(Y/N) POV:

Another buzzing, incessant and annoying, worms its way through my consciousness. Threads through the sleep and continues to badger me until an eyelid peels itself open and then another, body twisting to grab it off the bedside table.

A half-garbled sound of annoyance into the speaker as I answer it.

"Good morning sleeping beauty."

"...." A groaned protest.

The sound of laughter, words laced with tease.

"I'd hope it was a good morning after what looked like it could've been a good night seeing the way you were all over that guy last night."

"I was not—"

"No, no of course not." He teases.

"He made a move first."

"Sure he did. And you welcomed it—a pretty face always gets you doesn't it?"

I mumble into the phone, nodding.

"He was pretty."

"Was? Have you kicked him out already?"

"He left."

"Ouch."

"Not cos I wanted him to—"

"No?" I can see the twitch of his lips in that question.

"Shut up."

"Don't mind me... go on. Was he just a pretty face?"

"If you fucking knew Kook—" letting my body twist to fall onto my back, limbs stretching out languid and slow, feeling the phantom press of hands and lips, feel the lingering aftermath, feel my eyes flutter open to stare upwards.

"I'm sure I will know. In graphic detail. In many versions and with many details." A faint grimacing distaste enters his tone.

"Oh of course... once I drag myself out of bed." I promise, lips curling up, eyes blinking slow and sluggish.

"Then I might be hearing them sooner than I was prepared to—get your ass up."

"You're not dragging me out of bed for any training you sadist." I groan.

"Hobi hyung's huffy you didn't sleepover—we're all going out to grab breakfast, get dressed."

"Can't breakfast wait—another hour?" I plead, drawing my phone back to squint at the screen, numbers blurring in front of me.

"Nope. You're lucky hyung's not already made his way to your dorm. Then again I doubt he wants to see you post-fucked—"

"I'm going... I'm going..."

"I'm texting you the address. Get there."

"I will." Content to stay sunk into the sheets, stretching out with a lazy contentment.

"Get up."

...

I slowly drag myself upright, as if somehow he's managed to see me, rather... he knows me too well. Shuffling upright, cheek pressed to the phone, hand grasping it loosely.

"I am."

"Get out of bed now." amusement where I know he's grinning into the phone.

I make a protesting, grumbling sound, peeling the blanket away from me, draw my legs out of bed.

"I am."

"Good. Now get into the shower, get dressed, get to the address. We're waiting."

"Aye aye Captain."

"Don't be late. You know hyung's a stickler for timing."

"I don't know what I did to get two captains on my ass."

"Done some very good things in your past life."

"I doubt it." though my lips are curved into a smile, slowly shuffling to grab clothes, head tilted to press the phone between my ear and shoulder.

"You could do a lot worse."

"You right... I could've ended up with two versions of you."

His laughter ripples through the phone.

"You can't survive one of me... we both know you wouldn't make it through with two."

[......]

"Well well well... look who finally got herself out of bed." A voice crows, growing louder as I approach the table.

And try as I might, and I don't try very hard, I can't bite back the grin tugging on my lips, steps slowing at the way Hobi's eyes shine with mischief, head propped up on his hands as he watches me approach. Seeming to measure every step forward.

For as much as he'd been tipsy, and then past tipsy, last night he seems closer to bouncing back than usual—something infectious and bright and lively in his eyes, head tilting with curious appraisal.

Eyes tracing over me.

"Well that's one of Kook's old hoodies."

"Did you think I'd enter doing a walk of shame when I took him back to my dorm?"

He clucks, tongue clicking against his teeth.

"Dunno what I was expecting to be honest. Maybe his clothes?" eyes deducing that they're very much not any of last night's hookup, trying to find traces as if he'd be able to draw the words and confessions from me without divulging a word. Yet.

"And how'd you expect him to get back to his own dorm? In last night's dress? Shirtless?"

"I don't think you'd mind if he had gone back without a shirt... or if you'd gotten more time to stare if anything."

"What makes you so confident Seokie?"

Slipping into the booth opposite him, a sly tilt to Kook's lips, foot nudging against mine in almost conspiration.

"Well I tried to find you last night...'m sure I did. But Kook-ah told me you were having your own fun... that he saw you leave."

"You did?"

Eyes sliding over to Kook's.

Catch the flash of teeth, the slight scrunch as he shrugs, a lone shoulder rising and then falling. Tracking the minute unspoken tells as if quietly, unspoken he's gauging his own impression, his own assessment of whether last night was good.

The unspoken question, the faint shred of concern briefly there. And then gone at whatever he finds.

"I wasn't going to abandon you in a party—even if it was at Hobi hyung's." the promise, warm and genuine, the words sincere and so easily said tugs my smile into something fonder, foot nudging back against his in silent thanks.

"Well what can I say? After Hobi tore me one for being a mopey bitch—"

"I would never say something like that to you!" scandalised and protesting, half-angry, half-scowling, entirely scolding as he looks at me, a pointed stare, something flashing in his eyes at the words, lips curling wider, deeper.

"You just said it but nicely." I retort, lips twitching, hand reaching over to pat-pat-pat-pat at his, watch him flip his hand palm side up to slide his fingers together with mine, squeezing tightly. Eyes fierce and then bright.

"I told you to not feel guilty about feeling good about yourself. Glad it went in." a faint teasing edge trailing his words off.

"Well thanks then. Cos I don't regret a single moment of last night. Not the drinking, not the dancing and definitely not the way it ended."

Another squeeze of a hand, face scrunched with laughter as he shakes his head, sinks back into his own seat, an elbow nudging at Kook to pick up a menu.

Amusement lingering even as he peruses the menu, eyes scanning with a slowness, a flicker of his gaze briefly darting up as if he has questions but he's going to wait until the order's placed at least until he asks.

As if it's a courtesy to let me get some minutes of reprieve before he pounces.

My eyes dart to Kook's, find him already peering at me over the top of the menu, rolling his eyes as he tilts his head with a sigh. Despairing and resigned for the direction the conversation's going to take.

"Why haven't you ordered yet—I could've had a smoothie by now." peering over at the two of them.

"Oh—I've invited my flatmate too but he's running a bit late. He's going to shower off from his gym session then meet us here. I didn't want food to go too cold."

"Your flatmate?"

It's not just my eyes that turn with curiosity.

"The one we were meant to meet yesterday?"

"He vanished quick on us. I didn't get to see him hyung."

"Ahhh this hyung's a shy one. Getting him to come out of his room and to join the party was already hard enough—I told him I wouldn't keep him too long so as long as I got to introduce you guys. But he must've vanished. Gone back in. Or headed out..." words trailing off, a faint flush as he shrugs. Not entirely aware where his elusive flatmate had gone.

"You're not sharing a flat with a serial killer or something are you? A closeted psycho? This is how all those documentaries start... he was such a shy, quiet guy..."

"Yah you brat!" Hobi laughs.

"He's a good guy. He just takes a while to warm up to people—and I figured it'd been long enough that he's gone around hiding around without meeting you guys."

"We're not that bad—I'm not that bad. I get why (Y/N) could scare the living shit out of someone so quiet..."

"Oh shut up! I got you to talk didn't I? I can't possibly be so terrifying." A harder kick to his ankle, a yelp, the wobble of the table where his knee jerks up.

"Well I can see what would scare him off now—maybe I should've invited you guys over."

"Eased him into it?"

"Given him an easy runaway more like." Hobi grins, sighing, a long-suffering sound drawn out and laced with mirth.

"I think you've been hiding him away just as much. Scared we're too—"

"Wild?"

"Unhinged?"

Kook and I echo in unison, voices overlapping.

"Yes. Exactly that. My poor hyung isn't ready for the two of you together."

And his expression takes on a teasing edge, playing with his phone, turning and twisting it in his hand—as if for one brief moment he truly entertains calling it off. A flash of hesitance that's briefly there and then gone.

And I realise that this hyung, this flatmate of his is much more softer and shyer than perhaps we realised—a protective flicker of something almost apologetic at the prospect of forcing his flatmate out.

"Hey hyung? We'll be nice."

"Yeah Hob-ah. Best behaviour. Promise."

The clatter of dishes and glasses being set down briefly diverts focus back towards food, hands reaching out to start piling food onto plates, eyes briefly and distractedly wondering...searching

"I don't have much hope...you'll scare him off before you unleash the crackhead side."

"A crackhead?" the notion at odds with the carefulness Hobi seems to have put into easing his hyung out in the first place. The two ideas don't mesh together, two opposites.

"Yeah...he'd fit right in. Yknow... if he let me introduce him." fingers tapping impatiently at the screen of his phone, glancing at the time.

"You said he's at the gym... he's probably running late." Koo suggests, reading the flitting impatience in Hobi's eyes, the heavy clatter of dishes being set down turning his eyes back towards the food.

A long winding sigh.

Despairing about his roommate.

And then a loose shrug.

"Too bad~ that gives me plenty of time though." A hand propping up his face as he watches me reach for the food, hand faltering slightly under the way his eyes seem to sharpen with interest, settle to focus on me.

"What?"

"Well I do believe you left me... us last night... tell me the story."

"There's no story."

"And he must've had some dick game if I heard you insisting you didn't kick him out this morning."

"Kook!" my head whirls to him.

See the quirk of a grin stretch wider around the mouthful of food.

"What?"

"You were on speaker... and anyways... it had to be some dick game if it got you so hot and bothered that you had to leave to take care of your... urgent problem."

"Hobi you're terrible." I laugh. Unable to hide the way my lips twitch.

He grins at me. Wide and unabashed and unashamed.

And all the same my eyes meet his. Unwavering, mirroring the tilt of his head.

"Am I wrong?"

"....you're not wrong." I concede with a wider quirk to my lips.

A glass, then a second, clinks to mine as I raise mine up, a sudden toast impromptu and random.

"To getting laid."

"To knowing you're ten times hotter when you let your confidence guide you!"

"To men who know what they're doing in bed."

Glasses clinking together, voices overlapping, lips tugging up wider and wider until I feel the faint ache in my cheeks, that bubbly light feeling inside only welling up, giddy and infectious at the cheering grins that Kook and Hobi both sport.

Hobi moves to draw his drink back, only swallowing down a gulp of the smoothie when he brings the glass from his face, voice calling out with an eagerness.

"Hyung! Hyung over here!"

I watch as Hobi's eyes look past me, watch as Kook's eyes trail over to follow his—my curiosity piquing at the sight of his eyes shifting from interested to briefly faltering before alighting with recognition.

And then abruptly his eyes flash towards me, a startled pulse of something... multiple somethings flittering in quick succession through his gaze—

What? My brows furrow, trying to probe the answer from him, finding none.

Head turning to track their lines of sight, to see who Hobi's flatmate is, gaze drifting, searching and then—

My eyes widen with recognition, taking a few faltering moments to let the realisation sink in and then settle. Freeze.

Watch the person weaving their way towards our booth, watch as his own steps slow, eye contact flickering as it meets mine and then the same look of pure, wild startlement. The way his eyes widen with recognition, the smile his lips had been pulled up to falter for all but one micro-instant before they twitch. Before a flash of something too knowing and teasing and intentional—a brief flicker of the man I took to bed last night before the expression shifts. Before it shifts into something more genial, walking towards our booth.

The air in my lungs is strangled. Chokes in my throat.

And the slight nudge of a foot to mine, the look of confirmation in his eyes, that the person approaching the booth, hovering in the corner of my peripheral, eyes not quite daring to turn again. To reconfirm what I've already come to conclude.

Hobi's flatmate is the same guy I brought back to my dorm last night.

Hobi's flatmate is Seokjin.

"Hyung! You took your time getting over here—these guys are..."

"Jungkook and (Y/N)... though I think only I needed the introduction." Kook drawls out slowly, words laced with amusement and when my head jerks to his, his eyes are alight with mischief, ignoring the warning in my own.

"What does that mean? Anyways hyung sit down... sit here—ah no actually wait... scoot your ass up (Y/N)."

The figure in my peripheral grows closer.

Silently I slide further down the booth, feeling the heat of his body brush against mine as he sidles in after me, a sideways glance that I don't quite bring myself to turn to meet.

"Do you already know him Jungkook-ah?"

"Not me. (Y/N)."

I meet the silent inquisitive look in Hobi's eyes, the curiosity hovering there.

"Well why didn't you say? All this time I've been trying to introduce you guys and—"

"Actually I didn't know he was your flatmate when I—"

Even though he doesn't speak to acknowledge it, I feel the quiet bubble of amusement well up from beside me, feel the slight shift of his body as Seokjin sits more comfortably.

I dart a glance to him.

There's nothing in his eyes that speaks of regret, nothing in his posture that indicates anything but a lazy slouched comfort in the loose line of his spine and the stretch of his legs under the table.

There's nothing about him that suggests he wants to hide the reason we know each other.

"She didn't know it was your flatmate she let pin her against the kitchen counter last night." Kook finishes, a smug expression on his face.

Something inside me chokes, splutters at the blasé tone Jungkook exposes the two of us with. And the same splutter of shock is echoed by the slack-jaw expression Hobi sports, the way the tips of Seokjin's ears seem to burn red, shifting slightly in his seat.

"The fuck?" shock lacing Hobi's voice, expression slack-jawed and gaping wide, eyes wide with startle.

"I didn't know he was your roommate!"

"I didn't—I didn't know she was your mate Hob-ah."

"How far did you both—I don't want to know. Don't tell me, don't say it."

But the answer is etched clear onto both our faces.

It's visible by the way Hobi's face shifts through a myriad of expressions before the faintest twitch to his lips and a deeply resigned sigh exhales heavily past his mouth. Heart-shaped lips flickering between an amused lilt and a firm impassiveness.

He fails at it.

Stifles a snort as his head turns to the side and he reaches to tug a plate forward.

"In that case—eat up you two. I don't doubt you're starving."

Besides me, the hot-red tinge to Seokjin's ears burn hotter.

[......]

What? I silently question, staring hard at Kook's own intense stare.

He stares at me pointedly, eyes boring into my own, brow faintly furrowed. Gaze turning more questioning, probing as he continues to look at me.

But the look in his eyes just turns more intent, silently trying to convey a message that for the life of me I can't decipher at the moment.

What!?!

The furrow between his brows deepen, staring at me more heavily, more intently, eyes scouring into me.

Are you dense?! The disbelieving remark sits heavy in his stare, head tilting slightly with disbelief.

A few more moments of silently trying to push me for something... I don't know what Kook—when a soft clearing of a throat turns our gazes to the side.

The faint grace of a smile curving across his lips—and damn those fucking kissable lips Seokjin because the sight of them, the way they tilt with an amusement makes something hot and visceral flash through my mind, an image burning itself across my eyelids, searing itself there. The branding hot reminder of knowing what it felt like to have that smile against my skin, to have those lips part against—

My fingers curl tighter into the fork, skin moulding itself in a tight grip to anchor myself, the faint stirrings of amusement moulding into something more teasing. A dangerous glint in his eyes that's all too reminiscent of the taunting edge Jungkook has before he's about to say something provoking or stupid or—

Clearing his throat intentionally.

"If you're trying to get (Y/N)'s attention—maybe kick the right leg?"

Dumbfounded, Jungkook stares, eyes widening as his mouth parts. A silent agape expression that's stunned and caught-out. Deer in headlights appearance.

"I was just—"

"Have you been kicking Jin hyung under the table?" Hobi snorts into his food, face splitting with amusement, heart-shaped mouth stretching wide with laughter.

"No I just—" spluttering excuses and slightly shame-faced and mollified as Jungkook looks rapidly between me and Jin.

I can't quite stifle the way my lips twitch.

Then curve up.

"Just talk to her—she's right there!" Hobi grins.

"Ah~ maybe tryna keep secrets whilst we're both at the table? That's not nice Jungkook-ah."

Jin's lips stretch wider.

Amusement glittering in his expression, mirth shining in his eyes.

"It was an accident!" voice defensive and cracking slightly.

The lazy tilt of his head, a slight inclination as he looks at him has the bluff faltering and crumbling.

"Wouldn't have been busy bruising up my leg then. You this rough with your skating partner too?" hand reaching to rub his leg, sporting a rueful expression. A conspiring look in his eyes as Jin darts a glance to the side and lets that grin turn more indulgent, private. A wink that right now he's playing my side.

That the slight advantage of knowing him before Kook's gotten to know him gives me the initial advantage.

"Are you picking sides? Over both of us? Hyung he's cheating—that's not fair!" complaint pitched louder as he shoots an incredulous look at us before sidling nearer to Hobi. Protest lost in the laughter and placating words.

Muttering under his breath, words I can read too clear in his eyes, reading the muttering shape of his lips.

Fuck a guy and suddenly you're best buds.

I let my shoulder lift and fall, shrugging lightly.

What can I say? I'm a guy's girl.

You're not my girl.

You love me.

Fuck off dumbbell. Narrowed stare as he looks at me. But then there's a twitch to his lips, an exasperation in the eyes rolled heavenwards.

[......]

There's always something ominous about a certain question.

A twisting sensation as my stomach knots itself into a panicked twist-and-lurch at the question being directed at me.

Voice low and soft, body tilting slightly towards mine.

"Can we talk?"

"Us?" the word stutters on my lips, uncertain and nervous, voice wavering in the hesitance that bleeds into me.

Eyes unable to drift away from the quiet, searching intensity in his eyes. Even the gentleness of his look does nothing to placate that seed of unease that's already taken root.

"Yeah just quickly. Is that okay?"

But it's the flicker of uncertainty, of a hopefulness that has me nodding.

That has me encouraged, briefly soothed, reassured by it as I slide out of the booth after him. Unable to help myself, eyes flickering back. Exchange a glance with Kook—finding his eyes already on me, warmer and softer around the edges.

An encouraging nod as he tilts his gaze past me.

Go on.

Hobi's face is warmer, eyes narrowed with a playful tease but whatever he reads in either of us- eyes skimming between the both of us, softens the teasing edge, softens the expression in his face, shifts his posture into something looser and lighter. Something that speaks of ease and quietly eases it into me too.

It's okay.

And my steps fall behind Jin's, following the slow weaving steps out of the diner and outside.

A quiet tension thrumming between the two of us where it'd been easy to overlook, easy enough to play pretend and forget, that the guy next to me had been the same guy who'd been with me last night.

It's okay to play ignorant for as long as we avoided talking about it.

But the way Jin looks at me, the way his eyes find mine, the way the same recognition, the same intensity in his stare that's a different sort of intensity in this moment... I know there's no avoiding it anymore.

A faint curl graces his lips, eyes lingering on me.

"Didn't know when I was asking for your name last night that I might've gotten it this morning."

"Didn't know Hobi's shy flatmate could be so bold once he's got a few drinks inside him."

"It might be hard to believe but I don't tend to do that."

"Go on about how handsome you find yourself?"

A faint tinge of heat flushes the tips of his ears, but his smile is loose. Amused.

"Nah I do that a lot. Be confident if you know you got it." he shrugs.

"Fair play."

His lips twitch.

"Then?" I prompt.

"I don't usually do parties." A flicker of something self-conscious and shy and so quietly soft that in that instant it isn't hard to connect Jin to the person Hobi's always told me he is.

I spot a glimpse of it there and then.

"Hobi's mentioned that."

"I just—I like spending time with the people I know. Last night I didn't really know you. I took a gamble of getting out of my comfort zone and... I had a great time."

There's a brief pause of silence, a brief moment where the curve of his smile is echoed on my own, a brief glance that's a flash of heated reminder of last night.

"I did too."

"Good...good...." He trails off awkwardly, a hand scrubbing at the back of his head, fingers slipping through dark strands, expression slightly flushed and conscious.

It stirs a laugh out of me.

"Confidence suits you Seokjin. What've we got to be shy about now? We're a bit late for that now."

"Far too late." He agrees.

There's a slight shuffle of his steps as he presses back, body unconsciously sidling nearer half a step at a stronger gust of wind—the air cold enough that stepping out without the jacket still on the booth chair I feel the faint shiver that skims down my spine. He feels it too.

A wry smile as he looks at me.

Eyes searching, probing with a carefulness, with a knowingness that seems to peer past the conversation that perhaps both of us know we're teetering around. Circling. Slowly trying to broach but not quite able to.

There is still the glaring fact that last night happened. And we didn't know that Hobi was a mutual friend.

That perhaps knowing so had changed how last night might've been for him now.

But he eases the worry without realising it. Voice low and soft, sincere in its levelness.

"I don't regret it if that's what you're worried about."

My eyes flash up, widen slightly. The question on my lips but he answers it before I can ask, a soft low laugh exhaled between us, body turning to face me.

"You looked nervous. Like I'd asked you to come out to say that I regretted last night."

The look in his eyes flicker, the warmth of it shifts into something briefly...ever so briefly molten-hot.

"I don't regret an instant of last night. Maybe... maybe I regret how quickly I left this morning too, but I didn't want to overstay."

"You could've."

"I could've but we never discussed it. I could've but I remember you asking me to come over... not stay over. It's your space—I left it." he shrugs casually, the ease in which he says it as if it wasn't something that needed discussing or deciding.

Something so attractive about the way the boundaries and lines and respect for my space as mine and last night as just one night makes me look at Seokjin with renewed appreciation, a warmth that sinks in behind my ribs, that makes my smile warmer as I look at him.

Not all guys are like him. Not all guys are Kim Seokjin.

But maybe the world could do with some more like him.

With guys who respect boundaries and limits and yet... yet last night was—

"Do you regret it?" and there's a carefulness there, eyes peering at me intently, trying to peer past my face and right through my thoughts.

My skin flushes.

Not a regret.

"No."

The corners of his lips quirk, a hint of playfulness there.

"Maybe make a guy wait before answering. You're doing wonders for my ego." lashes fluttering playfully, winking lightly.

The ease of laughter that's reeled out of me is seamless, the way his face lights up is warm in a way I hadn't expected it to be, or to feel looking at it. Something light and carefree about the lack of tension or awkwardness as he looks at me.

"If I remember right... last night you wanted me vocal."

"If you remember right? If you remember wrong maybe last night wasn't done properly. Maybe you weren't done properly." there's a suggestiveness, a tease laced into his words that borders between flirty and teasing, amused and riling. As if he knows full well how to teeter across that line, to dance and weave across that balance.

"Oh, I remember perfectly clear."

"Shame-- because if I had stayed the morning...at your invite, at your insistence I'd have made sure I'd thanked you for last night."

"What about it needed thanks."

"Should always say your thanks for the meal."

"What meal--"

His eyes glitter with a sharp flash, gleam with the same stirring teasing that he'd spent all night with, flickering between impatience and indulgence, slow and drawn out and--

"Anyone ever told you you're a menace?"

"Oh definitely. The same way I know last night wasn't the first time or incident you been called a brat."

"Touché."

There's a faint spark of amusement that then pools in his eyes, softens the dark brown into something warmer. Something that feels like Seokjin in the way Hobi's always talking about him—gentler and sweeter and softer.

This part of him feels like the Seokjin that Hobi's so fond for.

The Seokjin that potentially I could know, Kook could know.

"For what it's worth Jin--"

"No longer Seokjin?" voice teasing, taking the slight dig to his side with grace, smile quirking wider at my elbowing.

"You made me feel really good last night."

"I'm glad."

"Not just... not just pleasure. Last night you made me feel wanted... desired."

"(Y/N) I know I don't have to be the one to tell you that you're so fu attractive you could stop traffic."

"Sounds dangerous." brushing it off.

"Sounds-- (Y/N) I meant what I said last night. You're stunning. And I know I am too, but any guy would be lucky to spend time with you. And that doesn't mean just in your bed. I mean with you... in the daily...like this. Hobi was right."

"That you'd love us?"

"That you guys could be great friends."

And it sounds like he's broaching the same ground, the same balance that mentally I've been trying to approach, trying to level out with.

Friends.

Safe ground.

Friends.

"I'd still like to you know. Be a friend."

"Friends don't fu--"

"I know. But you weren't a friend then. You were a hot piece of ass I bought back. From today you could be a friend. I could be a friend. If you're okay with it."

He deliberates over it, silent and pondering.

Deliberates it to the point where I shift slightly next to him, feel the beginning trickles of uncertainty threaten to seep in when a wide grin tugs at his lips. Shatters the fraction of unease and in that look, I can tell he'd been drawing it out to mess with me.

Teasing shit.

"I'm a great friend. I'll be a great friend for you too. But one thing~"

"What?" I sigh, amused as I look at him.

"Gotta keep it in the friendzone. I can't be your walking fantasy and your friend—gets a bit messy."

I snort.

Lips tugging wider and wider.

Cheeks feeling an ache with it.

"Don't worry Jin I think you and me are going to get along just fine."

An arm loops over my shoulder, squeezing lightly.

A shit-eating provoking smile on his face, a glimmer of a kindred spirit as I stare at him.

"Somehow... I feel the same."

[......]

"So..." the word is heavy and full of intent. Provoking and amused as Kook falls into step beside me, our paths splitting off to veer towards the dorm and Hobi and Jin back towards their apartment.

"So what?"

"So... only you could manage something like that." Kook laughs.

"And what's that meant to mean?" offended as I purposely veer into his path, forcing him to sidestep to avoid tripping.

"Only you could end your self-inflicted dry spell of abstinence by bringing back the first guy whose part of... who's going to be a part of our circle."

"I didn't know! I wouldn't have if I knew."

"Really? Cos the come-hither eyes weren't hiding shit. You enjoyed last night."

"So, what if I did?"

"Good on you...maybe next time go for someone you won't have to keep meeting and seeing? I don't want to see the fantasizing going on in your eyes every time you find Jin attractive."

"I will not!"

"Yeah yeah... we'll see. I can't believe you jumped on hyung's flatmate of all people!"

"How was I meant to know? Hobi said he was shy! And lemme tell you something Kook-ah... last night that guy was the furthest thing from shy. Before I even took him home."

"Shut up, shut up I don't want the details."

My arm links with his, dragging him into me, arms locked tightly.

"Kook-ah...let's be real. Of course you do."

"Of course I don't!"

"You do. You'll know. You gotta celebrate with me."

"What is there to celebrate?"

"That I didn't wait for cobwebs to gather."

"That's disgusting."

"Nothing wrong with a good time—isn't that what you said?"

"...I hate you. You're gross."

"Ahh~ but what's a bit of grossness between friends? You worse."

"I don't think it gets worse than you."

"Awwww...thanks Kookie."

"It wasn't a compliment."

"Know me so well~"

"Shut up."

"Oh never! I couldn't say certain stuff around...certain company..."

"You can't say it now. You don't have to say it now!"

"I need to get it out my system."

"I thought that was what last night was for!"

My fingers pinch his side, feel the squirm of his body as it jerks back from mine, tries to evade it a second time.

"It was... now I need to purge it from the mind."

"Sure it's not gonna stay there?"

"Me and Jin are going to be friends. And friends don't usually fuck each other."

"So you good with being just friends?"

I ponder over the words, turn them over in my mind, the answer already there. Real and tangible and a faint thread of it felt in the light push and pull and banter between Jin and me. Something that was Jin and not the Seokjin I took home.

Something that spoke easily of how readily we could be friends.

Good friends.

"Yeah. Something tells me he's gonna fit in perfectly."

JIMIN POV:

A floodgate opens up from the skies. Suddenly and out of the blue, dark grey clouds and cold winds giving way to the battering of rain that pours down and drenches our hoodies, sodden heavy weight to our torsos.

Legs making a frantic dash, rushing for the nearest shelter we can duck under and then further in. Heading into the nearest gym on campus, peeling off the sodden, dripping layer off. Feel the trickle of water splatter against the ground, feel its cold wet weight against my hand.

Skin and hair saved from the brunt of it.

A frantic grunt as Tae's head gets caught about in the neck of his hoodie, shirt dragged up, wrestling with it before his head pops free. Rumpled curls a damp mess.

"Guess going for a run's out of the plan." Smile hopeful, slightly-damp curls pressing to skin, the tilt of his mouth persuasive.

My head tilts to the side, lips quirking up wryly.

"Or... we could yknow... actually use the gym we just entered."

"We could literally head back. And get an early breakfast. And then maybe movie-night...?"

"It's daytime!"

"Nothing wrong with spending a day in bed, all warm and dry and cosy." He retorts.

"You're literally the one who made the weekend runs a thing!"

"Cos you never do cardio with me!"

"What else is going for a run meant to be?"

"I mean my type of cardio!" Tae insists, feet dragging but still trailing after me as we head into the gym, voice heavy and whining with complaint and protest.

"I think going for a weekly swim would damage my hair, Taehyungie." I wince with apology, though my lips dredge up at the very pouty, very huffy look that settles across his face. Brows furrowed as he stares at me, boring holes into my side.

"My hair's fine!"

"Cos you're used to it. And cos of all those hair treatments you keep."

"I wear a cap most of the time too... but it's just... a different kind of satisfying to swim without squeezing your head into tight rubber." Arm threading through mine to tug me into him, grin sparking with the beginnings of persuasion.

"Come for a swim~ it's more fun than running on a treadmill."

"We're already here though and if we go swimming... we'll end up wet anyways! Which is why we ran in the first place—to get out of being soaked."

"You're no fun. Giving me logic and common sense." Grumbled mutters.

"We're not all mermaids—I'll come swimming more often." I sigh, faltering and crumbling under the jut of his lips, the frowny mock-huffy-hurt look on his face.

Watch it spark with brightness, eyes flaring with a giddy enthusiasm.

"I'll get you a swim cap. Hide all this pretty blonde." Fingers carding through my hair, raking through it with a soft sigh.

"Okay."

"Promise you'll come swimming more often? Once every other month doesn't count!"

"I promise... I promise... maybe if the weather starts to get worse and it rains more we can do swimming for cardio those days—"

"DEAL!"

Steps more eager, grin more wider as he tugs me into him, with him into the gym, busier and more bustling than it usually it is. Picking our way over to two vacant treadmills, side by side.

"Movie night after this?" I offer, the beep-beep-beep of my fingers pressing in the settings, slowly warming up with a quick jog.

Tae's steps are slower, leisurely and dragged out now that technically we're still side by side without having to match pace.

Starting on a slow, ambling stroll as he fishes out his phone, tossing me one half of his earbuds.

"My dorm?" Tae offers.

"Food?"

"You're paying. Duh."

"Oh? Not gonna even pretend to offer?" I laugh.

He hums.

Slow and deliberate.

"Nope." The 'p' popping off his lips.

"Your dorm. And you pay."

"You're the hyung." the loud beep-beeping as he purposely speeds up his treadmill.

Grin visible even from the side.

"Now you like using it to your advantage." I grumble, lips curled up.

It's almost instinctive, unconscious competitiveness, or the riling challenge in the gleaming flash of eyes directed at me, that has my feet thundering heavily on the treadmill, in thumping sync with Tae.

The blast of music through my ear and the sound of our feet against the treadmills almost...almost swallow up the sound of Tae's laugh.

Almost.

-----------------

"Yknow... the figure skating coaches don't do Coach's type of obsessive training or monitoring, but you can tell they're definitely high strung."

"What'd you mean?"

"There's a lot of practices logged on—I tried to get us one of the smaller rinks, but they're all filled up for most of the day. And most of the week."

"How're we going to practise?"

"I can't believe we've gone from having to fight for the main rink to now—now there's open slots... I don't think they're focusing on group practices anymore."

"Figure skating's only as efficient as the formation you're training for I guess. I suppose the larger rink's for practicing in on open ice in the same way they do during competitions cos it gives them a better feel for—" my words trail off, the echo of (Y/N)'s words, (Y/N)'s voice, (Y/N)'s rushed giddiness all faltering on my tongue. That brief spark of something warm and thrilled, in echo of her, sticks to it cloyingly, the sweetness turns overwhelming. Sharpens to a brittle edge. Prickles the inside of my throat.

There's something knowing in Joon's eyes, something that looks close to pity, thinly veiled in his gaze.

"You ended up picking up a bit about figure skating." He remarks instead, voice low and musing.

"I guess all those shared practices rubbed off on me." I deflect.

"Sure, it was just that?" door being pressed open, gaze flitting away as he walks half a beat ahead of me.

Without his gaze fixed on me, it feels a bit easier to breathe past the prickling sensation in my throat, the stinging in my lungs eases slightly but the sour acrid taste on my tongue lingers.

"What else could it be?" denial sticks thickly to the inside of my throat, forms a tight lump that lodges itself there. Breath slightly strangled around it.

"Practice, proximity...a person."

"I don't—" I don't know what you mean.

But that pretence and lie falls short on my lips, it's a lie I don't have the effort to utter. It's a lie that I know isn't fooling either of us even for an instant.

"You sound like (Y/N)."

Even her name is a dagger to the ribs, the pressure sliding in between my ribs to pierce itself through my heart, a painful clenching squeeze around the sharp stab of pain.

Instead, I can't speak. I don't speak.

"Yknow... passionate and fired up and... and actually—it kinda sounds like Coach Seo was onto something." Namjoon fills the silence.

"What'd you mean?" voice slightly uneven, swallowing down the wobble that threatens to linger at the mere mention of her.

"Coach Seo only wanted the shared group training so even if we couldn't be best friends and all... we'd learn to appreciate the other sport, we'd learn to see what it truly meant to be in each other's skates."

And he doesn't quite know perhaps how close his words hit to home.

Doesn't know that it wasn't just an appreciation for the sport but for (Y/N), for everything she poured into it and for everything she gave of herself to the ice, to her talent, to pursuing it and growing it. Doesn't know that all those extra 'practices' on the ice I spent with her, skates in sync with each other, gliding across the ice, hands snagging onto her, heart thumping too loud, too fast, too betrayingly that even in the giddiness I worried she'd feel the rapid thump-thump and read exactly what it meant when my fingers lingered, unwilling to stray or fall away.

Doesn't know quite how much those words mean or rather how easily shared practice had become the excuse to linger, to watch each other practice, to find something more than awe and admiration to well up at watching her practice—an almost envy at the freedom of skating to a programme, to music, to steps and sequences that ultimately were her own.

On the ice, in her sport, (Y/N) was free.

She was free in a way that playing in a team, with a role and responsibility stamped across my front wasn't.

She was herself.

I'm still trying to perform for a role that these days... these days Coach makes me wonder whether I've done an adequate job at filling.

"I respected—I respect her work, her sport, her focus. But the things I said... I'm sure that's the last thing she'll think I have for her. Respect. And—she's not here Joon. She's not here for her to hear what a screw-up I've been, how I said what I wanted her to hear because it's what Coach had wanted me to parrot."

A dry rough laugh escapes my lips, the ice steadily growing closer as we move down to the rink.

"You know what?"

I feel Joon's eyes flit to me, a curious glance.

"What?"

"I know you've said it. I know Yoongi hyung has said it. That Coach's words aren't a law onto me...that they're harsh and strict...but y'know what she said?"

"What did she say?" he hedges almost carefully. Erring on the side of caution in the way his steps slow, in the way he eases onto the ice, a slow turn as he looks at me. Dark brown eyes focused on me, on reading the depreciation on my face.

"She said I was letting myself become what he wanted me to be. She said that I let Coach twist and mould me into what he wants... that when I spoke... she didn't see a difference. Between the person I was... the person I—I want to be...and the person Coach was making me."

Joon's eyes are unreadable.

They're always full of something—some thought or feeling but at this moment I can't read the endless depth of them, I can't read the look—a part of me doesn't want to read the lingering heaviness of something akin to sorrow.

I feel my throat tighten.

Swallow past the lump to step onto the ice after him, the ice for one faltering moment slippery and uneven before I righten my balance.

Moving to grab a hockey stick, to chase a puck across the ice and chase away the threatening heaviness of the conversation, feel a weighted stare trained on my back as I move away.

It's uncharacteristic; the mixed look of blazing fierceness and sharpness, voice low and firm.

It's sudden the way his hockey stick slams into mine, the brunt of his body almost a force that slams into me... almost before he veers to the side in the last instant, stealing the puck from my control.

"She's right. (Y/N) was right." he repeats.

My skates fall into chasing glide after him, trying to wrestle the puck free from his hold, the ease of his movements, the unflappable and smooth glide at odds with my clunkier skating, my sharper erratic failed swipe sparking a seed of something hot and discomforting behind my ribs.

"I know she was."

"You know what else she was right about?"

"What?" the word harder, lunging for the puck.

Failing as he twists to the side, skating backwards.

"She was right that you said what Coach says. You weren't saying what you really thought. She knows that. I know that. But you went too hard, too far."

The unwavering calmness he speaks with, the resolute look in his eyes, firmed in his stance shows that he's talking about it and he's doing it now.

The pinprick of hot-white ache sparks into a flare, spreads out from the centre of my ribs to fan across my chest. Aching molten pain.

"I know... do you think I don't know that?" voice cracking slightly.

The look in Joon's eyes soften.

"Of course I know that. But you know what you're doing wrong now Jiminie?"

I stare at him, head shaking minutely. Silently.

"(Y/N)'s changed her routine, her every day to avoid you. But... that doesn't change she's owed an apology. So, if she's running—why are you hiding? Why aren't you giving your everything to catch up to her purely just to apologise, to acknowledge what you've done but to her face?"

"Why're you...giving up?"

Because it's the right thing to do.

It's the cowardly thing to do. It's the easy way out. It's easy to stay the villain and fall into that role and let myself avoid it all.

It's wrong, it's cowardly. And it's all I've been doing.

Unable to confront what I've done by standing in front of her again. Coward. Coward. Because you can't bring yourself to stand in front of her and watch her walk away, to see her look at you with loathe and hatred and venom in her eyes. Because you won't be able to bear it. Because you won't know how to pick up the pieces after that look in her eyes breaks you. Takes you to your knees, on the ground, right where you've always been.

"Because she hates me. And after everything... I'm a coward to see that in her eyes for me."

"Jimin-ah..."

"I'm a coward. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"What? No!"

"I'm a coward. I hurt her. And I'm terrified of being broken in return. Even if I deserve it. Even if I should be."

"Jimin-ah... that hatred you're so terrified of... it's coming from you too though. You're going to break under your own hatred because it won't let you confront what's happened. You need to—" and there's a pain there now in Joon's eyes. Something so achingly sincere about it that it strikes a discordant pang inside my chest, makes it feel hollowed out with a strong surge of pain and misery and I'm going to cry, I'm going to cry and all it took was that look in his eyes and no, no, no, no, no, no—don't...

"What I need is to practise..." eyes stinging.

"You're going to brush it aside like that?"

"What I'm doing... what I'm asking... is please...please let's just practice--" blinking thickly past the heavy dampness in my eyes, swallowing down the strangling breath, a noose around my neck.

"...Minnie..."

"I need... I know it's not right, I know it's not probably healthy either... but right now I just want to empty my head... I just—" a plea thick on my tongue, heavy as it hangs from my throat, the pressure winding itself tighter, the antsy feeling bubbling up under my skin, welling up until it pushes against my skin, pushes and pushes—needing an outlet, needing to burn itself out, needing to be emptied before that feeling dragged me down into it instead.

"Okay...okay, okay...we'll practise. But—but y'know hyung and I just want what's best for you right? Best for your happiness, best for your way of coping with it all..."

"I know." My voice sounds drained. Tired.

I know they're doing it for me.

But this... this blankness—is something I need to do for me too. At least for now.

-------------------

It's one of those days where everything is too quiet and my head's too loud.

It's one of those days where hours of training and working out doesn't quite drain me enough to exhaustion, body weighted and sore but mind awake– memories and thoughts and feelings all blurring together, entangling, knotted and messy and each one of them yanking me in different directions to the last.

It's one of those days where everything is too loud and where I just– I just want my mind to shut off, I just need it all to pause for one single moment, eyes heavy and dragging down into slow blinks, head turning lethargically towards the door. Body slumped against the side of my bed.

Tae doesn't ask.

Tae doesn't push.

Just quietly sinks down next to me, leg nudging mine in quiet unspoken greeting– as if he can hear the cacophony of noise inside my head and as if in his quietness he's trying to ease a fraction of it away.

Even the slightest bit.

"You didn't turn up to dinner."

"Food hall's always busy at dinner." I say, voice listless, distant. Head thunking back, gaze turning upwards rather than towards the concerned stare I can feel trained on my side. I can't turn towards the look, I know how easily I'll crumble if I do.

How in that noise and chaos and thought after thought pressing in, fighting for space and hammering inside my head, I couldn't afford the slither of that voice that was achy and pleading and so willing to want Tae to reach out, that wants to cling onto the comfort his presence offers, that his presence side by side to mine already brings.

"So? Shouldn't miss out on a meal just cos you were too lazy to wait a bit." Tae's voice aims for teasing but the heaviness in the glance he shoots to the side is too concerned for the words to sink in with warm tease.

"Didn't feel like it today. Figured I'd make shit company so–" I stare ahead, trying to will myself to ignore the look I can feel, glance at me again, linger for a few more moments.

"Busy up there today?" fingers moving to brush through my hair, a light trailing caress of nails against scalp, the gesture comforting, head tilting subconsciously into the touch.

The faint tap-tap of fingers against my head, as if the noise inside is just as audible on the outside. My eyes flutter shut as I let my head tilt further towards the slow motions of his fingers skimming through my hair, feel his hand flit lower to briefly curl against my nape, to encourage and guide the tilt of my head towards his shoulder. Body slumping with no little modicum of relief at the comforting solidness beside me. The low rumble of Tae's voice quiets the noise a bit... just a tiny bit.

"Just been thinking. And thinking."

"What about?"

"Being a better player. A better athlete. A better person."

"And what've you figured out? Or thought about."

"I can only be as good of a player as the effort and time I put in–"

"Which you are. But a healthier managed timing now." an approving warmth in his voice that quietens another fraction of the noise. Fingers continuing their repetitive motions, a cheek pressing to my hair as Tae tilts closer too, shuffling nearer.

"Joon-approved timings."

"Tete-approved. Yoongi-approved. Jiminie-approved."

My lips faintly dredge up.

I do feel better about training in more manageable timings. I do feel like putting in more focused time is better than longer hours training and feeling less-content afterwards.

"And for being a better person... I need to apologise. I... it won't be a clean slate. But she deserves to know I'm sorry. And she deserves to hear an apology."

It's a conclusion that countless nights, countless instances, countless times of seeing the rink empty and bereft and so entirely void of her has only cemented.

"How're you going to reach out?"

"I dunno. But I know I've got to do it. I've got to try."

"Are you... are you hoping for..." Tae hedges carefully, leg pressed up against mine, voice close enough that the weight of his question seems to sink through my skin and settle heavy in the pit of my chest.

The silence stretches out long enough that the air seems to shift with it, the mass of what I want to say, what he wants to ask, the topic we circulate around feels like an aching chasm that if... if somehow if he mentions her, if I mention her... I'll be dragged right into its bottomless depths.

"We don't have to talk about her y'know?" Tae hedges carefully. And for some reason... for some reason, the sight of him blurs slightly around the edges. As if looking at him through a fogged-up pane of glass, as if something blurs the clarity and clearness I can see him in.

"I miss her. So fucking much."

The confession, the admission of it aches. Chokes the breath from my lungs. Makes a fiery ache flare up from the centre of my chest.

Because it's not the same anymore. It's not the same to go to practice because I know she won't be there. It's not the same to push myself to keep going when that same competitiveness is gone. It's not the same to have full access to the ice, knowing that she's just... given it up. It's not the same anymore.

And her absence, the stark reminder of the empty ice

Something pained and aggrieved settles into the heaviness of Tae's eyes when I dare a glance. Something miserable and aching. It takes a few moments to realise that that ache and misery and pain is all for me. He's feeling that pain for me.

"Everything's too far gone? To hope it could ever be fixed?" voice soft, fingers looping around my nape to draw me back to his shoulder.

I wish my insides would settle. Because his question stirs and churns up a sea of emotions and thoughts and pleas and aches that I can't quite give a name to, can't limit them to a sole feeling because the vastness and deepness of what I feel... what I feel when I allow myself to feel, to think of her... it all feels– feels–

"I fucked it up. So badly. I fucked it up so much that I don't think she'd ever want to see me again. In fact she and Jungkook– they both made it very, very clear that it was the last thing I should ever make the mistake of doing. Of trying to see her again."

"So... you'll give her up?" but he doesn't understand.

He doesn't understand what it means to not just throw away something that could've been more but to burn down every bridge until not even ashes remain.

"She wasn't mine Tae."

"You had something."

"We didn't get to have something. I never got to give it a name– I was the one who didn't let us give it a name... if she ever wanted anything more... if she ever felt anything about us the way I felt things about us... it's all ruined."

The churning, twisting weight inside me feels like snakes, live and slithering and twisting and poisonous, feel my stomach lurch with a sickening pain.

The truth of it all doesn't dull. Doesn't dim with days melting into weeks.

Because more and more all I've grown to realise is that I wish... I wish– more than anything that I'd given it a chance to be...

The world right now blurs, the pity in Tae's eyes so starkly clear though, the world fuzzes around the edges but that pain doesn't, that memory doesn't.

"Did you– did you mean it though? The things you said, the way you–"

Wanted her to hurt. Something vicious and cruel and hurting and breaking wanted her to hurt then. Wanted her to feel the same insecurity and pain I was feeling that I didn't care at what cost, I didn't care at what consequence. I hadn't cared for the aftermath until I'd seen a glimpse of it, of blood on ice and a phantom I hadn't been able to see, had only been able to sense its cold shadow afterwards.

The weight in my head only thickens, brain feeling like it's simultaneously wading through a deep entrenching heaviness and as if every nerve cell, every synapse flares with pinpricks of hot-white agony, the look in her face scoured deep into my memory, dragged out from its depths to swim hauntingly in and out of my vision now.

"I– at the time... at the time I knew I wanted her to feel a bit of what I was feeling. But–"

At that time I knew I was digging a hole but rather than try climbing out of it and at that time in that fog of anger and hurt I knew... Some great part of me knew that every word was just burying me deeper and deeper into the grave I was making. But the hurt part of me didn't care.

Now all of me aches and regrets it.

"But?"

"But I knew what I was doing, I could see myself hurting her but I couldn't stop... I didn't stop."

"So what's changed? Why apologise now?"

"Because– because Joon hyung thinks... Yoongi hyung and you think that I shouldn't have let Coach have such a hold on me... and I'm– the more I work to my limits, my strengths... the more I realise that. The more I realise that I did so wrong by her..."

A shoulder nudges against mine and then his arm curls around me.

Voice thick with sympathy.

"Oh Min-ah..."

"Sorry. Sorry I didn't mean to–" offload. Break. Crumble.

"Min-ah... Min-ah it's okay... I'm glad you weren't–"

"I'm sorry..." I choke on the word, feel the stinging welling pressure build up in my eyeline, head dropping forward.

"I'm sorry...I'm sorry..."

The look of betrayed anguish haunts me, swims in front of blurred eyes no matter how tightly I clench them shut.

I'm so sorry (Y/N).

"Minnie... Jiminie... Min-ah it'll be okay... it'll be okay..."

Will it?

Will it? Will it? Will it? Will it ever be okay? Will I ever be able to make it okay?

—----------------

"Glad Namjoon-ah managed to drag your ass out to eat."

"I missed one meal." I mutter, letting Tae's hand grip my sleeve to tug me down next to him, the line of his body, his warmth immediately melding to mine. Warm, soothing and familiar.

"You missed meals and decided to go radio-silent? What happened to the annoying ass always blowing up my phone?" There's a questioning tone to Yoongi hyung's voice but when I stare at him, stare harder at him I realise there's an evasive look in his eyes, head ducking away to focus on arranging the side dishes, hands moving in a busying motion.

"Did you miss me bothering you hyung? I thought you hated it hyung~" tease seeping into my voice.

"I never said I hated it..."

"Didn't you say it's annoying hyung?" Joon teases, watches the impassive look on Yoongi hyung's face turn slightly betrayed, slightly pink before he shrugs his shoulders loosely.

"Stop twisting my words Kim Namjoon."

"Me?!"

"Stick to leading drills... not spreading lies about your only hyung." he teases, chiding good-naturedly, watching as Joon splutters.

"I did no such thing–"

"Don't interrupt your hyung Namjoon-ah."

Lips tugging up, gummy and amused as he watches Joon face flash with shock, spluttering indignation growing louder.

"Hyung we all know you're a secret softie." Foot nudging Yoongi's underneath the table, table jostling and rocking with a thud when Tae's leg jolts up at the kick hyung gives back to him.

"Hyung's working hard to make sure you're all fed and you're what? Ganging up on me?"

"No hyung." Joon and Tae's voices chorus, the faintly... oh so faintly chastised look in their eyes but the stronger look of amusement and lingering tease makes the corners of my lips quirk.

And when I look over at Yoongi hyung, his eyes have flickered away but the corner of his lips are curved too.

"I was just saying hyung that you–"

The bossam-wrap shoved unceremoniously into Joon's mouth is just as much a peak-hyung way of feeding and effectively shutting up Joon's protests.

When he moves to shove a wrap towards me, I part my lips in easy compliance, smile feeling as if it's come easier now than it has in the past couple of days.

Feeling the sheer weight of the last few days lift in the lightness of it all.

Eyes crinkling slightly as his gummy smile widens.

"Eat up Jimin-ah."

"Yes hyung."

--------------------

I can feel someone watching me practise, and I can feel the gaze follow me as I move around the rink. Can feel the assessing nature of the stare, weighted and examining– watching with a thorough carefulness, a quiet intensity that subconsciously makes my spine straighten, eyes almost darting up but managing to remain focused on carrying out the drills.

The mindlessness I'd been performing the drills with shifts to a more careful intensity, performing and now knowing I'm being watched, being observed, eyes briefly flickering to the side and managing the brief flare of surprise at realising that it's one of the figure skating coaches on the edge of the rink. Quietly watching, a relaxed looseness to their limbs that doesn't translate into my own.

Wondering why they're there, why they're watching me practise and what they get out of watching a hockey player practise rather than one of their own athletes.

And even though they never beckon, even though they never ask, never show an inclination of wanting me to approach them... I do.

"That was a good practice."

"Thank you Coach."

"It was a good practice if you think about the fact you were just practicing for the sake of practicing."

"Sorry Coach, I don't get what you mean?"

"You're practicing to go through the motions for practicing– is your mind not in it at the moment?"

"It is. I was just doing drills. It gets quite repetitive so it might've felt like–"

"Like there was something mechanical about it. Where's the... passion?"

"It's there." a defensive edge to my voice.

Quietly, her brows lift. Head tilting as if in deep contemplation, deep thought. Voice softer than I've heard it. And I've heard it sharp and commanding, I've heard it firm and leading, I've heard it gentle even... but this sort of softness, this sort of carefulness has always been reserved for her players, her athletes. Not for us. For me.

"It's vacant. It's like–" she muses carefully.

"It's like you want to be passionate, you're driving the movements hard and you're executing them well... faultlessly but it seems... hollow. Empty."

As if when she looks at me, she sees right through me, sees the listlessness, senses it in my movements.

In one observation, in a single instant she seems to pinpoint what's lacking from my movements.

"Coach Choi hasn't had a complaint." yet.

It's easy to hide in team practices, it's easy to avoid close scrutiny or being pinpointed for faults and flaws when I enter and leave with the team. When I use them to blend into the mass. It's not as easy when I'm the only one on the ice and the only other person present is a retired-Olympian athlete on the other side of the rink staring at me as if the longer she stares the more she scours off me. As if she senses the nervous unevenness of my pulse, a trepidation that tastes so nauseatingly familiar– the churning of my stomach because the person looking at me, assessing me is someone who sees every flaw and fault and–

"You didn't hear it from me but Coach Choi's got a stick up his ass."

The remark is so out-of-the-blue, so blunt, so casually said that it makes a startled snort of surprise slip past my lips, her smile curving up– the glacial coldness I've always associated with her, because of Coach, because of her titles and accomplishments and– it recedes.

Warms.

Amusement glitters in her eyes.

"Which apart from making him extremely uptight and controlling as a Coach also means he focuses on the result and his athletes being moulded to his expectations. He takes nothing else."

"Is that so wrong Coach?"

"Nothing wrong with having standards of performance. Though..." she trails off.

Voice softer.

Gentler.

As if breaking the news more carefully, with a gentleness that doesn't match the remark she makes of Coach.

"Though it doesn't benefit in the long run. That competitiveness works well for solo athletes. Not group players. Even if some of you get signed on to different teams... you need to have something more than just...rehearsed perfection."

There's something in her words, in the unwavering confidence, in the way she says it that for a brief moment reminds me of (Y/N). If I was an echo of my Coach, (Y/N)'s got an echo of hers.

"No offence Coach–" I begin.

Feel my skin warm, chastised by the way her gaze turns expectant. But she waits. It doesn't feel like I can't speak.

"But there's a difference in the performance of figure skating and with ice hockey. Figure skating is scored for its performance quality... ice hockey isn't."

"I'm not saying it is. I'm saying that if it looks like you're practising for the sake of practising then maybe... maybe you've got to switch it up a bit. Do your other training off the ice. Give yourself a break."

"I'm not tired of the ice."

"I'm sure it's sick of you battering at it. So take a break." she repeats, body half-turned as if to leave.

"And Jimin?"

Another pulse of surprise. Startled that she knows my name.

"I'm saying it cos I see it happen with my own athletes. I've seen it happen with one of my own. Train within your personal limits. And your Coach has to accept it."

"There's competitions–"

"You got a whole life for it. Don't burn out."

"Thank you Coach."

"Anytime."

[......]

"Jimin, are you staying for practice? Lee's staying behind to run through some extra individual practice." Coach offers.

I pause in turning to leave with the others, feel Joon pause a few paces ahead of me.

"Is it mandatory?"

"No but it's good to get ahead yknow? You guys have had a great team practice–"

"If it's okay Coach...I think I want to head out and get some rest. We've got a full day tomorrow."

There seems to be a bated pause, breath caught in my throat, a tightness beginning to creep into my lungs, nervous at having said, at having turned down practice when–

Coach's expression is odd.

"Sure about that?"

My fingers dither with the strap of the helmet, cling onto it tighter.

"If it's okay with you Coach."

"...yeah. Yeah that's fine. Guess it's me and Lee. Getting in some quality training." an intent in his voice, a brighter, harder smile as he turns to Lee, who in his own right looks thrilled by the prospect, the look on his face smug.

I shrug, shoulder rising and falling as I turn away from Lee. From the failed provocation.

"I'll see you tomorrow Coach."

A series of goodbyes echoing as the others file off the ice.

Joon's shoulder nudges me, face dishevelled, flushed and hair rumpled but grin wide, dimples deep.

"Dinner?"

"Let's go."

And the tightness in my chest eases with every step.

(AND SCENE! WHEW... JIMIN'S POV HAD TO BE REWRITTEN A FEW TIMES COS I WAS TRYING TO FIND THAT MIDDLE GROUND WHERE HE'S JUST...CONFUSED. AND HURTING. AND ACHING AND I WANTED THAT TO COME THROUGH SO I HOPE IT DID RATHER THAN JUST BE...MESSY. @Midiiplier ARE YOU READY FOR WHAT'S COMING 😉 BUCKLE UP ITS TIME FOR GROWTH AND QIFIQEFNEIGB MORE...JUST MORE)

Borahae! 💜💜💜

PurpleQueenie