Work Text:
The second the nexus exploded and the word DEFEAT appeared on screen, Doran felt his ears ringing loudly from the vibrating cheer of the fans on the opposite stage of the arena accompanied by the casters' booming voices. Ah. We lost again. And I came up short. Again. At that moment, his body was on auto pilot— reaching out to pick his jacket on the floor, unplugging his headset and grabbing his bag before he realized he had to stand up and fist-bump the opponents who had just defeated them. He fumbled quite a bit, looking shaken from the outcome. He didn’t think they’d lose the last game if he were to be honest. They were up 5K gold lead and his KDA looked good in the beginning credit to Keria’s excellent roaming.
But suddenly, and in a blink of an eye, they lost the momentum and his screen kept glowing red as the deaths kept piling up. What had been a winnable game became unreachable and the fight engagements stopped working. Stopped feeling possible. Overwhelmed by the color of gray and the smell of musky downfall.
He remembers vividly bowing to the crowd. Grabbing his backpack and heading to their waiting room. He remembers his knees buckling as he sat on the couch and laid his head down against his forearms. He remembers the piercing silence that enveloped the room as everyone slowly gathered to take a seat in frustration and dismay.
Coach Mata desperately wanted to lighten up the mood but couldn’t find the right words to say. It was the same for Head Coach Tom, feeling a wall between him and the players who looked stricken from the outcome. But he was the Head Coach now and he knows it’s his responsibility to pull everyone together. So he took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, before opening his mouth to speak. “I–” but before the rest of the words could leave a choked sob cut through the silence.
“I-I’m sorry..!” Doran cried. “I should’ve played better! Lately, I’ve been disappointing everyone and underperforming..! I really wanted to win but I made so many mistakes and I couldn’t capitalize on the advantage Minseokie gave me..!! I couldn’t–”
“Breathe. Rando hyung. Breathe.”
Doran didn’t know when Faker took the time to sit beside him and soothe his back with gentle pats. He was hyperventilating and he hadn’t even known until the calm voice reached his ears.
“This loss was a team loss.” Faker tried to explain calmly although his furrowed brows indicated that he wasn’t exactly unaffected by the result either. “I also made mistakes by getting picked off when the objectives were almost up. I also was not satisfied with the way I performed today. I also take responsibility for the outcome and most certainly do not blame you or anyone else for the matter.”
Doran froze in his seat, refusing to look up from his arms because he was afraid to show his sobbing state.
“Hyeonjoon-hyung,” Oner says as he stood up from his chair and walked towards his top laner. “I made mistakes, too. I’m sorry I couldn’t gap the jungler and give you a sure win.”
Doran immediately looked up to argue, unable to hide his crying face any longer. "No! That’s not what I'm trying to say..! I can carry too! I wanted to give you a win since you already carried our last match!”
It was Keria’s turn to interject with a pout. “I didn’t get POM last match or this match, does that mean you’re disappointed in me?”
Doran was shocked at what he was hearing and quickly corrected himself, “Not getting POM does not undervalue the plays you make Minseokie! You have never disappointed me. So never doubt yourself!”
In the midst of all this, Faker was busily wiping the tears that had fallen on Doran’s cheeks, finally seeing an end to the weeping water show that had his lips curling upwards.
“Hyung…” Peyz began with a frown. “What about me–”
“You are my favorite dongsaeng!! Nothing you do will ever change that, Suhwan-ah!” Doran interrupted with a heartwarming smile he hadn’t flashed at all today. Granted, it evoked a bunch of reactions from the group.
“Favorite?! You have favorites now, Hyeonjoon-hyung?!” Keria stood up in defiance.
“Why is he considered the favorite and NOT me?!” Oner questioned in blasphemy.
Peyz couldn’t help but run to hug Doran. “Hyeonjoon-hyung!! You’re my favorite too!!” the youngest says with joy.
Head Coach Tom felt relieved. He figured this was the best case scenario to dissipate the palpitating tension from earlier. He also eyed the scene before him, grateful that the team had such a close bond and at the center of it all was their top laner who seems to be losing his self-esteem day by day. He chewed on his lip with worry.
As soon as the manager made a final call saying they’d be leaving the arena soon and it was their last chance to use the bathroom, Head Coach Tom made his move after seeing Doran go outside accompanied by the manager.
“Everyone, listen,” Tom begins, capturing the attention of all four players. “Hyeonjoon is losing himself mentally and I think that’s a big part as to why he isn’t able to perform in recent matches." He explains with a despondent look. "So I want to ask every one of you to look after each other’s mental and communicate effectively. Let’s play a game where we trust and talk to one another.”
Everyone nods, understanding where he was getting at. But honestly, even if he didn’t say anything, the members already knew what to do. The second they saw the distraught and tearful expression on Doran’s face earlier, every single one of them felt their heart pause. Guilt. Repentant. Anger. And Love. Were all the emotions they felt at that exact moment. The feeling of wanting to comfort their top laner was immense. To touch him and reassure themselves that he wouldn’t fall down into the pit of oblivion. To protect him from the outside absurdity and explosive chaos.
I’m gonna win it for him. Keria thought.
I’m gonna make sure he lifts that trophy with me once again. Peyz thought.
I’m gonna make sure he only smiles from now on. Oner thought.
I’m gonna burn the entire world for him. Faker thought.
“Understood,” all four responded at the same time.
Because when Doran's precious tears are shed, the world must pay direly.