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As the night sets in, Minhyung’s walk to their team’s dorm comes to an end. He steps inside, each teammate all doing various things, some sprawled on the floor eating snacks, others loving the comfort of their beds. He quietly entered his room, the emotions from the meet-up still lingering.
I let go of you, the one who dreamed of eternity
And even let go of the me who mourned your leaving
He sat down, staring at his reflection at the dark screen of his monitor. He laughed inside, it felt like the same expression he wore when he was benched earlier in the season. Yet, he was not benched, to be specific, he has a permanent position, one that no one could threaten. But he felt the same emptiness.
He knows he’s trying… Trying his hardest to let go of Minseok. And he felt that he’s succeeding, one way or the other.
What remains in me today
Is only the dullness that grew because I couldn’t escape
He scrolled through Social Media, with fans swooning over their victory. Some, if not most though, are talking about his interaction with the T1 players, especially Keria.
‘It’s like he’s introducing his new to his Ex.’
Funny how he never dreamed to call Minseok, his ex. Because he really never thought of not playing with him.
‘At least, they seem okay, still friends, just not wearing the same jersey.’
Oh, boy do they not know. He thought they would be fine. But here he was, feeling the dullness and emotional numbness again.
He laid down on his bed, pulling his blanket around his shoulders. The inkling feeling of wanting to reminisce reigned upon him. He picked up his phone, the Big Ben of London being his wallpaper, remembering something
~”Yah, Minhyung. Help me take a picture!” Minhyung giggled as he opened his phone and snapped a photo of Minseok and the iconic landmark.
“Take one with just the tower.” Minseok demanded, and Minhyung obliged. “I’ll make this my new wallpaper.” Minseok smiled as he walked forward.~
He continued to open through his galleries. The picture of them lifting the 2025 Worlds trophy—five players smiling, and then him and Minseok’s hands being near, them side-by-side, holding the Summoner’s Cup.
The me back there, I know better than anyone here
How much I must have cried
He knows how hard he cried that night. After the adrenaline of winning died down. After the cheers of the crowd became quiet. After they all retreated to their individual rooms. That familiar ache spreading through his chest again.
The glow of his phone slowly died down. He wasn’t crying now. Not like before, but still he saw himself. That side that he thought he hid well.
I just stare down at the glass
Filled to the brim with regret
Before he thought he lived a life without regrets. One where he enjoyed the process of achieving something. But now, he knows that he regrets so many things. He regrets his actions–the kiss, the aftermath, his decision… If only he held on for a short while.
He felt sleep dawning on him, his heart still heavy and guarded.
~~~
As the final nexus explodes. Minhyung sighs. He hears the team utter words along the lines of. “Good job, it was close.” Words that he hated to hear. He stands up. His keen eyes follow the support in the other team as he smiles at another ADC.
He looks ahead, faking a smile.
“Good game, Minhyung-ah.” He listens as the support smiles at him. That name.
He nods, bowing slightly. “Great game, Minseokie.”
As his former teammates pass him, some with a bow, the others with a light tap and smile, he then prepares to fix his things.
The cheers and chants of the crowd, “T1! T1! T1!” Once thrilling him, now felt like a stab on his chest. As the confetti's fall and the winning team lift the trophy, he can’t help but stare.
He rushes to the green room. The big screen displaying each T1 player smiling, encouraging the new ADC to lift the trophy. By his side was Minseok. Laughing and clapping for the player, their newly found chemistry oozing. The new ADC was physically closer to Minseok than Minhyung had been in weeks.
Ah, what made me so jealous
That I raged so wildly?
Minhyung had gripped his phone so hard his knuckles turned white. The loss mattered, but more so, the sight of Minseok being happy without him made him feel something he never felt before.
Instinctively, he used his phone. Open it, to remove that feeling. Several messages flooded him, from his family telling him he did well and that they would do better next time to his friends asking him to go out during his free days. He sighed, replying to their messages. He then opened his social media to at least comfort the fans. Again their interaction being talked about. Especially the one where he looked at them lifting the trophy.
‘It still hurts, it was as if it was only earlier in November where they lifted the cup together and now the other watches as they lift the cup without him.’
‘The only advantage Gumayusi has against Peyz was Keria, and now that’s gone.’
‘Well, he left the team. Now he’s just staring at them win.’
Some comments were cheering them up. While some say how much he probably regrets leaving. He sighed. Closing his phone. Closing his eyes and resting for a bit as they wait to get interviewed.
Their team decided to rest and sleep after the interview. Retreating to their dorm. He didn’t go with them, saying he needed to walk first. The team nodded understanding the situation. Zeus just looked at him, knowing well that’s how he felt watching them win worlds without him.
He took his time and walked. Just planned to clear his mind. But he knew that beyond that feeling, he did not have any right to claim him. Because he chose to leave.
And yet, in spite of it all
I will forgive you
And I will love you again
As he walked the familiar road, he found himself near the T1 headquarters. The tall red building towering over him. The lights in the practice room still turned on. He laughs, thinking, why is he doing this? To Minseok… To Himself…
He sat at the bus stop. The bright screen glows. He sees his face. An advertisement, congratulating him and T1 for winning worlds.
*Ding*
Minseokie sent you a message.
His heart seized. Minseok hadn't sent him a personal text in nearly a year, except for the usual reminders of scrims and such. He swallowed hard, his fingers trembling slightly as he opened the message.
The sheer length of the message hit him first. He had to scroll down three times just to see the end. He started reading, his eyes darting across the screen, the words forming a solid, agonizing knot in his throat.
“Hi… I know this should have been sent way before, immediately after I knew you left but I didn’t have the courage back then.”
Minhyung smiled as he read the first line. Knowing well that was how he felt facing Minseok after the incident.
“I want to say, great game today. Yes, I know I said it earlier too. But, really, you played great. Still the same Miss Fortune, FMVP. Today was hard. Playing against you, winning against you, more importantly. It just felt heavy. Heavier than the Worlds trophy… But it was necessary, afterall there’s no tie in this game. I felt your gaze, even your presence after you walked off the stage. It still affected me like before. I still had this instinct of walking with you. But I have to put up this act. Of smiling, being happy. And don’t get me wrong, I was. But it felt empty still.”
As he read Minseok’s words, his grip tightened on the phone. Minseok was finally telling him the pain he had carried, the regret—the exact same feelings Minhyung had been struggling with.
“We didn’t talk about that. Just reacted and did impulsive things. But I have spent so much time with regret, that I could have handled it better. Not avoiding you and talking to you. And, I’m sorry. Honestly, seeing you with Delight that day and even today, I have this indescribable feeling. But, holding the scarf and plushie you gave me, they reminded me that even with the chaos and distance, you still cared for me. And I care for you too.”
Minhyung felt his eyes slowly sting. His efforts, his actions were not ignored, but rather was understood by Minseok.
“I know I should have said it to you face-to-face. I know I should have shown you that I love you and that I as a person was happy with you being beside me. But it’s late.”
Minhyung sat there, tears streaming silently down his face and landing on the phone screen. It was the most heartbreaking, devastating, and yet relieving message he had ever received.
“Thank you. Thank you for being the perfect partner, for teaching me everything, for the patience you gave, for every shared laughter and pain, for the comfortable hugs. Thank you for always playing your best. I will always, always love the player, the friend and the person that you were to me. I will be cheering for you from afar. I hope you rest well. And I hope and pray, that your next season will be better than the ones we shared.”
Minhyung closed his eyes, remembering the feel of Minseok’s hand in the handshake. He cried harder, feeling his chest ache with pain. The moments they shared were beautiful. And Minseok wishes that he should get more and he deserves more was the silent hug to Minhyung.
“Take care of yourself, Minhyung-ah, more than you did for me.”
A memory that hurt, yet one I can hurt for over again
You pressed a jagged stone into my uneasy hands.
Tears that leaked out through the cracks in the broken pieces
I let them burst
He opened his eyes, rereading the entire message one last time. There was no bitterness, no demand, just a gentle closure. He felt the dullness, the protective numbness he had gained, crack and shatter completely. The pain was sharp again, but this time, it was clean.
He looked up again, the lights now finally turned off. But, opposingly, a gentle, steady light seemed to turn on in his mind. He knew then, as certainly as he knew the rhythm of the game, that no matter what roles they played or how many stages separated them, he would continue to love Minseok. It was a love that had evolved past dependency and had settled into an unwavering respect and deep care. It would be from a distance, of course. Just like where he was right now.
And I will love you again…
~~~
Minseok sat on his bed, the roar of the arena and the post-match adrenaline slowly fading into the quiet reality of the headquarters. His jacket was tossed on the chair, but the scarf remained draped carefully over his shoulders, a silent, warm weight. He knew wearing it behind the cameras would hurt him. But he wanted to feel his presence.
They had won. Not just a game, but the entire 2025 KeSPA Cup. And they had defeated Minhyung’s new team in the finals.
He picked up the penguin plushie Minhyung had given him. It was ridiculous, soft, and perfectly him, a silent acknowledgment of their old routines, their inside jokes.
I let go of you, the one who dreamed of eternity
And even let go of the me who mourned your leaving
He remembered the final moments on stage, the exploding nexus, the sudden blinding flash of victory lights, and then the obligatory handshake line. Minhyung’s hand, firm and warm, gripping his own.
And then the words: "Great game as always, Minseokie." The use of that hated-yet-beloved name felt less like affection and more like a cruel, calculated attempt to reopen a wound.
I let go of you, Minseok thought, squeezing the plushie. Yet, the victory felt tainted. Holding the massive KeSPA trophy felt hollow when the person who should have been standing beside him, sharing the win, was instead walking off the stage, defeated by his own hand.
What remains in me today
Is only the dullness that grew because I couldn’t escape
Minseok hadn't cried during the trophy ceremony. He had smiled, posed, and looked every bit the celebrated champion. He knew he couldn't escape the pain, so he had wrapped himself in an emotional blanket of performance.
He glanced at his phone, the screen showing a group photo from the ceremony. He looked good. But he knew, looking back at his own reflection, what the reality was.
The me back there, I know better than anyone here
How much I must have cried
He stretched his legs out, the wool of the scarf sliding slightly, bringing Minhyung's familiar scent back to him.
I just stare down at the glass
Filled to the brim with regret
Did he hate me when he walked off the stage? Minseok wondered, pressing the penguin to his chest. Did he rage?
Ah, what made me so jealous
That I raged so wildly?
Minseok thought back to the brief moment earlier that day when he saw Minhyung talking easily with his new support, laughing at something Minhyung said. That flash of jealousy, that his jokes, his care, his attention were now being given to someone else, had been unexpectedly overwhelming for him.
But Minhyung had wrapped the scarf around him. He had given him the plushie. He had shown care, despite everything.
Minseok's defenses finally crumbled. He realized Minhyung wasn't trying to hurt him with the nickname; he was trying to hold on to the last normalcy they shared.
And yet, in spite of it all
I will forgive you
And I will love you again
He finally understood that the love—not necessarily romantic, but that feeling of adoration he held for his eternal partner—would always be there.
The scarf felt like a promise. A memory that would always sting, yet one he could cling to.
A memory that hurt, yet one I can hurt for over again
You pressed a jagged stone into my uneasy hands.
The victory, the trophy, the scarf, the penguin—they were all jagged stones now, sharp reminders of what was lost, but things he knew he couldn't put down. He would carry them.
He buried his face in the scarf, allowing the tears he had repressed all night to fall, quietly and loudly at the same time.
Tears that leaked out through the cracks in the broken pieces
I let them burst
He would continue to love him. He just had to find a way to make that love gentle and distant.
Minseok after crying stood at the window. Looking over the cold, dark sky of Gangnam. He noticed the advertisement, the small bus stop in front of their HQ. Their picture of winning Worlds. He smiled, remembering he never really sent a message to Minhyung.
He picked up his phone, looking for the familiar name. Scrolling through their messages, he laughed. It wasn’t a personal message chat but rather one filled with professionalism.
He started to type slowly, letting all the words come out, not forced but of sheer rawness.
Minseok closed his eyes and, before he could second-guess himself, he hit Send. The weight lifted was immediate, replaced by a quiet emptiness.
He didn’t wait for the message to be seen. He immediately turned off the lights of their practice room and left their headquarters.