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The sharp sound of skates cutting across the ice filled your ears for the 100th time since you entered the busy indoor ice rink. You were currently sitting on a set of frozen bleachers with possibly the absolute worst view of the professional ice arena. Reporters, sports columnists and fans were all milling about in front of you, blocking your disinterested view, and filling the echo of the hall with a loud buzzing of excitement.
The tournament favorite was supposed to be here soon, to enter and perform in a flourish and yet again wow the judges and shatter records and win first place and earn a standing applause. You glanced down at the slightly crumpled paper assigned to you from your employer at a small sports journalism company. This was one for your very first jobs and your excitement had initially overwhelmed you until your eyes had laid upon the name that seemed to scream back at you from every corner of the sports world.
Park Jimin.
You heard that he was a skating legend, that he would move with such eloquence and beauty that he might as well be water. You heard that he had already won hundreds of glinting trophies that he used for his doorstep sometimes. You heard that he was an ice skating prodigy since he could walk and that he could get anyone to fall in love with him with only a flash of his smile.
Your foot tapped in irritation. He was the most well known person in the entire industry and highly demanded of by the wealthiest and most prestigious sports article agencies. So, why had you been assigned this impossible task of asking him for a minute of his precious time, getting actual article-worthy information, and writing it decently enough to be miraculously published in a column that no one would look at? Every word that had ever left his mouth had probably already been vigorously scribbled in sports articles, newspapers, and fans’ school notebooks. There was no new or interesting content about himself that you could possibly receive from him, assuming that you’d even have a chance to talk to this worshipped star at all.
Someone’s excited gasp and the simultaneous raising and turning of countless heads pulled you out of your mental rant. Disoriented, you glanced around to see people beginning to stand in front of you, erasing any view you could possibly have of the ice rink. Huffing frustratedly, you set your papers and notebook beside you and carefully stepped on the cold metal of the bleacher to get a better view.
Your eyes were met with the sight of people standing and cheering all around the rink, while the floor itself held nothing but one man gliding across the ice gracefully with arms held wide open, as if welcoming the applause.
Your eyes were immediately drawn to the daring orange of his hair color, which slightly caught you off guard. The color held boldness and warmth, providing a stark contrast to the impersonal whiteness of the ice that laid humbly beneath him. The deep royal blue of his shimmering shirt did not help to make him look forgettable and you soon found yourself mesmerized.
The tournament hadn’t even started yet, but you watched as he set a fast and graceful pace, gliding and turning across the expanse of the ice under the thunderous applause of his audience. The judges eyed him expectantly from the sidelines, preparing booklets of rules and papers of scoring information. The sudden low hum of music spreading around the chilled hall sent a hush through the crowd. The beat was slow and graceful and you watched as his entire form readied. His back was set upright, his shoulders pulled back and broadened while the air combed through his flaming hair as he glided with determination. You didn’t realize you were still standing awkwardly on the bleacher when everyone’s head disappeared from your view to sit down.
You hastily hopped off, ignoring the strange heat that had settled on your face, and gathered your notebook back into your lap. You couldn’t believe that you had never seen him perform before and, allowing your earlier irritated thoughts to fly out of your mind, you found yourself leaning forward eagerly to absorb his next move.
By this time, silence had completely taken over the audience and your eyes found themselves locked onto his form again. You watched as he allowed his eyes to close to take a deep breath. His chest heaved gracefully and the sequins on his shirt shimmered brightly under the harsh light.
With one more exhale, his eyes flew open and his skates took off, scraping against the ice quickly to grant him speed. He was like a blur against the backdrop of the audience, a mix of blue and orange flashing across the rink as he moved with the music. Your eyes managed to catch a glimpse of his focused face, his eyebrows drawn together and jaw set in determination. He threw his arms out to every emphasized beat of the music, bending dramatically and twisting to the sound of the violin in the speakers so that he himself looked like the music notes that would drip from the page.
Then, he began skating backwards, allowing himself to glide across the rink with a sudden rapid pace that had everyone leaning forward in anticipation. You didn’t register the exact moment when he tucked his arms tightly into his chest and lifted his legs completely off the ice. With speed you wouldn’t dare process, he twirled multiple times in the air flawlessly, landing on a single leg with his limbs gracefully extended outward in a flourishing finish.
The crowd roared as he flashed a victorious smile, gliding onwards with ease to continue his performance. His graceful movements and heart-stopping twirls were the only thing that occupied your mind for the rest of his spotlight in the ice rink. Before you knew it, people erupted in cheers as he waved both arms to the audience, standing under a canopy of roses that cascaded down from the stands above. An endearing grin found its way to his face as he sent a final kiss to the cheering crowd before taking his exit from the ice rink and to the warmly carpeted sidelines that held his grinning coaches.
Multiple performances by other renowned ice skaters followed afterwards, all with different grace and styles, but none stunned you quite as much as his had. You had completely forgotten your assignment until several people in the audience began to leave. You blinked, staring at the empty ice rink littered with forgotten roses. The tournament was over. Your heart caught in your chest. You still had to speak to Park Jimin.
You noticed the flurry of reporters flocking to the east entrance of the hall. Your eyes caught a head of tangerine hair and your legs immediately began moving in that direction as well. You had to finish this assignment successfully. Who knows if you’ll get to keep your job or if you’ll ever see Park Jimin perform in front of you again.
You arrived at the huddled circlet of reporters and saw your orange-haired destination buried in the middle of the crowd. But these people were shoving each other in every direction. With cameras raised high and microphones desperately poised, they all seemed like vicious sharks grabbing for their food. There was no way you’d ever get through. You took a deep breath nonetheless and began slowly pushing your way past the raging storm of journalists until you found an opening between the sea of people that would allow you to move closer.
You moved quickly, mentally congratulating at your quick wit, before a sudden shove from the side had you tumbling down. A chaotic rhythm of feet moved around you and you spotted a man hastily move through the opening you had found. Your hands curled into fists, anger and humiliation filling you as you pulled yourself off the ground. The crowd of reporters quickly followed the orange blaze of hair outside the stadium, leaving your tear-filled form in their dust. How people could be so ill-mannered and selfish was beyond you.
Defeated, you trekked back to your seat on the bleachers, grabbing your notebook and coat before stomping outside. You didn’t care if you had nothing to show your boss; you weren’t going to deal with the frustration of all of this. Park Jimin was probably not even worth this trouble anyway.
When you told your employer the news of your failure, you received an enraged lecture filled with venomous words and threats of being fired before you were kindly dismissed. When you stepped outside of the building to meet the cold and snow of the winter air, you let out a scream and a flood of tears. You became a journalist to write for events that mattered. You failed to understand why there was such violent passion in the sports journalism industry which dominated news headlines in favor of events happening in war across the world.
You kicked the snow angrily in your path as your legs carried you without a destination. You couldn’t care less where you were going, you just needed to walk and forget. You eventually found yourself trudging across a small snow-covered path. The bare, icicled trees that framed the pathway were charming and served to slightly dull your anger. The snow-covered landscape glittered back at you from all around and you found your shoulders relaxing at the quiet beauty. But your peaceful moment was broken by laughter from several voices that came from farther down the path.
Your boots trudged forward in curiosity and you watched as the trees made way for a large frozen pond centered on an open snow-covered field. There were several people leisurely skating on it, laughing and talking with each other, while children squealed in delight as their wobbly legs on skates carried them across the expanse of ice.You noticed a familiar head of tangerine hair, his form skating backwards easily across the pond and beckoning children to dare to follow him. He was smiling and occasionally letting out laughs that sounded like birds flying to freedom.
In your utterly occupied thoughts, however, you didn’t notice that your legs had mindlessly walked themselves onto the very edge of the ice. You felt the sudden loss of friction and your boots glided a small way across, leaving you flailing your arms to balance yourself. To your horror, an indent marked itself in the ice underneath where you stood, and you watched in terrified silence as cracks rippled all around your intruding boots. You only had time to let out a yelp before your legs plunged into the ice water.
You shut your eyes in dread, bracing for the unforgiving cold of the freezing water.
You did not expect a strong hand to clench tightly around your arm just before the rest of your body went under. You noticed panicked eyes and a flash of familiar orange before you felt yourself quickly pulled over the edge and onto the comforting, stable platform of the snow-covered earth.
“Are you okay?” A frantic voice asked you. You managed to nod, still shaken by your close encounter. The man’s eyes rapidly scanned your form for any injuries before they settled on your boots that were soaked up to your ankles. “Well, you aren’t going into shock. But you should take off those boots. They’ll freeze your toes off,” he said and you registered the numbness in your feet that had already settled from the freezing temperature of the water. You quickly slide your boots off, grateful for the thick stockings you wore underneath that were dry for the most part.
By this time, your pounding heart had fallen to a slow enough pace to allow you to gain bearing of your surroundings. Your eyes widened and your jaw fell slack as you took in the familiar man who had saved you. He was wearing simple winter clothing, having changed out of his glimmering and conspicuous performance shirt and his tangerine hair looked exactly the same, combed back with not a hair out of place. You didn’t notice that he was staring back at you as well, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion when taking in your shocked expression before realization dawned on him.
“You know who I am.” he said, a hint of disappointment in his voice. You blinked in confusion at his sudden change in demeanor and at the hesitancy in his eyes before forcing your chapped lips to move.
“I wasn’t stalking you or anything, I swear!” You wave your hands frantically in front of your face. “I was just walking around and wound up here by accident,” you explained. He searched your face before turning to gaze back at the people leisurely skating across the frozen pond.
“I believe you. But please don’t tell anyone I’m here, okay? This is the only time I get to spend with my family and neighbors without the paparazzi and sports writers intruding.” He explained, his tone sounding heavy and melancholy as he turned back to you to wait for your reaction.
You could only nod at the sincerity in his face. “Of course.”
A grin quickly spread across his face at your answer and his eyes crinkled charmingly in a way that left you speechless. It was as if you had made him the happiest person in the world by promising him such a simple thing. You weren’t sure how to respond but god, you wanted to make him smile again.
“Thank you,” he said warmly, leaving you sputtering for anything to say to hide the blush on your cheeks.
“I watched you at the tournament today. You… you’re a beautiful skater,” you admitted, exhaling the only words that had occupied your mind when you had watched him hours before. He smiled again, warmth shining through his face as you felt your heart skip a beat. He moved from his crouched position to sit on the snow next to you, his gaze having returned to the people skating on the ice pond.
“Thank you,” he said again, earnestly. You were a little surprised; you were sure he received endless praise for his performances, but he took everything you said to heart and sincerely thanked you. “I have to keep practicing, though.” His tone dulled slightly and dragged you out of your thoughts. “There’s a lot of pressure on me to dazzle everyone with my next performance, and I don’t really know if I can,” he sighed, leaning back on his hands that rested on the grain of the snow.
You watched the way his rich orange hair fell back to frame his face and quickly realized that a national sports star was currently talking and sitting next to you like an old friend expressing his worries. You blinked twice and forced yourself to speak.
“People expect you to perform better than that each time? I’m just lucky I got to see something as amazing as your performance. I can’t imagine expecting beauty that comes naturally to perform for me.” You explained, remembering your own mesmerization at his skating and twirling form. You were sure you’d never get used to that.
He gazed at you silently, a small grin still evident on his face. “You’re different than a lot of reporters,” he remarked.
“You’re different than I imagined.” you countered, remembering his name littered on newspaper headlines and his performance scores plastered next to gold medals and flowers. You remembered wondering what was underneath all the roses and glittering shirts and the bright lights of the cameras. “I thought you’d be more-”
“Arrogant?” he offered, wiggling his eyebrows. “Egotistical? Annoying?”
“No!” You interjected, flustered. You had never thought of him being that way, although you had slightly resented the utter glory and fame that surrounded him and only caused you more trouble. Well, up until now.
“No…just different.”
“What’s your name?” he asked, quietly this time.
“Y/n.”
“Well, Y/n,” he said confidently, offering his hand. “My name is Jimin, if you don’t already know. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
You felt a smile form on your face as you took his hand. “You as well,” you returned, not missing the twinkle in his eyes. He suddenly broke his gaze from yours and pulled his hand away.
“Sooo, Y/n,” he yawned dramatically, raising and stretching his arms before allowing them to fall in his lap. He stared at you indifferently. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
Your mouth fell open.
He simply shook his head, dismissing the words you had not even attempted to say. “No no no…I’m just asking,” he explained, holding his hands up defensively before glancing at you, “because if you don’t, then just give me a heads up.”
You couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. Your mind was still trying to process his serious expression, wholeheartedly expecting a reply rom you. He continued to watch you intently, his pursed lips soon melting away into an overly-amused grin that had him cracking up at your reaction.
“I’m only kidding,” he gasped, grabbing his sides and left you blinking in confusion. “Your face was so red!” He laughed, falling back into the snow as his loud laughter settled into amused giggling. You felt yourself relax a little as you observed him. No, this was not how you would have ever imagined him.
He settled down a minute later, sighing deeply and allowing his eyes to trace the sky. “I do that to pretty girls all the time but my coach yells at me” he explained, pouting a little and leaving you the ridiculous urge to squish his cheeks.
“So which sports news company do you work for? I probably know all of the presidents by name by now,” he sighed, looking at you from his position nestled on the ground. You frowned at his mention of your job that you had managed to forget until now.
“I work for a really small company. You wouldn’t know them. It doesn’t matter talking about it because I’ll probably lose my job, anyway.” You grudgingly explained, resting your head in your palm. You realized that this was the first time you were expressing your concerns about your job to someone else, and to Park Jimin out of all people. But he had such a friendly air around him that you found yourself wanting to tell him everything.
He sits up abruptly at your answer. Concern filled his eyes once again as he examined your face. “You’ll lose your job? Why? I’m sure you do a great job at anything!”
You ignored the way your cheeks burned at his compliment and frowned. “I didn’t get to finish my most recent assignment.” You explained, watching one skater fall on her bottom before she bursted out laughing.
“What was your assignment?” He pressed, obviously very interested in your troubles. You weren’t familiar with anyone doing this and decided you didn’t mind it at all. You turned to watch his reaction as you gave the answer.
“You.”
His eyes widened before fixing on the glinting snow that littered the ground. “Oh.”
Thick silence fell between you and him except for the scratching of skates in the distance and the laughter from people oblivious to your problems and who had also seemed to forget their own.
“Well, I can-”
“No, no no no no.” You cut him off, shaking your head furiously. He stared at you incredulously.
“What?”
“You are not going to let me interview you right now. That’s cheating.” You firmly said.
“Oh, come on.” He prodded. “I’ll tell you some stuff and you can keep your job, easy as that!”
“No.” You decided. It would be cheating. Other struggling reporters fighting for their jobs like you would be dying to be in the position you were in now. You’d have an unfair advantage. Also, you didn’t want to use Jimin in any way for your own interests. It didn’t feel right.
“You said yourself that you wanted to enjoy being with your family and friends. I don’t want to be the reason you have to think of or deal with reporters today,” You offered.
“You’re too moral!” He complained, running his hand through his hair before fixing his gaze on you. “It’s fine, really.”
His insistence made you feel a tug of guilt. He really didn’t want to see you fired, especially considering that he could have done something about it. It wasn’t fair to make him watch as you brought misfortune upon yourself. Your mind scrambled for an idea.
“When you take questions after a performance, like when all the reporters flock you like fleas, I want to be one of them. I want to be a real reporter with all the others and ask you real questions and have a real interview. I want to do my job completely.” You proclaimed, watching an understanding smile slowly form on Jimin’s face.
“Alright. Sounds like a deal,” he said, taking your hand and shaking it one more time. You felt a surge of satisfaction that eventually settled with the pleasant silence that overcame both of you.
“I usually come here when the sun sets,” Jimin remarked, his quiet voice breaking the stilled air of silence. His soft eyes were fixed upon the setting sun whose blood orange halo touched everything. The trees, the pond, and the snow were doused with the bleeding color.
“I like seeing the way it casts an orange glow on the frost. It’s almost like it’s on fire. Like there’s warmth in a place where there shouldn’t be.”
You were mildly surprised at his sudden poeticness, but felt yourself melting into the scenery at his words. You studied the way the frosted landscape glowed orange and decided that he was right. It looked like the ice would grant warmth, when it shouldn’t.
You vaguely wondered why the color of this fire seemed so familiar and found yourself staring at Jimin’s hair. The startling color had failed to give you a descriptive words better than ‘orange’, but after hearing his words and watching the way his hair blended into the distant sun, the color of sunset seemed more fitting. It was fitting for him, too. He was a star and he was humble, caring and sincere. He was smiles and laughter sitting on cold snow, your savior from the freezing waters of the pond, a being of warmth with a career and life lived on chilled ice; he was warmth where there should not be. You watched him smile delicately at the distant sun and decided that he was the sunset frost himself.
“Are you okay?” He asked, having caught you incessantly staring at him.
“Your hair. It’s like the color of the sunset.” You stated. He processed your words slowly before turning to observe the setting sun.
“That’s really cool.” He muttered. A sudden bubble of laughter rose in your chest. It was the nicest you had felt in a long time and found his simple words that followed your deep thoughts so funny that you didn’t hold back the loud laughter that had him reeling back to look at you in surprise.
“Wha-”
“It’s nothing,” you waved him off, wiping the tears from your eyes. “I just…you’re really cute.”
It was his turn to blush profusely, eyes running over your form to discover what had caused your sudden change in behavior. You only smiled at him.
“Can you teach me how to skate?” You asked. His confused and slightly frightened expression turned into one of disbelief.
“You never learned how to skate?” He asked. You only had time to shake your head before he was leaping up off the snow and taking both of your hands to pull you from the ground and towards the pond. “Then we better get started.”
You barely had time to register your feet hitting the ice before you flailed your arms to try to balance at the sudden loss of friction.
“Whoa!” Jimin appeared front of you in a second, stretching out both arms to steady you. You grasped at his puffy coat to regain balance as he glanced at your feet unsurely.
“You don’t have skates, but that’s fine. Socks are better at gliding across the ice anyway.” He smiled at you knowingly and you gained sudden confidence at the thought of skating across a pond with only a thin sheet of ice to stop you from delving into freezing water again. It would be fine as long as he was there.
He tightened his grip on your cold palms as he began to guide you deeper across the expanse of the pond at a much more cautious pace. He studied your face for any signs of reluctance, but you only marveled at the feel of smooth ice flowing past the soles of your feet. You could understand why Jimin had fallen in love with this.
“Okay, to skate, you just have to move both your feet side to side like this,” he instructed, mimicking his words with his own feet. His snow white skates scratched against the ice as his left foot glided off the ice, then the right. You followed his words and move one sock-covered foot, then the other. You felt yourself pick up pace at the simple technique and found yourself grinning at the feeling.
“That’s good, now just lift up your feet a little-good!” He beamed proudly, his eye-smile fixing itself upon you and you couldn’t help smiling back at him.
He moved you two slowly across the expanse of the pond, allowing you to get used to the feeling of almost-ice skating. He was the one mostly guiding you both and you were impressed by the way he glided backwards so easily all the while watching you. You both had more space to skate anyway; many people had already left the pond, given the growing lateness of the day, which only left a couple of skaters and you two under the watch of the reddening sun.
“I’m going to let go now.” He said, his warning tone sending apprehension shooting through you. “It’ll be fine. You’re doing great and if anything happens, I’ll be there to catch you, okay?” He reassured you, searching your face. You weakly nodded before you felt the loss of warmth on your hands as he drifted a far way off. You felt yourself wobble as you more or less balanced yourself on the ice again without the stable comfort of Jimin. He waved at you from his position farther off on the ice.
“Try to come here. Just learn forward a little and go slowly.” He called. You studied the daunting distance. It didn’t seem so bad if you just managed to keep your eyes on him. You forced yourself to take a deep breath before setting a slow pace across the ice. You were shaky, but you were moving and he knew it, too. His eyes were transfixed on you every movement and his smile grew wider with every step you took. You didn’t realize you had already skated a good distance across until he was motioning you over excitedly.
“You’re almost here!” He urged on. He was close, so close you could almost touch him, and you would have felt your chest swell with pride if not for the sudden panicked look Jimin shot you. You felt you leg come down on the ice too quickly and the sudden stop in momentum sent you tumbling down.
You saw him appear at your side faster than you could process. You felt his arms enclose around you at the same time you grappled at the hood of his coat to save yourself. But the pull of your weight was too much, and the move had both of you falling against the hard surface of the ice in a tangle of limbs covered in bulbous winter coats.
He was the first to sit up abruptly and remove himself from the mess. He quickly moved back towards you to look for any injuries as you groaned at the pain spreading through your tailbone.
“Are you okay?” He asked you frantically for the second time that day.
“I’m fine,” you waved him off, adjusting yourself so that you were sitting upright on the cold ice. You would have missed the giggle that had sounded suddenly from his throat if you had not seen the smile on his face that was quickly covered by his mouth. “What?” You questioned. Your word apparently warranted a string of giggles from his mouth and you found yourself trying not to smile along with him.
“You looked so funny,” he gasped and you rolled your eyes. “You were so close and you were smiling and then your eyes blew up like saucers.” He giggled while you groaned loudly.
“Come on, I only just learned how to sort-of skate!” You complained, allowing him to take your hand to pull you up off the ground.
“I know. And if you’re skating in socks, you’re probably better than I am. Next time we do this, we’ll get you proper skates.” He promised. Your mind blanked at the words ‘next time’ that seemed to stick in your brain. Next time. He will make sure you two will do this again. Your stomach fluttered chaotically at the thought.
He seemed oblivious to the implication of his own words and only took your hands in his to resume skating both of you across the ice. “I haven’t had a fall like that in a long time,” he remarked, eyes fixed on your feet. “I never thought I would enjoy one until now.” He added, glancing up at you.
You felt sudden heat burst across your face, your mouth suddenly void of any words to say. But you only had to spot the small curl of his lips before you could smack his arm hard.
“What?” He laughed loudly, obviously not unaware of exactly what he was doing.
“Stop it!” You ordered, not helping the laughter that bubbled behind your words.
“Stop what?” He pressed, smiling teasingly. You tried to pout at him, but he only grinned wider.
“You know what.”
“No, I really don’t-wah!” He dodged your attempt to smack his arm again before quickly grabbing your hands again when you wobbled off-balance.
“I suggest you stop trying to attack the only person helping you keep your balance.” He said, matter-of-factly. You huffed, impatiently waiting for the heat to disappear from your face.
“And I suggest you stop trying to make me blush,” you countered. He only flashed his teeth again in another warm grin.
“But you’re cute when you do that.” He chuckled at the blush spreading across your face again before waving his hands defensively when you raised another threatening arm. “Okay, okay, okay I’ll stop.” He relented, his hands settling back in yours again. “God, I can only imagine you in snowball fights,” he wondered as you smirked at him.
“I’d win.”
“I’d hide.”
You snorted at that, laughter overtaking your aching stomach for yet another time that day. You didn’t remember laughing this much or feeling this at ease with anybody else and it gave you the strangest sense of being in a relationship with Park Jimin.
Your laughter died at the thought in favor of the ever-present heat on your face, but Jimin did not notice. His focus was elsewhere, on the expanse of the frozen pond that was now empty and dark from the dimming light of the disappearing sun. There was barely enough light to see and you could just make out the outline of Jimin’s features and his sunset hair that seemed much duller now.
“I don’t suppose you would want to skate in the dark, would you?” He chuckled humorlessly and you, too, felt the same empty feeling creeping in your stomach. The day was over and so would be your time with him.
“No, I have to get home,” you said reluctantly, watching him nod in defeat.
“Alright. Let’s get your boots back on.”
The scraping of his skates filled your ears for the last time that day as he slowly guided you both to the edge of the ice and onto the firm platform of the earth. You were grateful for the friction of the snow and quickly took to walking when you spotted your boots a small distance away in the darkness. You trudged over to them to pick them up and hesitantly slid your legs in. They were completely dry, to your surprise, and even comfortably warm. You adjusted your feet completely into the fur of your boots, not noticing Jimin sauntering over to you.
“Well,” he breathed loudly, urging you to turn around to face him, which you did not hesitate to do. “I wanted a day to get away from reporters to help me destress, but I guess a reporter was all I needed,” he smirked and you felt your eyes clench shut.
“Jimin!” You whined at the blush deepening on your face once again before his laugh graced your ears. Your shoulders relaxed at the familiar sound.
“Sorry, I couldn’t help it,” he admitted, lightly ruffling your hair. “But get home safely and don’t go crashing into frozen ponds again.” He warned and you rolled your eyes, hiding the smile playing at your lips.
“I won’t.” You promised. His eyes ran over your features wistfully before settling for a small smile.
“Then, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” he sighed. You almost forgot that both of you would meet again tomorrow. Except this time, you’d be a reporter and he’d be a professional ice skater. This time, you would have the chance to do your job and show your boss that you weren’t completely a failure. And most importantly, you’d see Jimin again.
“See you tomorrow.” you waved with a last smile before you were off, allowing your feet to retrace their steps back down the path that had led you to warm smiles and sunset frost. You heard his footsteps trudge slowly away in the other direction before disappearing, leaving a slightly empty feeling in your heart that will be filled with laughter and orange hair once again.
The sound of ice skates that filled your ears for the 101th time that day did not bother you. Neither did the people milling about, blocking your view of the ice rink nor the metal bleachers that cooled your bottom to an uncomfortably low temperature. Instead, you relished the sound of people buzzing around the stadium excitedly, waiting for another round of preliminary performances and the fact that a certain sunset boy will soon grace the ice rink with his presence once again.
Your fingers mindlessly traced the cold rungs of your notebook as you watched people grow quiet under the blaring female voice that had sounded abruptly over the stadium intercom, announcing the upcoming participants. The very first name had you sitting up straighter to get a better view of the ivory ice rink. Soft murmurs around you grew into excited gasps and bursting applause as the first figure glided into view.
He was dressed in red this time. The rich color of his shirt was littered in sequins and bled into black at the edges. The ruffles at his shoulders ran down diagonally across his chest and seemed to float as he moved through the air. Overall, he was an unforgettable sight, smiling and greeting the applause with open arms. You released a breath you didn’t realize you were holding and found yourself utterly relieved to see him again as you watched him glide to his place in the center of the rink.
The sound of music blaring loudly from the speakers successfully hushed the audience. This tune had instruments filling up the very first couple of beats, abrupt, dramatic and very different from the last song. He himself responded quickly, darting across the ice and to the side of the rink. His skates scraped furiously, picking up small shards of ice that fell helplessly behind the storm of his feet.
The next few minutes were a blur of a raging performance. His turns were sharp and his arms were pulled in and alternately thrown out to the side with each change in the music’s beat. He’d swivel flawlessly and impressively bounce across the ice to make him look like he was hopping on water. He’d bend deeply, nose almost touching the ground, to pivot around a leg that was held so high in the air it was almost completely vertical. His spins followed after him nearly sprinting across the ice to gain a tremendous amount of momentum. The triple axels that followed were heart-stopping, blistering, and came up almost half a foot higher off the ground than his last ones and drew insatiable roars from the crowd. His spins followed one after each other, impossibly perfect yet perfectly controlled, painting him with a capability that had to be unrivaled by any other competitor.
This mood, this feel of his performance was so different from the last one. While the other was controlled, graceful, beautiful, this one was almost angry, dramatic, passionate.
You didn’t notice that your mouth had fallen agape and your eyes had been glued to his moving form during his entire performance. You had been completely absorbed, so entranced by this boy that seemed to flare on ice that you hadn’t noticed the music die off.
The audience was pulled to their feet, hooting and whistling, and you scrambled to stand up to have some window of view. You found him poised gracefully in the center of the rink, unmoving and statue-like, in a finishing stance that offered a stark contrast to the raging audience around him. A few seconds later, he broke from his position to bow deeply in finality. His hair clung to his face with sweat and his chest heaved so deeply he looked as if he were starved of oxygen. But he was absolutely beaming, with a smile stretched so widely across his face and his eye smile crinkling so adorably that you found yourself beaming and clapping too.
He stiffened momentarily when he turned to face your direction and you stopped mid-clap as his eyes wove through the raging crowd to undeniably capture yours. But just as quickly as he froze, he was beaming once again, putting a grateful hand over his heart and bowing deeply to the crowd. People around you only roared in response. He stood upright gracefully, but not without sending an audacious, disrespectful, utterly rude winkdirectly at your form. He grinned knowingly at the familiar deep pink spreading across your face in response before swiveling around and gliding off the ice rink. A few curious people turned around to see just who had been the object of this star’s flirtatious gesture, but you had already seated yourself and successfully buried your face in your notebook.
Other competitors followed afterwards and you desperately tried to pay attention. Your heart rate sped up as each performance followed after the next, as each passing minute drew you closer to your interview. This one would be your first, true reporting. And it was going to be with one of the biggest sports stars in skating, with so much competition with the other far more prestigious and aggressive sports news agencies. With your stomach churning, you wondered if everything would go as well as you thought.
But before you could dwell further on those insecurities, the final scoreboard displayed itself on the screen. The discomfort in your stomach vanished as your eyes ran across the bright blue screen. You had forgotten that today was the last of a month’s worth of skating performances, all of which you had missed except for these last two days. You had forgotten that there’d be a winner in the end and that this person would be the most viciously sought-after target of all of the reporters in the stadium.
Your heart only thumped faster as your eyes slowly trailed up the digital bars of names and numbers, searching, searching, until they found solace at the top.
1st place- Park Jimin
In the next second, the crowd around you was jumping to their feet, casting a thunderous noise against the bleachers that almost scared the living daylights out of you. People all around were whooping and hollering and you hurried yourself to stand up, too. The ice rink was back in your vision and so was Jimin. He now sported a medal around his neck and had a bouquet of roses gripped in his outstretched hand. His smile was brighter than anything you’d ever seen and his happiness shone through his face, infecting you completely. You were grinning at him, grinning at the cheering audience, grinning at the reporters hurriedly escaping the bleacher maze to gather on the sidelines.
You froze suddenly. Oh no.
The smile fell away from your cheeks as you watched Jimin’s coach nod in acknowledgement to a group of professional-looking reporters. They had probably just reserved their right to speak to him on his victory first. Which meant that today would probably end up like yesterday, with you empty-handedly sitting in the dust.
You didn’t hesitate to grab your belongings and zip down the steps to the sidelines already filled with reporters. You huffed frustratedly when the clump of bodies yet again blocked your access to where the athletes were seated. This was all too familiar, and definitely not in a good way.
A moving figure in the corner of your eye suddenly caught your attention and you turned to see Jimin distantly making his way off the ice rink and onto the carpeted floor. His smile fell as the reporters responded immediately to his presence, flocking all around him and incessantly chirping his name.
He seemed to have remembered something just as quickly because he swiftly shifted onto his tippy toes to scan the crowd of heads. You vaguely wondered what the heck he was doing until his eyes fell on yours and a victorious smirk graced his face. Then, he was pushing and weaving through the crowd of people with soft “excuse me"s and "sorry"s until he was standing right in front of your unmoving form.
You stared disbelievingly at the giant grin on his face before his expression was shifting into one of mock surprise.
"Oh, would you look at that? It’s a reporter!” He exclaimed, overdramatically placing a hand on his chest and ignoring the dozens of reporters confusedly milling around him. His eyes crinkled with his reforming smile and you realized how utterly handsome he looked standing in front of you in full athletic gear with a medal and roses decorating him as a victor. You pursed your lips when he leaned towards you slightly, as if going to share a secret. "What would you like to know?"
And it suddenly hit you that you were about to conduct your first interview. Your eyes veered from his face to the confused reporters behind him. Their eyes trailed your form up and down, trying to uncover which prestigious company Park Jimin had chosen to share his first post-victory words with. But they’d never know, you decided, and you tightened your fingers around the notepad and pencil that you had hastily grabbed from your seat on your way here. You found yourself smiling at him as you poised your pen over the blank pages.
"How do you feel after this win?”
His hands immediately stretched themselves outwards, hitting a couple of reporters in the face. “Amazing, wonderful. I’m so thankful for my fans, for my coaches, for my friends.” He explained heartily, watching your pen scribble on the page lines.
You looked up again to see that the reporters were still around him, impatiently calling his name to get at least a sentence from him. But then Jimin was poking your side to prompt you to ask the next question and you guessed they’d just have to wait their turn.
And you did ask the next question, and the next, and each one after that all regarding his training regimen, the techniques he used in his performance, his plan for upcoming tournaments. He gave wholehearted replies, and in such detail that would strike envy into other reporters and had your hand aching from how much valuable information you had to write. All of this would most definitely make a notable article.
Everything was flowing so smoothly; the reporters had quieted down for a while and Jimin’s voice had even slightly lulled you. You didn’t even notice you were almost done with your interview until you reached your final question. Your chest suddenly felt heavy at the thought of finishing this interview and leaving Jimin again, but a smiled played on your lips anyway as you asked the final question.
“Now that you don’t have any tournaments coming up, how will you spend this time relaxing?”
He smirked lightly at your words before leaning casually against the fence bordering the ice rink and crossing his sequin-covered arms. “I’ll probably go skating on a frozen pond. I’m meeting someone special there again tomorrow. I’ll hope she’ll come,” his eyes sparkled and you face shifted into one of confusion. He couldn’t possibly be inviting you to come to the pond again, could he?
You only cleared your throat before looking down at your notepad hastily. “Well, I’m sure she will.”
You heard him giggle lightly at your answer, and you looked up to see a smile grow wide across your face as he observed you. You felt the tinges of a blush under his gaze and averted your eyes to the still-waiting reporters that watched your encounter in confusion. You realized that the area wasn’t as crowded as before; some reporters had abandoned their plight for Jimin in search of the 2nd and 3rd place contestants, who were currently also swallowed in the crowd of notepads and recorders.
“I guess I’ll give these guys some words, or else I wouldn’t leave here alive.” Jimin laughed, having followed your gaze to the reporters. He turned swiftly back to you and took your hand in his soft ones to shake it firmly.
“It was nice reporting with you,” he grinned and you found yourself smiling with him.
“The same to you.“
And then you watched as the reporters swallowed him whole, swarming between you and Jimin at their chance to have him again. You were forced backwards abruptly to the outskirts out of the sea of people and saw Jimin wiggling his fingers to you in parting through the spaces of crowded heads. Then, all view of him disappeared as more people rushed around and you found yourself releasing a heavy sigh.
It was time to get to work.
The article you spent all night writing finally slammed its way on top of your boss’ desk the next morning in a neat, crisp file that glinted with notability and importance. He only raised an eyebrow over his wired glasses and questioned your presence in his office before he was cut off by your tutting and motioning towards the ever-important folder.
With a resigned sigh, he opened the folder, unwillingly reading the contents of the paper that rested inside. In the next second, he sat up in his chair so suddenly, it almost spiraled out from under him. His eyes raked furiously across the words upon words of the ink-cladden pages before fixing on you.
“Where did you get this?”
“Park Jimin.”
His eyes nearly bulged out of his head and you spent the next half hour convincing him that yes, you really interviewed Park Jimin and that no, you did not plagiarize or fabricate any of what was written.
Finally, he leaned back in his chair, swishing his bushy mustache side to side in thought as he observed you carefully.
“Well, if what you say is true and won’t get us sued, then,” his eyes examined your face for any final signs of dishonesty before his face settled into one of resignation. "Good job.”
At those words, you nearly squealed before pursing your lips and straightening your clothes professionally. Then, you grabbed your bag and your coat to leave the office before your boss called you.
“Where are you going?”
You paused to look at him. “Someone’s waiting for me. I can’t be late.”
You didn’t wait for any protest before throwing on your coat and exiting the building with a smile. You allowed your legs to start right away, to find their way along the same path bordered by the trees that melted away to a beautifully familiar frozen pond and a certain boy standing by it.
“You’re late,” he scolded with a smile, his orange hair floating in the soft breeze as he gazed at you. “For a second, I thought you wouldn’t come,” he admitted as you trudged your way across the snow towards him.
“I got caught up in work,” you mumbled before getting close enough to lunge forward and wrap your arms around his fluffy coat-cladded body in a warm hug.
“Wha-what was that for?” He sputtered as you retracted your arms and stepped back. A deep pink had flourished across his face at your sudden gesture, to you satisfaction.
“I didn’t get to do that yesterday in the stadium. Congratulations on your win.” You smiled warmly, lightly ruffling his sunset hair as a grin lit his face. You gasped in surprise when his hands wrapped tightly around your waist and pulled you swiftly against his chest.
“Well, congratulations on your reporting.” He smirked, his breath fanning your face. "How did I do? I was amazing, wasn’t I?” He joked as your mind fumbled to understand was he was saying. He was so close, and his hands were tucked comfortably around your waist as if this was completely natural for him. And you couldn’t focus when his lips were kept moving like that, with words you couldn’t process tumbling gracefully from his mouth. His hair was tinted so beautifully with a glow from the backdrop of the setting sun and your mind was white noise do you didn’t stop yourself from cutting him off and pressing your lips to his.
Your mind distantly protested what you were doing until Jimin was scrambling to cup your cheeks and mold his flushed lips against yours. You melted there against his warmth, your head feeling slightly lighter as you took in his minty scent. He tugged you closer, almost feverishly, while your fingers combed through his bright hair that was so much like silk to the touch. In the next moment, he was breaking the kiss to settle his forehead against yours, while his rapid, small breaths revealed themselves as puffs of fog in the cool air.
He smiled lightly at the deep flush that had enveloped your face. “I guess I break the rule of no kiss on the first date?” He teased as you rolled your eyes despite the rapid pace of your heart pounding against your ribs.
“Jimin-” you were cut off when he suddenly dipped low to tip you back and gather up your legs. He settled you in his embrace bridal-style as you squeaked in surprise, holding onto his jacket tightly in fear of dropping straight to the hard ground.
“What do you think you are you doing!?” You demanded as he began walking easily down the same path you had come from.
“That reminded me-I have to take you on a first date. I know a place, but not here. A frozen pond is pretty terrible place for a date, if you ask me.”
You were torn between burying your face in his scarf at his words or using a complex martial arts technique to break out of his grasp.
“But why do you have to carry me!?” You questioned, shifting in his grasp that you would never admit was too comfortable.
He shrugged slightly, peering down the path as he walked. “I don’t really know. Carrying your date is more fun than walking isn’t it? Besides,” he said, looking down at you with a smile so warm, your lips pursed quickly in silence ay the endearment it held. “This is more romantic, right?”
You screwed your eyes shut as butterflies burst in flight in your abdomen and a deep tint of red found its way on your face and had Jimin giggling. “Jimin!” you whined, wondering god-knows-what people would be thinking if they saw you struggling in a man’s grasp as he carried you through town. However, he only ignored your cries of protest and he continued to walk, grinning all the way.
And soon, both of you disappeared down a path covered in melting snow, vanishing from the view of the setting sun.