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The sky broke open just as practice ended. Rain, sudden and heavy, splashed against the windows of the soccer clubhouse, soaking the field and clearing the grounds in minutes. It wasn’t the kind of rain that gave you time to prepare. There was no gentle drizzle, no warning thunder. Just a sudden, overwhelming downpour that sent everyone scattering. The team had already started to thin out before the first drops fell, but as the storm intensified, players rushed for the exits in clusters, laughing and shouting as they dashed into the wet. A few yelled goodbyes over their shoulders. Most didn’t wait for answers.
Only Taesan and Intak remained.
The task of end-of-day cleanup had fallen to them again, a quiet arrangement that neither of them ever questioned. Sometimes it was random assignment. Other times, like tonight, it was just the easiest choice. Everyone else had a reason to leave early. Taesan and Intak didn’t.
Inside the clubhouse, the air was thick and warm, carrying the smell of wet grass, old sweat, and something vaguely metallic...like adrenaline that had nowhere else to go. Overhead, the fluorescent lights buzzed faintly, flickering now and then in time with the storm outside. Mud tracked in from cleats left splotches and smudges across the tiled floor, some drying into dull stains while others remained dark and damp. It looked like a battlefield after the war-- quiet, half-cleaned, waiting for the lights to go out.
It felt like the end of something. The end of practice. The end of a long week. The kind of stillness that made you aware of every breath.
Taesan moved with a kind of mechanical grace. Efficient, silent, distant. He didn’t waste time. He tied up garbage bags with swift, practiced movements, folded stray uniforms without a word, and swept the last traces of mud from the floor into neat, forgettable piles. His jaw was set, eyes lowered, focused on everything and nothing all at once. He rarely looked up from what he was doing. He didn’t have to. This routine was muscle memory.
Across the room, Intak mirrored his efforts, though his movements were slower, less rigid. He gathered cones, stacked them in neat towers. Tossed stray balls into mesh bags, careful not to let any roll away. Every few minutes, he glanced up at Taesan. Not directly, but from the corner of his eye, like someone watching a flame too close to paper. Like he was measuring a distance he couldn’t name.
For nearly two years, Intak had been watching him.
From the very beginning, when Taesan stumbled into freshman orientation, eyes wide behind his bangs, clutching a half-filled water bottle like it might save him from drowning in the crowd, Intak had noticed. There’d been something magnetic about him even then. Not just his looks, though those helped. It was something else... A kind of nervous energy that felt like static, like tension pulled taut under skin. Taesan had looked like someone trying not to fall apart.
Back then, Taesan had smiled more. A lot more. He used to joke around during warmups, shout across the field during drills. He’d chase Jaehyun around the locker room with smelly socks, their laughter bouncing off the tile walls. Everyone noticed how close they were, how Taesan and Jaehyun seemed to orbit each other like moons. They bickered constantly, trading insults in a rhythm that sounded more like affection than actual annoyance. They knew each other’s schedules, quirks, and moods. Everyone joked they were an old married couple.
It was a harmless narrative.
Until Jaehyun started dating Leehan.
There was no warning. No slow burn, no confessions whispered in the dead of night. Just one practice, Jaehyun arrived holding Leehan’s hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. His face looked different that day. Softer. Like something had clicked into place.
Taesan had smiled. Genuinely, warmly. Congratulated them. Hugged them, even. But afterward, Intak saw the way his smile lingered a second too long. Saw the dip in his shoulders when he turned away. And after that day, something changed.
The trio - Jaehyun, Taesan, and Leehan - began to unravel.
Taesan grew quieter. He stopped lingering after practice. He stopped responding in the group chat unless someone called him out specifically. When Jaehyun cracked jokes, he laughed politely. When Leehan offered rides, he declined with a soft excuse. He didn’t disappear entirely. He just… withdrew.
The shift wasn’t immediate. It happened in inches. One missed hangout. One unread message. One conversation too hard to start. But before long, it was obvious to everyone. The closeness that once anchored the three of them was gone. Or maybe just changed into something else? Something harder to name.
Taesan filled his time with schoolwork, workouts, and early bedtimes. He didn’t complain. He showed up to practice on time, played with quiet intensity, and left as soon as he was allowed. He didn’t make waves.
And it was Intak who stepped in.
Not in any obvious way. He never tried to replace anyone. He just stayed. Quietly, consistently. He offered water during drills. Lent an extra pair of gloves on cold mornings. Shared his umbrella without asking for it back. He didn’t demand anything. Never asked for more. But every shared moment felt like a victory... small and private.
And maybe that was enough.
But God, it was hard.
Because Intak was completely, stupidly, hopelessly gone for Taesan.
Every glance made his heart jolt like a live wire. Every brush of skin during drills made his stomach swoop. He couldn’t count how many nights he’d gone to bed remembering how Taesan laughed with his whole face, or the way his hair stuck to his forehead after running laps, or the rare moments he looked straight at Intak and really saw him.
It was unspoken, this thing between them. Or maybe it was all in Intak’s head. Maybe Taesan didn’t see it. Didn’t feel it. Maybe he was still staring at Jaehyun’s back.
But it didn’t stop Intak from falling.
Tonight, something felt different.
The storm had driven everyone away in a rush. Intak had been the one to quietly tell the four commuting teammates to go ahead. He and Taesan would lock up. It wasn’t a plan, not really. But it worked out.
Now, the room was clean. The last cone stacked. The garbage tied. The lights still flickered with every distant thunderclap. Taesan stood by the window, arms crossed, watching the rain race down the glass in winding rivulets.
"Your phone died?" Intak asked, voice soft in the quiet.
Taesan didn’t turn. Just nodded. "Forgot to charge it."
Intak checked his own phone. The battery was low but still functional. He turned the brightness down, just in case. "Mine still works. I called an Uber. Should be here soon." Intak continues... "You going back to Tower B, right?"
Taesan looked over at him, slightly surprised.
"Yeah. Thought I’d take you too. You live right across mine."
Taesan blinked. "Didn’t know we were neighbors."
Intak gave a faint smile. "Let’s get you home."
The Uber ride was quiet, but inside Intak’s head, it was anything but.
He was very aware of the warmth between them... the shared space in the backseat, the way the car's heater fogged the windows slightly, cocooning them in an intimacy that felt stolen. Taesan had leaned back and fallen asleep within minutes, head tilted just slightly toward Intak, lips parted ever so slightly.
God, he’s so cute, Intak thought helplessly.
His heart thudded in his chest as he took in the sight. Taesan's sleep-softened features, the way his lashes cast shadows on his cheeks, the faint trail of a dimple that appeared whenever he breathed out too deeply.
Taesan mumbled something under his breath, soft and incomprehensible. His lips moved like he was halfway through a dream, words melting into the hum of the car. He was completely at ease. Vulnerable. Like a baby, Intak thought with a heart full of affection. Too tired to hold himself up, yet still holding onto Intak’s hand like it was second nature.
Intak couldn’t help it. His mind spiraled.
He thought about all the small, tender moments he'd collected like fragments of a secret song...
Taesan stuffing his cheeks with rice balls during team dinners. Taesan dragging his blanket down the hallway during retreat week because he didn’t want to sleep alone. Taesan dozing off in the common room with a book half-open on his chest, breath soft and even.
He remembered everything.
And Taesan probably remembered none of it.
Back then, Taesan had been too busy orbiting Jaehyun, pulled by gravity stronger than Intak’s silent presence. While Intak sat in the corners of rooms, at the end of benches, watching with a quiet ache that never quite left him.
Now here he was, hand in hand with the boy he thought he'd never get close to.
The car stopped.
"Tower D, right?" the driver asked.
Intak blinked. Right. His building.
"Yeah... Thanks."
He turned to wake Taesan, "Hey. We're here."
No response.
"Taesan. Wake up."
Still nothing.
Intak sighed, gently touching his shoulder. Taesan stirred with a small sound, eyes fluttering open, and before Intak could pull back, Taesan’s hand instinctively found his. Their fingers laced.
Intak’s brain nearly short-circuited.
"Let’s get you home," he said quietly, trying to steady his voice.
They stepped out into the misting rain, the world washed in silver. Taesan was groggy, body heavy with sleep, leaning slightly on Intak as they walked. The path between Tower D and Tower B stretched long under dim lamplight.
"Haha, I guess it’s already past your bedtime, huh," Intak muttered, glancing at Taesan’s face. No reply.
Taesan’s eyes were almost fully closed, walking like a dreamer, a sleepwalker. His lips twitched like he might speak again, but nothing came. He just leaned in.
Intak supported him gently, their pace slow. His hand still in Taesan’s.
Every step felt surreal.
He was screaming inside. Every nerve in his body was alive.
He could feel the warmth of Taesan’s body pressed to his side, the way his weight leaned into him, trusting, unthinking. He guided him through the puddles, careful not to let him slip, heart thundering with every second.
He looked down at their joined hands again and again, just to make sure it was real. Just to memorize the shape of Taesan’s palm, the curve of his fingers, the way their thumbs brushed. He was scared to blink and lose it all.
The walk took five whole minutes.
Five glorious, rain-drenched, dreamlike minutes.
And even though Taesan would likely forget it come morning, Intak knew he never would.
They reached Tower B.
Intak paused, reluctant to break the moment. "Taesan… we're here now," he said softly, almost reverently. "We're now in front of your building."
Taesan blinked slowly. His eyes were glassy, blinking like he was trying to focus through a dream. "Oh… right."
He swayed in place, as if the weight of sleep had finally caught up with him.
"Taesan? You okay?" Intak’s voice dropped, worry tugging at his chest.
He reached up without thinking, pressing his palm lightly to Taesan’s forehead.
Not feverish. Just tired. Thank God.
But still... too soft, too quiet, too much like a child left out in the rain.
Then, like fog lifting, Taesan stirred. Straightened a little. "Oh. We’re here."
"Yeah," Intak said, lips pulling into a grin he couldn’t control. It felt too big for his face. Too fond. Too obvious.
"Let me know if you need any help, okay?" he added, trying to sound casual. Like he wasn’t screaming inside.
Taesan nodded slowly. Drowsily. "Thanks, hyung."
He lingered in front of the building’s entrance like he didn’t quite remember how to go in. His eyes fluttered, then blinked open in that slow, unsteady way babies do... like he hadn’t decided if he was still dreaming.
And Intak lingered, too.
Because Taesan looked too precious like this. Like a baby cat or something. Small, sleepy-eyed, and fragile in a way that made Intak's chest ache. He didn’t want to leave him alone. Not yet.
Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, Taesan shuffled into the elevator. He leaned against the wall, eyes already drifting shut again.
And then, just before the doors closed - like a light clicking on - Taesan’s gaze sharpened.
Wait… Intak walked me home?
The last thing he saw before the doors shut was Intak’s face - smiling, soft, stupidly in love.
Outside, Intak stood in the rain, soaked to the bone, completely and utterly short-circuiting.
His mind replayed every moment. Every step. Every second of contact. Every sleepy word.
His hand still tingled from holding Taesan’s. His jacket still smelled faintly like him. The way Taesan had leaned into him, warm and trusting. It had been nothing. Nothing. But to Intak, it had been everything.
He let out a shaky breath, barely able to contain the grin stretching across his face.
Then, finally, he turned and began the long, wet walk back to his own tower.
And he didn’t stop smiling the entire way.