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Sweat beads on Mi-ae's forehead, the soles of her shoes treading into the soft dirt of the soccer field. Her heart pounds, a rhythmic beat that rings in her ear. Her face bleeds an unnatural shade of red as she pushes her body.
Kick. Step. Kick. Step.
If she struggles with anything, it's keeping up with the ball. Although she's fast, she'll never have Cheol's speed. That's why training is the only way for her to prove herself and fairly play against him—even if it is just for fun. Heavy, labored breathing follows her every move, black and white spots trailing through her vision. Her vexation is evident.
Cheol exits the corner store, a white plastic bag fisted in his hand. His hands grip the handlebars of his bike as he prepares to mount his bike. Out of the corner of his eyes, he manages a glimpse of a short, child-like figure, getting hints of her huffs and footsteps. When he catches sight of Mi-ae, his heart sinks.
What is she doing out at this hour? It's almost nine..
Cheol guides his bike to the edge of the soccer field, watching the hopeless girl take yet another run at it. He grunts, clearly tired and certainly not in the mood. He almost turns to leave. Almost.
Mi-ae hasn't acknowledged nor noticed her company, too busy concentrating on her skill. Cheol can tell she's tired; shoulders rounded, knees buckling. His teeth nibble on his bottom lip, indifference etched onto his face. He presses his heels into the turf, knuckles clenching his handlebars in discreet anguish.
When she finally lifts her gaze, she meets the eyes of her criticizing audience. She stands still for a moment, fingers twitching awkwardly. Her chest rises and falls as she turns her whole body now. This may have made her look determined or fierce, if she hadn't stumbled right into him.
As soon as he registers the slip of her foot, he's there. She lands in his arms against his chest with a soft "oof," her arms digging into his abdomen. He steadies her, but doesn't drop his hands. Mi-ae looks up, smiling with a ridiculous amount of triumphant considering the situation. His bike tips over along with the bag, completely forgotten.
"Why are you out here by yourself at this hour? Especially in this area?" Cheol presses, his tone reeking of admonition.
She grins nervously, her head pulling back slightly. His gaze softens as he sighs.
"Training—obviously!" She manages with a squeak, her cheeks burning from something that's not due to her intense training session.
Why is he so close..?!
He cocks his head to the side, already knowing his reprimands mean nothing to her. His gaze flicks to her lips, soft but slightly cracked from her biting them. He reaches his hand up, swiping a small reminiscent of blood from her bottom lip. A sudden flush beats onto his cheeks as he realizes what the hell he's doing.
In a haze, he shoves her off, causing her to stumble. Before he knows what he's doing, he's caught her, cradling her head against his palm. Cheol lets out a heavy breath before he helps her stand up properly.
"I—.. Sorry." He manages, avoiding her gaze.
Her expression shifts, eyebrows furrowing as she begins yelling at him, spouting some "perverted" nonsense. Before Cheol can stop himself, he tilts her chin up, leaning closer than "friends" should be in terms of proximity.
"Mi-ae." He huffs, stilling her movements, even through her outraged fit.
"May I kiss you?"
Her entire face beats red, every ounce of her competing confidence shrivels up and dies right there. What has she gotten herself into this time..! She manages a shrill hiccup before replying with a crackling squeak.
"YES!! I MEAN, sur—" Her rambling is silenced by Cheol's lips meeting hers.
Cheol cups her cheek, his left hand clenching the hem of her shirt. Mi-ae can't even register what to do with her hands, so she settles with threading them through his hair. The kiss lasts maybe 13 seconds, but it feels like hours and a millisecond all at the same time. Once Cheol pulls back, his gaze immediately finds hers. A sheen of something new and flourishing glosses over his eyes, making her heartbeat stutter. Cheol can't believe what he just did.
Once out of his haze, he gently brushes his thumb over her cheek, index finger dusting her bangs away from the corners of her eyes.
"Your bangs need a trim.." He mumbles, voice strained.
She manages to drag the stunned look off her face and compose herself. She simply nods, clearly still taken aback by his sudden actions.
"I.. should get home.." Mi-ae prompts, although her feet feel rooted in the turf.
"I'll give you a ride." Cheol sputters before he can even think about what he just said.
He steps back from her, picking up his toppled bike and white bag. He mounts the bike, waiting for her to follow. As Mi-ae climbs on, her forearms tighten their sling around his waist.
"Hold on.." He mutters, the kickstand releasing with a faint pop.
The ride back to the two's neighborhood is quiet. Soft breathing emits from Cheol, only broken by the click of the bike chain when he stops pedaling. Quiet was something that was common when they first reconnected, now it was nothing but a distant memory. This kind of quiet settled differently—like it was intentional, rather than awkward. And they were okay with that, because if quiet meant change.. good change, then they'd learn to accept it, to love it.
A soft break is heard as Cheol squeezes the handlebars. They sit still for a moment before Mi-ae gets up. They meet each other's gazes, so many unspoken things, yet they understand perfectly.
"Goodnight, Mi-ae ." Cheol utters, his voice almost a whisper.
"Goodnight, Cheol Kim.." She repeats, a soft smile flashing across her face.
Mi-ae turns, quietly sneaking inside. Cheol parks his bike, pausing with a soft sigh. He enters his house, floorboards creaking beneath his footsteps. He props the plastic bag onto the dining room table, softly padding to his room. He quietly shuts the door, stripping his shirt.
A soft glance casts to his desk. Cheol huffs, taking a seat in his chair. He scrapes his teeth over his bottom lip, grabbing a fancy mechanical pencil his mom bought in a pack of three. He pulls out a piece of paper, his mind working as the pencil flows across the paper.
"Dear Mi-ae," He tips his head back, peeking out the window. He finds himself with a visual of Mi-ae Hwang, holding her small dog, singing to him..
He chuckles to himself, cheeks flushing.
"Weirdo.."