his mind—the mole beneath Wooyoung's right eye.
It was so subtle, almost imperceptible, but it added a certain charm to his face, something San couldn't put his finger on. For someone so cold and dismissive, Wooyoung's presence had a strange magnetism.
San's thoughts wandered as he watched Wooyoung disappear into the school building, his figure growing smaller with every step. The feeling that gnawed at him wasn't just irritation—it was curiosity.
Maybe it was the challenge of breaking through that ice-cold exterior, of getting past the perfection that Wooyoung seemed to embody. Or maybe it was something deeper, something San wasn't quite ready to admit to himself.
"He's the school ace," San muttered under his breath, almost to himself, as he continued to stare at the doorway Wooyoung had just passed through.
Mingi raised an eyebrow, hearing the quiet tone in San's voice. "What?"
San snapped out of his thoughts, realizing he had spoken aloud. He quickly shook his head, trying to brush it off. "Nothing. Just... he's always on top. Doesn't even try, but still beats everyone at everything."
Mingi smirked, crossing his arms. "Sounds like someone's jealous."
San gave him a sidelong glance, his face flushing slightly. "I'm not jealous. Just..." His words trailed off, and he found himself unable to fully explain it.
Was it admiration? Frustration? Or something else?
San wasn't sure, but something about Wooyoung's perfection, his composure, and that little mole under his eye stuck with him, lingering in his thoughts long after he had disappeared from sight.
San's gaze lingered on the door a moment longer before he turned away, his mind already drifting back to the football field, but the image of Wooyoung—the school's untouchable ace—wasn't so easy to shake off.
---
Their paths finally crossed during the first year's end-of-year announcement. The entire school was buzzing with excitement, and San, competitive to his core, couldn't wait to see the rankings.
The anticipation felt like a knot in his chest, but that didn't stop him from grinning as he walked toward the bulletin board.
Yunho, always eager to share in the excitement, was the first to read the results aloud. "Second place, Choi San," he announced with a grin, his voice full of admiration. "Not bad!"
San couldn't help but puff out his chest, though he feigned indignation. "Not bad?" he repeated, rolling his eyes in mock offense. "I'm just one step away from number one."
Jongho, who had been standing quietly beside them, chuckled and added, "You've been saying that all year." His words were playful, but it was clear he was proud of San's achievement.
A few of the other teammates laughed, and the air around them seemed to hum with the energy of the moment.
San let out a dramatic sigh. "One more year. Next time, I'll be at the top."
Just as the group continued to chat, Wooyoung strolled by the bulletin board, his steps confident and slow. He didn't even glance at the rankings, too absorbed in his own world.
The sight of him, so effortlessly unaffected by the hubbub around him, made something in San stir—something unfamiliar, a strange mix of irritation and intrigue.
"That's it," San said suddenly, straightening his back, his eyes narrowing as he watched Wooyoung's retreating form.
"What's it?" Yunho asked, glancing at him, confused.
San didn't answer immediately. His mind was already racing, a new resolve taking root. With one quick glance at his friends, he started to walk in Wooyoung's direction, his pace purposeful.
"San, don't—" Yunho called after him, his voice tinged with concern. But it was too late. San was already moving forward, his mind locked on the challenge that had just appeared before him.
"Hey, Wooyoung!" San called out, his voice loud and clear, slicing through the chatter of the hallway.
Wooyoung stopped in his tracks, turning slowly. His gaze swept over San, taking in his determined expression. There was a brief moment of silence before Wooyoung raised an eyebrow, clearly unfazed.
"Do I know you?" he asked, his tone casual but with a hint of mild annoyance. His posture was relaxed, as if this interaction was an inconvenience, not something worth his full attention.
The dismissive tone sent a spark through San, lighting a fire inside him. He wasn't sure why, but something about Wooyoung's cool demeanor, the effortless confidence that seemed to ooze from him, made San's heart beat a little faster.
Grinning, San shrugged off the dismissive tone. "Not yet, but you will," he said, standing tall as he met Wooyoung's sharp gaze. "I'm Choi San, and I'm going to be the one who takes that number one spot from you next year."
Wooyoung blinked once, almost as if he hadn't expected such a bold statement. Then, without missing a beat, he let out a soft scoff, the corners of his mouth curling upward in amusement.
"Good luck with that," he replied flatly, turning as if San's challenge didn't even warrant a second thought.
But San wasn't deterred. His grin widened, and he took a step forward. "Oh, it's not about luck. It's about skill, and I've got plenty of that," he said confidently, his voice full of a quiet determination.
Wooyoung didn't respond, just gave a final glance over his shoulder before walking away, disappearing into the crowd.
Back with their respective friend groups, the reactions were mixed. Yunho, who had been watching with mild disbelief, was the first to speak. "Why do you even care?" he asked, clearly baffled. "You don't even care about being number one."
San paused, his thoughts briefly spinning as he turned the question over in his mind. The truth was more complicated than Yunho could ever understand.
He didn't care about the ranking in the way most people did, but he cared about Wooyoung. Wooyoung's indifference, his effortless confidence, had stirred something in San that he couldn't quite name. Something that made him want to be more—better.
Something that made him want to prove that he could stand up to someone who seemed untouchable.
"Who says I don't care?" San shot back, though the words felt empty, even to him. The truth, the raw reason behind his actions, was buried deeper.
It wasn't just about the number one spot. It was about Wooyoung. Wooyoung had this strange way of making him feel small and yet strangely powerful at the same time.
Mingi, who had been watching with a mixture of amusement and concern, muttered under his breath, shaking his head. "San's lost it."
But San didn't hear him. His mind was still on the conversation he'd just had, on the way Wooyoung had looked at him with that detached, almost bored expression. It made San's heart race, a feeling he couldn't quite understand, but one he was sure he wanted to chase.
He hadn't expected Wooyoung to care, but at least now Wooyoung knew his name. At least now, he was a blip on Wooyoung's radar.
Next year, he promised himself. He was going to take that number one spot—and maybe, just maybe, he'd figure out why Wooyoung made him feel the way he did. And that, San thought with a smirk, was just the beginning.
----
Meanwhile, in the student council room, the usual air of calm and order filled the space as Wooyoung leaned against the desk, arms crossed.
His gaze was unfocused, eyes distant as he replayed the interaction with San in his mind. He had barely given the moment any thought after it happened, but now that his friends were bringing it up, something about it lingered.
"Is he serious?" Yeosang asked, raising an eyebrow. "Some random guy thinks he can take your spot just like that?"
Wooyoung shrugged indifferently, not even looking up from where he stood. "Who knows? Maybe he's just trying to get attention. People do that all the time."
Seonghwa, leaning casually against the wall, tilted his head. "You don't think he could actually take your spot, do you?" He asked with an edge of concern, his gaze steady. He knew Wooyoung better than anyone—this wasn't a guy who let anyone challenge him without a second thought.
Wooyoung shot him a dismissive look, his voice flat. "Not a chance. No one's touching my spot."
Yeosang chuckled softly, clearly amused. "I mean, you've earned that reputation. You're the best at everything. No one's got what it takes to knock you off your pedestal."
Wooyoung smirked lightly, the confidence never wavering. "Exactly."
At that moment, Hongjoong walked in, his usual mischievous grin lighting up his face. "What's this about some kid trying to take Wooyoung's throne?" he asked, a teasing tone in his voice.
Yeosang, ever the instigator, quickly filled him in. "Apparently, some kid named Choi San thinks he can challenge Wooyoung for the top spot next year."
Hongjoong raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained. "Oh? Is that so?" He glanced at Wooyoung, his grin widening. "And how do you feel about that, Wooyoung? A little competition?"
Wooyoung didn't even blink. "If he wants to try, let him. Doesn't bother me."
Seonghwa glanced at Wooyoung skeptically. "He's persistent, though. Not someone who backs down easily."
Wooyoung let out a soft, almost amused sigh. "So what? If he wants to waste his time, that's his problem. He's not going to make a dent."
At that, Hongjoong raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright, I get it. You're not worried."
But then Wooyoung's brow furrowed slightly, as though something about the conversation finally clicked. "Wait... who is this guy, exactly?" he asked, glancing at Seonghwa with an almost curious look.
Seonghwa, a little surprised that Wooyoung didn't know the answer already, cleared his throat. "He's the football team captain. Choi San. He's been running the team for a while now. Big guy on campus, you know, part of the school's pride and joy."
Wooyoung blinked, processing the information. Football. Captain. It took him a moment, but then it hit him. "Wait... the guy who scored that insane goal during the last match?" he muttered to himself. "That was him?"
Yeosang chuckled lightly from the corner of the room. "Wow, you really don't know anyone in this school, huh?" he teased, his voice dripping with amusement. "San's practically the face of the school. You've seen him around more times than you can count, Wooyoung."
Wooyoung rolled his eyes, his usual composure not faltering. "I don't keep track of every person here," he said coolly, brushing off the teasing. "I have better things to do than memorize everyone's face."
Hongjoong, not missing the opportunity, couldn't resist adding to the fun. "Still, funny that it's Choi San, of all people, who's aiming for the number one spot. I mean, he's number two, right?" He grinned broadly at Wooyoung. "Not bad for someone who's... you know, second place."
Wooyoung's eyes narrowed, but there was no real bite to his response. "I'm still the best," he said firmly, his voice carrying the same cold confidence. "Number two doesn't even register on my radar."
Hongjoong laughed, clearly enjoying teasing Wooyoung. "You know, for someone who's not worried, you sure seem like you care a lot."
Wooyoung just shrugged, his expression going back to its usual impassive state. "I'm not worried. If he wants to waste his time challenging me, that's his business. I'll deal with it when it actually matters."
Seonghwa, though, could see through the facade. There was something in Wooyoung's tone, something faintly unsettled that he wasn't willing to admit. But Seonghwa kept his thoughts to himself. Wooyoung wasn't one to admit doubts—especially not to his friends.
Yeosang, still chuckling at the whole exchange, spoke up with a smirk. "Well, it looks like you've got a little rivalry brewing, Wooyoung. What are you gonna do about it?"
Wooyoung straightened up, brushing off the moment as if it were trivial. "Nothing. If he wants to waste his energy chasing something that isn't even worth it, that's on him. I'm the one who sets the pace around here. Let him try and catch up."
Hongjoong slapped him on the back with a grin. "Well, well, look at you. Still the king. But don't say I didn't warn you. People are always gunning for number one."
Wooyoung gave him a look, his usual confidence unwavering. "Let them try."
With that, the conversation shifted, but Wooyoung's mind lingered on one thing—he had seen San before, but he hadn't expected someone like him to be the one daring to challenge him.
Maybe there was more to this rivalry than he'd initially thought. But for now, Wooyoung wasn't concerned. He had everything under control.
---
And so, the rivalry began. At least, that's how it looked to everyone else. The whispers started almost immediately, spreading through the school like wildfire. C
hoi San, the football team's captain, had thrown down the gauntlet, openly challenging the unshakable Wooyoung for the top spot, a title Wooyoung had held with an unyielding grip for as long as anyone could remember.
It was a narrative that everyone eagerly latched onto, the underdog versus the untouchable, the brash newcomer versus the polished king.
But to San, it wasn't a rivalry—not in the way others saw it. It wasn't about beating Wooyoung. No, it was an excuse. An excuse to get closer, to finally find a way to break through the layers of cold indifference that Wooyoung surrounded himself with.
If challenging his rank was what it took to capture Wooyoung's attention, then that was exactly what San would do. He had no illusions about what he wanted—getting closer to Wooyoung wasn't about the title.
It was about figuring out who this person was, the one who seemed so perfect, so unreachable, yet somehow still intriguing. San couldn't help but be drawn to him.
For Wooyoung, though, it was just another nuisance in his meticulously controlled life. Another person trying to disturb the carefully constructed world he had built for himself.
Every morning, every afternoon, he moved through the halls of the school with the confidence of someone who knew exactly where he stood. No one dared to challenge him—at least, no one who mattered. Until San.
Every time San walked past, or worse, confronted him, Wooyoung felt that nagging pull of something unfamiliar. He told himself it was nothing—a fleeting distraction, something easily dismissed.
After all, he had bigger things to worry about. The student council. His studies. His responsibilities. None of which left time for this strange obsession San seemed to have with him. Still, there was a spark—a tension—that neither of them could ignore.
Wooyoung was used to being in control. He was used to people respecting his space, keeping their distance, and he had learned long ago to shut off whatever feelings came from others' attempts to push through his walls.
But San, with his persistent challenges and innocent confidence, had a way of getting under his skin in ways Wooyoung wasn't prepared for.
Every time they crossed paths, Wooyoung would catch himself watching San a little too long, or noticing the way his smile seemed to flicker when he was talking to him. It was disorienting. San wasn't supposed to matter this much.
San, on the other hand, was more than aware of the tension building between them. He'd seen it in the way Wooyoung's eyes lingered on him, even if only for a second longer than necessary.
He'd caught those rare moments when Wooyoung's cold façade faltered, when his indifference cracked just a little.
To San, that was enough. It was enough to know that Wooyoung wasn't as untouchable as he pretended to be. And so, the chase continued—each encounter was another step, another layer peeled back, even if it was only a small one.
San didn't care about being the number one student. That was never his goal. If anything, being number two gave him the perfect excuse to keep pushing forward. It gave him a reason to challenge Wooyoung, to speak to him, to be noticed.
Wooyoung might not have cared about the rivalry, but to San, it was the perfect opportunity to close the distance between them.
Every time Wooyoung dismissed him with that cool indifference, it only fueled the fire inside San, making him more determined to break through the walls Wooyoung had carefully built around himself.
And so, day after day, they continued this strange dance. Wooyoung would go about his life, detached and unaffected, while San would keep pushing, never backing down.
There was something in the air whenever they met, something unspoken that neither of them could name. It wasn't rivalry, not really. It wasn't about being first or second.
It was about something else—a growing awareness, a pull that neither of them could resist, even if neither of them knew where it would lead.
The school, of course, was watching. The whispers grew louder with every encounter, the rivalry becoming more than just a passing interest. But for Wooyoung and San, the rivalry wasn't the point.
Not yet. What mattered was the unspoken tension between them, a tension that neither of them could deny, even as they continued to pretend it didn't exist.
The more they pushed each other, the more they realized that this wasn't just about titles or grades or victories—it was about something deeper, something neither of them was ready to confront.
But as the days passed, they both knew that sooner or later, they'd have to face it. And when they did, it would change everything.