Chapter Text
‘ This is it.’
Hyeonjoon thought as he stepped into the hotel room assigned to him.
Another shot at Worlds. Another chance to fight alongside new teammates, and maybe, this time, to get it right.
His train of thought was abruptly interrupted by a firm hand resting on his shoulder. He turned around, and his lips curved into a small, genuine smile when he saw who it was.
“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” the man in front of him asked with a teasing grin.
Hyeonjoon felt a sudden warmth creep up his neck and cheeks at the unexpected compliment, his heart beating just a little faster than usual.
“Ah—nothing, Sangyeok-hyung.” he replied, trying to sound casual but failing to hide the faint flush in his voice.
It still felt surreal to him. After spending a year grinding with HLE, learning and growing, he had finally earned a spot on T1. Not just any team, he was now sharing a room, practice sessions, and even late-night conversations with his idol, the legendary Lee “Faker” Sangyeok. The very player who had inspired him to chase his dreams in the first place. For a moment, Hyeonjoon allowed himself to soak it all in, the weight of the opportunity, the excitement bubbling beneath his calm exterior, and the quiet determination that had brought him here. This was just the beginning. Worlds awaited. And this time, he was ready to fight alongside the best.
“Hmmm” Sangyeok hummed thoughtfully as he dropped his bag neatly on his side of the room.
He glanced over with a teasing smile.
“You know, Hyeonjunnie was throwing a bit of a fit earlier.”
Hyeonjoon raised an eyebrow, already sensing where this was going.
Sangyeok chuckled softly. “He’s been whining about not rooming with his new top laner and, of course, half of the ‘HJ’ especially since they’re supposed to be having waffle time together.”
Hyeonjoon rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress the fond smile that crept across his face. Something was endearing about how seriously everyone took their little team dynamics.
“As if he’s not already sneaking into his solo room whenever he thinks no one’s looking.” Hyeonjoon replied with a sly grin. “We all know his favorite top laner’s going to be dropping by later tonight.”
Sangyeok laughed, shaking his head. “Classic Hyeonjun behavior. Can’t blame him though, who wouldn’t want to spend more time with their boyfriend?”
The room filled with easy camaraderie, a quiet reminder that, despite the pressures of the competition ahead, they still had each other and those little moments to make it all feel a bit more like home.
As they quietly unpacked their things, a sigh escaped Hyeonjoon's lips—the pressure creeping in again like a shadow he couldn’t shake.
Sangyeok glanced over, reading him instantly. “You know.” he said with a light smile, trying to ease the mood, “this will be the first time I won’t be the one beating your ass at Worlds.”
Hyeonjoon let out a quiet laugh, the tension easing just a bit.
But Sangyeok’s tone shifted, his expression turning serious as he sat on the edge of the bed.
“I know it’s been loud in your head lately. I’ve been there, you know? When every win feels like it comes with a question mark, and every loss feels like proof that you never should’ve been here in the first place.”
Hyeonjoon stayed still, his hands frozen on his unpacked clothes, his jersey, and that tomato-like jacket.
“As your captain, no, as your hyung, I want you to hear this,” Sangyeok continued, voice steady but full of quiet emotion.
“You’re not here because we had no other choice. You’re here because we chose you. Not as a last resort. Not to fill in the gaps someone left behind. But because we saw you, and knew you belonged.”
He leaned forward, hand resting gently on Hyeonjoon’s shoulder.
“I don’t care what people say. I don’t care if they call you a downgrade or say you’ll never be enough. Because to us, you already are. Doran’s out there doing his best. And now, so are you, Hyeonjoon-ah . And that? That’s more than enough for T1.”
Hyeonjoon’s throat tightened, tears welling in his eyes.
“Hyung…” he whispered, the weight of the words cracking something open inside him.
But before the moment could settle, the door burst open.
“YAH, HYUNGS! WHAT’S TAKING YOU SO LONG?!” Hyeonjun shouted dramatically as he entered the room like he owned it.
“We’re starving, and the coaches want us to eat together but you guys are taking forever!” Minhyeong added, visibly hangry, with Minseok trailing behind him, equally annoyed.
Sangyeok rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I was just talking to your Hyeonjoon-hyung, apparently, was getting lost in his head again.”
“AH—HYUNG!” Hyeonjoon whined, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
The ‘02 line gasped in unison and immediately rushed to surround him.
“Yah, Hyeonjoon-hyung, you’re enough, okay? Your best is more than enough for us,” Minseok said firmly, shaking his shoulder. The others nodded in earnest agreement.
Hyeonjoon nodded silently, overwhelmed by the unexpected warmth. He didn't say anything but deep down, he felt something shift.
Something tender and broken inside him, left unattended for years, was finally beginning to heal.
Hyeonjoon, once again inside their hotel room, resumed unpacking after being continuously interrupted. Dinner had ended quite peacefully, as peacefully as it could get with the ‘02 line’s endless bickering. At least they hadn’t started throwing food at each other this time, so he counted it as a win.
He had just finished organizing his jerseys in the small closet when his phone buzzed. A vague text from his jungler about late-night waffles in the hotel restaurant. He considered ignoring it—he was tired, emotionally and physically, and all he wanted was to sleep in a quiet room.
Didn’t he have his own boyfriend to annoy? Hyeonjoon thought with an inward groan.
But then, a flicker of pity crossed his mind for the poor younger top laner currently being subjected to Hyeonjun's clinginess. Hyeonjoon knew exactly how overwhelming that could be. Hyeonjun, with his boundless energy, shameless affection, and complete disregard for personal space when he was in a mood he could be a lot.
Good luck, kid, Hyeonjoon thought, imagining Wooje’s suffering, and shook his head.
Still, the craving won. Because if there was one thing that could break his resolve, it was waffles.
Slipping on a hoodie and dragging himself into the elevator, Hyeonjoon made his way down, hoping for a peaceful ten minutes with crispy edges and syrup.
What he didn’t expect was him.
There, in the far corner of the hotel restaurant, hunched over a plate stacked with waffles and strawberries, was Jihoon. His unmistakable silhouette, slightly curled hair, and that same infuriating cat-like grin even from a distance sent a jolt through Hyeonjoon’s chest.
“HYUNG!” his new top laner suddenly shouted, loud enough to make every head in the restaurant turn.
Hyeonjoon froze mid-step ‘Hyeonjun you little piece of shi-' he mentally groaned.
From the corner of the room, Jihoon looked up, clearly curious about the commotion. His eyes scanned the crowd and then landed squarely on Hyeonjoon.
Their eyes met.
Jihoon blinked in surprise. For a brief moment, something quieter, more complicated flickered beneath a tension between them that neither wanted to fully acknowledge.
And just like that, Hyeonjoon’s waffle time was officially ruined.
Peace? Forgotten.
Appetite? Questionable.
Jihoon? Unavoidable.
The waffle time with his jungler was cut short when the younger threw him an apologetic look, clearly guilty for the ruckus he’d unintentionally caused at the restaurant.
Now back in his hotel room, Hyeonjoon stepped into the bathroom to take a much-needed shower. As the steam began to rise, so did the memory of the short conversation they’d shared on the way up.
“I’m sorry, hyung. I didn’t notice he was there.” the younger had said, trailing beside him, voice low and full of guilt.
“It’s okay, Hyeonjun-ah,” he’d replied, stopping just outside his room. “I was going to face him eventually anyway.”
He had turned to offer the younger a small smile, trying to push away the tension that still lingered under his skin.
“ Really, I’m fine. Now go spend time with your boyfriend before you two beat each other’s asses in next week’s match.” he continued
Hyeonjun sighed, lingering.
“Okay, but don’t hesitate to knock on my door if you need anything, okay?”
Hyeonjoon had smirked then, despite himself.
“And ruin your night with Wooje? Hell no. I’m not about to be responsible for blue-balling you.”
“Ah—hyunggggg.” Hyeonjun had whined, cheeks flushed as he all but bolted down the hallway .
Back in the present, Hyeonjoon chuckled softly to himself as he stepped under the stream of hot water. The memories helped. They grounded him—kept the tightness in his chest from fully taking over.
That was, until something moved.
He brushed it off as a flicker of paranoia—maybe a shadow, maybe steam—until he opened his eyes mid-rinse.
And there it was.
An eight-legged monstrosity was clinging to the wall in front of him, staring at him like he was a prey or something.
He screamed.
Scrambling away from the eight-legged beast like his life depended on it, Hyeonjoon barely managed to throw on his clothes, completely ignoring the way his hair clung, soaked and dripping, to his forehead. He had hoped, begged, and prayed that his Sanghyeok-hyung would be around to rescue him, but then he remembered the older had left earlier to spend the evening with HLE’s very own jungler.
‘Great. Just great.’
He stared at the closed bathroom door like it was mocking him.
Hyeonjoon sighed, internally spiraling. He could call housekeeping, sure, but it was late, and his English wasn’t exactly spider-rescue ready. And there was no way he’d survive the embarrassment of trying to mime “please remove monster in bathroom” to a confused staff member.
So, hair still dripping, dignity long gone, he found himself outside Hyeonjun’s room, hovering like a man on the verge of surrender.
Fuck it. I just need the spider gone.
He swallowed his pride, took a breath, and knocked—fully expecting to be teased within an inch of his life by his team’s jungler and HLE’s too-observant top laner the moment he confessed why he was standing outside their hotel room like a soaked idiot.
“Hyeonjoon-hyung?” Jihoon said in surprise, blinking at him from the doorway.
Hyeonjoon froze.
Shit. Wrong room.
He mentally cursed every decision that had led him to this exact moment. But desperate times called for desperate measures—and he was very desperate.
“Sorry… I think I knocked on the wrong door,” he muttered, hand sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “But… can you help me?”
Jihoon tilted his head, still clearly confused.
“There’s a spider in my room,” Hyeonjoon mumbled, eyes darting away in shame.
A beat of silence passed.
Then....
“You’re seriously still afraid of spiders?”
Hyeonjoon groaned. Yep. This was going to be worse than the spider.