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the polished gym floor always smelled like cheap wax and sweat, a combination seonghyeon hated almost as much as he hated the rhythmic, perfectly timed squeak of cheer shoes on the opposite side of the court.
it was six in the morning. the sun hadn't even cleared the horizon, but seonghyeon was already on his twentieth free throw, his jersey clinging to his back, hair damp against his forehead. and, like clockwork, juhoon was on the sidelines, stretching his hamstrings with an expression so serene it made seonghyeon want to kick the basketball straight at his head.
"you're flat on your arc," juhoon said without opening his eyes, bending forward until his nose almost touched his knee. "it's going to clank off the back rim."
seonghyeon let the ball fly. it hit the back rim and bounced off.
he caught the rebound, spinning it in his hands as he turned to face the bleachers. "didn't know the cheer squad captain was an expert on shooting mechanics. thought your expertise was limited to throwing people in the air and smiling until your face falls off."
juhoon opened one eye, liquid dark and entirely unbothered. he straightened up, pulling his white cheer sweater down over his wrists. "i don't need to be a mechanic to know a car is broken, seonghyeon. just like i don't need to be a basket case to know you're losing your mind over the midterms next week."
"i got a ninety-eight on the AP calculus mock," seonghyeon snapped, ball resting on his hip.
"i got a ninety-nine," juhoon replied instantly, a small, insufferable smile touching the corner of his lips. "better luck next time, captain."
they had been doing this since freshman year. two scholarship boys fighting over every single percentage point, every single student council seat, every shred of praise from teachers who treated them like golden boys. to the school, they were the dream duo: eom seonghyeon, the stoic, six-foot-two point guard with a lethal jump shot and a perfect GPA, and kim juhoon, the sharp-tongued cheer captain who ranked top of the class while executing flawless basket tosses.
behind closed doors, they were two feral dogs locked in a cage made of academic transcripts and athletic honors.
"you cheated on question twelve," seonghyeon muttered, walking toward the bench to grab his water bottle. "mr. kang uses the standard derivative method. you used a shortcut from advanced linear algebra just to flex."
"it's not my fault your brain works at a high school level while mine actually functions," juhoon said, stepping over the boundary line onto the hardwoods. he picked up his gym bag, tossing it over his shoulder. "enjoy morning practice, seonghyeon. try not to hit the rim so hard next time, the noise is giving me a migraine."
"go fall off a pyramid, juhoon."
"after you miss the playoffs."
the library at eight in the evening was quiet, save for the hum of the fluorescent lights and the sharp, aggressive clicking of seonghyeon’s mechanical pencil.
he was stuck on an economics essay, three hours deep into research on market volatility, when a chair across from him pulled back with a scrape that made the back of his neck prickle.
he didn't even need to look up to know who it was. the subtle scent of citrus and laundry detergent gave it away before juhoon even set his leather-bound notebook down.
"this table is taken," seonghyeon grunted, not breaking his gaze from his laptop screen.
"it's a four-person table and you're occupying three chairs with your oversized sports bags," juhoon said evenly, unscrewing his pen. "move your trash."
"find another row."
"the rest of the floor is full because some of us actually study instead of wandering around in mesh shorts all afternoon." juhoon dropped his heavy textbook onto the wooden surface with a deliberate thud. "deal with it."
seonghyeon glared at him from across the table. juhoon had his hair pushed back with a black headband, revealing the sharp line of his jaw and the faint blue shadows under his eyes. he looked exhausted, but his posture was still rigid, impeccably straight, refusing to yield an inch.
for forty minutes, the only sound between them was the scritch of pens and the soft rustle of turning pages. it was a cold war, a silent competition to see who would leave first, who would break focus, who would admit that eight hours of straight studying after a intense athletic practice was humanly exhausting.
around nine-thirty, juhoon’s head dipped.
it was subtle at first—just a slow nod as he read a paragraph on Macroeconomics—but then his body gave out entirely, his forehead resting lightly on the open page of his notebook, his pen slipping from his fingers and rolling across the table until it bumped against seonghyeon’s knuckle.
seonghyeon stopped typing.
he stared at juhoon. the boy looked entirely different when he wasn't glaring or spitting sarcastic remarks. his face was soft, his eyelashes long against his cheeks, his breathing slow and even. he looked... human. vulnerable, even.
seonghyeon leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. he should wake him up. he should leave him there to ruin his neck, or better yet, take a picture to use as blackmail the next time juhoon tried to lecture him about sleep hygiene.
instead, seonghyeon sat there in the quiet library, watching the slow rise and fall of juhoon's shoulders.
after ten minutes of internal debate, cursing himself every second, seonghyeon reached into his bag, pulled out his spare varsity hoodie, and tossed it quietly across the table. it landed softly over juhoon’s trembling shoulders.
juhoon didn't wake up, but he shifted slightly, burying his nose into the soft grey cotton, inhaling the faint scent of cedarwood and laundry soap.
seonghyeon looked away quickly, his face suddenly hot, and went back to typing his essay, hit with an annoying, uncomfortable flutter in his chest that he blamed entirely on too much caffeine.
winter season came with heavy snow and relentless scheduling. the basketball team was on a winning streak, and the cheer squad was prepping for regionals. that meant sharing the main gymnasium every single afternoon, a arrangement that tested both of their nerves.
it was during a joint practice session—the basketball team scrimmaging on one half, cheer working on stunts on the other—that it happened.
seonghyeon was driving toward the lane, eyes fixed on the basket, when a sharp, horrifying crack echoed through the gym, followed immediately by a collective gasp from the sidelines.
he dropped the ball. he didn't even care that it bounced out of bounds.
he turned around just in time to see juhoon crumpled on the floor near the cheer mats, clutching his left ankle, his face chalk-white, teeth clenched so tight his jaw looked like it would snap.
"juhoon!" the cheer coach yelled, running over.
seonghyeon was there before anyone else. he didn't remember moving, didn't remember crossing the court, but suddenly he was on his knees next to juhoon, shoving a terrified freshman base out of the way.
"don't touch it," seonghyeon said, his voice unusually low, rough around the edges. "don't move it."
juhoon was trembling, sweat pouring down his temples, eyes squeezed shut as he let out a choked breath. "it's fine," he wheezed, trying to sit up. "it's just a sprain, i just landed on the edge of the mat—"
"shut up," seonghyeon ordered, his hands hovering over juhoon’s leg, surprisingly gentle for someone who used them to shove two-hundred-pound centers out of the paint. "you're hurt, you idiot. stop trying to act tough."
"i have... regionals in two weeks," juhoon gasped, his fingers digging into seonghyeon’s forearm, searching for leverage, for something solid. "seonghyeon, i can't—"
"i said shut up." seonghyeon slid one arm under juhoon’s knees and the other behind his back, lifting him effortlessly before the trainers could even bring a stretcher over.
juhoon let out a small gasp at the sudden shift in gravity, instinctively burying his face into the crook of seonghyeon's neck, his fingers clutching the mesh of seonghyeon’s jersey. he was shaking. the unbreakable, perfect kim juhoon was terrified.
"take him to the nurse," the coach called out, but seonghyeon was already moving through the double doors, carrying juhoon down the quiet, empty hallway toward the athletic training room.
the silence between them was heavy, broken only by juhoon’s ragged breathing against seonghyeon’s skin.
"you can put me down," juhoon muttered weakly against his neck as they reached the nurse's door. "i can hop."
"you can barely breathe," seonghyeon replied, pushing the door open with his hip. "just hold on."
when he set juhoon down on the examination table, juhoon didn't immediately let go of his jersey. his hands stayed tangled in the fabric for a second too long, eyes wide and vulnerable as he looked up at seonghyeon.
"why are you being nice?" juhoon whispered, his voice stripped of all its usual bite. "you hate me."
seonghyeon stood over him, chest heaving from the carry, his own heart hammering against his ribs in a way that had nothing to do with physical exertion. he stared at juhoon—at the smudge of dirt on his chin, the soft mess of his hair, the way his lips were parted and pale.
"i do hate you," seonghyeon said softly, leaning down slightly so they were eye level. "i hate coming in second to you. i hate how loud you are in the morning. i hate that you know every answer before the teacher even finishes asking."
juhoon blinked, a tear slipping down his cheek despite his best efforts.
"but I hate seeing you broken more," seonghyeon added, his thumb moving almost entirely on instinct to brush the tear away, his touch lingering against juhoon’s cold cheek. "so sit still and let them fix you."
the ankle wasn't broken, but it was severely sprained. juhoon was benched for three weeks, forced to watch practice from the sidelines in a heavy black boot, a pair of crutches resting against his chair.
without his usual regime, juhoon was insufferable. he sat on the bleachers every morning, watching seonghyeon train, throwing sarcastic critiques at him whenever he missed a shot. but the venom was gone. it was replaced by a strange, quiet tension that hung between them whenever their eyes met across the room.
one rainy tuesday evening, after everyone else had left, seonghyeon found juhoon sitting on the bottom step of the outside bleachers, watching the rain pour down on the track. his crutches were propped beside him, and his damp bag was sitting between his feet.
"your ride isn't coming," seonghyeon said, walking up with his umbrella tucked under his arm.
"my brother's stuck in traffic," juhoon said without looking up, pulling his jacket tighter around himself. "go home, seonghyeon."
seonghyeon didn't go home. he popped the umbrella open, stepping into the space right in front of juhoon, blocking the rain that was splashing onto his sneakers.
"get up."
"what?"
"i'm walking you home."
"it's six blocks," juhoon scoffed, pointing at his booted foot. "in the rain. with crutches. i'll slip and break my other leg."
without a word, seonghyeon crouched down, turning his back to juhoon. "get on."
juhoon stared at his broad shoulders, his breath hitching. "are you serious?"
"i'm not going to stand here and argue with you while my socks get soaked. get on my back, juhoon, or i'm carrying you like a sack of potatoes again."
a beat of silence passed. then, seonghyeon felt two warm arms wrap carefully around his neck, followed by the light weight of juhoon pressing against his back. seonghyeon hooked his hands under juhoon’s thighs, standing up seamlessly and taking the umbrella in one hand.
the walk through the rain was quiet. the city lights reflected off the wet asphalt, turning the evening into a blur of red and gold. juhoon was quiet—unusually so—his chin resting lightly on seonghyeon’s shoulder, his breath warm against the side of seonghyeon’s neck.
"you're going to get sick," juhoon murmured after three blocks.
"i don't get sick."
"you're human, seonghyeon. despite what your basketball ego tells you."
"pot, meet kettle," seonghyeon replied, turning down juhoon’s street. "you worked yourself into an injury because you refused to take a day off."
juhoon shifted his weight, burying his face a little deeper into the collar of seonghyeon's jacket to shield himself from the wind. "i had to. if i drop below a 3.9, i lose the scholarship. if i lose the scholarship, i don't go to university."
seonghyeon slowed his pace. he had never heard juhoon talk about his life like that—without the shield of arrogance, without the academic swagger.
"you won't lose it," seonghyeon said, his voice soft, firm. "you're too annoying to lose it."
juhoon let out a soft, breathless laugh that vibrated against seonghyeon’s back. "is that a compliment?"
"it's a statement of fact."
they reached juhoon’s front porch, sheltered from the rain. seonghyeon carefully lowered him onto the dry wooden bench near the door, setting his crutches down beside him.
neither of them moved.
juhoon looked up at him, his face illuminated by the yellow porch light. his hair was slightly damp, sticking to his forehead, his dark eyes searching seonghyeon’s face for something he seemed too afraid to name.
"seonghyeon," juhoon whispered, his hand reaching out, his fingers catching the sleeve of seonghyeon’s jacket, tugging him just a few inches closer.
"yeah?"
"i still hate you."
"i know," seonghyeon said, leaning down, his hand coming up to rest on the side of juhoon’s neck, his thumb feeling the rapid, erratic pulse flutter under the skin. "i hate you too."
when seonghyeon leaned in the rest of the way, closing the tiny distance between them, juhoon didn't pull back.
the kiss was slow, hesitant at first—a quiet confession born from months of stolen glances, heated arguments, and late nights in empty libraries. juhoon’s fingers tightened in seonghyeon’s jacket, pulling him down, opening his lips with a soft sigh that sounded like surrender.
seonghyeon deepened it, his breath catching in his throat as he felt juhoon melt against him, all the sharpness, all the pride dissolving into the cool rain air. it wasn't a competition. there was no score to keep, no percentage points to argue over—just the solid, grounding reality of juhoon’s mouth against his, warm and soft and entirely his.
when seonghyeon finally pulled back, their foreheads rested together, both of them breathing hard, eyes open in the dim light.
juhoon swallowed, his thumb lightly tracing the line of seonghyeon’s jawline. "you missed two free throws this morning."
seonghyeon let out a low, quiet laugh, leaning in to press a short, firm kiss to the corner of juhoon’s mouth. "shut up, juhoon. i'll get a hundred on the next exam just to spite you."
"try it," juhoon whispered, a genuine, radiant smile breaking across his face for the very first time. "i dare you."
the porch light flickered, humming softly against the quiet background noise of the rain dripping off the gutters.
seonghyeon didn't move away right immediately. his hand stayed anchored at the back of juhoon’s neck, thumb resting over the warm beat of his pulse. juhoon’s fingers were still knotted tightly into the fabric of seonghyeon’s damp jacket, refusing to loosen their grip.
"your brother's going to come home and see us," juhoon muttered softly, though he made zero effort to put distance between them. his breath washed over seonghyeon’s lower lip.
"let him," seonghyeon said, his voice quiet and gravelly from the cold air. "he can learn what a real rival looks like."
juhoon scoffed, rolling his eyes, but the movement was soft, completely devoid of his usual bite. "you are insufferable. seriously."
"i'm walking inside with you," seonghyeon said, straightening up just enough to pull juhoon’s crutches upright. "i'm not letting you slip on your own doorstep after carrying you six blocks."
"i can navigate three steps, seonghyeon."
"i don't care."
without waiting for permission, seonghyeon unlocked the front door—juhoon having handed over his keys without a fight—and helped him inside. the house was quiet, lit only by a low lamp in the hallway. seonghyeon set the crutches down by the shoe rack and hovered while juhoon unlaced his single shoe, balancing unsteadily on his good leg.
"sit," seonghyeon ordered, pointing at the small wooden entry bench.
juhoon sighed, sitting down and watching as seonghyeon crouched in front of him. without a word, seonghyeon reached out, carefully unzipping the heavy black boot around juhoon’s sprained ankle to check the swelling. his hands were large, warm, and remarkably gentle, contrasting sharply with his broad, imposing frame.
"it looks less swollen than Tuesday," seonghyeon noted, his fingers brushing softly against the skin just above juhoon’s sock.
juhoon swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on the crown of seonghyeon’s head, where dark hair was still slightly damp from the rain. "the trainer said i can start light weight-bearing next week. if i stick to the physical therapy."
"which means you're going to overdo it the second he turns his back." seonghyeon looked up, his dark eyes locking onto juhoon’s. "i'm watching you during gym period. you move weird, i'm telling the coach."
"you wouldn't dare."
"try me."
juhoon stared at him for a long moment, the faint trace of a smile tugging at his lips despite himself. "you're a tyrant, baek seonghyeon."
"and you're a terrible patient, kim juhoon."
seonghyeon stood up, leaning down one last time to press a quick, hard kiss to juhoon’s forehead, right at the hairline where his sweatband usually sat. juhoon’s eyes fluttered shut at the contact, a small, involuntary sigh escaping him.
"go to bed," seonghyeon whispered against his skin. "i have practice at six. if you're in the bleachers tomorrow, bring a jacket. it's freezing in the main gym."
"i'm not coming to your stupid practice," juhoon grumbled, though he didn't pull away until seonghyeon finally stepped back toward the door.
"you will," seonghyeon said, adjusting his hood as he prepared to step back out into the rain. "you can't stand letting me have the court to myself."
the next morning at six-fifteen, the gym was cold, dark, and empty.
seonghyeon stood at the free-throw line, bouncing the basketball once, twice, three times. the rhythm was steady, echoing off the high rafters. he took the shot. swish. clean through the net.
he caught the ball as it bounced back, turning around to grab his water bottle from the sidelines.
there, sitting on the top row of the metal bleachers wrapped in an oversized green puffer coat, was juhoon. a travel mug of hot coffee was clamped between his hands, a heavy textbook open on his lap, and his crutches leaned neatly against the guardrail beside him.
he didn't look up when seonghyeon stopped and stared.
"you're flat on your arc again," juhoon said quietly into his coffee mug, turning a page of his organic chemistry book. "focus on the follow-through."
seonghyeon stood on the polished hardwood, the basketball resting against his hip, a slow, genuine smile spreading across his face for the first time in weeks.
"ninety-nine on the mock, huh?" seonghyeon called out, stepping back to the three-point line.
"ninety-nine point five," juhoon corrected smoothly, finally glancing down over the top of his mug, his eyes dark and sharp and entirely alive. "don't lower my score just to make yourself feel better."
seonghyeon set his feet, brought the ball up, and let it fly. it arced high into the dim gym light, snapping cleanly through the net without touching the rim.
"watch your back, kim," seonghyeon muttered, jogging to retrieve the ball, his heart beating fast and steady in his chest. "finals are next week."
from the top of the bleachers, juhoon took a slow sip of his coffee, a soft, secret smile hidden behind the rim of his cup. "i'm counting on it, eom."
-
the student council hallway was suffocatingly quiet at four in the afternoon, save for the low hum of the vending machine and the rhythmic thump of seonghyeon’s basketball against the linoleum as he bounced it lazily with one hand.
he was waiting for juhoon to finish his weekly peer-tutoring session in room 204. it had become a unspoken routine over the past three weeks—seonghyeon would wrap up film study, trek across the main building, and lean against the locker row until juhoon emerged with his heavy backpack, his ankle sprain almost entirely healed save for a faint, lingering limp.
the door to room 204 swung open, but juhoon wasn't alone.
walking beside him was minjae, the junior captain of the swim team—a bright-eyed, broad-shouldered kid who was currently staring at juhoon like he had hung the moon and every star around it.
"i really didn't understand the integration by parts section until you broke it down," minjae was saying, his voice entirely too enthusiastic, leaning in just a bit too close as they stepped into the hallway. "you're seriously a lifesaver, hyung. i don't know how i would've passed the midterm without you."
juhoon adjusted his backpack strap, giving minjae a soft, polite smile—the kind of soft smile he almost never gave seonghyeon. "it's no big deal, minjae. just make sure you review the practice set before Thursday."
"yeah, definitely," minjae grinned, reaching out without hesitation to lightly pat juhoon’s shoulder. "hey, are you free this Friday after practice? there's this new cafe near the station, my treat to say thanks."
seonghyeon stopped bouncing the ball.
the rubber caught in his palm with a sharp snap.
his eyes narrowed, dropping instantly to minjae’s hand where it rested on juhoon’s shoulder. a dark, ugly heat coiled tightly in seonghyeon’s chest, sharp and heavy. he pushed off the lockers, his six-foot-two frame instantly casting a long shadow over the two of them as he strode over, his sneakers squeaking loudly against the floor.
"he's busy Friday," seonghyeon said, his voice dropping an octave, completely flat.
minjae blinked, startled, pulling his hand back as seonghyeon stepped directly into the space between them, effectively cutting off minjae’s line of sight to juhoon.
juhoon tilted his head up, dark eyes narrowing at the sudden intrusion. "seonghyeon? what are you—"
"we have study group Friday," seonghyeon cut in, not even looking at juhoon, his eyes fixed dead-set on the junior swimmer. "and cheer practice runs late before the regionals showcase."
"oh," minjae said, his confidence visibly faltering under seonghyeon’s cold, unblinking glare. the basketball captain wasn't just tall; he looked ready to shove someone through a wall. "i—i didn't know you guys were studying together."
"we are," seonghyeon said evenly. "he doesn't have time."
juhoon’s eyebrows pulled together, a sharp glint returning to his eyes. "seonghyeon, don't speak for me."
"i'm just reminding him," seonghyeon muttered, finally shifting his gaze down to juhoon, his expression tight, jaw set so hard a muscle twitched near his cheek. "you have a schedule."
minjae swallowed hard, sensing the sudden, dangerous shift in air pressure between the two school aces. "right. well... thanks again, juhoon-hyung. i'll see you in class." he took two quick steps backward before turning on his heel and hurrying down the stairs.
the moment the stairwell door clicked shut, juhoon whirled on seonghyeon.
"what the hell was that?" juhoon hissed, his voice hushed but sharp as a razor. "what is wrong with you?"
"nothing's wrong with me," seonghyeon said, clutching the basketball against his hip, turning to walk toward the gym. "let's go. you're ten minutes late."
juhoon caught seonghyeon’s wrist, tugging him back with surprisingly firm leverage. "don't walk away from me, eom seonghyeon. you just completely embarrassed a junior for literally no reason."
"he was touching you," seonghyeon snapped, turning back so fast juhoon had to take a half-step back. the raw, unpolished irritation in seonghyeon’s eyes made juhoon freeze. "he was standing too close and asking you out on a date under the excuse of a tutoring session."
juhoon stared at him, stunned for a fraction of a second, before a slow, incredulous look washed over his face. "are you... are you serious?"
"i'm entirely serious."
"you're jealous," juhoon said, the words slipping out in a quiet, disbelieving murmur.
"i'm not jealous," seonghyeon growled instantly, turning his head away. "i just don't like people wasting your time when finals are next week."
"you are so jealous," juhoon repeated, a faint, sharp spark of amusement breaking through his annoyance. he stepped closer, forcing seonghyeon to look at him. "he was being polite, seonghyeon. he's sixteen."
"he was looking at you like you're something to buy at a concession stand," seonghyeon muttered, his chest heaving, fingers digging into the pebbled leather of the basketball. "and you were smiling at him."
"i smile at people when i'm being nice!"
"you don't smile at me like that."
the hallway went completely silent.
juhoon blinked, the sarcastic comeback dying on his tongue. he looked at seonghyeon—at the tense set of his broad shoulders, the slight flush climbing up his neck, the genuine, stubborn hurt flickering beneath his rough exterior.
seonghyeon looked away, biting the inside of his cheek, suddenly realizing how much he had just exposed. "forget it," he grumbled, spinning on his heel to head down the corridor. "it's stupid. let's just go."
he didn't make it three steps before juhoon reached out, grabbing the hem of seonghyeon's athletic shirt and pulling him into the narrow, dark nook of the supply closet cutout next to the stairwell.
before seonghyeon could ask what he was doing, juhoon grabbed both sides of seonghyeon’s jacket collar and yanked him down, pressing his lips hard against seonghyeon’s.
the basketball dropped from seonghyeon's hands, bouncing once, twice, before rolling uselessly into the corner.
seonghyeon’s hands instantly found juhoon’s waist, pulling him flush against his chest, crowding him against the cool tile wall. the kiss wasn't gentle like the one on the porch—it was fierce, needy, driven by the lingering sting of competition and the sharp edge of possessiveness. juhoon opened his mouth with a quiet gasp, his fingers tangling into the short hair at the back of seonghyeon’s neck, pulling him deeper, kissing him until seonghyeon’s head spun.
when juhoon finally pulled back a fraction of an inch, his lips were flushed red, his breath coming in short, uneven hitches against seonghyeon’s cheek.
"i don't smile at you like that," juhoon whispered, his dark eyes fixed entirely on seonghyeon’s, "because i don't look at you like a student i'm tutoring. you idiot."
seonghyeon’s grip on juhoon’s waist tightened, his thumb resting over the exposed skin just under juhoon’s uniform shirt. "juhoon."
"i don't want to go to a cafe with minjae," juhoon murmured, his thumb lightly brushing across seonghyeon’s lower lip. "i want to sit on the bleachers while you shoot free throws until my feet go numb. okay?"
seonghyeon let out a long, shaky breath, the tight knot of anger in his chest finally unravelling, replaced by a warm, heavy heat that made his knee tremble just slightly.
"you're still an arrogant jerk," seonghyeon muttered softly, leaning down to press his forehead against juhoon’s shoulder.
"and you're a territorial Neanderthal," juhoon replied affectionately, his hand gently patting the back of seonghyeon’s head. "now pick up your ball. we're ten minutes behind schedule."
-
the sticky, beer-stained floor of the arcade-bar slammed with bass so heavy it vibrated up through the soles of juhoon’s sneakers.
it was two in the morning. the basketball team had won their regional quarterfinal match five hours earlier, and the entire squad—along with half the cheer team and a handful of senior varsity girls—had crammed into the back room to celebrate.
juhoon hadn't wanted to come. he had an AP literature commentary due on monday, his ankle was still aching from three straight hours of stunt reps, and the smell of cheap draft beer made his stomach turn. but seonghyeon had looked at him outside the locker room after the game—sweaty, exhausted, eyes dark and quiet—and muttered, “come. just for an hour.”
so juhoon had come.
he was standing near the coin-op pool tables, holding an untouched plastic cup of soda, when he saw them near the back hallway.
the girl was standard-issue varsity royalty—a track sprinter with long hair and a bright, easy laugh. she was leaning heavily against the exposed brick wall, her hands resting comfortably on seonghyeon’s chest.
and seonghyeon was leaning over her.
juhoon stopped mid-breath.
from where he stood, through the low red light and the pulse of the speakers, the scene was crystal clear. seonghyeon’s back was turned slightly to the room, crowding her into the corner just like he always crowded juhoon in the hallway nooks. the girl tilted her chin up, laughing at something seonghyeon muttered, and then she reached up, winding her arms around his neck, and pulled him down into a kiss.
seonghyeon didn't push her away.
he didn't pull back. he just stood there, letting her kiss him, his broad shoulders blocking half the doorway, his hand resting somewhere near her waist.
a cold, sickening sensation dropped like lead directly into the pit of juhoon’s stomach. it wasn't the sharp, hot spark of jealousy he had seen in seonghyeon earlier that week. it was something far worse—a hollow, humiliating freeze that swept through his veins, turning his hands ice cold.
you idiot, juhoon thought, his jaw locking so tight the muscle strained. you absolute, fucking idiot.
he had let his guard down. for three weeks, he had allowed himself to believe that the quiet moments—the rain on the porch, the shared hoodies in the library, the fierce, breathless kisses behind the gym stairwell—meant something real. he had let himself forget that eom seonghyeon was a smooth-talking, golden-boy athlete who took whatever he wanted because the world had always handed it to him on a silver platter.
juhoon didn't make a scene. he didn't throw his drink, didn't march over, didn't raise his voice.
he simply turned around, dropped his plastic cup into the nearest trash bin, and walked out the heavy double doors into the freezing midnight rain.
the next morning, the air in the gym was bitter cold.
seonghyeon was at the court by six-thirty, his head pounding from a hangover and a dark, suffocating guilt that had kept him awake since three in the morning.
he knew he had fucked up. the girl—some track captain he barely knew—had grabbed him near the bathroom, drunk and reckless, and pulled him down before his alcohol-sluggish brain could even register what was happening. the second her lips touched his, he had shoved her off, hard enough that she stumbled, muttering a sharp “get off me” before backing away into the crowd. he had spent the rest of the night scanning the bar for a flash of dark hair and a clean white sweater, but juhoon was already gone.
the gym doors pushed open with a heavy metallic groan.
seonghyeon snapped his head toward the entrance, the basketball coming to a dead stop in his hands.
juhoon walked in. he was wearing his neat, pristine school uniform, his leather satchel slung perfectly over his shoulder. his ankle boot was gone, replaced by a sleek white sneaker, his stride completely even, devoid of any limp.
his face was blank. completely, terrifyingly devoid of emotion.
"juhoon," seonghyeon said, dropping the ball instantly. it bounced away, rolling uselessly toward the bleachers. seonghyeon took three long strides toward him, his throat tight. "juhoon, listen to me about last night—"
juhoon didn't slow down. he didn't even look at seonghyeon. he walked straight past him toward the student council office connected to the back of the gym, his posture as straight and rigid as a steel rod.
"juhoon!" seonghyeon reached out, his hand catching juhoon’s forearm.
the reaction was instantaneous.
juhoon ripped his arm back with such violent force that seonghyeon’s hand whipped through the empty air. juhoon turned, his eyes locking onto seonghyeon’s—and the pure, unadulterated hatred burning in those dark irises made seonghyeon’s breath freeze in his chest.
it wasn't their usual playful rivalry. it wasn't academic spite. it was cold, deep, poison.
"don't touch me," juhoon said. his voice was low, smooth, and laced with so much venom it felt like a physical blow.
"it wasn't what it looked like," seonghyeon rasped, stepping forward, his voice cracking slightly. "she kissed me. i pushed her off, juhoon, I swear to god i didn't—"
"i don't care," juhoon cut in smoothly, his face a stone mask. "i literally do not give a shit, seonghyeon."
"juhoon, please—"
"we're done," juhoon said, stepping closer, his dark eyes narrowing into sharp blades. "whatever ridiculous, humiliating game you were playing over the last month—it's over. stay the hell away from me."
"it wasn't a game!" seonghyeon yelled, his composure completely cracking, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "you think i gave you my hoodie for a game? you think i carried you six blocks in the rain for a fucking game?!"
"yes," juhoon spat, a single, sharp flinch betraying the raw bleeding wound behind his eyes before his face hardened again. "i think you're an arrogant, pathetic frat boy who needed a challenge because winning every basketball game got boring. and I was stupid enough to let you entertain yourself."
seonghyeon felt as if he had been punched straight through the ribs. he took a shaky step back, staring at juhoon, unable to speak.
juhoon adjusted the strap of his bag, his voice dropping into a deadly quiet register. "i got a hundred on the calculus exam yesterday, by the way. a clean hundred. you got a ninety-six."
juhoon leaned in just an inch, his breath cold against seonghyeon’s pale cheek.
"you're behind me now, eom seonghyeon. in every single way. don't ever speak to me again unless it's on an official student council roster."
juhoon turned on his heel and walked into the office, the heavy wooden door slamming shut between them with a sound like a gunshot, echoing through the empty, silent gym.
the rain returned by thursday, heavy and relentless, beating against the high glass windows of the library like gravel.
for three straight days, the school had felt like an absolute war zone.
to an outsider, nothing had changed: eom seonghyeon was still the stoic point guard dropping thirty points a game, and kim juhoon was still the pristine cheer captain holding top rank in every honors class. but beneath the surface, the air between them had gone entirely arctic.
juhoon had erased seonghyeon.
he didn't look at him during shared gym hours. he didn't mock his free throw mechanics. when seonghyeon sat at the end of the student council table during mandatory budget meetings, juhoon spoke past him, addressing his questions strictly to the vice president, his voice level, professional, and dead. when seonghyeon dropped a heavy textbook on the table right next to juhoon’s elbow in the library, juhoon simply packed his papers without a word, stood up, and moved to another floor.
it was driving seonghyeon out of his fucking mind.
he couldn't sleep. his jump shot was off by three inches. in calc, he sat two rows behind juhoon, staring at the slender, rigid line of juhoon’s neck until his eyes burned, desperately searching for a single sign of weakness—a sigh, a flinch, anything that proved juhoon wasn't made of pure marble.
at six in the evening on friday, the storm reached its peak, knocking out half the streetlights around the athletic complex.
seonghyeon was waiting in the narrow, dark storage hallway between the gym and the locker rooms. he knew juhoon’s schedule down to the second: cheer practice ended at six, and juhoon always stayed twenty minutes late to fold the tumbling mats alone.
the double doors clicked open. footfalls sounded against the concrete floor—light, even, completely unhurried.
juhoon stepped into the hallway, his leather satchel slung over his shoulder, a windbreaker zipped up to his chin.
seonghyeon stepped directly out of the shadows, blocking the narrow exit completely.
juhoon stopped three feet away. he didn't startle. he didn't gasp. he just raised his chin, his dark eyes meeting seonghyeon’s with a flat, soul-crushing indifference.
"move," juhoon said quietly.
"no," seonghyeon replied, his voice rough, raspy from three days of barely speaking to anyone. he looked terrible—dark circles bruised the skin beneath his eyes, his hair was a messy, unbrushed mop, and his jaw was shadowed with stubble. "you're going to hear me out."
"i gave you a directive three days ago, seonghyeon," juhoon said smoothly, taking out his umbrella. "i don't have the energy or the desire to repeat myself."
"she grabbed me, juhoon!" seonghyeon took a sudden step forward, his tall frame looming over juhoon, his chest heaving under his varsity windbreaker. "i was drunk, i was sitting near the back stairs, and she pulled me down. the second i realized what was happening, i pushed her off so hard she nearly hit the floor!"
juhoon’s expression didn't change by a fraction of a millimeter. "cool story. tell it to someone who gives a shit."
"look at me!" seonghyeon roared, his hand slamming against the concrete wall right next to juhoon’s head with a loud, echoey crack.
the hall went dead silent.
juhoon didn't flinch away from the proximity. he slowly tilted his head back, staring straight into seonghyeon’s eyes—eyes that were bloodshot, desperate, and burning with a terrifying mix of agony and rage.
"i haven't slept in three days," seonghyeon rasped, his hand trembling slightly where his knuckles pressed against the cold brick wall beside juhoon's cheek. "i can't eat. i missed six free throws yesterday because every time i close my eyes all i see is the way you looked at me in the gym."
"that sounds like a personal problem," juhoon whispered, his voice dangerously soft.
"i don't care about the track girl," seonghyeon pleaded, his voice breaking—a raw, humiliating sound that made juhoon’s eyelashes quiver for just a microsecond. "i don't care about anyone else in this fucking school. i let her touch me for two seconds because i was out of my mind, but I was looking for you the entire night. i've been looking for you every second of every day since freshman year."
juhoon stared at him. for a brief moment, the ice in his dark eyes cracked, revealing a flash of the deep, jagged pain he had been hiding behind his pride. his jaw tightened, his breathing shallow.
"you humiliated me," juhoon said, the quiet words carrying more weight than seonghyeon’s shout. "you made me feel like an idiot for trusting you."
"i know," seonghyeon breathed, stepping so close his body was nearly flush against juhoon’s, crowding him into the cold concrete wall. "i know, juhoon. i hate myself for it. kick me, punch me, take every top rank in every class for the rest of the year—i don't care. just don't look through me like i don't exist."
juhoon’s hand, resting on the handle of his umbrella, clenched so tight his knuckles turned white. he swallowed hard, his eyes dropping down to seonghyeon’s mouth, then back up to his dark, ruined eyes.
"i still hate you," juhoon whispered, but his voice lacked its razor edge. it sounded tired. exhausted.
"i know," seonghyeon murmured, reaching out with excruciating slowness, his long fingers gently cupping the side of juhoon’s jaw. juhoon didn't pull away this time. he let out a long, shaky breath, leaning his head back against the brick wall, his eyes fluttering shut at the warm, desperate touch of seonghyeon’s hand.
"if you break my focus during finals," juhoon breathed against seonghyeon’s thumb, "i will ruin your life."
"deal," seonghyeon whispered, and pulled him in.
the kiss wasn't soft.
it was desperate and bruised, a sharp collision of teeth and fast breathing that tasted like rain and cold air.
seonghyeon squeezed his eyes shut, his entire body shuddering with a relief so intense it felt almost painful. his hands moved from the concrete brick to wrap around juhoon’s waist, hauling him up against his chest until juhoon’s toes barely touched the floor. juhoon dropped his umbrella. it hit the linoleum with a clatter, but neither of them cared.
juhoon’s arms flew up around seonghyeon’s neck, his fingers tangling into the messy, unbrushed hair at the back of his head, pulling him down harder. a low, desperate sound caught in the back of juhoon’s throat as seonghyeon bit his lower lip, deepening the kiss, claiming every inch of space between them until there was no room left for pride or anger.
"you're an idiot," juhoon gasped into seonghyeon’s mouth, his breath hot and ragged against his skin. "you're such an idiot."
"i know," seonghyeon muttered, burying his face in the crook of juhoon’s neck, inhaling the familiar, grounding scent of citrus and laundry soap. his hands gripped juhoon’s waist like he was afraid if he let go, juhoon would turn back into ice and disappear. "i know, juhoon."
juhoon held him tightly, his chest heaving against seonghyeon’s varsity windbreaker. the sharp, bitter poison that had been sitting in his chest for four days was finally starting to melt, leaving behind a heavy, aching exhaustion. he closed his eyes, resting his cheek against seonghyeon’s damp shoulder.
"if you ever let someone touch you like that again," juhoon whispered, his voice trembling just slightly, "i will never look at you again. i mean it, seonghyeon."
seonghyeon pulled back just enough to look at him, his large, rough hands cupping juhoon’s face, his thumbs wiping away the faint dampness near juhoon’s eyelids.
"there isn't anyone else," seonghyeon said, his voice completely raw, stripped of every ounce of arrogance. "there never was."
juhoon stared up at him—at the dark circles under seonghyeon’s eyes, the pale line of his mouth, the total, unfiltered honesty in his expression. juhoon’s lips twitched, a tiny, fragile smile breaking through his exhausted face.
"you look terrible," juhoon muttered softly.
"i feel terrible," seonghyeon replied, letting out a breathy, quiet laugh that sounded more like a sigh. he leaned down, pressing a lingering, soft kiss to juhoon’s forehead, then to his cheek, then finally to his mouth again, slow and gentle this time. "walk home with me."
"i have my umbrella," juhoon said, gesturing vaguely toward the floor.
seonghyeon reached down, scooped up the umbrella with one hand without breaking eye contact, and grabbed juhoon’s hand with the other, intertwining their fingers tightly.
"i'm holding it," seonghyeon said, pulling juhoon toward the double doors and out into the quiet, rain-soaked night. "and you're staying close."
juhoon squeezed his hand back, stepping out under the wide black canopy, his shoulder pressed flush against seonghyeon’s side.
"i'm still getting a higher score than you on the economics presentation on monday," juhoon murmured, leaning his head lightly against seonghyeon’s arm as they walked into the rain.
seonghyeon smiled into the dark, his thumb tracing small, steady circles against the back of juhoon’s hand. "over my dead body, kim."