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Woongki was bored out of his mind. He was supposed to be at home, enjoying a much-needed self-care day—binging Netflix, maybe making a trip to his favorite makeup store to restock on his favorite blush. Instead, he was stuck here, watching sweaty guys try to outmuscle each other at some sports tryouts. It wasn’t even his idea to come. It was all Shua’s fault—his best friend, who was absolutely giddy about the idea of ogling sweaty muscles up close.
"I'm just gonna head to the bathroom real quick," Woongki said, already standing. It wasn't like there was any guy that piqued his interest.
"Sure, but don't take too long," Shua grinned. "The hunks are next in the lineup!"
Woongki rolled his eyes. "Wouldn’t miss it for the world," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm, before slipping away. As he neared the bathroom, he suddenly paused. There were muffled sniffles coming from inside.
Curious, he slowly pushed the door open. Near the sinks, a boy in what looked like sportswear was fiercely scrubbing at his face with a handful of wipes, tears slipping down his cheeks.
Woongki’s heart clenched. He approached carefully.
"Uh, hi? Are you okay?" he asked.
The boy jumped, startled, his red-rimmed eyes snapping up to meet Woongki’s. For a moment, Woongki forgot how to breathe. Even tear-streaked, the boy was beautiful—unfairly so. But Woongki quickly noticed the raw, inflamed patches on his skin where he’d been scrubbing. His eyes flicked to the wipes with obvious traces of makeup.
"I'm fine," the stranger mumbled, looking away.
Woongki crossed his arms sassily. "Then why are you wiping off your makeup like the world’s ending?"
The boy hesitated, then whispered, "I'm... an archer. I have this scar—" he gestured vaguely at his cheek, "from training. I didn’t want it to stand out today, so I borrowed some of my sister’s makeup. Thought I could hide it." He laughed weakly. "Guess I didn’t do a good job. Some of the guys noticed... and started making comments."
Woongki felt anger simmer inside him. Makeup wasn’t just for girls. Anyone could wear it. People were such jerks. "They're idiots," Woongki said firmly, dropping his bag onto the counter and unzipping it. "Good thing you ran into a professional," he said as he pulled out his makeup kit. He wasn’t leaving until this cute, sad boy got the makeover he deserved.
The boy blinked in surprise. "No, really, you don't have to! I'll be fine," he tried to protest, panic rising in his voice.
But Woongki wasn’t having it. He raised an eyebrow.
"You call that fine? Come on. Sit. Trust me," he stated with an air of confidence. The boy hesitated again... then slowly nodded.
"Okay," he whispered.
Woongki grinned in triumph. He got to work—gently cleaning the irritated skin, soothing it with a hydrating spray, applying a light layer of concealer, powder, and a dusting of highlighter. When he was finished, he stepped back with a proud smirk. The boy turned to the mirror and gasped.
"This... is me?" he whispered in awe.
Woongki smiled warmly. "Yeah. You just needed a little touch-up." Not like you need much of it in the first place, Woongki thought to himself.
JL turned back to him, his eyes shining—not with tears this time, but gratitude. "Thank you," he said, his voice so sincere that Woongki's heart melted.
"No problem," Woongki said easily, feeling his heart race.
"I'm Woongki, by the way."
"JL," the boy replied, giving him a shy smile.
They exchanged names, sharing a lingering look neither of them fully understood at the time, and parted ways with Woongki feeling lighter than he had in weeks.
A few days later, they ran into each other again on campus, this time by pure chance. JL spotted him first, his face lighting up before quickly dimming in shyness. He shuffled over, fiddling nervously with his bag.
"Um, Woongki... Thank you for last time. I actually wanted to see you again. Would you maybe teach me more about makeup sometime?" he asked, almost too softly to hear.
Woongki’s face lit up. "Would I?! I'd love to!" he squealed, which made JL giggle. They laughed, exchanged numbers, and began meeting up more and more. At first, it was just makeup lessons.
But soon, it became long conversations about everything and nothing, endless shared coffees, and inside jokes that made their stomachs hurt from laughing. They were growing closer—naturally, easily, beautifully.
One afternoon, lounging lazily at Woongki's place, scrolling through their phones, Woongki glanced at JL lying beside him, beautiful as the day he first saw him. Truthfully speaking, he didn’t even see the need to hide JL's scar. It was a symbol of the boy's hard work and diligence. He gently stroked the scar on JL's face, a light blush setting on his own cheeks, but JL didn't turn away.
"Hey," Woongki asked casually, "those jerks... are they still bothering you?"
JL looked up at that and smiled. "No. I told my coach about it. He took it really seriously—especially since I'm..."
He flushed. "...their top player."
Woongki snorted. "Of course you are."
JL fidgeted with the hem of his hoodie. "Also... I asked you to teach me makeup, not just because of that," he said, voice growing quieter. "I wanted to be more like you. Brave. Kind. Confident."
Woongki smirked to hide how fast his heart was pounding. "Is that all you like about me?" he teased.
JL’s ears turned bright red. He bit his lip and murmured, "I also think you're... really pretty."
Woongki barked out a laugh and jokingly asked, "You wanna be my boyfriend or something?" expecting a laugh that would probably make his heart twinge at the boy’s denial.
JL, to his utter shock, nodded shyly.
"Yes."
Woongki blinked, stunned for a beat, before a huge smile broke across his face. He stood up, grabbing JL’s hand, and gently pulled him over to the mirror. Clutching the other's shoulders while holding JL’s gaze through the reflection, he said playfully, "So you're telling me this beautiful being could be mine if I just say so?"
JL laughed—soft and bright—and nodded again.
"Yes."
And didn't that just make Woongki's heart burst? They turned to face each other properly now, the air between them heavy with something electric, almost suffocating. Something inevitable. They leaned in slowly until their foreheads touched, breathing each other in, smiling nervously.
And then, finally, they kissed.
Soft and sweet. A little clumsy, but perfect nonetheless. Their first kiss wasn’t flawless—noses bumped, teeth clashed slightly—but they laughed into it, sealing the start of something beautiful.
Something theirs.
Sometime in the near future, an Olympic archer—known as much for his ethereal, intricate makeup looks as for his unmatched skill—would win gold, while his devoted partner screamed their heart out from the sidelines. Who would have guessed that the shy, tearful boy Woongki once met in a dingy bathroom would grow into a confident Olympian celebrated by the world? That a simple act of kindness on an ordinary day would snowball into this—cuddled up together in their shared apartment, with a gold medal gleaming proudly on their nightstand, and a love that felt just as priceless.