Chapter Text
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The sharp, crisp sound of skate blades slicing through smooth ice echoed throughout the West Hall. Grox’s fluid yet powerfully poised movements held every gaze captive. The slender figure in an exquisite competition suit leaped into the air, spinning four complete revolutions a Quadruple Jump executed with flawless direction, height, and a seamless landing back onto the ice. Thunderous applause and cheers erupted, accompanied by Presentation and Skating Skills scores that skyrocketed to the top of the leaderboard.
Winning his third consecutive World Championship gold medal, the attractive, razor-sharp-featured young man undoubtedly dubbed the "King of Figure Skating" was an American athlete with slate-gray skin and raven-black hair. In the beginning, he had faced his share of nasty rumors, accused of bribery or leveraging unearned privileges as the son of an influential, high-profile figure just to break into the sport. Yet, Grox proved himself through absolute perfection possessing raw talent obvious at a single glance, paired with relentless dedication. Winning three consecutive men's singles figure skating titles earned him overwhelming fame and the deep admiration of everyone in the figure skating world. Standing tall with a gold medal around his neck, he offered a proud, confident smile as a hundred camera flashes fired continuously. Grox smiled and laughed softly; he was truly born for this
being number one and the center of everyone's attention.
At that exact moment, the TV screen in the athlete lounge was broadcasting the crushing defeat of their rival team in the national ice hockey tournament. Froggy, the captain and Centre of the US National Team, had just slapped the final puck into the goal net, proudly capturing the 14th gold medal of his career. The loud, cheerful roars of his teammates filled the locker room. Froggy brushed back his dripping green hair, leaning back against the locker as his eyes drifted to the TV mounted on the wall, which was now showing an interview with the handsome, famous figure skater.
"Grox, huh..."
Froggy muttered to himself, letting out a chuckle at the sculpted, statue-like face of the other man. He had heard tales of this 'figure skater who had never known defeat,' but well, they belonged to completely different worlds. Hockey was a world of full-body collisions, while figure skating was art on ice. There was simply no reason for their paths to ever cross.
However, that assumption held no weight at the National Ice Sports Arena.
Although the national training center shared a single complex, its zones were designed as if they belonged to entirely different worlds.
The West Wing — Figure Skating Rink
A vast ice rink without high perimeter boards, bounded only by massive glass panels and soft lighting designed to support delicate, bright, and peaceful practice ideal for figure skaters who required intense concentration.
The East Wing — Hockey Rink
A fierce rink enclosed by heavy boards and thick acrylic impact-resistant glass, ready for brutal battles. Every square inch was covered in skate cuts from high speeds, heavy hits, and the violent thuds of pucks slamming against the walls.
The two teams trained in complete isolation, never needing to cross paths until an unexpected incident occurred one morning.
"Say what?! All the air conditioning units in the East Wing are down?!"
Froggy's deep voice boomed inside the East Wing locker room. Freezing temperatures and the quality of the ice were paramount for hockey practice, but now the main refrigeration and AC systems of the Hockey Rink had severely broken down, causing the ice to melt. Coupled with structural issues requiring urgent overhauls, the facility had to be closed for emergency maintenance for at least four to five weeks.
"Why the hell does this piece of junk have to break down right before the competition!" a hockey teammate cursed in frustration, slamming his helmet onto the bench. "We were just getting into the groove with our drills! Where the hell are we supposed to practice now? Losing a whole month of ice time is going to throw off everyone's form!"
"How is management going to fix this? Can we even transfer to another rink in time?"
Froggy frowned deeply, his face showing clear signs of stress. As the Centre and the leader of the team, he knew all too well that missing even a single day on real ice could disastrously disrupt the team's momentum.
While the entire team was shouting in a panicked frenzy, the team manager rushed in with a panicked expression, holding documents in hand.
"Listen up, everyone! Management just held an emergency meeting... They're offering a temporary solution for us to move over to the West Wing ice rink!"
Those words brought the entire room to a dead silence. Froggy raised an eyebrow in surprise.
"The West Wing? The figure skating rink?" Froggy repeated. "Will the locals over there even allow it?"
"Management is sorting out the schedule, but right now we need to haul all our gear over to that side first. Talking is a waste of time losing practice time is worse. Pack your stuff!"
The atmosphere among the hockey team shifted from frustration to a chaotic mix of discomfort. The massive athletes clad in heavy protective gear hastily packed their hockey sticks and giant equipment bags, preparing to migrate to unfamiliar territory the West Wing domain of a 'King' who didn't even know their names. Though a temporary fix was found, the giant hockey players continued to grumble all along the connecting walkway, thoroughly uncomfortable with the abrupt move.
"Give me a break... a figure skating rink? No high boards to slam into, and just thin glass surrounding it. If I accidentally slap a puck with full force, won't the whole place shatter?"
"Come on, it's better than having no rink at all until our side gets fixed,"
Froggy cut in softly, though in his heart, he too felt uneasy about the stark differences in the rinks. The Hockey Rink they knew so well was hard, aggressive, and built for impact, whereas the Figure Skating Rink was renowned for its smooth, delicate ice.
However, the moment the large doors to the West Wing swung open, all the chaos and complaints vanished instantly into thin air.
A crisp, cool breeze packed with refreshing moisture and a pure, clean scent washed over their faces. The perfectly regulated temperature and humidity dispelled the hockey team's frustration in a split second. Soft light diffused across the expansive ice sheet, mingling with the rich, melodious sound of classical music echoing through the hall.
And at the center of that quiet ice rink, a figure was gracefully gliding.
Grox, wearing a dark, form-fitting practice suit, moved across the ice with flawless speed and precision. His impeccably handsome face caught the light like a living painting. His movements were delicate yet packed with immense power. Building up speed, he transferred the force from his skate blades into the ice before springing high into the air.
Ah, it was a Quadruple Jump.
The slender body spun four full rotations in mid-air with unbelievable perfection, rotating beautifully before making a soft, seamless touchdown on the ice devoid of any wobble or hesitation. The signature move that had earned him three consecutive gold medals and world renown was on full display right before the eyes of the hockey players.
The big-bodied hockey players stood jaw-dropped, frozen as if under a spell. Even Froggy himself fell into a trance, his sharp eyes fixated on the perfect movement without looking away for even a second. Grox's face under the arena lights was gorgeous hundreds of times more beautiful than anything seen through a live TV broadcast screen. Grox glided into position, preparing to perform his next routine to the tempo of the music, when his eyes caught sight of a group of strangers in thick padding, carrying cumbersome equipment, standing shoulder-to-shoulder at the edge of the rink.
Thump!
The sharp sound of skate blades digging into the ice rang out suddenly. The background music kept playing, but the elegant figure came to an abrupt halt. The sweet, beautiful face that had been calm just a moment before now showed clear signs of confusion, perplexity, and thinly veiled irritation. His slender eyebrows knit closely together.
Without wasting a second, Grox turned and glided swiftly and gracefully toward the rink's edge, coming to a stop directly in front of Froggy, who stood right at the front of the group.
The short distance separated only by the barrier made Grox's elevated aura and striking looks so vivid that Froggy paused for a moment. However, the first sentence that slipped from the figure skating world champion's mouth was colder and sharper than the chill in the arena.
"Ayo, what are you guys doing here?"
Grox asked in a flat voice, sweeping an annoyed glance over everyone's armor and hockey sticks. "You're on the wrong side. This is the Figure Skating Rink in the West Zone... The hockey rink is in the East Wing. Go back to your own space."
Froggy, recovering his composure faster than the rest, raised an eyebrow slightly, smirking at the arrogant attitude and condescending tone of the person before him. He stepped forward, bringing out his signature witty, provocative style as a hockey team captain to counter immediately.
"Oh, my bad, Mr. World Champion, but we aren't lost," Froggy said, leaning against the barrier with a nonchalant shrug. "And well, as for our East Wing rink... the air conditioning is broken, so it's completely out of order. If we don't practice here, we won't have a rink to train on for next week."
"Wow, that sucks, but that's your side's problem, not mine."
Grox replied instantly, his voice dripping with obvious indifference. "I'm focusing on my training for a major competition, and this rink is reserved for figure skaters. Having you guys standing around looking clueless with your long sticks and bulky gear ruins my concentration. Please wait outside, or go take it up with management."
"Hey, pal! Watch your mouth!" one of the hockey teammates shouted, starting to lose his temper at the insult.
"Why? Did I say something wrong?" Grox narrowed his eyes, glaring back at the hockey players without backing down an inch. "This ice sheet requires precision and delicacy. Your thick skates and hockey pucks will ruin the surface. Get out already you guys are really persistent."
"Listen here, Little king," Froggy stepped in front of his teammate, a smirk playing on his lips, though a challenging glint flickered in his eyes. "This training facility belongs to the national team, and we are representing Team USA just like you. Management explicitly told us to move our gear over here, so we aren't going anywhere until we get our ice time."
"Who are you calling Little—"
"Stop! Both of you, stop right there!"
Before the confrontation at the edge of the ice could escalate any further, the authoritative voice of the Ice Sports Center's executive boomed across the rink. The middle-aged executive sprinted over frantically, cutting right between Grox and Froggy while holding up both hands to stop the impending brawl.
"What on earth is going on here? Grox, calm down first!" The manager turned quickly to Grox, whose face was stiff with frustration.
"Sir, what is the meaning of this?" Grox asked in a low, controlled tone. Although a faint smile touched his lips, his face clearly showed he meant business. "Why are hockey players carrying their gear into the West Wing territory? I was right in the middle of practicing a crucial jump, and they interrupted me."
The manager wiped sweat from his forehead, letting out a long sigh before lightly tapping Grox's shoulder to calm him down. "Listen to me, Grox The East Wing air conditioning system is severely damaged, and the hockey team has a national championship coming up in just a few weeks. We had no choice but to let them share this ice rink."
"Share?!"
Grox pressed his hand to his temple, pointing toward the ice sheet. "A figure skating rink and a hockey rink are completely different! How am I supposed to practice while pucks are flying over my head?!"
"I know that! That's why I came over to talk to you," the manager leaned in closer, whispering softly and professionally to explain the arrangement in private. "We aren't asking them to practice on the ice at the exact same time as you, Grox... We're going to set up a 'shared time schedule' instead."
Grox crossed his arms, letting out a puff of cold air. His handsome face remained stern as he listened to the manager lay out the unavoidable scheduling conditions. His sharp eyes flicked past the manager's shoulder, meeting the sparkling, teasing gaze of Froggy, who was flashing a provocative smirk and raising an eyebrow at him from the edge of the rink.
'What is wrong with this guy...' Grox thought to himself, thoroughly irritated.
'So annoying.'
…
The practice schedule compromise was reluctantly finalized. Although Grox maintained an openly displeased expression throughout the conversation with management, since it was a top-down order for the benefit of national team athletes, he had no choice but to begrudgingly accept the new timetable.
The agreement strictly split the day into two slots: the morning session, from early dawn until noon sharp, was reserved exclusively for Grox and the figure skating team, allowing the world champion to focus on his delicate routines in peace. The afternoon session, from 12:30 PM onward, transformed into the fierce training ground for the ice hockey team.
As for the rest of the hockey players, although they were initially annoyed by Grox's arrogant attitude and condescending glare, as time passed, they didn't pay it much mind. Part of it was due to his immense influence in the sports world and his phenomenal skill as a three-time consecutive gold medalist, but the main reason everyone chose to look past it was simply his heavenly, celebrity-tier face.
Who would want to hold a grudge against someone that good-looking?
"Honestly, just let it slide. Someone that handsome even when he gets angry and scowls, he still looks ridiculously good," one teammate whispered to another while carrying equipment.
"Right? Who'd dare start a fight with him? He's on a completely different level."
However, those unwritten rules didn't apply to Froggy.
The hockey team captain and Centre with 14 gold medals to his name never backed down or let anyone get a free jab at him. As a result, every day at noon when the shift change occurred and their two worlds collided, it became a moment of entertainment (and icy tension) for everyone in the hall.
"12:00 PM on the dot. Not a minute early, not a minute late."
Froggy's signature deep voice echoed from the West Wing entrance. The tall, well-built man strode in clad in full hockey gear, holding a hockey stick in one hand and an iced coffee in the other. Leaning against the rink's perimeter board, he watched the slender figure at the center of the ice effortlessly complete his final edge loop.
Grox didn't even turn to look at him. He angled his skate blades to dig into the ice, braking lightly as a spray of ice dust scattered into the air before smoothly gliding to a stop right in front of the hockey captain. Picking up a towel, he wiped the sweat from his slate-gray neck.
"On the dot, my foot. Hmph, you can't even manage your own time, you're five minutes late."
Grox spoke in a taunting tone that was practically designed to annoy anyone listening. "According to the schedule, you're supposed to step onto the ice with your team at noon sharp, not stand there sipping coffee and disturbing other people's focus."
"Oh, my apologies, Little king. I just happened to pass by the coffee machine and couldn't help thinking of you," Froggy smiled mischievously, giving a playful eyebrow raise. "I was worried that spinning around four times in the air made you dizzy enough to forget lunch. Want a sip? Or can you only consume salads and boiled mineral water?"
Grox's eye twitched as he glanced at the coffee in Froggy's hand with undisguised disgust. "Nah, keep that garbage drink full of caffeine and sugar for muscle-heads like you. High-level art and mental training don't rely on trash like that."
"Is that so?"
Froggy chuckled under his breath, stepping over the barrier and onto the ice rink. The heavy, thick blade of his hockey skate sliced into the ice with a sharp thud, making Grox wince. "Well, those 'muscle-heads' you speak of just won their 14th championship title. Unlike a certain someone who just spins around looking pretty all day, but loses his mind the second someone walks past. What's wrong, short attention span?"
"Deargod, Froggy!"
Grox narrowed his eyes, his slender eyebrows knitting tightly together. An aura of irritation radiated off him so strongly that the rest of the hockey team trailing behind Froggy involuntarily took a collective step back.
"Don't you dare compare your crude, animalistic collisions to figure skating. You're just a bunch of guys whacking a rubber puck around all day without a single drop of refinement."
"Cruel, but I still have ten more gold medals than you," Froggy winked, giving his most infuriating smile. "And by the way... the ice over in that corner? Your skate marks are a bit too deep, 'King'. Go easy on it, or when we slap pucks against the boards this afternoon, the ice is gonna shatter."
"If you ruin even a single millimeter of this smooth ice rink, I will report you to management and have them kick you all back to practice in the East Wing pond!"
Grox held his head high, stomping his skates as he marched off the ice past Froggy, taking care to hard-shoulder the hockey captain's sturdy shoulder on his way out.
Froggy merely chuckled softly, casually twirling his hockey stick as he watched the back of the elegant, gorgeous figure strutting away with a face so tense he looked ready to devour him alive.
"Captain..." a teammate glided over, wiping sweat while eyeing Grox's retreating figure. "You'd better watch out for pushing his buttons like that. One of these days when his patience runs thin, he might use those razor-sharp blades to jump and slice your neck off. We aren't stepping in to save you, man. Seriously, what's his deal? Pretty as a picture, but sharp-tongued as hell."
"Sharp-tongued is good," Froggy laughed, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips, his eyes sparkling as he watched Grox disappear into the West Wing locker room.
"On a cold ice rink like this, if you don't have something to keep your brain sharp... where's the fun in that?"
…
This petty little war continued every single day.
On some days, Grox felt like being cheeky, deliberately extending his cool-down period by two or three minutes past the deadline to test the hockey team's patience. Froggy would retaliate by gliding onto the ice while Grox was still on the rink, circling around the slender skater with a thick-skinned, teasing grin.
"Hey, you! Get away from me! Your bulky skates are ruining the surface!" Grox complained as Froggy glided up within less than a meter of him.
"The rink is huge, but you're just walking too slow," Froggy looked down at Grox with his slight height advantage, smirking triumphantly. "Or do you want me to carry you out? That way we don't waste any more precious practice time for us 14-gold-medalist national team members."
"Where do you get the nerve to say something like that?!"
Grox glared, his face usually marked by a smug mock now flushing red with rage, a gentle blush creeping across his smooth cheeks. "Don't use your tasteless hockey medals to intimidate me! Those 14 medals belong to a team, but my work... every single gold medal was won by my own individual skill!"
"Ho... quite the big mouth, aren't you?"
Froggy raised an eyebrow, an involuntary flick of genuine impression flashing in his eyes. The taunting smirk on his face shifted into a playful, curious smile. "Then how about tomorrow at noon... care for a race, World Champion? Let's see whether your individual medals or my team medals can glide faster on this ice."
"I'm not lowering myself to play stupid games with you," the young man twirled his index finger beside his temple, implying that Froggy had lost his mind. "How can two completely different sports compete against each other? You've clearly lost your mind."
Grox flipped his hair, turned on his heel, and glided right off the rink, leaving Froggy standing there with a soft chuckle echoing in his chest.
Froggy's silly challenge was left behind along with his annoying laughter, but for someone who hated losing as much as Grox, the phrase "Who can glide faster on this ice" kept looping in his head all night long.
As much as his mouth claimed it was ridiculous, the sheer power, balance, and speed of a hockey player especially a Centre like Froggy were the real deal. Their physical collisions and agility on the rink gave Froggy a reputation for storm-like speed, and that was something Grox simply couldn't accept.
The mere thought of losing to a guy with a face and hair color resembling a frog made Grox's head boil so hot he wanted to punch the annoying guy's face in.
The next day — 11:45 AM.
With fifteen minutes remaining before the morning session ended, Grox didn't shake off his exhaustion as usual. Instead, he began gliding around the rink at an escalating speed. The long, slender figure skating blades sliced through the ice sheet, accelerating toward the rink perimeter as if practicing an imaginary sprint against time.
And naturally, Froggy who had walked in carrying his hockey stick ten minutes early stood watching the scene, instantly cracking a taunting smile.
"Whoa, possessed today, are we?" Froggy called over the barrier, hands on his hips, watching the slender figure darting at high speeds. "Or did you take yesterday's challenge to bed and lose sleep over it? Your mouth says no, but your body says yes."
Grox didn't answer. But as he glided past Froggy, he accelerated by another gear, executing a rapid direction change without losing an ounce of balance. The skate blade kicked up a spray of cold ice mist right against the barrier, missing Froggy's face by a hair's breadth.
"Hockey speed is just brainless, brute-force sliding like a wild buffalo," Grox stopped abruptly, his gorgeous face flushed with color, his beautiful eyes glaring at Froggy with defiance. "Figure skating is speed controlled in every direction... If you think your brute force speed is so cool, why don't you step down here?"
"Hmm?" Froggy raised an eyebrow, his smile widening with delight. "Accepting the challenge, Little Prince?"
"I just want to shut that arrogant mouth of yours," Grox chuckled, crossing his arms and lifting his chin. "The rules are simple: two laps around the rink. Whoever touches this side of the barrier first wins... but there's a condition."
"What condition?"
"You have to race in your full armor set. No taking it off," Grox sneered. "Because isn't that what you call hockey's 'honor'?"
"Feisty," Froggy grinned, instantly vaulting over the barrier onto the ice. The heavy, thick hockey blade dug into the surface with a heavy thud. "Deal! If I lose in this armor... I'll buy your whole team good coffee not 'garbage water' this evening. But if I win..."
Froggy glided closer to Grox, leaning down until they were eye-to-eye. The faint scent of sweat mixed with the commanding pressure of the national team captain made Grox's chest tighten for a fleeting second, before he used his hand to push the other man away.
"...If I win, next time at noon, you have to stand there and listen to me tease you until I finish my sentence without huffing and turning away. Deal?"
"Utterly ridiculous..." Grox frowned, though he backed up to the starting line anyway. "Get ready to lose, Froggy."
The rest of the hockey team, who had just walked in, froze in disbelief at the sight of their giant captain in full armor lined up parallel to the gorgeous figure skating world champion in the middle of the ice.
The contrast was stark. Though similar in height, their builds and muscle mass belonged to entirely different weight classes.
"Three... Two... One... Go!"
At the count of the hockey teammate, both figures burst forward simultaneously.
Froggy utilized his immense leg power, digging his hockey blades hard into the ice, exploding forward like a cannonball. His initial burst put him nearly half a body length ahead of Grox through sheer muscular power.
However, Grox didn't panic. His longer, sleeker figure skating blades provided superior momentum retention. Entering the first curve, while Froggy had to check his speed slightly to manage the heavy weight of his armor, Grox utilized world-class Skating Skills leaning his body into a perfect curve angle, smoothly cutting ahead of Froggy to take the lead in the first lap.
"Whoa! So smooth!" the hockey teammates cheered loudly through the hall.
"Pick it up, Captain! You're getting passed by the prince!"
Froggy gritted his teeth and grinned, his eyes brimming with a thrill he hadn't felt in a long time. Digging deep into his strength, he kicked hard into the ice, trailing right behind Grox in the second lap. The wind rushed past as the sound of skate blades slicing ice echoed across the entire West Zone.
Into the final straightaway.
Grox, leading by half a step, pushed his speed to the absolute limit. His sweet, serious face was breathtakingly captivating.
But then at the final moment right before touching the barrier, a deep groove on the ice from heavy practice caused the angle of Grox's skate blade to lose its edge slightly.
"Ah!"
The slender figure stumbled forward, losing his balance.
Instincts taking over, the hockey captain acted instantly. Froggy, sprinting right behind, reached out a heavy, gloved hand and snatched Grox's slender waist. The momentum sent both of them sliding hard into the perimeter barrier together.
BANG!
The impact echoed across the rink as cold ice dust billowed into the air. Everything fell into a sudden, breathless silence.
Grox squeezed his eyes shut, hands shielding his face, pressed tight with barely any room to breathe. His heart hammered in shock, yet he felt no pain at all because his back was resting against Froggy's broad, sturdy chest. Powerful arms encased in armor held his waist firmly in place; Froggy's body had absorbed the full force of the impact against the barrier for him.
When Grox lowered his hands and slowly opened his eyes, he turned his head to the side only to meet Froggy's sharp eyes less than an inch away. Perspiration beaded on the hockey captain's face, and that signature playful smirk still rested on his lips.
"Falling with such elegance truly fitting for a figure skater..."
Froggy murmured softly, his warm breath fanning against smooth cheeks that flushed even redder than before.
Grox immediately pushed against the other man's chest, a burning heat rushing to his face beyond his control. He couldn't tell if it was from embarrassment, losing face, or the strange, rapid flutter in his chest.
"Let go of me! You... mind your own business!"
Grox broke free, regaining his balance on the ice. He lifted his chin high to mask his flustered state. "If you hadn't gotten in my way, I would have touched the edge of the rink first!"
"Hey, hey, I just saved that pretty face of yours from crashing into the barrier, Little Prince," Froggy laughed, pushing himself up while dusting ice particles off his uniform. "Besides, if you look closely, my hand touched the barrier before yours did. Soooo I win this game."
"You didn't win! You used brute force to push me!"
"Is that so?"
Froggy raised an eyebrow, stepping a pace closer to the slender figure. Leaning down, he spoke in a teasing whisper, "But you promised... that if I won, you'd stand here and listen to me speak until the end without huffing and turning away."
Grox pressed his lips tightly together, glaring at Froggy with a mixture of annoyance and a strange sensation taking root in his chest. Saying nothing, he merely shot him a deadly glare, turned on his skates, and glided away off the rink without huffing and turning his face away, keeping his promise after all.
Once Grox disappeared behind the locker room doors, the dead silence inside the West Wing skating hall was replaced by a long sigh from the hockey players.
"Captain..."
a teammate glided over to Froggy, who still stood with a smirk watching that door. "I'm asking you seriously, where did you get the guts to grab the King's waist like that? Just now, if he had actually sliced your face open with those blades, we wouldn't even know how to make excuses to management."
"Seriously," another added, patting Froggy's shoulder lightly. "Even if he looks ridiculously good and none of us dare mess with him, his terrifying aura when he's annoyed is no joke."
"It's not like I wanted him to crash into the barrier," Froggy chuckled softly under his breath, taking off his hockey gloves as he ran a hand through his sweat-drenched green hair. "But if I let him fall face-first into the wall... we wouldn't have our King standing here scolding us at noon next week, would we?"
"Man, I admire your thick skin," his teammates shook their heads with amusement before scattering to grab their gear and prepare for daily practice.
For Froggy, however, his chest still held the memory of the slender waist he had caught so suddenly, as well as those wide, startled eyes and the deep blush that couldn't be hidden... The cold ice rink, once dominated solely by the tension of competitive training, now seemed to hold something exciting for him to look forward to every single day.
…
11:55 AM.
As shift change approached, the hockey team members dutifully followed their captain into the West Wing hall. All eyes were glued to the slender figure in the center of the rink, who was putting the finishing touches on his morning practice session. Grox, clad in a sleek, dark practice suit, moved with breathtaking fluid grace. The light sound of skate blades slicing ice filled the air before he leaped into a flawless mid-air rotation, touching down smoothly. His beautiful face caught the overhead lights, making him glow until his eyes met Froggy leaning against the barrier, causing his slender brows to instantly knit together.
Grox executed a slide break, bringing himself to a halt directly in front of Froggy. His usually calm face carried a clear trace of irritation, yet he didn't huff or walk past like he used to during those first few days, holding true to his loss in yesterday's game.
"12:00 PM on the dot," Froggy flashed a charming smile, holding out a drink cup. "Not leaving early today, World Champion? Or are you standing here waiting to listen to me speak as promised?"
"I keep my word," Grox stated in a flat tone, lifting his chin slightly. His beautiful eyes glared defiantly at the other man. "Whatever nonsense you want to say, say it quickly so I can be done with my duty."
"Alright, alright," Froggy chuckled, giving an eyebrow raise. "Sentence number one... your waist was thinner than I thought yesterday. Are you even eating real food? Or do you really just eat vegetables and salads?"
"Froggy!" Grox narrowed his eyes, an aura of rage flaring up once more. "If you're going to talk about such ridiculous—"
"And sentence number two..."
Froggy stepped over the barrier onto the ice, closing the distance between them until the faint scent of sweat and cold mist mingled together. "Next week at the national competition... I'd like to reserve a VIP seat to watch that skill you're so proud of. I hope you don't mind."
Grox paused slightly, a flicker of confusion crossing his eyes at the sudden absence of provocation in Froggy's tone. "Why would you come watch me? You should spend that time studying your hockey opponents' playbooks."
"Well... I just want to see if the 'King of Figure Skating' spins as beautifully on the actual stage as he does when practicing his insults on me," Froggy smirked, his sharp eyes gazing straight into Grox's stunning face with an earnestness he couldn't hide.
Grox felt his heart skip a sudden beat. His high-held chin flushed with an uncontrollable heat. Pressing his lips tightly together, he gave Froggy's broad chest a gentle push before taking a step back.
"I train meticulously for my own victory, not for your viewing pleasure," Grox said in a stubborn tone, though it sounded far less steady than usual. "And besides... if you make a nuisance of yourself or disrupt my focus from the stands on competition day, I'll definitely tell the officials to drag you out."
"I promise I'll sit quietly like a good boy," Froggy winked.
Grox let out a soft laugh at the silly remark before turning on his skates to glide away off the rink. But this time his elegant back didn't stomp off in anger as it usually did. Froggy watched the slender figure vanish into the locker room, a smile spreading across his face as the feeling in his chest grew clearer and clearer.
…
Four days before the competition.
Grox was gliding along the edge of the rink, taking a sip of water. Holding an expensive mineral water bottle in his slender fingers, his eyes swept over Froggy as he walked into the hall carrying his gear. Today, the hockey captain had a small scratch on his cheekbone from heavy contact practice the previous evening.
"Hey, Captain," Grox tilted his head slightly, a smirk on his lips with an expression that was equal parts affection and classic condescension. "What happened to your face? Get hit by your own teammates, or did you brawl with the puck again? You look like a stray dog that just got into a fight with the neighbor's dog."
Froggy paused, letting out a low chuckle as he glided to a stop right in front of him. "Your mouth gets sharper by the day... This happens to be a mark of honor from intense drill practice."
"Honor or clumsiness?" Grox lightly tapped his long fingers against the barrier, looking down at Froggy with an air of superiority.
"Caveman sports are always like this all muscle, no idea how to dodge gracefully like us... Come here."
"Hmm?"
Froggy raised an eyebrow, but leaned his face in closer as ordered.
Grox pulled a sleek, plain plaster out of his practice bag, gently applying it onto Froggy's cheekbone. However, he made sure to press down lightly on the fresh scrape, making Froggy let out a quiet "Ouch."
"Serves you right," Grox smiled in satisfaction, his beautiful eyes sparkling with mischievous delight. "Consider it my pity for a clumsy dog. Keep it on so your face doesn't look any uglier. That way, my eyes won't be ruined whenever you walk past me."
Froggy looked at the breathtaking face less than an inch away, chuckling softly as he reached up to touch the plaster on his cheek. "Ho... sharp-tongued, yet carrying plasters around and applying them yourself. Should I call this caring?"
"Don't delude yourself,"
Grox immediately held his head high, shooting Froggy the stern glare of a high-class noble. "I just don't want your crude blood dripping onto my clean ice rink... Anyway, my time is up. Move out of the way, hockey dog."
"Don't be absurd," Grox snapped, instantly throwing his head back and shooting Froggy the threatening, disdainful glare of an arrogant aristocrat. "I’m just worried your crude blood might drip onto my pristine ice rink... Anyway, my time is up. Move out of the way, hockey dog."
Grox dug his skate blades into the ice and slid past Froggy. But as he passed, his slender arm reached out and playfully patted Froggy’s broad, padded shoulder twice like someone patting a favorite dog on the head before stepping off the rink with a smirk he couldn't quite conceal.
…
Three days before the competition.
Having figured out Grox's demeanor, Froggy realized the figure skater didn't actually hate him; he just used sharp tongue and condescension to demand attention while maintaining his World Champion facade. To Froggy, this spoiled-child behavior was so endearing he could hardly contain his amusement.
"Your form was beautiful today," Froggy remarked, waiting as Grox finished his cool-down. "From over here, you looked like a swan in flight."
Grox came to a smooth halt, turning to shoot Froggy a knowing look. "A swan? Ha! What a brainless comparison, Froggy... Truly fitting for someone who thinks of nothing but a rubber puck all day."
"Wait, so even a compliment counts as an insult?"
"I am a world-champion figure skater. That movement looks nothing like a swan," Grox glided over to the barrier, resting his hands on his hips as he looked down at Froggy with a mischievous, mocking tilt of his chin. "Still, nice try for someone whose brain is made entirely of muscle. Sometime I'll teach you some higher-level vocabulary. You can use it to pick up girls instead of spouting nonsense at me."
"Who said I'm using it to pick up girls?" Froggy leaned in closer, looking directly into Grox's sharp eyes. "I'm keeping it strictly for the 'King' right here."
Grox froze for a fraction of a second, his heart skipping a sudden beat at the hockey captain's intense, serious gaze. Unwilling to ever lose, however, Grox quickly masked his reaction with a smirk.
"Pick me up?" Grox tapped his forefinger lightly against Froggy's broad chest. "Keep dreaming, Froggy Your 14 gold medals don't impress me. If you want to court me, you'd better be at least half as serious as your face is thick."
"Ouch harsh," Froggy burst out laughing, thoroughly enjoying his companion's razor-sharp tongue. "Does that mean if my face is thick enough... you'll let me court you?"
"Go back to playing your brainless hockey!" Grox's face turned bright red from a mix of embarrassment and irritation. Turning on his heel, he skated briskly toward the locker room, leaving Froggy's hearty laughter echoing behind him.
Standing a short distance away, the hockey teammates nudged each other.
"Is our captain a masochist or something? He gets called a dog and thick-skinned, yet he's grinning ear to ear."
"Man, couldn't you tell? When the king was insulting him, his eyes were practically sparkling. He's just putting on a sharp-tongued show, but he keeps sneaking glances at the captain What an odd pair, but they're definitely a perfect match!"
After nearly three weeks of daily verbal sparring and intense eye contact at high noon, fate or perhaps sheer stubborn competitiveness finally brought the two together outside the ice rink.
…
It was Saturday evening, two days before the competition, just as the West Wing rink turned off its main lights to close up for the day.
Having finished his practice later than usual, Grox emerged from the locker room in high spirits, slinging his designer backpack over his shoulder. He planned to get a delicious dinner to unwind, but as soon as he stepped outside the training center, he was caught off guard by the biting cold wind and sudden drizzling rain.
"Tch... why start raining now? I didn't even book a ride," Grox muttered to himself, frowning at the downpour as he pulled out his phone to open a ride-hailing app.
Honk! Honk!
The sharp blast of a horn came from a large, sleek black SUV parked nearby. The side window rolled down to reveal Froggy's handsome face. Dressed in a dark casual sweater, his hair was still slightly damp from a fresh shower.
"Hey there, little king," Froggy raised a hand in greeting, a smirk playing on his lips. "Standing out there shivering in the cold with that grumpy face? Trying to call a car? In this heavy rain, traffic is backed up for miles no driver's going to pick you up."
Grox shot a disdainful look at the luxury vehicle. However, seeing the app status stuck on 'Searching for drivers' with no end in sight, he let out a long sigh and held his head high.
"What's it to you? Just drive your car."
"I'm not trying to pry," Froggy chuckled softly, unlocking the passenger door. "I just don't want a lost swan standing out in the rain to catch a chill. Get inside where it's warm, and I'll drop you off wherever you're going Consider it payback for accidentally sending that puck flying into your music player the other day."
Grox narrowed his eyes suspiciously. But another gust of freezing wind made him shiver, forcing him to reluctantly open the passenger door and get in. Inside the car, the subtle scent of warm cologne mixed with the fresh rain outside, instantly taking off the chill.
Froggy chuckled, shifting into gear and driving away from the training facility.
"So, where to? Home or a restaurant?"
"A restaurant... I'm hungry," Grox replied flatly, pulling out a compact mirror to touch up his hair. "Somewhere you know, but it must be clean and serve food fit for human consumption. If you take me to a street stall, I am jumping out of this car."
"High-maintenance as always," Froggy winked. "A high-end steakhouse nearby then. It's my usual spot clean, top-grade cuts, and it definitely has your fancy rocket salad."
…
At the cozy, upscale steakhouse...
Decorated in warm wood tones and soft amber lighting, the restaurant offered a quiet, private atmosphere. Froggy led Grox to a booth at the far end. As they took off their coats, Grox cast an evaluative gaze around the space before finally settling into the plush leather seat.
"Acceptable..." Grox murmured, opening the menu.
"Thanks for the compliment," Froggy grinned, taking a sip of water as he watched the figure skater study the menu intently. "Order whatever you want. Dinner's on the hockey captain."
"Naturally," Grox said in a cool tone, though a bright gleam sparkled in his eyes. "I'll have the medium-rare Wagyu steak, a wild rocket salad, and natural mineral water, please."
Froggy watched Grox's refined order, then glanced down at his own massive, extra-large steak platter, letting out a soft laugh.
"What's so funny?" Grox glared at him, tapping a slender finger on the table. "Does my face look like a joke to you?"
"Not at all..." Froggy rested his chin in his hand, admiring the handsome face across from him. "I just realized that outside the rink... you look like a normal human being. I thought you survived purely on cold air and perfection."
"Ridiculous. I am human I have a heart and feelings," Grox smirked, looking down his nose at Froggy in his signature condescending manner. "The difference is that I am refined in how I live my life unlike muscle-heads who rely solely on brute force."
"Brute force that caught a falling skater before he smashed his pretty face, mind you," Froggy reminded him with a raised eyebrow.
"You didn't catch me! You—just—pushed me!" Grox emphasized every word, a flush of pink creeping onto his smooth cheeks out of sheer embarrassment. "Stop bringing that up!"
Before long, the food was served. Froggy dug into his large steak with the ravenous appetite typical of power athletes, while Grox used his knife to cut his meat into precise, delicate pieces with impeccable table manners. Even so, Grox kept sneaking subtle glances at Froggy's plate.
Noticing this, Froggy's grin widened. Picking up a large, crispy french fry coated in parsley and aromatic cheese with his fork, he suddenly held it across the table toward Grox's lips.
"Want a bite? It's incredible."
Grox paused, staring at the fry before looking up at Froggy in utter disbelief. "Are you insane? I'm watching my weight, and fried food is full of bad fats—"
"A single piece won't kill you. Just eat it. With how hard you train, you'll burn off these calories in five minutes... Or do I need to use my 14 gold medals to force it into your mouth?"
"So annoying..." Grox grumbled under his breath. Yet, he finally gave in, opening his mouth to take the french fry from Froggy's fork and chewing lightly.
"Well? Delicious, right?"
"It's... average. Taste fit for the unrefined," Grox insisted with his head held high, even though the corner of his mouth twitched slightly upward. "Don't think one fry means I'm going to be nice to you."
"I never expected you to be nice," Froggy said, gazing into those sparkling eyes. The hockey captain's expression softened into something genuinely fond and serious. "I just wanted to see you smile... When you're off the ice, you're much cuter than when you're scowling."
Thump...
It felt as though Grox's skate blade had suddenly slipped off edge. Froggy's direct words and intense gaze sent a sudden, uncontrollable flutter through the World Champion's chest. The face usually held so high flushed crimson, spreading all the way to the tips of his delicate ears.
Grox quickly took a sip of water to cover his flustered reaction, narrowing his eyes at Froggy to hide his embarrassment.
"Big talk... Just eat your food, Froggy, before I stick this fork into your face."
"Yes, lord," Froggy chuckled softly, dutifully lowering his head to continue eating in high spirits.
The dinner passed with their usual lighthearted bickering. True to his word, Froggy settled the bill for the World Champion. Wrapping themselves back in their coats, the two walked out of the restaurant and returned to the SUV.
The rain outside had eased into a light mist. The interior of the car remained cozy, filled with the gentle beat of a soft pop song playing through the speakers.
"Alright, give me the coordinates, Young Master," Froggy said, turning the wheel as they pulled away from the curb. "Which condo is the hockey captain dropping you off at?"
Grox, who was busy typing a text message on his phone, answered calmly without looking up. "Midtown area. The tallest luxury high-rise opposite the central park... Surely that's not too complicated for your brain to remember?"
"You really never miss a chance to jab, do you?" Froggy chuckled, flashing a smirk. "I know the one. That building is one of the most expensive in the city truly a residence fit for a King."
Along the way, the car glided over wet asphalt streets that reflected the vibrant neon lights of downtown. Grox leaned back against the plush leather seat, gazing out the window. Exhaustion from a full day of training began to set in, causing his eyelids to droop.
Froggy stole a glance at the flawless face beside him, now devoid of its usual condescension, arrogance, or sharp glares. Grox's head rested softly against the seat, a few strands of light hair falling across his smooth cheek Resting like this, he looked peaceful and endearing a stark contrast to the sharp-tongued figure who routinely called him a dog.
Froggy eased his foot off the gas and quietly turned down the air conditioner, taking care not to startle his sleeping companion.
When the SUV came to a smooth stop at the valet entrance of the five-star luxury condo, Froggy unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned softly toward the sleepy figure.
"Hey... we're here, grox," Froggy murmured softly near his ear.
Grox slowly opened his eyes, his gaze hazy for a moment before he suddenly stiffened realizing Froggy's handsome face was less than a millimeter away. Their warm breath mingled, sending a violent flutter through the champion's chest.
"W-What do you think you're doing?!"
Grox immediately pushed Froggy's face away, a deep blush rushing across his cheeks and all the way to his ears. "Back off!"
"Whoa," Froggy feigned confusion, leaning back into his seat with a playful grin. "I was just reaching over to help unbuckle your seatbelt. What did you think I was going to do? Sneak a kiss on your cheek?"
"Watch your mouth!" Grox snapped, his sharp glare failing to hide his embarrassment. Unbuckling his seatbelt himself with a sharp click, he grabbed his gym bag tightly. "Did you think I'd fall for a trick like that, Froggy?"
"Well, with cheeks that red, it means you were definitely thinking about it, doesn't it?" Froggy rested his hand on the steering wheel, sending him a charming smile.
"I am hot!" Grox denied stubbornly, despite the cool air conditioning inside the vehicle. "And thanks for the steak and those garbage french fries... Even if the taste was mediocre, I'll count it as slight payback for my music player."
"My pleasure, king" Froggy laughed heartily. "Next time you crave cheese fries, just say the word and I'll come pick you up."
"In your dreams! I eat those once a year, max." Grox reached for the door handle, but paused briefly before stepping out. Turning back, he shot Froggy a teasingly sharp look.
"Oh... and thanks for the ride, hockey dog. Don't go crashing into the barrier during practice tomorrow and break your face, or there won't be anyone sitting there watching me at noon."
With that, Grox stepped out, shut the door with a firm thud, and walked gracefully toward the luxury entrance without giving Froggy a chance to reply.
Froggy sat watching the elegant figure disappear into the glass elevator, reaching up to touch the plaster on his cheekbone. A warm, playful smile spread across the team captain's face... Sharp-tongued, arrogant, and constantly trying to pull rank, yet when he wanted to be cute, he made Froggy's heart race uncontrollably.
"You really are something,my king..."
Froggy muttered to himself with a grin before turning the wheel and driving off already looking forward to noon tomorrow.
To be continued