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Sogeon had always known Yu could skate.
It wasn’t some big revelation. Back during the intense, exhausting days of Nizi Project, Yu had mentioned it a couple of times in passing. He mentioned how he used to ride around his old neighborhood as a kid, how the feeling of the board under his feet helped clear his head when everything else felt overwhelming.
He’d even shown the group a short, blurry old video once. A video of a younger Yu attempting a few wobbly tricks on a scratched-up board, laughing brightly at the camera. Sogeon remembered smiling at the screen back then, thinking it was just another charming detail about their energetic eldest.
Cute, but nothing that would ever become a big part of their lives.
After debut, though, reality had hit hard. Their days blurred into one long stretch of endless schedules, dance practice until their legs burned, vocal lessons, recordings, photoshoots, fan meetings, and late-night meetings that stretched into early mornings.
Free time became almost mythical.
So when Yu walked into their shared room one evening a few weeks ago, arms wrapped around a large cardboard box clearly labeled as 'yu - skateboard - KOM' with that familiar bright, excited sparkle in his eyes, Sogeon hadn’t felt surprised. Just quietly resigned.
Yu had set the box down in the middle of the floor with a soft thud and immediately started unpacking. Sogeon sat on the edge of his bed, legs crossed, Nintendo Switch resting forgotten in his lap as he watched him.
The skateboard deck was a vibrant, warm orange that seemed to glow under the dorm’s soft lighting. Yu carefully laid out the shiny silver trucks and fresh, new, clear wheels that caught every bit of light.
With focused determination, tongue poking slightly out of the corner of his mouth, Yu began assembling everything right there on their carpet.
It took Sogeon a minute, but he recognised the skateboard eventually. He remembered Yu used the same skateboard during their filming of Keep On Moving, but never got to take it home. Yu already started speaking again before Sogeon could ask if he stole it or found it in prop storage.
“New wheels,” Yu explained happily as he spun one of the transparent ones between his fingers, making it glitter. “They’re clear, so you can see the bearings spin when it’s moving. Pretty cool, right, Geon?”
Sogeon had hummed in agreement, trying to sound casual even as a small knot of worry formed in his chest. “It looks really nice. But… with how packed our schedules are these days, you probably won’t have much time to actually ride it.”
Yu had just grinned, undeterred, and kept tightening the trucks with his old, worn skate tool.
“I’ll make time. Even if it’s only a little.”
Sogeon didn’t argue further. In his mind, he pictured the bright orange board eventually leaning against their wall like so many of Yu’s other short-lived hobbies. Beautifully put together, proudly shown off for a week or two, then slowly forgotten under the relentless pressure of idol life. Just another colorful decoration in their already cluttered room.
He was wrong. Slowly, stubbornly, Yu started making time anyway.
Not big chunks at first, just stolen pockets of minutes here and there. An early morning before dance practice, when the streets were still quiet. A late evening after schedules finally wrapped, when the sun had already set. Even during rare half-days off, Yu would disappear for an hour or two with the board tucked under his arm, cap pulled over his face, hoodie swallowing his frame.
At first, the injuries returned like unwelcome memories.
Scraped palms that Yu would wrap in clumsy bandages before bed. His knees blooming with fresh purple and blue bruises that made Sogeon wince every time he caught sight of them in the bathroom.
He’d come home with his favorite joggers torn at the shins, faint streaks of blood smeared across the fabric. And one particularly rough evening, Yu came home with a nasty gash on his chin. Sogeon had worried over its severity, but Yu assured him he just ate shit after his board caught on a rock at the skatepark (no less scary in Sogeon’s opinion).
The fans had flooded their comments with worried messages when the mark showed up in a group vlog the next day. Yu, ever the bright optimist, simply laughed it off and posted a short clip the following afternoon to his bubble. Him, landing a clean ollie on the vibrant orange deck, smiling straight at the camera with a cheeky “I’m okay :) Here’s proof.”
Sogeon watched that clip more times than he cared to admit.
Not purely out of concern, although the worry sat heavily in his chest every single time Yu left the dorm with that board. There was something else, something warmer, more dangerous, that twisted low in his stomach whenever Yu appeared on the screen.
The way he balanced so effortlessly on the skateboard deck, shoulders relaxed, one foot pushing off the ground with smooth, practiced power. The confident little smile that lit up his face every time he stuck a landing. His usual black cap casting shadows over his eyes, hoodie sleeves pushed up to reveal the lean, defined muscle in his forearms from years of intense dancing. The clear wheels of the skateboard spun visibly as the board rolled forward.
Yu looked so alive again. So confident. So unfairly, achingly hot.
The videos only made everything worse.
Yu started sending them almost every time he managed a quick session, the messages popping up on Sogeon’s phone with cheerful little notifications.
“Geon-ah, look at this carve I did today!”
“Finally got the kickflip back after so long~.”
“Golden hour with the orange deck looks insane, doesn’t it?”
Sogeon saved every single video before he even finished playing them.
Late at night, when the dorm was quiet, and Yu was already asleep in bed next to him with soft snores, Sogeon would lie there in the dark with earphones in, volume turned down low.
He’d replay the clips slowly, thumb hovering over the pause button whenever Yu looked up after a successful trick, that proud, sparkling expression aimed straight at the camera like he knew exactly who would be watching on the other end.
Heat would creep up Sogeon’s neck and into his cheeks. His heart would beat faster than it should. Thoughts he didn’t want to examine too closely would swirl in his mind, louder and more insistent with every passing night.
Their manager didn’t seem bothered by any of it. “It’s a good physical outlet for all the built-up stress,” he’d said once during a van ride, shrugging casually. “Harmless enough.” Sogeon had stayed silent, staring out the window, because nothing about the way his own pulse raced every time he watched Yu on that board felt remotely harmless.
Weeks slipped by in that strange, stolen rhythm.
Yu grew noticeably better, the old muscle memory from his frequent skateboarding days slowly waking up and strengthening. The injuries became fewer and less severe. He started coming home with fewer scrapes, boasting softly about how certain tricks felt easier now, how he rarely fell off the board anymore.
He even mentioned making a couple of skating friends at the local park, people outside their tight group who talked about ollies and grinds like it was the most normal thing in the world.
And Sogeon’s quiet, private spiral only grew deeper and harder to ignore with every new video, every new bruise, every new proud smile Yu flashed his way.
One particularly long day finally bled into a quiet late evening. The dorm was calm for once, schedules wrapping earlier than usual.
Sogeon was sprawled on his bed, half-focused on his phone, when Yu appeared in the doorway. His skateboard was balanced casually on his hip. He was already dressed for skating, with his usual black cap pulled low over his eyes to hide his face, an oversized zip-up hoodie hanging loose on his frame, and those familiar worn sneakers on his feet.
Their manager waited just outside in the hallway, phone in hand, ready to accompany him on his outing.
Yu leaned against the doorframe, tilting his head in that soft, dangerously adorable way that had always been Sogeon’s weakness. “Geonie…” he said quietly, voice warm and hopeful.
“Come with me to the park tonight? It’s just down the street, and it should be completely empty this late.”
Sogeon exited out of the app he was scrolling through, fingers tightening around his phone as his stomach did a small, nervous flip. His first instinct was to say no. He wasn’t sure he could handle watching Yu skate in real life, not when the videos already made his thoughts spiral this badly.
“Me? Why would you want me there?”
“Because I want you to see it properly,” Yu answered gently, eyes big and round and far too persuasive. “Then I don’t need to film, you’ll be right there, watching everything in person.”
Sogeon opened his mouth, ready with excuses.
‘He was tired from the long day.’
‘They had an early call time tomorrow.’
‘He didn’t want to see Yu get hurt up close if something went wrong.’
The words hovered on his tongue, but then Yu gave him that look again. The slight pout, the sparkling hopeful eyes that had convinced Sogeon to do far too many things he normally wouldn’t. Hell Yu could ask Sogeon to jump off a bridge with those eyes, and Sogeon would probably say yes.
Sogeon felt his resistance crumble slowly, like sand slipping through his fingers. He sighed, defeated. “Fine… but not too late.”
Fifteen minutes later, Sogeon found himself walking down the quiet residential street beside Yu, black mask pulled high over his nose to hide most of his face, hands shoved deep into his hoodie pockets.
Yu walked with a light, excited bounce in his step, the orange board tucked securely under one arm. He chatted softly about a new trick he wanted to attempt tonight, voice bright even in the cool night air. Their manager trailed a few meters behind, clearly on an important phone call, but stayed close enough to them to keep an eye on them.
The skatepark slowly came into view under the dark sky. It was completely deserted, just as Yu had promised. Tall floodlights bathed the concrete bowls, ramps, and flat areas in harsh, bright white light, casting long, dramatic shadows across the ground that made everything feel strangely cinematic and intimate at the same time.
The air was cool and still, carrying the faint scent of night dew on pavement and the distant, muted hum of the city. No other skaters, no voices. Just the soft echo of their footsteps on the concrete.
Yu’s entire energy shifted the moment they stepped fully into the park. He shrugged off his zip-zup hoodie without hesitation, tossing it onto a nearby bench.
Underneath, he wore a simple, fitted black muscle shirt tucked into gray sweatpants. The fabric clung subtly to the lines of his shoulders and chest, shaped by years of rigorous dance practice.
The sight made Sogeon’s throat feel suddenly dry.
Yu adjusted his cap lower to better shadow his features, then dropped his board onto the concrete with a familiar, satisfying clack. The “KEEP RUNNING” sticker caught the light for a moment.
“Watch me, okay?” Yu said softly, flashing that bright, heart-stopping smile before pushing off smoothly.
Sogeon lowered himself slowly onto the cool metal coping at the edge of the halfpipe, arms wrapping tightly around his knees. He told himself to try and breathe normally.
Yu was mesmerizing in motion. Sogeon couldn’t tear his eyes away.
He carved smooth, flowing lines through the big bowl, his strong leading leg pumping steadily for speed before launching up the curved wall. The deck of his skateboard left the ground for a brief, weightless heartbeat, clear wheels spinning visibly in the light, before landing cleanly with soft knees absorbing the impact.
He repeated the motion again and again, popping effortlessly over the low center concrete island, lightly grinding along edges, circling the bowl with that natural, confident grace that came from years of buried muscle memory finally waking up.
Sweat gradually began to glisten on his neck and collarbones under the harsh floodlights. The muscle shirt rode up just slightly when he stretched for better balance, revealing a teasing sliver of smooth skin at his waist. Every single movement radiated quiet power, pure joy, and something so undeniably attractive that Sogeon felt his chest tighten painfully.
Sogeon’s fingers dug harder into his own arms as he watched. His heart was racing in a way that had nothing to do with worry anymore.
This was so much worse than the videos.
Seeing Yu move like this up close, the controlled strength in every push, the easy, radiant smile that broke across his face whenever he landed something cleanly, the way sweat made his skin glow against the vibrant orange of the board, stirred something deep and warm and terrifying inside Sogeon.
He felt flushed beneath his mask, a dizzying mix of lingering concern for Yu’s safety and an attraction that had been building quietly for weeks, now impossible to ignore.
Time seemed to stretch as Yu continued his run, lost in the rhythm of the board and the concrete. Sogeon sat there, completely absorbed, letting every small detail sink in.
Eventually, after what felt like both too long and not long enough, Yu rolled to a smooth stop right in front of Sogeon, kicking the board up into his hand with a casual, practiced flick of his ankle.
His breathing had grown deeper, cheeks flushed a soft, healthy pink, a light sheen of sweat tracing down his neck and across his forehead. A few damp strands of hair stuck to his skin beneath the lowered cap. He looked radiant. Alive in a way Sogeon rarely saw anymore. Devastatingly, unfairly hot.
Yu extended his hand without a word, palm up, eyes warm and hopeful. Sogeon stared at it for a long moment, pulse jumping erratically in his throat. “What… are you doing?”
“Let me teach you how to ride,” Yu said simply, voice low and coaxing, that gentle smile never leaving his face. “Just a little. I’ll hold you the whole time.”
Sogeon shook his head slowly at first, then more firmly. “No… no way. I’ll fall and embarrass myself completely. Or worse- I’ll actually get hurt.”
Yu laughed softly, the sound warm and fond in the quiet night. “I promise I’ve got you, Geon-ah. Just trust me.”
The protests came slowly, one after another. Sogeon listed every possible way he could injure himself if he tried to skate. He reminded Yu of the time he’d twisted his ankle during a simple dance practice. But Yu remained patient, hand still outstretched, smiling that soft, hopeful smile that made Sogeon feel like he was the only thing that mattered in the entire park.
In the end, after what felt like forever, Sogeon gave in with a quiet, defeated sigh. They both knew he eventually would. He reached up and took Yu’s hand.
Yu’s palm was warm and slightly calloused from years of dancing. Yu pulled Sogeon up gently, almost tenderly, and led him step by step to the flattest, most open section of the park, far away from any ramps or obstacles. The skateboard waited patiently on the concrete, the fox2y sticker on the deck seeming to watch them with amusement.
“Put your foot here first,” Yu instructed softly, tapping the tail of the deck with his sneaker.
“Then the other one when you’re ready. Try to keep your weight centered right over the bolts.”
Sogeon’s legs already felt unsteady as he carefully placed one foot onto the deck. The board shifted just slightly under his weight, and he immediately reached out, grabbing Yu’s forearms for balance, heart hammering loudly in his ears. Yu held his arms, bracing him under his elbows, keeping him upright.
“Okay… try both feet now,” Yu murmured, voice close and calm. “I’ve got you. Don’t worry.”
Sogeon took a shaky breath and stepped on fully with his second foot.
A tiny, embarrassing squeak escaped his lips as the board wobbled beneath him. His hands flew higher, clutching desperately at Yu’s broad shoulders. Yu didn’t laugh or tease at his fumble.
Instead, Yu’s hands settled firmly and reassuringly on Sogeon’s waist, strong, steady, sending a wave of warmth straight through the fabric of his shirt and into his skin. He tightened his hold, thumbs brushing lightly and soothingly over Sogeon’s sides in small, grounding circles.
“Breathe, Geonie,” Yu whispered, so close that Sogeon could feel the gentle puff of warm breath against his masked cheek. “Look at me. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”
Their eyes met in the bright floodlight. Yu was smiling so widely, so genuinely happy and proud that Sogeon couldn’t stop the small, nervous giggle that finally bubbled out of him.
Yu’s smile only grew brighter, eyes crinkling warmly at the corners in that way that always made Sogeon’s chest feel too full.
Slowly, carefully, Yu began taking small, deliberate steps to the side, guiding the board forward with Sogeon balanced on top.
Starting out, the wobbling was constant and terrifying. Sogeon gripped tighter with every tiny movement, breath coming short. But Yu’s hands never once wavered from where they were holding Sogeon steady.
He spoke softly the whole time, tone gentle and kind. Teaching Sogeon how to lean gently, how to shift his weight just right, how to keep his knees soft so the board wouldn’t shoot out from under him. The clear wheels rolled smoothly over the concrete with quiet, rhythmic sounds that mixed with their occasional soft laughter.
After several long, careful passes back and forth across the flat concrete, Sogeon felt some of the tension finally start to melt from his shoulders. The fear deep in his chest eased into something lighter, warmer, almost enjoyable.
He was laughing more freely now, real, breathless giggles, because this felt surprisingly fun in its own way. Not real skating, perhaps, but being held so securely by Yu, feeling the steady strength in his arms and the quiet pride in every gentle instruction… it felt safe. Intimate. Like the noisy world outside the park had completely faded away, leaving only the two of them under the bright lights and the skateboard between their feet.
Yu gradually loosened his hold just a little, testing Sogeon’s balance.
Sogeon kept one hand firmly on Yu’s bicep, the other hovering uncertainly in the air. They continued a few more slow, gentle laps. Yu even showed him how to push off lightly with one foot for a tiny bit of speed, though Sogeon much preferred the version where Yu simply guided him along, their bodies moving together in a quiet, trusting rhythm.
Eventually, after what felt like a small eternity of gliding back and forth, Sogeon’s legs began to tremble from the unfamiliar strain and the rush of adrenaline. “Okay… I think that’s enough for me,” he said breathlessly, voice softer than he intended. “My legs are shaking pretty badly now.”
Yu helped him step off the board with careful, steady hands, one palm lingering warmly at Sogeon’s waist until he was fully stable on solid concrete again. “I’ll do one more quick run, then we can head back,” Yu said gently. “Watch me for a bit longer?”
Sogeon could only nod, throat tight with too many unnamed feelings swirling inside him, as Yu sprinted off a few steps and dropped smoothly into the bowl from the edge of the halfpipe.
He moved with such natural, effortless grace, carving clean, powerful lines on the orange deck, body leaning fluidly into every turn, as if he and the board had always belonged together.
The floodlights caught every single bead of sweat glistening on his skin, the way his muscle shirt clung slightly to his back. Sogeon stood there motionless, completely overwhelmed. His heart raced wildly. His chest felt warm and tight all at once. He realized, with a quiet kind of panic, how much he wanted to keep watching Yu like this for as long as he possibly could.
When Yu finally rolled to a smooth stop in front of him again, his cheeks were flushed a deeper pink, sweat tracing slow paths down his neck and across his forehead. He tilted his head cutely to one side, smiling like the sweetest, brightest idiot in the world. “Ready to go home now, Geon-ah?”
The answer slipped out before Sogeon could even think to stop it.
“No.”
Yu blinked slowly, confusion flickering gently across his flushed, sweat-damp face.
Before the confusion could fully settle or turn into a question, Sogeon stepped forward on still-shaky legs, pulling his own mask down to rest under his chin. His small hands pressed flat against Yu’s stomach, feeling the warmth of his skin through the thin, slightly damp fabric and the rapid, strong beat of his heart underneath.
Then Sogeon rose slowly onto his tiptoes and pressed their lips together in a quick, impulsive, terrified kiss.
Yu made a soft, startled little sound in the back of his throat.
Sogeon pulled back almost immediately, face flaming hot, already regretting and not regretting it all at once. “Now… now we can go,” he whispered, voice barely audible.
He didn’t allow Yu to react or say anything. He turned on his heel, mind already spiraling into a thousand panicked explanations for tomorrow, if things suddenly became awkward between them, if Yu pulled away, if-
The sharp, loud clatter of Yu’s skateboard hitting the concrete cut through every racing thought.
A heartbeat later, Yu crashed into him with more force than Sogeon expected. Strong, warm arms wrapped securely around his waist, steadying him before he could stumble backward. Sogeon’s hands flew up instinctively, pressing flat against Yu’s chest where he could feel the heat of his skin and the fast, unsteady rhythm of his breathing.
For a long, heavy, electric moment, neither of them said a single word.
Sogeon slowly looked up. Yu was staring down at him, eyes dark and intense beneath the shadow of his cap, lips slightly parted, breathing uneven. The air between them felt charged with everything they had both been holding back for weeks.
Then Yu leaned down, slow and deliberate, and kissed him properly.
It began gently, almost hesitantly, as if Yu was still giving Sogeon one final chance to pull away or change his mind. But when Sogeon stayed right there, leaning in instead, the kiss deepened.
It was warm, tender, and filled with all the quiet longing they had never voiced. Sogeon exhaled shakily against Yu’s mouth, fingers curling tightly into the front of his damp shirt as he kissed back with every unspoken feeling he had been carrying. The faint salty taste of sweat, the cool night air brushing their heated skin, the solid press of Yu’s hands at his waist, it all came together into something overwhelming, terrifying, and perfectly right.
They only broke apart when their manager’s voice suddenly cut through the heavy silence of the park, sharp with a mix of stress and fond exasperation.
“Yah! You two! Pack up right now and take all that sexual tension back to the dorm before someone decides to snap pictures!”
Sogeon jerked back instantly, face burning crimson with embarrassment. He suddenly wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole.
Yu, however, only let out a low, warm chuckle, eyes still soft and sparkling with something new and bright. He bent down to pick up his beloved board, then paused as he walked past Sogeon, leaning in to press a quick, affectionate peck to his still-flushed cheek.
“You asshole,” Sogeon muttered, his voice embarrassingly soft and breathless.
Yu grinned, bright and completely unrepentant, and started walking toward their manager. Sogeon sprinted after him a moment later, half-heartedly trying to swat at his back. “Yah! Slow down!”
Yu’s laughter rang out wholeheartedly in the quiet night, dodging easily while still letting Sogeon chase him down the empty street. Their manager sighed loudly somewhere behind them, muttering something under his breath fondly.
Sogeon couldn’t stop the wide, aching smile spreading across his face, cheeks hurting, heart feeling lighter and warmer than it had in months.
The future suddenly stretched ahead. Uncertain, but warm and bright with possibilities he had never allowed himself to imagine before.
He was so, so fucking glad Yu had brought home that stupid orange skateboard.