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The rink was colder than Sunghoon expected. Maybe it was because the fluorescent lights overhead cast long shadows on the ice, or maybe it was because Sunoo was standing right next to him, arms crossed, cheeks flushed pink, and an expression somewhere between annoyed and resigned.
“So, we’re really doing this,” Sunoo said, breaking the silence with a half-sigh, his breath puffing visibly in the chilly air. He glanced sideways at Sunghoon, eyes narrowed but not quite hostile.
Sunghoon gave a small shrug, adjusting his gloves with deliberate care. “Apparently.” He didn’t sound too thrilled either.
Neither of them had signed up for doubles skating. They both preferred solo routines—where you had complete control over every jump and spin, and no one else’s mistakes could pull you down. But when their usual partners dropped out right before tryouts, the coach paired them together without even asking.
Sunoo huffed, gripping the railing. “You can’t skate backwards well.”
Sunghoon smirked. “And you can’t keep your balance. Last time you almost faceplanted in front of the coach.”
“That was one time.”
“Yeah, and I was there to catch you.”
The playful banter barely masked the tension between them—a mixture of pride and frustration and the very real fear of failing in front of everyone.
They pushed off onto the ice, the blades of their skates cutting softly through the frozen surface, echoing faintly under the rink’s high ceiling.
Their first attempt at a simple spin together ended with Sunoo almost toppling into the boards, saved only by Sunghoon’s quick reflexes.
“Hey! Watch it!” Sunoo snapped, cheeks burning as he straightened.
“Maybe if you didn’t lean like a rag doll,” Sunghoon teased, eyes sparkling.
Neither could deny the awkwardness of being so close—too close—and the strange mix of irritation and something else bubbling just beneath the surface.
Practice sessions became a battleground of sharp words and quiet apologies. Sunghoon found himself studying Sunoo’s movements, learning to anticipate rather than react. Sunoo started to adjust his timing, syncing his steps with Sunghoon’s almost instinctively.
One evening, after hours of grueling drills and repeated falls, they collapsed side by side on the rink’s cold bench, the smell of sweat and ice lingering in the air.
Sunghoon nudged Sunoo, voice soft in the quiet. “You think we’ll actually pull this off?”
Sunoo smirked, nudging back. “We better. Or I’m blaming you for my bruises.”
They laughed, breath mingling in little clouds, the tension easing for a moment.
Later, under the dimming rink lights, Sunghoon caught Sunoo off guard during a tricky lift, holding him steady with an unexpected gentleness.
“You’re heavier than you look,” Sunghoon muttered with a grin.
“Careful, or I’ll think you like me,” Sunoo teased back, heart thudding louder than it should.
Sunghoon’s eyes flickered, but he said nothing.
Days turned into weeks, and with every practice, every shared fall and recovery, something shifted between them—a growing trust, a fragile connection threading through the ice and cold air.
One night, as they left the rink, Sunghoon glanced sideways and smiled.
“Not bad for a pair of reluctant partners, huh?”
Sunoo bumped his shoulder. “Don’t get cocky.”
But neither of them could hide their smiles, not really.
Because sometimes, falling wasn’t about hitting the ice—it was about finding someone to catch you.
The rink was packed with buzzing spectators, the air thick with the smell of popcorn and nervous excitement. Bright lights glimmered off the ice, spotlighting the polished surface where skaters danced and twirled.
Sunghoon and Sunoo sat in the locker room, the low hum of the crowd filtering through the walls.
Sunoo pulled at the edge of his jacket, eyes flicking over to Sunghoon, who was quietly lacing up his skates with focused intensity.
“You ready for this?” Sunoo asked, trying to sound casual but feeling his stomach twist.
Sunghoon looked up, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
Sunoo exhaled sharply. “I’m nervous.”
“Me too.” Sunghoon’s voice was softer now, but steady. “But we’ve got this. We’ve practiced enough.”
Sunoo nodded, trying to steady his shaking hands.
When their names were called over the loudspeaker, they stood, shoulders squared, and walked toward the rink. The crowd’s applause washed over them, distant but thrilling.
Sunghoon caught Sunoo’s eye and gave a small nod.
“Let’s do this,” he whispered.
They stepped onto the ice, the cold biting through their thin costumes. Music swelled around them as they found their starting positions.
The first few moments were shaky—an uncertain glide here, a missed cue there—but slowly, they began to move as one. Spins became smoother, lifts steadier. The awkwardness melted away, replaced by a quiet confidence.
At one point, Sunoo stumbled slightly during a complex step sequence, but Sunghoon was there instantly, his hand steadying him before he could fall.
“Got you,” Sunghoon mouthed.
Sunoo’s heart jumped, and he smiled—a little breathless, a little braver.
Their final pose came with a flourish, and the rink erupted in cheers.
Breathless, they skated to the edge, collapsing into each other’s arms in a mixture of relief and triumph.
“We did it,” Sunoo breathed.
“Yeah,” Sunghoon grinned. “We actually did it.”
And in that moment, all the frustration and awkwardness and nerves faded into something warm and sure.
They were more than reluctant partners now.
They were a team.
The moment they stepped off the ice, their teammates were waiting — Jungwon, Jay, Ni-ki, Heeseung, and Jake, faces bright with excitement.
“You guys killed it out there!” Jungwon grinned, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet.
Sunoo wiped sweat from his forehead, cheeks still flushed. “Thanks, but honestly, we almost wiped out like five times.”
Jay laughed. “Yeah, but you didn’t! Which is basically a miracle.”
Heeseung smirked, nudging Sunghoon. “So, are you two officially a thing now or what?”
Sunghoon’s face went a shade redder, and Sunoo snorted, elbowing him gently.
“Shut up,” Sunghoon muttered, but he wasn’t really mad.
Ni-ki grinned wide. “I saw you two during the final lift — Sunoo, you were practically melting into Sunghoon’s arms.”
Sunoo shoved Ni-ki playfully. “I was not.”
Jake winked. “Don’t worry, Sunghoon, we all saw it. You’re a lucky guy.”
Sunghoon rolled his eyes but smiled. “Whatever. We just did our best.”
Jungwon crossed his arms, mock-serious. “Yeah, but ‘just your best’ looked a lot like couple goals.”
Sunoo groaned. “Please stop.”
“Nope.” Jay declared. “Now we need pictures for the ‘new OTP’ scrapbook.”
Sunghoon laughed softly and shook his head. “I can’t believe you guys.”
Sunoo smiled, warmth spreading through him. “Me neither. But it’s nice to have you all here.”
Their friends crowded around, teasing, laughing, and making the backstage feel like home.
And for the first time, Sunghoon and Sunoo didn’t mind being the center of attention at all.
The hallway outside the changing rooms was finally quiet. Most of their friends had wandered off, either chasing food or talking strategy for the next round of performances. It left Sunoo and Sunghoon standing alone, skate bags at their feet, the distant sound of blades on ice echoing faintly in the background.
Sunoo leaned against the wall, arms folded, his head tilted up toward the ceiling like he was still catching his breath.
Sunghoon stood next to him, silent for a long moment.
“You okay?” he asked quietly.
Sunoo nodded. “Yeah. Just… processing.”
They both stared at the scuffed floor for a second.
“You were good out there,” Sunghoon said. “Really good.”
Sunoo turned his head slightly to look at him. “So were you.”
Sunghoon offered a small smile. “You still mad I dropped you that one time during the spiral sequence last week?”
“Yes,” Sunoo replied instantly, deadpan. “I had a bruise on my thigh for four days.”
Sunghoon laughed under his breath. “Noted. I owe you an ice pack.”
They stood in silence again, but it wasn’t awkward this time. It was full—comfortable.
Then, after a long beat, Sunoo glanced at him sideways. “We’re still just pretending this is all about skating, huh?”
Sunghoon blinked. “What do you mean?”
Sunoo shrugged, but there was a softness in his voice now. “I don’t know. Just feels like we’ve been dancing around something for a while. Not just on the ice.”
Sunghoon looked at him, heart thudding a little faster. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. Then tried again.
“I’ve been thinking about that too,” he admitted. “But I didn’t want to mess things up.”
Sunoo gave him a small, real smile. “I don’t think it’d mess things up.”
There was a pause, heavy but warm.
Then Sunghoon leaned just a little closer.
“So, what do we do now?”
Sunoo tilted his head. “Well…” he nudged their shoulders together. “I guess we keep skating. And maybe hang out outside the rink more.”
“You want to hang out?”
“Don’t push it,” Sunoo teased, but he was grinning.
Sunghoon laughed, nudging him back. “Fine. Skating first, confession later.”
“That was already a confession,” Sunoo said.
Sunghoon blinked. “Was it?”
“Too late,” Sunoo said, turning to grab his bag. “I accept. Let’s go.”
And just like that, they fell into step side by side, a little closer than before.