Chapter Text
Living in Gangnam means that the billboard across from Anxin’s room changes every so often. Maybe twice a month, if Anxin had to guess. Skincare, luxury handbags, a new Korean barbecue franchise. Nothing worth a second glance.
Until now.
When Geonwoo sees it, he chokes on his iced americano. Actually chokes — coughing, sputtering and everything. Anxin would feel bad if Geonwoo weren't already wiping his mouth and grinning like a maniac. "Jesus," Geonwoo wheezes, "that’s definitely something to wake up to."
Junseo looks up from his phone and studies the billboard for a long, silent moment. Then he sets down his phone and says, with absolute seriousness, "is he allowed to just... look like that? On a billboard?"
“That’s seductive, isn’t it, hyung?” Sanghyeon adds. He earns a (rightful) pillow to the face.
Leo pokes his head into the room, takes one look at Anxin's expression, then says, “Xinnie needs time to process the eyes he’s getting, so let’s go. Shoo. Come out when you want, Xin, Yumeki-hyung is calling us for practice.”
When they go, Anxin lets out a long, slow breath and sinks down onto his bed. From here, he can still see every inch of the billboard through his window. And, well. It's not like he's upset about it.
The image is stupidly intimate in a way that feels almost intrusive. There’s letters on the bottom of the picture — Vogue Korea. The man is lying on a bed — rumpled white sheets, pillow behind his head — but there's nothing soft about the pose. His blond hair spills across the pillowcase, messy and slightly damp-looking, like he's just rolled out of bed and couldn't be bothered to fix it. Good. Anxin thinks it looks better this way.
He’s looking directly into the camera. No smirk. No snarl. Just a steady, unblinking stare, like he's already figured out exactly who you are and found you lacking. His jaw is sharp, his cheekbones high, his lips slightly parted like he was about to say something and then decided you weren't worth the breath.
"I hate people who know they’re stupidly hot," Anxin tells the massive photograph of Lee Sangwon — national figure skater, South Korea’s ice prince and the most handsome person Anxin has seen with his two eyes. “You’re one of them, Lee Sangwon.”
He is definitely not complaining.
⛸️
zhou anxin updates! @zhouanxin06
since it’s been three months since debut, what is everyone’s favourite song on EUPHORIA? trying to see a pattern here… mine is brat attitude, it’s so 💋💋💋
🗨️ 9,571 🔁 7,304 ❤️ 61,483
geonwoo’s gf ♡ @ogbamtorii
freak alarm is mine but since it’s the title track i’d say chains. THATS MY GURL!!
🗨️432 🔁2,329 ❤️5,293
Teagan જ⁀➴ ♡ @xiaot1ngs
I think shout out is my favourite! I’m just a casual listener but I can’t stop listening to it <3
🗨️2 🔁29 ❤️293
NO LABELS ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧ @yeonjunslover
lasalle ave is mine! i really like the production on it 😝😝😝😝
🗨️218 🔁582 ❤️3,343
Extract from an exclusive interview with Zhou Anxin for DAZED KOREA
Interviewed on March 20th, 2026
Interviewer: I think this is the first time this will be mentioned on camera — your group’s new album that will be released next is called HYSTERIA, correct?
ZAX: (Smiles) Yes.
Interviewer: That's quite the title. Why did you choose it?
ZAX: Well, at first we had to pick a word that ended with -ria, to fit with EUPHORIA. *** (A pause) But now, I think we picked this word because it's honest.
*** EUPHORIA is the debut album of ALPHA DRIVE ONE, released this January.
Interviewer: Honest how?
ZAX: Well, hysteria is often feeling like you’re losing control. Screaming. Falling apart. But that's not what it all means to me. To me, I think hysteria includes the moment before you fall apart. Giddyness too? Like, hysterically happy is also hysteria to me. (Pause) That’s kind of how the album feels to me. I’m not sure how to explain it. It’s just our honest feelings. I don’t want to say too much to sway your opinion of the album. (They both laugh)
Interviewer: Alright. Let's talk about the tracklist. There are some interesting titles here. ‘Never Been 2 Heaven’ opens the album, correct?
ZAX: Yes. ‘Never Been 2 Heaven’ is a fun song. I think ALLYZ ** will enjoy it very much. (A small laugh)
** ALLYZ is the fandom name for fans of ALPHA DRIVE ONE.
Interviewer: ‘Cinnamon Shake’ is a very playful name for an album called HYSTERIA.
ZAX: Yes, it’s another fun song. I think hysteria isn't all darkness. Sometimes it's the feeling of staying up too late with someone and laughing about nothing. That's hysteria too. The good kind.
Interviewer: There’s other songs on HYSTERIA, but I don’t want to spoil too much. I would like to talk about ‘FORMULA’. That’s the title track. What can you tell me about it?
ZAX: Oh, yes, FORMULA. (Laughs) I guess you could say it's the confident one. You can’t stay sad about what you don’t have, so you start being confident and mad. You can't stay in sadness forever. Eventually you have to get loud. There’s a few songs similar on the album.
Interviewer: I thought ‘PLUTO’ sounded very interesting as a title too. What’s that song about?
ZAX: ‘PLUTO’ is about being something that used to matter. You know, since Pluto isn't a planet anymore. It’s about a thing that people forgot about, while going on… hm… like, a journey of self-discovery. Without saying too much. (He laughs) Sanghyeonnie ***** wrote that one. I think ALLYZ will like ‘PLUTO’. Maybe even cry to it.
***** Chung Sanghyeon, maknae of ALPHA DRIVE ONE.
Interviewer: I heard ‘Whalien 52’ is your favourite?
ZAX: Yes. (Laughs) I wrote that one all by myself. Produced most of it too, with a bit of help from Leo-hyung ****. It’s the one that I hold closest to my heart.
**** Lee Leo, leader of ALPHA DRIVE ONE.
Interviewer: What does the title mean?
ZAX: Well, it’s a reference to the whale that sings at a frequency no other whale can hear. (Laughs) That song is about feeling like you're saying something no one else can understand. Loneliness. But you keep singing anyway. Because what else are you supposed to do?
Interviewer: And the album closes with ‘Dear Sputnik’, right?
ZAX: Yes. I’m sure a lot of ALLYZ know what Sputnik is… but if not, Sputnik was the first satellite ever. It orbited the Earth until it burned up in the atmosphere.
Interviewer: What’s this song about?
ZAX: It's about finding a fated companion, kind of. A soulmate? (Laughs) I guess I’m a bit of a romantic. Like, it’s about feeling isolated and finding someone in your orbit.
Interviewer: That's a heavy way to end an album.
ZAX: (A pause) Well. (Another pause) It's honest. Like I said.
Interviewer: You guys produced this album yourself, I heard.
ZAX: Yes.
Interviewer: Your company WAKEONE Entertainment asked if you wanted any outside producers, but you guys said no. Why?
ZAX: We wanted ALLYZ to know that this album is from the heart. Of course, we wrote a lot of EUPHORIA on our own, but we also had a lot of help from our company. But for HYSTERIA… (He pauses) I hope ALLYZ will enjoy this one more.
This interview has been edited for length and clarity. ALPHA DRIVE ONE will release HYSTERIA in May 2026.
⛸️
“Who?”
“He Xinlong. You know him, right?”
Anxin’s face must be showing his confusion, because Geonwoo rolls his eyes and pulls out his phone. Anxin thinks he hears Geonwoo muttering, “you know Lee Sangwon but not Xinlong? Jesus.”
Geonwoo pulls out a photo. There are three skaters standing at the boards, skates still on, guards covering the blades. Matching Team Korea jackets zipped up. All three are flushed from the cold, breath fogging faintly in the air.
The one on the left has an arm slung around the middle guy's shoulders, grinning at the camera like he just told a terrible joke and is already laughing at his own punchline. Blonde hair. Lee Sangwon.
The one in the middle is not posing — not really. His hands are shoved into his jacket pockets, shoulders relaxed, weight shifted onto one hip. His hair is messy, pushed back from his forehead, a few strands falling loose. Just the smallest curve at the corner of his mouth, like he's amused. Maybe from Lee Sangwon’s joke.
The one on the right has high cheekbones, a jaw that could cut glass, dark eyes narrowed against the rink lights. His jacket is zipped all the way up, collar popped. One hand rests on the boards behind him.
“People call them the Golden Trinity. That's Xinlong, he’s the one I know," Geonwoo says, tapping the sharp-faced one. "The other one is Zhang Jiahao, he got silver at Worlds this year. And you already know Lee Sangwon, apparently. He won the last Asian Winter Games." He snorts. "Or at least you know his face.”
Anxin ignores that. And most of what Geonwoo said because none of it made sense to him. “How do you know him?"
"Xinlongie? We did taekwondo together as kids." Geonwoo shrugs, pocketing his phone. "He quit after middle school to focus on skating full-time. I quit around the same time to focus on music." A pause. "We stayed in touch. Since they’ve been back from Prague, he wants to meet with us and have dinner before the new season picks up and they have to do their crazy dieting."
Anxin blinks. "Prague?"
“Worlds. Keep up.”
“I don’t know anything about figure skating. I just know Lee Sangwon because he got silver at the Olympics.” Anxin remembers watching the Winter Olympics, sitting on his parents' couch at two in the morning, half-asleep, until a blond skater in a black-navy lace costume with lots and lots of gems took the ice and suddenly Anxin was very, very awake.
Geonwoo stares at him. "Lee Sangwon didn’t place in Milan."
"In 2022. Beijing. My mum had it on."
"Your mum."
"Yes."
"You remember the Olympics that were four years ago."
"So?"
"So you remember a specific silver medalist from years ago and have never watched him in anything since." Geonwoo's grin is back, wide and insufferable. "Right. Sure. Totally normal behavior."
Anxin feels his ears get warm. "Shut up."
"I'm not saying anything." Geonwoo holds up his hands in mock surrender. "I'm just saying it's very interesting that you — "
"I will un-invite myself from this dinner."
"You can't. Not that now I know you’ve probably had some sort of a crush on Lee Sangwon since four years ago.” Geonwoo clasps his hands together, cackling. “This is gold.”
"It's not a crush," Anxin says flatly.
"Then what would you call it?"
Anxin opens his mouth. Closes it. Because what would he call it? Aesthetic appreciation? Recognising his excellence? What was the reason he still remembers the exact shade of Sangwon's costume from that night — deep navy with silver threading that caught the light every time he spun? "I don't know," he finally admits. "But it's not a crush."
"Uh-huh." Geonwoo pats him on the shoulder, deeply condescending. "Keep telling yourself that, buddy. It’s tomorrow at seven." He's halfway out the door when he turns back. "Oh, and Xin? Try not to freak out or something when you see him in person. That would be embarrassing for me. Thanks.”
The door closes. Anxin looks back at the billboard. Lee Sangwon is still watching him from the bed, still looking like he's already won something. And now Anxin is going to have to sit across from him at a dinner table and act normal.
He's not complaining.
He's really, really not.
⛸️
Haidilao is packed like it always is, which is somehow both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because the noise means Anxin doesn't have to talk as much. A curse because the noise means he can't hear himself think, and thinking is the only thing keeping him from staring.
He's failing anyway.
Lee Sangwon is sitting diagonally from him, which is worse than directly across. Diagonal means Anxin has to turn his head just slightly to see him, which means he's been turning his head just slightly all night.
Sangwon is wearing a black sweater. Loose at the wrists, fitted at the shoulders. His hair is still blond, still messy, but softer than the version Anxin’s used to seeing on the billboard. He's been quiet most of the evening, letting Xinlong and Jiahao do the talking, but every time he does speak it's something stupid like a dad joke, which is equal parts funny and unfunny that makes the whole table laugh.
Anxin has laughed at three of them. He's not keeping count.
"So," Jiahao says, reaching across the table to steal a piece of beef from Xinlong's plate, "Geonwoo tells us you write all the band's stuff?"
Anxin blinks. The question is directed at him. "Some of it," he says. "Geonwoo-hyung and Leo-hyung handle production and stuff. Obviously I help when I can, but Sanghyeon and I usually handle the lyrics."
“And I freeride,” Junseo jokes, but everyone knows it’s because he’s too busy with his acting career to help them write or produce. They all laugh anyway.
"You guys write from your apartment?" Xinlong asks. He's sitting next to Geonwoo, close enough that their elbows touch every time they reach for the same dish. When they do, they typically don’t move away.
"Yeah." Anxin's ears warm. It sounds so small when he says it out loud. "It's not fancy. Wish it was, though. Like a studio or something, but alas," he shrugs. He doesn’t continue.
"Doesn't have to be fancy," Sangwon says.
Anxin's head turns. He can't help it. Sangwon is looking at him.
"I listened to your debut album," Sangwon adds. "I like Raw Flame."
Jiahao snorts. "He keeps playing it. The whole album, I mean. He won't admit it —”
“Shut up — “
“It’s part of his warm up playlist now — "
"Shut up, Hao-hyung — "
"I'm just saying — "
"I know what you're saying. Shut up."
Geonwoo hides a smile behind his glass. Leo is openly grinning. The table dissolves into bickering while Anxin watches. He can't help watching Lee Sangwon.
An hour later, the hot pot has been refilled twice, and Anxin's face hurts from smiling. He didn't know his face could hurt from smiling.
But the noise is getting to him. The warmth of the restaurant, the press of bodies at neighboring tables, the constant hum of conversation — it's all a bit much. He excuses himself quietly, slipping out of his seat while Geonwoo is mid-story about a disastrous studio session.
The air outside is cold and sharp and perfect. Anxin leans against the wall near the entrance, tilting his head back. The sky is that weird orange-grey color that city lights make at night. No stars. But the air tastes clean, and his lungs feel like they can finally breathe.
He's been standing there for maybe two minutes when the door opens behind him.
"You okay?"
Anxin turns. Lee Sangwon is standing there, hands in the pockets of his coat, breath fogging in the cold.
"Yeah," Anxin says. "Just needed air."
Sangwon nods. He doesn't go back inside. Instead, he steps up next to Anxin, tilting his own head back to look at the sky. "Too loud?" He asks.
"Something like that."
"Same."
Anxin glances at him. Sangwon's profile is sharp in the dim light — that jaw, that nose, the slight furrow between his brows that Anxin has seen in photos but never this close.
"Do you need a break from everything too?" Anxin asks.
Sangwon is quiet for a moment. Like he’s considering if there’s an implication there. Then, "yeah." He looks at Anxin. "There's a convenience store around the corner. Ice cream?"
It's such an unexpected suggestion that Anxin laughs. Actually laughs, out loud, surprising himself.
"Ice cream," he repeats. "It's March."
"I'm aware."
"It's cold."
"I'm also aware." Sangwon's mouth has that small curve. "That's never stopped me before. Besides, it’s the end of the season. I deserve to have some before dieting ruins me."
And how can Anxin say no to that?
⛸️
The convenience store is small and bright, too bright but fluorescent lights have always been. Some song is playing from the speakers at half volume. There's an old man asleep in the corner booth, face-down on a stack of newspapers.
Sangwon heads straight for the freezer section like he's done this a hundred times. He pulls out two Melonas without asking, holds one out to Anxin.
"You don't even know if I like Melona."
"Everyone likes Melona. Are you part of the people who don’t?"
"...no."
“See.”
Anxin takes it. They stand there for a moment, neither of them moving toward the register. "We should pay," he points out.
"We should," Sangwon agrees. He doesn't move.
Anxin waits. Sangwon waits. The song keeps playing.
“Why did you need a break?” Anxin asks after standing in silence.
Sangwon looks at him like he’s never seen him before and doesn’t answer. He instead moves towards the counter to pay for both of their Melonas. He waves off Anxin's wallet before he can even open it. "You can get the next one," he says, like there will be a next one.
They end up sitting on the low wall outside the convenience store, backs to the street, Melonas in hand. The cold bites at Anxin's fingers, but the ice cream is sweet and the quiet is easy.
“I’ve been on a decline, lately,” Sangwon starts the conversation. Anxin wonders what he’s talking about until he remembers what he asked. “Terrible season for me. That’s what they’re all saying.”
“Who’s saying?"
Sangwon snorts. It’s almost a derogatory sound. “Who’s not saying is the right question. The public. My coach. My family. Social media.”
“Why?” Anxin asks.
The figure skater looks at him like he’s grown a second head. “What do you mean, why?” He doesn’t let Anxin answer before he adds, “I haven’t placed at all this season. The highest I’ve got is 5th.”
“5th is pretty good.”
“Not for me it isn’t,” he sighs and takes another bite of his Melona. “Ice Prince. The only Korean male that’s gotten a medal at the Olympics. It’s inevitable that people have expectations of me,” he shrugs, “and well, I couldn’t reach them. And now the season’s over. Didn’t place in Milan. Ended the season with a fucking 7th. Seventh."
Anxin doesn’t know what to say. What do you say to an Olympian who you barely know anything about — let alone anything about the sport that they do? He takes a bite of his Melona. Buys himself a second to think. “When does the new season start?” He asks finally. “Maybe you can prove yourself then. Show them that, you know, you’re not in a slump.”
Sangwon glances at him. Something in his expression shifts — less guarded. Or just surprised that someone had asked. “It’ll start around September,” he says. “Before that it’s just qualifiers, some side competitions. Galas. But all eyes will be on the Grand Prix, Four Continents, then lastly Worlds.” He lists them off with his fingers.
“So you have time.”
“Time for what?”
“Time to get back to yourself. However long that takes.” Anxin shrugs, suddenly aware that he has no authority to speak on any of this. “I don’t know anything about skating. But I know about making things. If I rush lyrics because I’m worried about what people expect, it sounds like shit. Every time.”
Sangwon is quiet for a moment. His Melona is almost finished, just the last bite of the stick. “So you’re saying I should ignore everyone and just… what? Skate? Practice?”
“I’m saying that you’re not a failure. This season, I guess, it’s just… another step. Maybe you just stumbled a bit.” Anxin feels his ears warm. “Sorry. I don’t know what I’m saying. That sounds stupid.”
“It’s okay.” Sangwon’s voice is quieter now. He tosses his Melona stick into the bin beside them and leans back on his hands. The coldness of the concrete doesn’t seem to bother him. Anxin thinks he’s probably used to it. “Everyone else keeps telling me I need to work harder. Train longer. That I got comfortable.”
“Did you?”
“I don’t know.” Sangwon looks up at the sky. It’s nearly pitch black. Anxin wonders how long they’ve been out. “Maybe. Or maybe I just had a bad season like everyone does at one point in their career and people need to get off my back about it.”
Anxin laughs. It comes out before he can stop it. “That’s fair.”
“I thought so.” A pause. “Xinlong and Jiahao don't bring it up. My slump, that is. Xinlongie sometimes watches me skate and then tells me my lutz could be better.”
“Is it?” He doesn’t know what a lutz is.
“No. None of us are a cannon like he is but… he just says that to make me mad. Because he knows my lutz is one of the best out there. And he says it to help me perform better next time.”
“Does it work?”
“Yes.” Sangwon’s mouth does that curve again — close to a smile, close enough that Anxin feels something in his chest tighten. “Every time.”
They sit in silence for another minute. The song from inside the convenience store has been replaced by something slower, a ballad Anxin half-recognises. The old man inside is still asleep on his newspapers.
“Why did you need a break?” Sangwon asks.
Anxin blinks. “What?”
“From dinner. You said you need a break from everything too.” Sangwon turns to look at him. “Why?”
Anxin considers the question. Considers the easy answer — it was loud, it was crowded, I’m not good with noise. All true. But Sangwon just told him about the weight of being the Ice Prince. Anxin can give him something real in return. “Sometimes,” he starts slowly, “it feels like I’m performing even when I’m not on stage. Like everyone’s watching me to see if I’m going to say the right thing or be the right version of myself.” He stares at the Melona stick in his hands. “Dinner was fun. It was. But after a while, I just… needed to not be perceived.”
Sangwon is quiet for a long moment. “Yeah,” he says finally. “I know that one. The cameras follow me everywhere,” he continues. “Not just competitions. Events. Interviews. Practice, sometimes. And even when there’s no camera, there’s always someone watching. Waiting to see if I fall, literally and figuratively.” His voice is flat, matter-of-fact. Like he’s describing the weather. “It’s exhausting. Sometimes I wish I could just be a model instead.”
Anxin thinks he understands that more than anyone. “Is that why you did the billboard?” He asks before he can stop himself.
Sangwon raises an eyebrow. “What billboard?”
Anxin’s entire face goes hot. “Nothing. Forget I said anything.”
“Anxin.”
“It’s nothing.”
“You’re completely red.” Sangwon is staring at him now, fully interested. “What billboard?”
Anxin wants the ground to swallow him whole. He wants his Melona stick to turn into a portal that transports him anywhere else. He wants to rewind the last thirty seconds and never open his mouth. “There’s a billboard,” he says, the words coming out strangled, “across from my room.”
Sangwon’s expression hasn’t changed. But his eyes are sharper now. “And?”
“And you’re on it. Kind of hard to miss.”
Sangwon is quiet for a moment. Then he does something Anxin hasn’t seen him do all night.
He laughs. Not the small curve of his mouth from earlier. Not the sharp, sarcastic thing he does at dinner. A real laugh — head tilted back, shoulders shaking, breath fogging in the cold air. “You,” he says when he can breathe again. “You’ve been living across from a billboard of mine for a week.”
“It’s not funny.”
“It’s a little funny.”
“It’s really not.”
“How’s the lighting?” Sangwon asks, grinning now. Grinning, like he’s genuinely enjoying this. “Did they get my good side?”
“I don’t know which side is your good side,” Anxin says through his teeth. “I haven’t been looking.” He doesn’t say both sides are your good side.
“You just said it’s hard to miss.”
“Because it’s large. It’s a billboard. They’re supposed to be hard to miss.”
Sangwon is still grinning. It’s unfair, Anxin thinks, how good he looks when he’s laughing. His shoulders have dropped, the tension from earlier gone. The sharp lines of his face are softer in the convenience store light.
“You're doing it,” Sangwon says.
“Doing what?”
“Staring.”
Anxin yanks his gaze away so fast his neck protests. “I'm not.”
“You really are a terrible liar.”
“I'm not a liar at all. I'm just — ” He stops. There's no good way to finish that sentence. I'm just trying to memorise what you look like in case the billboard changes next week and I never see you again. I'm just trying to figure out if you're real. If any of this is real. I'm just —
“Cold,” Anxin finishes weakly. He shoves his hands into his coat pockets. It's not a lie, exactly. March in Seoul is no joke, sometimes freezing, sometimes hot as hell, and today it decided to be cold. They've been sitting here long enough for the cold to seep through his jeans.
Sangwon looks at him. Then he looks at Anxin's hands, shoved deep in his pockets. Then he looks back at Anxin's face.
“Your gloves are useless,” Sangwon says.
“I don't have gloves.”
“You're sitting outside without gloves?”
“I wasn't planning on sitting outside.”
Sangwon considers this. Then he pulls his own hands out of his pockets. He's wearing thin black gloves — the kind that look stylish but can't possibly be doing much against the cold. He tugs at the fingers of one glove, pulling it off.
“What are you doing?”
“Here.” He holds out the glove. Anxin stares at it. Stares at Sangwon's bare hand, pale against the dark fabric.
“I'm not taking your glove,” Anxin says.
“Why not?”
“Because then you'll be cold.”
Sangwon's mouth does that curve again. Not quite a smile, but close. “I’m a figure skater. Used to the cold, remember?”
Anxin doesn't move. He can't. Because if he takes the glove, then he's accepting something from Sangwon, and if he accepts something from Sangwon, then this whole night becomes something more than a coincidence.
Sangwon sighs. It's not an annoyed sound — more like he's made a decision.
He reaches over. His bare hand closes around Anxin's wrist. Anxin's breath catches. Sangwon's fingers are cold — so much for being a figure skater and being warm. He pulls Anxin's hand out of his pocket, then tugs the glove onto his fingers. The movement is quick, efficient. Sangwon doesn't linger.
But he doesn't let go immediately, either.
“There,” Sangwon says. His thumb is resting against the inside of Anxin's wrist, right over his pulse. Anxin wonders if he can feel it hammering. “Better?”
Anxin's voice doesn't work for a second. He clears his throat. “You're freezing.”
“I said I was a figure skater. I didn't say I was immune to March.”
“Your hand is cold.”
Sangwon looks at him. His thumb moves, just slightly, against Anxin's pulse point. “Your hand is warm. It’s nice,” he says quietly.
Anxin doesn't know what to say to that. He doesn't know what to do with the fact that Lee Sangwon's bare hand is wrapped around his, that they're sitting on a wall outside a convenience store at — Anxin glances at the time on the store's sign — nearly ten o'clock, that neither of them has moved to let go.
“We should probably head back,” Anxin says. His voice comes out rougher than he intended.
“Probably,” Sangwon agrees. His thumb traces a small circle against Anxin's wrist. His own pulse jumps — he’s certain Sangwon can feel it now.
“Your heartbeat’s fast,” Sangwon observes.
“It's cold.”
“You said I was cold.”
“You are. Two things can be true at once.”
“Why would your heart be fast?”
Anxin opens his mouth. He could lie. He could say it's the temperature difference, the shock of warm skin meeting cold. He could pull his hand away, stand up, announce that they really should be getting back. Instead, like someone has possessed him, he says, “maybe it's not the cold.”
Sangwon's eyes flick up to meet his. They're dark in the convenience store light, unreadable. His thumb stops moving.
For a moment, neither of them breathes.
“Okay,” Sangwon finally says, softly. He lets go.
Anxin's hand feels colder without Sangwon's around it. The glove is warm, at least — warm from Sangwon's body heat, from the brief press of their palms together. Anxin curls his fingers into it without meaning to.
Sangwon stands. Anxin stands. His legs feel unsteady, but that might be the cold. Or the conversation. Or the fact that Lee Sangwon is standing two feet away from him with one glove off, looking at him like he's waiting for an answer Anxin hasn't figured out how to give.
"Should we ditch and go home instead?" Anxin hears himself ask.
Sangwon's eyebrows lift. Just slightly. "Ditch?"
"Dinner. Your friends. My friends." Anxin gestures vaguely in the direction of Haidilao. "They'll be fine without us."
"They'll talk."
"They'll talk anyway. We’ve been gone for nearly an hour."
Sangwon considers this. His bare hand is still at his side, fingers relaxed. Anxin can't stop looking at it.
"Your hand will be cold," Anxin says.
"They already are, right?"
"You don't have a glove."
"Well yeah. I gave it to you."
Anxin looks down at his own hands. One is covered in Sangwon's thin black glove. The other is bare.
"You have a hand with no glove either," Sangwon observes.
Anxin looks up. Sangwon is watching him with that same assessing look, the one that makes Anxin feel like he's being figured out in real time.
"I do," Anxin agrees.
A beat.
"We could solve that," Sangwon says.
Anxin's heart stumbles. "Solve it how?"
Sangwon doesn't answer with words. He just holds out his bare hand. Palm up. Fingers slightly curled. An invitation.
Anxin stares at it. At the pale skin, the sharp knuckles, the long fingers that had wrapped around his wrist just minutes ago. He puts his bare hand in Sangwon's.
Sangwon's fingers close around his immediately. His grip is firm, certain. His palm is cold against Anxin's, but warming already, skin to skin.
"There," Sangwon says. "Solved."
Anxin's voice has left him. He nods. They start walking. Not toward Haidilao — away from it, down the street, past the convenience store still glowing with fluorescent light, past the sleeping man inside, past the couple walking their dog on the other side of the road.
Their hands swing between them. Anxin isn't sure who starts it — the rhythm of their steps, the easy back-and-forth. He just knows that Sangwon's hand fits against his in a way that feels deliberate. Like it was always going to end up here.
"Where do you live?" Anxin asks. His voice comes out rougher than he intended.
"Sillim-dong. Near the station."
"That's not far."
"No. You?"
"Gangnam."
Sangwon's thumb presses against the side of Anxin's hand. Not quite a squeeze. Just a small pressure, like he's reminding Anxin he's there. They walk in silence for a block. Then two. The streets are quieter now, the late-night crowd thinning out. Anxin's hand is warm. Sangwon's hand is warm. He can't tell where one ends and the other begins.
"You don't have to walk me all the way," he says eventually.
"I know."
"I'm just saying."
"I know." Anxin doesn't let go. Sangwon doesn't either.
⛸️
They reach Sillim-dong. The streets here are narrower, lined with older buildings and small shops closed for the night. Sangwon stops in front of a low apartment building, the kind with a security door and a bike rack out front.
"This is me," he says.
Anxin stops too. Their hands are still clasped between them.
"Okay," Anxin says.
Sangwon looks at their hands. Then he looks at Anxin. Something in his expression has shifted — less guarded, more open. Like he's letting Anxin see something he doesn't usually show. "Tonight was..." he starts. He doesn't finish.
"Yeah," Anxin says. Because he knows. Whatever word Sangwon was looking for, Anxin feels it too.
Sangwon's fingers tighten around his. Just for a moment. Then he lets go. The cold rushes in immediately. Anxin's hand feels wrong without Sangwon's wrapped around it. He curls his fingers into his palm, trying to hold onto the warmth.
Sangwon takes a step toward the door. Then he pauses. Turns back. "The glove," he says. "You still have it."
Anxin looks down. He's still wearing the one Sangwon gave him. He starts to pull it off.
"Keep it," Sangwon says. "You can give it back next time."
Next time.
Anxin's heart does something complicated. "Next time?"
"If you want." Sangwon's voice is casual, but his eyes aren't. They're fixed on Anxin's face, watching, waiting.
"Yeah," Anxin says. "Next time."
Sangwon grins. His first, big grin. "Goodnight, Anxinnie."
"Goodnight, Sangwon-hyung." He adds the hyung in there cheekily.
Sangwon smiles at him, like he’s saying good, and disappears through the security door. Anxin stands there for a long moment, staring at the place where he was. His hand is cold now, but he can still feel the ghost of Sangwon's fingers intertwined with his.
He pulls the glove off his other hand. Sangwon's glove. He holds it in his bare palm for a second, then slips it into his pocket. Close. Safe.
He starts the walk back to the closest station. His phone buzzes — Sanghyeon, or Leo, or any of his bandmates, probably, wondering where he went. He doesn't check it. Not yet.
He wants to hold onto this a little longer.
⛸️
When Anxin gets home, he doesn't go straight to bed. He doesn't pull up something on Instagram or scroll through the band's group chat, where they’re probably wondering where he is.
Instead, he sits on the edge of his bed, the billboard still glowing outside his window, and opens YouTube.
He searches automatically. His fingers move so fast across his screen it’s almost embarrassing.
figure skating lee sangwon
The first video that pops up — Learn the Figure Skating Jumps with the Golden Trinity. The video thumbnail is three familiar figures in Team Korea jackets, standing at the boards. Xinlong is mid-laugh, arm around Jiahao’s shoulders. Sangwon looks like he's trying not to smile. Jiahao has his arms crossed, chin tilted up, the faintest hint of a grin on his face like he already knows he's going to have to explain everything twice.
Anxin presses play.
Learn the Figure Skating Jumps with the Golden Trinity 🇰🇷
Olympics Figure Skating ✓
August 24, 2024 • 1y ago
16.1M Views • 131,452 Comments
Jiahao’s smiling face is on the center of the screen. He is the only one on screen.
ZJH: Hey, we’re the Golden Trinity —
LSW: (Somewhere off camera) I lowkey hate that name —
ZJH: The fans chose it, Sangwon. So we stick with it. (Points off screen) That’s Lee Sangwon. Korea’s Ice Prince.
The camera pans to him. He waves.
LSW: You guys sometimes have bad taste with names.
ZJH: You don't get to talk about taste —
HXL: (Somewhere off camera) Can we start the video before I lose my will to live?"
The camera pans to Xinlong who sends the camera a finger heart.
ZJH: And that's He Xinlong, everyone. (Jumps into frame, links his arm with Xinlong’s) Your Quad God. Our resident ray of sunshine.
HXL: Should we actually talk about the topic at hand?
LSW: Yes, please. (He groans) The editor will take forever to cut out our dumb talk.
(Editor’s note: We love to hear you guys have fun, but thank you for thinking of me, ice prince~~ 🩵🩵)
ZJH: Okay! Okay! Here is —
ALL: All the figure skating jumps presented by —
ZJH + HXL: The Golden Trinity! (Sangwon does not say their name)
ZJH: I’ll go first. Toe loop. (He skates backward to demonstrate. A clip, filmed later on of Jiahao talking into a mic on the boards, cuts in.) Toe pick assist. Easiest one, usually the first you learn.
(Editor’s note: Some people learn the Salchow first too 😅)
It cuts back to the rink. He jumps. Clean. His landing edge holds steady, his arms relaxed at his sides.
(Editor’s note: A quad toe! 👏👏👏)
ZJH: (Back on the boards) Salchow, edge jump. Inside edge takeoff. Feels like swinging yourself into the air.
He jumps. His free leg swings through like a pendulum, and when he lands, there's a small spray of ice from his blade. He smiles when he lands.
(Editor’s note: Quad sal! 🤩)
ZJH: (Back on the boards) Loop. Edge jump again. Both feet on the ice at takeoff. This one's my favorite.
The jump is tighter than the others — definitely four — less travel across the ice, more rotation in place. Jiahao lands with a little flourish of his fingers, grinning at the camera.
(Editor’s note: Quad loop — First man in the world to land it!! 🤭🤭🤭)
ZJH: (Back on the boards) I like the ones that feel like a spring. Loop, salchow. They feel satisfying to me.
HXL: (Video pans to the side where Xinlong and Sangwon are watching him record) Ge, you only like them because you don't have to use your toe pick.
ZJH: (Hands on his hips) I like them because they're elegant, Long-ah. Some of us have artistry.
HXL: (Cut back to Xinlong, who has his mouth agape. Sangwon has his hand over his mouth) Hao-ge, what the (bleep). I don’t need you to diss me when the entire world already does. Besides, your artistry is making faces at the judges.
ZJH: It works! Anyway, here’s a flip.
HXL: (Off-camera, in English) Do a flip!
LSW: (Off-camera) Stop quoting memes.
ZJH: (Laughs) The flip jump is not actually a flip. The flip and the lutz are very similar — both toe pick jumps, but the entry edge flips from inside to outside.
He demonstrates the flip, his blade scratching into the ice before the takeoff.
(Editor’s note: Triple flip! 🔥)
HXL: (On the boards, mocking) That’s not a flip.
LSW: (Smacks Xinlong’s arm. Xinlong laughs)
ZJH: My flips and lutzes are not as good as Sangwon's. But it's getting there.
HXL: It's gotten better.
ZJH: Did you hear that? Okay, editor, now show a highlight reel.
(Editor’s note: Your wish is my command. 🧞)
A quick montage plays from all his competitions — Jiahao's flip and lutz, some not landing perfectly, but some completely clean. The editor does not cut out the grin he gives every time he lands it clean.
ZJH: (Back on the boards) I’ll let Longie show the axel and Sangwonnie show his lutz. You want to see theirs, right?
HXL: (Sighs, takes the mic from Jiahao) I’m not going to explain the jumps Hao-ge just explained. If you need a better teacher, skip to his parts.
ZJH: (Laughs) Lazy!
A quick montage. He runs through all six jumps in sequence, one after another, without stopping. Toe loop. Salchow. Loop. Flip. He does not jump his lutz. The names flash by on the screen as they occur. Each one clean and high. The ice spray from his landings is sharp and deliberate, a sound like tearing fabric.
HXL: (Back on the boards) Okay. Now axel. This is the most famous jump, I think. It is the only jump that takes off from a forward edge. It has an extra half rotation.
Xinlong is back on the ice. The build-up is fast, and it’s almost impossible to count how many rotations he had just done.
(Editor’s note: And that, is the famous quad axel! 🫢🫢)
ZJH: (On the boards, off camera. Said in a commentator voice) He Xinlong, currently the only person in the world landing the quad axel consistently. He acts like it's nothing.
HXL: It's really nothing.
LSW: Shut up. (He brings up his hand and forces the camera to focus on him) He landed it at Skate America and then asked the press if they had any real questions. (Real questions is said in English with an American accent)
HXL: That was a real question. They asked how I felt. I felt fine.
The video cuts back to the axel which is now playing in slow motion. The replay shows the forward takeoff, the impossible height, the four and a half revolutions blurring into a single streak of motion. There are numbers on the right side of the screen counting the rotations — 1, 2, 3, 4.
HXL: (Back on the boards) Sangwon-hyung will show his jumps!
The camera follows Sangwon as he pushes off from the boards, gaining speed. He starts with the jumps Jiahao showed first. Toe loop. Salchow. Loop. Flip. The names flash by on the screen as they happen. Each one textbook-perfect, each landing held just a moment longer than necessary, like he's making a point.
The lutz is different. Sangwon holds that back outside edge for super long, the way his body coils tighter before the takeoff, the way the jump itself seems to hang in the air a moment longer than physics should allow. He lands it clean, arms sweeping out, and glides backward like it was nothing.
(Editor’s note: The ice prince’s famous quad lutz! 😚😚 First man in the world to land it 🥰)
LSW: (Back on the boards) Lutz. (Crosses arms) Back outside edge takeoff. Hardest of the six because you're counter-rotating.
ZJH: (Leans into frame) He makes it look easy. It's not easy.
LSW: (Flatly) It's not hard.
HXL: (Off-camera) It is hard. You just don't remember learning it because you've been doing it since you were eight.
LSW: (Shrugs) Skill issue.
ZJH: (Groans) Cocky.
HXL: (Quieter) Hyung, your lutz is the best I've ever seen.
Sangwon's expression doesn't change. But his arms uncross. He opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, but it cuts right before he does. Now all three of them are on screen and on the ice.
ZJH: We’re going to do a relay! (He claps) Each one of us will do our favourite jump. I’ll go first!
LSW: (Nods) I’ll go next.
HXL: (Pumps his fist up in the air) Let’s go!
It cuts to Jiahao. Jiahao announces that he’s chosen the loop. It's clean, high, and when he lands, he throws both arms up like he's accepting applause from an empty rink.
Sangwon picks the lutz. He lands it closer to Jiahao than seems necessary, almost showing off, and Jiahao has to dodge out of the way, laughing.
Xinlong doesn't announce what he's doing. He just skates to the far end of the rink, turns, and comes back. The axel takeoff is almost too fast to see. The landing blade hits the ice right between Jiahao and Sangwon, and neither of them flinches. They've seen it before.
The screen finally cuts to the three of them at the boards of the rink, all sending heart hands to the camera.
ZJH: Thank you for watching!
HXL: Remember to cheer us on at the Winter Olympics! (Drops his heart hands just long enough to point at the camera with both fingers)
LSW: (Sat on the boards) That's in two years.
HXL: So?
LSW: So you're asking people to remember something that's happening in two years.
HXL: I'm asking them to remember us. The trio. For two years. There's a difference.
ZJH: (Fighting back a smile) Is there?
HXL: Absolutely. (He grins) We're going to be there. All of us. And when we get there —
LSW: You're going to do your wrist flicks as you land.
HXL: The flicks are called artistry, hyung. I've told you this.
LSW: Long, you flick your wrist like you're casting a fishing line.
HXL: It's called style —
LSW: It's called weird —
ZJH: (Cuts in before Xinlong can retaliate) We'll be at the Olympics. All three of us. (He looks directly at the camera) So cheer us on now for the new season at the Grand Prix in a month, and cheer us on then in 2026!
HXL: (He throws an arm around Jiahao’s shoulders. Jiahao doesn't shake him off.) See? You guys are always saying he doesn’t care about you and your cheers. Hao-ge does care. He just hides it under all the — (Gestures vaguely at Jiahao’s entire face) — whatever that is.
ZJH: It's my face.
(Editor’s note: And a very handsome one 😍)
HXL: It's your resting face. Which is very intense.
ZJH: You talk too much.
HXL: And yet we’re best friends.
LSW: (Stands up from where he’s sitting) Because you're the only one who can parallel park his car.
HXL: That's not the only reason!
LSW: (Deadpan, to the camera, a stage whisper) Xinlong can't parallel park.
HXL: I can parallel park.
LSW: You spent like forty-five minutes trying to fit into a spot last week.
HXL: Hyung. The spot was small. Also I started driving, only like, a few months ago. Cut me some slack. (Laughs, loud and bright) Okay, whatever. Bye guys!
LSW: Bye bye!
ZJH: Bye.
The video ends on Xinlong waving enthusiastically, Jiahao giving a single nod, and Sangwon rolling his eyes fondly. The screen goes dark.
⛸️
The door slams open nearly two hours later. Geonwoo bursts in first, face flushed from the cold and probably soju, his grin already stretching ear to ear. Behind him, Sanghyeon stumbles through, laughing at something on his phone. Junseo follows, looking mildly concerned about something. Leo brings up the rear, shutting the door behind him with his foot because his hands are full of groceries that they probably went and got after dinner.
"Where the hell did you disappear to?" Geonwoo demands, already dropping onto Anxin's bed like he lives here. "You left, Sangwon left, and Jiahao-hyung kept asking where you both went. Xinlongie pretended not to care but kept checking his phone."
Sanghyeon collapses into their shared living room chair, spinning it in a slow circle. "Jiahao-hyung said Sangwon-ssi never leaves with a stranger. Let alone be friends with one on the day they just met. Ever."
Leo sets the groceries on the kitchen table and turns, crossing his arms. His expression is mild, but his eyes are sharp. "So. You and the silver medalist."
Anxin is still standing in the middle of his room, coat half-off, glove in his pocket, heart still somewhere on the street outside Sangwon's building. "We just got ice cream," he says.
Geonwoo makes a sound like a dying animal. "You just got ice cream. For like, two hours. In March. And then you walked him home."
"How do you know I walked him home?"
"I guessed." Geonwoo sits up, pointing at him. "You just confirmed it for me."
"Ha! Got him," Sanghyeon says, spinning more in the chair. “That’s interesting.”
"Very interesting," Leo agrees.
Junseo just raises an eyebrow.
Anxin tries to arrange his face into something neutral. "Nothing happened. We talked. He was nice."
Geonwoo's grin softens, just a fraction. "That's it?"
"That's it."
Silence. Then Geonwoo's grin returns, wider than before. "So. Are you going on a date?”
“No? We’re friendly. That’s it.”
Leo, leaning against the kitchen table, finally speaks. "Did you get his number at least?"
Anxin freezes.
The room goes very quiet.
Geonwoo's eyes widen. "Anxin. Please tell me you got Lee Sangwon's phone number."
Anxin opens his mouth. Closes it. “Um.”
"Oh my God," Junseo whispers.
"You walked him home," Sanghyeon says slowly, "talked for like two hours, and you didn't get his number?"
"I — " Anxin runs a hand through his hair. "I didn't think about it. We talked about a next time, but…"
"Next time," Geonwoo repeats. "How are you going to arrange next time without his number? With your mind?"
"I don't know. I thought he'd just — "
"He'd just what? Show up at our apartment?" Sanghyeon is laughing now, but it's not mean. It's the kind of laugh that says you are hopeless but I love you anyway. "Hyung. You walked an Olympian home and then just... let him go. Dude."
Anxin sinks onto the edge of his bed. His face is still burning. "I'm bad at this."
"You're terrible at this," Leo agrees cheerfully.
Junseo pats Anxin's knee. "We'll fix it. Geonwoo, you have Xinlong's number, right?"
"Yeah, obviously — "
"Text him. Ask for Sangwon's number."
Anxin's head snaps up. "You can't just — "
"Okay." Geonwoo already has his phone out, thumbs flying across the screen. "I'm keeping it casual. 'Hey, can you send Sangwon’s number? Anxin needs it.'"
“I don’t need it —”
Leo snorts. Sanghyeon is cackling. Junseo is watching Anxin with a gentle smile that somehow makes everything worse and better at the same time. Geonwoo's phone buzzes. He glances at it, grins, and holds it up.
Me
hey long-ah can u send sangwon’s number
anxin needs it he forgor to ask lololol
xinlongie ⭐️
[Contact]
here you go hyung!
tell him he should probably text before midnight
won-hyung sleeps pretty early
Geonwoo shoves the phone at Anxin. "There. Your future boyfriend’s number."
"It's not — he's not — " Anxin stares at the screen.
"Text him," Leo says.
"Right now," Sanghyeon adds.
Junseo just watches, arms still crossed, the ghost of a smile on his face. Anxin's hands are shaking slightly as he pulls out his own phone. He opens a new message. Stares at the blinking cursor. “I’ll text him when you guys leave me alone.”
He walks back into his room, ignoring all his bandmates’ protests.
Me
hi sangwon-hyung it’s anxin
i got your phone number from geonwoo who got it from xinlong
i hope thats ok
here to prove its me
*Attached Image*
selfie!
wait dont send that to anyone
or post it
actually idk why you would do that
sangwon-hyung
hello anxin!
dw i believe it’s you hahaha
and i wont send it out or post it!
Me
ok nice
*Attached Image*
tada!
sangwon-hyung
is that the infamous billboard
Me
yes
sangwon-hyung
that is Awfully big
you wake up to that?
Me
yes
great view tbh_
grea _
gr_
what are you doing tomorrow?
Sangwon doesn’t answer. Anxin stares at his message for a solid hour.
⛸️
Anxin wakes up to sunlight cutting through his curtains and the faint buzz of his phone somewhere beneath his pillow.
He blinks at the ceiling for a moment, disoriented. His hand moves automatically to his nightstand — empty. The glove is still there, but his phone isn't. He pats down the bed, finds it tangled in his sheets, and pulls it out.
geonwoo-hyung 😝
be in the car by 10
junseo-hyung already has ur coffee
don't be late!!
btws did you text him or are you playing it cool?
Me
ok
texting him or not its none yo business 😐
geonwoo-hyung 😝
i am Literally your wingman
there’s 8 minutes until 10 btw
He scrambles out of bed, pulls on the first clothes he finds — jeans, a grey sweater, the coat from last night and grabs his phone, his wallet. His phone buzzes again.
sangwon-hyung
good morning
or did my billboard beat me to it
also sorry i dipped i was too tired :(
Me
your billboard sadly beat you to it
also don’t worry get your sleep!
sangwon-hyung
i have a chill day today to answer your question
just gonna hop by to the rink for a few hours after i grab lunch with hao-hyung
nothing special
Me
thought the season was over?
sangwon-hyung
doesn’t mean i don’t train
it’s not as hectic as it would be during season though
off-season training is usually more fun
Me
that’s nice!
when does your training end?
sangwon-hyung
8pm
why?
Me
can i come over?
Anxin doesn’t know what possessed him. Maybe it was the fact that it was 10 in the morning and he hadn’t fully awoken yet.
Sangwon doesn’t answer for a while. Anxin considers deleting the entire text (or his whole existence) for the full four minutes it takes for the figure skater to answer.
sangwon-hyung
sure!
i think no one will be on the ice (except xinlongie and hao-hyung)
my coach should’ve left by then
want me to teach you? :P
actually that might not be possible idk if you can rent any shoes tdy
Me
thats alright i dont want to embarass myself
i know how to go forward
sangwon-hyung
that’s better than half the people in the world
Me
well…
i can kind of. go forward.
sangwon-hyung
LOL
see you then
Me
see you hyung
The car is already running when Anxin slides into the backseat. Their manager, Yumeki is in the driver's seat, coffee cup in hand, some lo-fi playlist playing low through the speakers. Every member is in the passenger seat, feet up on the dashboard, phone held above his face.
"You're late," Geonwoo says without looking at him.
"I'm three minutes late."
"You look like you didn't sleep."
Anxin sinks into the seat. He did sleep. Okay. Not really. He spent an hour watching skating videos (of Lee Sangwon) while waiting for his text, then another hour thinking about the way Sangwon's hand felt in his as he laid in bed. "I slept fine."
"You have bags under your eyes."
"I've always had bags under my eyes."
Geonwoo finally lowers his phone, twisting around to look at Anxin properly. His expression shifts from teasing to something sharper. "You watched ice skating videos, didn't you?"
Anxin doesn't answer. That in itself was an answer enough.
Junseo, sitting in the shotgun seat, catches his eye in the rearview mirror. "Which ones?"
"I don't know. Just... some."
"Was it Sangwon? Did you watch Sangwon's programs?" Sanghyeon is grinning now.
"No. I mean, yes — " Anxin runs a hand through his hair. "I watched a few. And a gala performance.”
“Lee Sangwon’s?”
“Yes.”
Their manager Yumeki pulls the car out onto the main road. The morning light is pale and cold, the streets of Gangnam already busy. Anxin settles back into his seat, but his hand is already moving toward his phone.
He opens YouTube.
The algorithm is waiting for him. A Sangwon video is right there at the top of his recommended feed, as if the app knows he's been thinking about it all night. Lee Sangwon | 2025 Asia Winter Games | Free Skate. He presses play before he can talk himself out of it.
“Lee Sangwon,” the automated voice comes out of Anxin’s phone. “Representing the Republic of Korea.”
"You're watching more again?" Sanghyeon twists around again.
"I didn't get to finish this video last night," Anxin lies. He watched the whole thing. Twice.
Junseo glances in the rearview mirror again, but he doesn't say anything. He glances at Yumeki, who just turns the lo-fi down, just enough for the skating music to come through.
The program unfolds on Anxin's screen. He's watching it on his phone, the screen smaller than his laptop but it doesn't matter. He kind of knows this program now. He knows when the first and second jumps are coming, though he doesn’t know the names of them yet. He hasn’t watched enough to tell them apart.
“Sending out the combination here,” one of the commentators says. “It’s his signature combination — and he makes it beautifully! Quad lutz, triple loop!” The crowd cheers as the commentator continues. “Most skaters would do a toe loop there to play it safe, but not Lee Sangwon!”
It passes by way too quickly.
“Love that part of the step sequence there, gorgeous edges,” the other commentator says. “And by the sounds of it, so did the crowd!”
Four minutes. Then it’s over.
He watches on screen as Sangwon poses for the ending, then the figure skater throws his fists up in the air to celebrate. A clean skate — no, a flawless program.
He skips the replay just to watch Sangwon and his coach wait for the scores at the kiss-and-cry. They announce it as his season's best. 315.6.
The video ends there, the screen showing the suggested videos below. More skating. More programs. More of this world he never bothered to look into.
"It’s impressive, right? It’s like… almost like… they're speaking a language you don't know but you want to learn," Geonwoo’s watching from next to him, peeking across his shoulder.
Anxin stares at him.
Geonwoo shrugs, turning back around in his seat. "What? I actively follow the ice skating circuit. Long-ah’s impressive too, you know. Some people say even more than Sangwon."
Anxin wants to retort, no one is more impressive than Sangwon, but catches himself before he even starts. Jesus. He's known Lee Sangwon for less than twenty-four hours. He's held his hand for maybe an hour. And already his brain is out here ranking figure skaters by how much they compare to someone he's met once.
Geonwoo is watching him. Anxin can feel it. He keeps his eyes fixed on his phone screen, face carefully neutral.
"Sangwon-ssi is really good at step sequences, though," Geonwoo continues, mercifully pretending he didn't notice. "The program you just watched had a really good one. That's the part Xinlong's not better at." He leans over from the passenger seat, pointing at Anxin's screen. "There. You can watch that one."
Anxin looks down. The algorithm has served up another recommendation — He Xinlong | 2025 Grand Prix Final | Free Skate. The thumbnail is Xinlong mid-air, his body impossibly straight, his face completely neutral even as he spins through four and a half revolutions.
Anxin glances at Geonwoo. "Xinlong's not good at step sequences?"
"Xinlongie's good at everything," Geonwoo says. "But Sangwon's better at the in-between parts. The choreography. The connection to the music." He shrugs. "That's what everyone says, anyway. Sangwon skates like he's telling a story. Xinlong skates like he's trying to land a quad perfectly. Which, to be fair, he usually is."
He presses play on Xinlong's program. “He Xinlong, representing the Republic of Korea,” the same robotic voice sounds. The music starts. Something cinematic, percussive, building. And then Xinlong moves.
Anxin watches him build speed across the ice. Watches him launch into a quad axel — the first jump of the program, landed clean and the crowd claps and oohs and ahhs.
The commentators cheer and gasp loudly, then one of them says, “he made history with it, and now consistently achieves it in competition. 17 points on the tech score already!”
The jumps keep coming, one after another, each one higher than the last, each one landed with the same expression. Like Xinlong has figured out the exact physics of what a human body can do and decided to do it better.
But then the step sequence. It's fine. Anxin watches it, trying to see what Geonwoo meant. Xinlong's edges are clean, his turns precise. But there's something missing. Where Sangwon's step sequence had flow, had connection, had moments where the blade seemed to sing against the ice, Xinlong's is... correct. Technically correct.
The program ends. His season’s best, 333.9. Anxin lowers his phone.
Geonwoo is watching him. "See what I mean?"
"He's..." Anxin searches for the word. "Really good."
"He is. But Sangwon — " Geonwoo pauses, choosing his words carefully, probably to speak in a way that wouldn’t offend or say something negative about his friend, "Sangwon makes me feel something. I don’t know what. You feel it too, right?"
"Yeah," Anxin says quietly. "Yeah, I do."
He looks back at his phone. The video of Xinlong's program is still paused on his screen, Xinlong's face caught in his smile as they announce his score. Three hundred thirty three.
Leo shifts in his seat, the first thing he’s said all morning. "Jiahao says Sangwon watched Xinlong land his first quad axel at Skate America and was super weird to him for days. Like, their dynamic was off for a week."
"What? Why?"
Geonwoo butts in and shrugs. "Jealousy? Admiration? Fear that his teammate was doing something he couldn't?" Another pause. "I guess maybe he thought he wasn’t good enough. That since he brought back the Olympic medal, that maybe he was supposed to be the best out of the three of them."
Anxin looks at the video still on his screen. Xinlong grinning wide. Three hundred and thirty three. He thinks about Sangwon watching that, alone, replay after replay. Thinks about what that must feel like — to see someone do something you thought was impossible, the whole world thought was impossible, something you're not sure you'll ever be able to do.
He knows that feeling. Not with skating, but with music. The first time he heard a track from a producer he admired, something so clean and layered and perfect that his own work suddenly felt small. The hours he spent trying to figure out how they did it, replaying the same eight bars over and over, measuring himself against something he wasn't sure he could reach. The first time he heard lyrics written so well, he thought he would never be able to reach those heights.
He looks down at his phone again. The video is still paused. He closes it.
"He's still the best," Anxin says. His voice comes out rougher than he intended. "Sangwon. At least to me. I don't know anything about skating, but — " He stops. Shrugs. "You said it. He makes you feel something."
Geonwoo turns to look at him. There's something knowing in his expression, something that makes Anxin feel seen in a way that's uncomfortable and warm at the same time.
"You should tell him that," Geonwoo says. "Not me. Him."
"I barely know him."
Sanghyeon nudges his phone. “You have his phone number for a reason,” he grins, all bad ideas. “Text him.”
⛸️
When they arrive at WAKEONE, the others let him walk a few steps behind as he opens up his KakaoTalk.
Me
sorry if this is too much and you don’t have to answer but
leo said jiahao told him that you watched xinlong land his first quad axel and was super weird after
i used to feel that too. with music.
replaying tracks over and over
comparing myself to people who had done it way longer
comparing my lyrics to koreans even though it’s literally their first language
it never helped
He's halfway to the studio door when his phone buzzes.
sangwon-hyung
jiahao-hyung talks too much
but yeah. i did that.
it was stupid
he's my teammate and one of my best friends
i should have been happy for him
Me
it's not stupid to want to be the best at something you've given your whole life to
sangwon-hyung
maybe
but it’s stupid to let it get between you and someone who's on your side
damn this got deep it’s too early for this
Me
LMAO dw i started it
sangwon-hyung
are you at your company?
Me
almost
sangwon-hyung
go make your music
i'll see you at 8
don’t be late
Me
i won’t!
promise
Inside the studio, Geonwoo is already setting up, Junseo pulling up the track on the monitors. Sanghyeon has a coffee cup in each hand, and Leo is hunched over the soundboard, adjusting levels.
"You're smiling again," Leo says without looking up.
"I'm not. Also, we have to be done before 8pm or else I’m rioting.”
“Why?”
Anxin actually smiles here (he wasn’t before, screw Leo-hyung), a little to himself more than his bandmates. “I think I have a date.”
“What?!”