Forever Waiting, Forever Hoping - A HanJay AU

🌻◈◈🌻◈◈🌻

In the electric aftermath of a championship victory, Hannie—still breathless and sweat-slicked from the game—publicly claims JL in front of thousands. As the crowd roars and cameras flash, JL is overwhelmed by memories of years spent silently loving Hannie from the shadows, never daring to hope his feelings might be reciprocated.

This pivotal moment transcends sports—Hannie's every move on the court had been a secret love letter, and now his deliberate declaration makes their private longing gloriously public. 

The world watches as what was once hidden becomes undeniable, marking a seismic shift in their relationship from stolen glances to unapologetic devotion.

🌻◈◈🌻◈◈🌻

Six days.

One hundred forty-four hours. Eight thousand six hundred forty minutes. Not that he's counting.

That was how long it had been since JL last shared the same air as Hannie—since he'd felt the warmth of his touch or heard his voice, raw and unfiltered, instead of strained through a speaker. Texts and grainy video calls were their fragile tethers, but they could never replace the way Hannie's grin flooded him with light, or how their hands slotted together like two halves of the same heartbeat.

Today, though—today, the ache would end.

The campus throbbed with the kind of energy that made JL's nerves hum. 

Riverview. 

The name alone sent a current through the student body, a collective memory of last season's heart-pounding finals, of sweat-slick jerseys and a victory clawed back from the brink. Now, the halls vibrated with chants, sneakers squeaking against polished floors as crowds surged toward the gym. JL rolled his shoulders, restless. He wasn't here for the game. Not really.

His phone had lit up that morning with Hannie's promise:
"Save me a seat. I'll find you after we win."

As if JL could be anywhere else. As if he'd ever want to be.

The thought of seeing Hannie again—sweaty, triumphant, his eyes alight with that competitive fire—sent a familiar thrill through him. 

Today wasn't just about basketball. 

It was about discreet glances across the bleachers, post-game celebrations, and maybe, if JL dared to hope, the contact of Hannie's skin against his as they walked home together.

Victory was sweet. But reunion? That was everything.

The stands loomed ahead, alive with the growing murmur of the crowd. Shuaibo, Juwon, Joohyung, and Woongki trailed behind him, their laughter and chatter blending into the hum of anticipation. The energy was infectious—every breath carried the sharp scent of polished wood and sweat, the electric tension of a game about to begin. 

His pulse thrummed in time with the distant squeak of sneakers against the court, the sound pulling him back to another time, another game.

His eyes snapped to the court before his mind could catch up—an instinct as sure as gravity, as inevitable as north finding its pole. And there, radiant at the center of it all, was Hannie: his compass, his anchor, the living, breathing epitome of everything that made JL's world tilt on its axis.

Hannie moved with the easy confidence of someone who owned the space around him, sweat-damp hair catching the light as he laughed at something a teammate said. The sound cut through the noise of squeaking sneakers and shouting players, sharp and bright, and JL's chest tightened like it always did—that familiar, helpless pull.