Chapter Text
Sometimes, Siwoo wonders why he actively chooses to remain friends with Jeong Jihoon.
“Hyungggg, just help your wonderful dongsaeng out, won’t you?” Siwoo glares at Jihoon and shoves his disgustingly long, heavy body off himself. He has no idea who enabled this brat to embody absolutely zero manners, but it definitely isn’t him.
“You know I don’t shoot anymore, Jihoon. Do you seriously have nothing better to do than to leech off my money and bother me at the same time?”
Jihoon ungracefully climbs back onto his seat at the other end of the bench, and cheerily replies “‘Course not, hyung, I leech off all my seniors equally!”
Of course he does. Siwoo takes a defeated bite of chicken in response and glances at Kiin, seated opposite them, for some sort of backup.
Also as expected, he does absolutely nothing to save Siwoo and continues guzzling chicken. (That Siwoo paid for, by the way!) What a horrible guy.
Jihoon leans in, face suddenly serious despite the fried chicken grease smeared around his lips. “Seriously hyung, consider it. The school is planning to cut funding for us if we don’t win something at the Collegiate Championships anytime soon, then the club will really be cooked.”
At that, Kiin finally looks up from his meal. “He’s right, you know. We don’t even have enough competent shooters in the team at the moment for us to meet the registration requirements. You know you’re our best bet.”
Siwoo frowns, appetite suddenly gone. He puts down his half eaten chicken and watches Jihoon steal it immediately. What the hell. “Even then, I haven’t so much as glanced in the direction of my gear since back then, you both know that. How are you so sure I’ll be a good fit? For all you know I’ll be even worse than your incompetent members.”
“We know what you’re capable of, that's why.” Jihoon says as he adds to the ever-growing pile of chicken bones in front of him, and frowns when he realises the chicken basket is empty. “I know you said you wouldn’t go back to the sport, but it’ll only be for this year, hyung, and we’re in dire need of help. At least think about it over the weekend for our sake, please?”
-
So Siwoo thinks. He loses sleep over it, even. Most of all, he falls behind on work staring at the dusty suitcase that sits in the corner of his living room that he hasn’t touched in 6 years. Jihoon doesn’t even text him, like he’s already sure Siwoo would agree to his request.
(The rational part of Siwoo says that Jihoon, in a rare show of emotional awareness, is giving him space to think, but Siwoo doesn’t want to listen to that part of himself.)
Ever since the incident, ever since he sat and waited for a letter that never came, Siwoo had sworn to himself he was done with the sport, that he would never touch an air rifle again. And he did. He cut all ties with the sport, that is, all but one. His friends. They were the one thing related to shooting that he still cared about, and they had all coincidentally decided to join the varsity shooting club.
And as much as Siwoo hated to acknowledge it, he knew how much the Collegiate mattered to them. It was their one chance to prove themselves against actual competitors, and Siwoo had witnessed all his friends work themselves to the bone, year after year, just to fall short to their rivals. To let them lose out on their possible last chance for the championship trophy on a mere technicality, just because of his own selfish aversion to the sport, seemed unfair.
And yet, that weekend, his dreams are haunted by the sounds of clapping and cheers, the target in front of him, his finger twitching on the trigger, his lifelong dream falling apart by his own hand.
-
Monday morning comes, and Siwoo feels like death warmed over. He’d spent the weekend practically arguing with himself but failed to make a choice. With no answer for Jihoon, Siwoo prays with all his sleep deprived might that he can somehow dodge him, and meticulously attempts to make his way around campus while avoiding his usual routes.
As he trudges to his 8am, he instantly spots Jihoon in the distance, looking this way and that, like he's searching for someone.
Fuck. Siwoo had gone out of his way to get coffee at a different cafe and everything! He chances a glance in Jihoon’s direction and immediately makes eye contact. Jihoon waves and starts making his way over terrifyingly fast.
Double fuck. Frantically looking around, Siwoo considers diving behind a nearby dumpster for cover but ultimately decides to accept his fate. Not like he could outrun Jihoon’s long ass legs anyway.
“What’re you lookin’ for, hyung?” Curse him. Jihoon looks and sounds way too energised for 8am. For some reason, Kim Suhwan is trailing after him too.
Siwoo doesn’t have the energy to deal with both of them right now. The caffeine hasn’t made its way through his system and the coffee from the new cafe highkey tastes like shit. “Nothing. What’s up with all that enthusiasm?”
“Can’t I check in on my favourite hyung?” Jihoon pouts. On closer inspection, he’s kind of vibrating. “Also, I saw a recipe on tiktok, so I brewed my coffee with monster instead of water today!” And there's the reason for his unprecedented energy. What the fuck is wrong with this guy?
Regardless, Siwoo’s surprised he hasn’t been interrogated on the shooting club proposition. Huh. Maybe he still has a chance to escape before the topic comes up.
It’s Suhwan, however, who unexpectedly pops the question. “Hyung, Jihoon told me you were thinking about joining the club to save us, is that true?” Curse his luck. Of course Jihoon told him.
Siwoo averts his gaze as much as possible. He can practically feel Suhwan giving him the look, the one that inadvertently makes him cave and pay for their meals every time. “Ehhhh… Maybe? Hyung’s still thinking about it.”
Suddenly, his coffee is no longer in his hands and Suhwan is taking a sip. Are all his friends thieves with no money to buy their own food? Despite anticipating this robbery, Siwoo accidentally makes shocked eye contact with Suhwan anyway. “Hyung, why don’t you just try coming down for just one training sesh for a taster? Just one! Please~”
He’s definitely giving Siwoo the look, and sue him, but Siwoo does have a soft spot for his juniors, most of all for Suhwan, the youngest, despite only getting to know him in university. Behind him, Jihoon is sporting an expression not unlike the cat who got the cream, and Siwoo knows this was all part of his plan. Manipulative bastard.
“Fine. I’ll tag along for just one, okay?” Siwoo sighs.
Suhwan smiles widely, satisfied. “‘Kay! We’ll text you!”
As he watches Jihoon and Suhwan gallivant away, Siwoo distinctly feels like he’s signed his death warrant. His mind is even more of a mess, so much so that it’s only when he starts nodding off midway through his lecture that he realises Suhwan didn’t return the coffee. Thief.