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A struggling team practice. Three rules, zero self-control. When practice session exposed the truth, some hearts dribbled faster than the ball.
Spoiler: They're all losing!
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The (Failed) Pact
Day 2
Hannie lifted his bottle and declared, "New rule—no phones until practice is over."
Kyungho nodded in agreement, adding, "And no chatting about crushes or relationships during drills."
Chih En jumped in, "Also, no naming random objects after our—"
A sudden ding cut him off. All eyes turned to Hanseo, who grinned and dismissed them with a wave. "Relax, guys. It's just my mom."
Then—Hannie's phone vibrated in his pocket. The room went still. Kyungho blinked. "...Is it JL?"
"Not your concern," Hannie muttered, already typing away without looking up.
With a dramatic sigh, Chih En exclaimed, "Five seconds in, and we hit this? We're completely screwed."
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After first break
The team shuffled back in after their quick break, when Coach Jang clapped his hands sharply.
"Alright, losers. Today we're running suicide sprints until your lungs give out. And since you all played like zombies yesterday—" His voice echoed across the gym.
"Zombies would've had better coordination," Hanseo muttered, not quietly enough.
Coach's eye twitched. "New rule effective immediately," he growled. "I'm sick of watching you lovesick idiots half-ass practice. Consider this me being generous—you should be grateful." His razor-sharp gaze swept across the team. "From now on, every screw-up means suicide sprints... plus confessing exactly who's been occupying your brain instead of plays."
The team went dead silent. What the actual hell? Since when did Coach turn into a sadistic matchmaker?
🌻🌻🌻
Round 1: The Warm-up Disaster
Kyungho's foot caught on nothing mid-stretch, sending him stumbling.
Coach Jang's smirk was instant. Pathetic. "Spill it, Kyungho. What's got your head in the clouds?"
"I—uh—my grandma's kimchi fumes?" Kyungho offered weakly, avoiding eye contact.
"Bullshit! It's Woongki!" Chih En crowed, pointing.
Scarlet-cheeked, Kyungho groaned. "Okay, yes! His damn haircut is distracting, alright?!" The team's howls of laughter nearly drowned him out as he yanked his jersey over his burning face.
"Suicides! Now. All of you," Coach Jang snapped—and like startled mice, the team scrambled.
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Round 2: Shooting Drills Gone Wrong
The ball clanged off the rim for the third time in a row - a perfect hat trick of humiliation. The echoing clank-clank-CLANK might as well have been a laugh track.
Coach didn't even look up from his clipboard. "Let's play everyone's favorite game: 'What's Distracting Hannie Today?'" His dry tone cut deeper than any shout. "Let me guess," Coach drawled. "That kid with the yellow baseball cap?"
"...No," Hannie grumbled. Hannie's death grip on the ball turned his knuckles white. "I was just... thinking about lunch!"
Hanseo's shit-eating grin could power a small city. "Funny, because your lockscreen is JL mid-sneeze looking like a startled racoon."
The gym went dead silent. Then—
"You have a candid?!" Chih En screeched, vaulting over a bench like this was a true crime revelation. "Not even a good one? A sneeze?"
Hannie's voice cracked three octaves higher. "It's funny okay? It's—wait why am I explaining myself to you vultures?!"
Coach Jang's whistle cut through the chaos. "So..." The smirk playing on his lips was downright evil. "JL, huh? Cute name for a cute distraction."
"NO—" Hannie's soul visibly left his body. His mouth opened and closed like a suffocating goldfish as the team lost their collective minds.
"Since we're all so invested in Hannie's love life," Coach boomed, "let's run suicides until we forget JL's face. MOVE!"
As the team groaned into motion, Hannie whispered to the heavens: "I will get revenge on every single one of you."
Someone in the back yelling "JL! JL! JL!" like a sports chant. Another teammate sneakily taking a photo of Hannie's devastated face for future blackmail.
🌻🌻🌻
Round 3: Defense? What defense?
The gym fell silent as the second-stringer obliterated Chih En at the rim—the kind of dunk so vicious, it should've come with a parental warning. The ball slammed through the net as Chih En hit the floor with a thud that echoed through everyone's dignity.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
"Let me guess," Coach Jang drawled, voice dripping with sarcasm. "The tall drink of water with the flowy brown hair?"
"NO! It—it was the wind!" he screeched, scrambling up like a man possessed. "A sudden gust! A microburst—"
Leaning in with a stage whisper, Kyungho fluttered his lashes. "Ohhh, right. The wind that totally whispered... ~Shuaibo~...?"
"I will end you—" He launched at Kyungho like a feral cat his fingers hooked for maximum damage—
The whistle screeched.
"Five! More! Suicides!" Coach roared, veins popping. "And if I hear one more word about Shuaibo's goddamn name—!"
The team's groans of despair merged into a singular, pitiful wail as they dragged themselves to the baseline.
🌻🌻🌻
The Final Straw
The team lay sprawled across the court like casualties of war—jerseys soaked, lungs burning, souls halfway to the afterlife. Just as the last wheezing groan faded into blessed silence...
Buzz.
Hanseo's phone lit up like a grenade with the pin pulled. Against all common sense (and survival instinct), he glanced at the screen.
"Oh shit, Joohyung just—" The words tumbled out before his brain could stop them.
The reaction was instantaneous.
Hannie rolled onto his back like a dying tortoise, cackling maniacally. "Ha! Koo, you're down bad too?!"
The color drained from Hanseo's face faster than sweat from their jerseys. He slowly turned to meet Coach's eyes like a man facing a firing squad. "...I would like to retroactively delete that sentence."
Coach didn't yell.
No clipboard spike. No veins bulging. Just dead silence, his hands clamped over his temples like a man trying to contain an explosion. The team froze, waiting for the eruption.
It never came.
Instead, his voice dropped to a sandpaper whisper: "I get paid... how little... to deal with this?"
A beat. Then another. The air thick enough to choke on.
Then—one sound.
A lone basketball, wobbling slow-motion across the empty court. No dribble. No hands. Just the hollow thump... thump... thump of their shame, echoing long after the practice was over.
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The library is dead silent—just the soft shhh of flipping pages and the AC's gentle whir. Golden sunlight spills through the windows, painting lazy stripes across the study tables like nature's highlighter.
And then there's them—the chaotic dream team: JL, Juwon, Shuaibo, and Woongki, crammed together like a quartet of conspirators, whispering furiously after hearing about the Basketball team's epic training disaster. Plotting? Scheming? Or just mentally drafting more chaotic stints? Who knows. But one thing's certain—trouble (or absolute clownery) is brewing.
"Okay, listen up!" Woongki hissed, barely containing his excitement. "My jagiya, Kyu, said practice was a total warzone—suicide sprints, screaming matches, tempers flaring, the works. Like, apocalypse-level bad."
JL bit his lip, conflicted. "If it's really that bad... shouldn't we at least try to help?"
Juwon gave him a flat look. "With what? We are not ballers, and they're miles away from here."
Shuaibo's eyes lit up like fireworks. "I know! Let's crash their practice!" he burst out, bouncing in his seat. "Sneak in tonight, play heroes until the weekend. Who's in?"
Juwon's face flashed with excitement before crumbling. "Ugh, I wish—but it's my mom's birthday. No way I can bail."
"Priorities, king," Woongki teased, nudging him. "Go shower your mom with love. We'll handle the chaos." Juwon sighed, fingers drumming his knee like he was already missing out.
JL crossed his arms, the resident worrywart. "Great plan—except, oh right, closed-door training, remember? Coach Jang would skin us alive."
Woongki spun his pen with a devilish smirk. "Unless... we ask real nice."
"Coach Jang's idea of 'nice' is extra burpees," Juwon muttered, tugging at JL's sleeve.
"Rude!" Woongki clutched his chest like he'd been shot. "I charmed him into free coffee last month, remember?"
"You mean when you fake-laughed at his 'vintage' joke for five minutes straight?" Juwon deadpanned.
"And? Results, babe," Woongki shot back, leaning in. "Trust me, we'll get in. Boost morale, maybe even stop a fistfight or two."
JL frowned. Hannie's team just won a championship—why the meltdown? He'd been too busy trading cheesy flirty lines with him to notice anything wrong. Oops.
"Fine," JL sighed, giving in. "But if Coach makes us run suicides, I'm throwing you under the bus first." A grin tugged at his lips—though in the back of his mind, he couldn't help but wonder: What will Hannie think when we show up unannounced?
Shuaibo snorted. "Count me in! I'll take care of all the snack essentials."
"Alright, game on!" Woongki chirped, phone already in hand as his thumbs blurred across the screen. "Oh hey—mind if I drag Joohyung along too?" A mischievous grin spread as he kept typing without looking up. "Dude's been lowkey obsessed with Hanseo all week. Pretty sure it's full-blown crush territory at this point."
"The more the merrier!" Shuaibo grinned, underhand-tossing an energy drink across the table. Woongki snagged it mid-air without even looking up from his phone—years of dorm life reflexes paying off.
"Messaging Coach, done!" Woongki announced, flashing a thumbs-up. "If he ghosts us? I'll hit him with the 'vintage charm' call." The group chuckled and nodded solemnly—this was a battle plan they could believe in.
Ahem.
The librarian's dagger-sharp glare hit them like a freeze-ray. Instant statues. For exactly thirty seconds. Then—
"Swiss rolls are objectively superior—" Woongki whisper-hissed, already breaking the silence.
JL facepalmed, but his shoulders shook with silent laughter. Hannie's team better grovel with gratitude—or else.
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Later that day
The gym echoed with the sound of squeaking sneakers and labored breaths as Hannie and his teammates struggled through another grueling practice. Passes went awry, shots clanked off the rim, and defensive rotations were slow—worse than the last two days, if that was even possible.
Coach Jang stood at the sidelines, arms crossed, his expression darkening with every mistake. His jaw clenched so tight it looked painful. When Hannie fumbled an easy fast-break layup, Coach finally snapped.
"ENOUGH!"
His voice boomed across the court, freezing everyone in place. The players exchanged nervous glances as Coach Jang stormed onto the floor, looking like he was two seconds away from pulling his own hair out.
"What is this?! Are you all trying to lose on purpose?!" He glared at Hannie, who flinched under the intensity. "Hannie, you're our point guard! You're supposed to lead, not play like you've never touched a basketball before!"
Hannie wiped sweat from his brow, frustration bubbling up. "I'm sorry, Coach, I'm trying—"
"Try harder!" Coach Jang cut him off. "All of you! If you keep playing like this, we might as well forfeit the next game next week!"
The team fell silent, the weight of their poor performance pressing down on them. Hannie clenched his fists, guilt and determination warring inside him. He knew they were better than this—he was better than this.
Coach Jang took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. "One more drill. And if you can't do it right, we're staying here all night."
Hannie exhaled sharply, meeting his teammates' eyes. They couldn't afford another failure.
"Let's go," he muttered, rolling the ball in his hands. "We're not ending like this."
The team nodded, steeling themselves. This time, they had to get it right.
The practice session dragged on, the tension thick as Coach Jang barked orders, his patience wearing thinner by the minute. Just as he was about to blow up again, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen—Woongki. Why the hell is this kid contacting him?
He had no time for small talk, but the relentless pinging of his phone was already grating on his nerves. Frowning with curiosity, he stepped aside to read the message:
His first instinct was to decline—outsiders had no place in his training sessions. But then he looked back at his team: Hannie missing easy passes, the others sluggish and distracted. Lovelorn idiots, he thought bitterly. If Woongki and his group were the root of this mess, maybe they could fix it too.
Another wave of notifications forced his eyes back to his phone. He huffed, making an uncharacteristically rash move, throwing caution aside and typed a quick response:
The reply came instantly:
Coach Jang smirked. A little surprise intervention might be exactly what these kids needed.
As he tucked his phone away, he watched Hannie finally sink a three-pointer—about damn time—but the team's energy was still all wrong.
Let's see if this 'help' actually does something, he thought, crossing his arms. If this backfired, he'd never hear the end of it from the school board. But at this point? He was willing to try a different approach.
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The team was mid-drill, sweat dripping, lungs burning—still not up to Coach Jang's standards, but slightly less disastrous than before. Coach Jang crossed his arms, watching them with a critical eye.
"Is this really the best you can do?" he barked, though a smirk tugged at his lips. "Pathetic. At this rate, even a middle school team could wipe the floor with you."
Hanseo, panting, shot him a tired glare. "Sorry, Coach, we're trying—"
"Try harder!" Coach Jang snapped, but his phone buzzed. A quick glance—We're here, Coach.
His gaze snapped back to the boys as if nothing had happened. "You know what? I think it's time. Maybe I should just call in some real players to show you how it's done."
The team groaned, too exhausted to argue—until the gym doors slammed open.
"Did I just hear someone say actual ballers?!" Woongki announced with a flourish, sweeping into the room like a main character making their grand reveal. Shuaibo trailed behind, flashing a variety-show grin before spinning twice with showy, exaggerated grace.
Hannie's breath caught in his throat, his pulse kicking up—not from exhaustion, but from the way JL stood there, effortlessly perfect in his dark-wash denim overalls layered over a crisp white tee, that sunshine-yellow cap tilted just right.
JL shifted the carefully wrapped lunchbox in his hands, cheeks pinkening under Hannie's gaze. Every instinct screamed to close the distance between them, to crush JL against his chest—but no. Not yet. So, Hannie just curved his lips into that lazy, knowing smile, the one that said Later without a single word.
JL blushed, hugging the lunchbox tighter before offering a shy smile in return.
Meanwhile, chaos erupted around them:
Woongki launched himself at an unsuspecting Kyungho, who barely had time to brace himself. "Jagiya, I brought your favorite ramen!" he cheered, clinging like a koala. Kyungho sighed but held him tighter anyway. "You're ridiculous." The fondness in his voice betrayed him.
Hanseo literally bounced, screaming, "Joohyung!!" before latching onto him in the clingiest display they'd ever seen. Joohyung ruffled his hair. "Missed me that much, Koo?" Hanseo nodded wildly. "Did you bring me anything?" Joohyung fake-pouted. "So that's why you're clingy?" rolling his eyes playfully at Hanseo. "No! No! You being here was enough!" Joohyung laughed. "Good. I did bring your favorite drinks." Cue: more bouncing.
Even the usually composed Chih En finally broke, curling his forefinger with a grin to summon Shuaibo. With the flair of a runway model—complete with a playful spin—Shuaibo sauntered over and tossed him a large pack of spicy squid jerky. "Special del—" he began, but before he could finish, Chih En yanked him forward a bit too forcefully, sending him tumbling against his chest. Rubbing his nose, Shuaibo retaliated with a light smack to Chih En's arms.
JL lingered awkwardly near the entrance, debating whether to approach Hannie first—but the choice vanished when Hannie strode toward him, determination in every step. JL's pulse spiked again, ears burning.
"Hey, babe. You're really here." Hannie's voice was soft, almost reverent, as he stepped close, his eyes tracing every line of JL's face like he was afraid he'd forget it. Without hesitation, he reached up and turned JL's baseball cap backward, fingers lingering just a second too long. "There. Now I can see you properly." JL huffed, feigning annoyance, but didn't pull away. "Miss me?" Hannie asked, lips quirking.
"In your wildest dreams, Park," JL retorted, rolling his eyes—but the way his mouth curled into that familiar, teasing smile gave him away. Hannie's laughter was warm, effortless.
"So damn cute," Hannie murmured, thumb brushing the sharp line of JL's jaw. "Even if you won't say it, I know you did. And I missed you. A lot. Thanks for coming."
JL's resolve crumbled. In one swift motion, he yanked Hannie against him, arms locking around his waist like a vise. He buried his face in the damp fabric of Hannie's shirt, breathing him in, uncaring of the sweat, the heat, anything but the solid reality of him. "Of course I missed you," he muttered, voice muffled against Hannie's chest. He nuzzled closer, almost unconsciously, like he was trying to fuse them together. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be than right here with you."
Hannie grinned broadly, tightening his embrace. They lingered in each other's arms for a long moment before Hannie eased back slightly. "I'm all sweaty, babe. Don't want you to get gross."
"I don't mind. You still smell amazing—kinda addictive, actually." The words slipped out before JL could stop them, and his face instantly burned.
Hannie's eyes gleamed with mischief. "Really? That's very interesting."
JL feigned nonchalance, shoving the lunchbox against Hannie's chest with a bit too much force, making him gasp. "Here, for you. But if it tastes like garbage, don't come crying to me—I'm no chef—"
Before JL could finish, Hannie had already opened and taken a bite of the gimbap. "Mmm... Divine," he said, his voice dripping with playful charm. "Just like you." JL's traitorous heart did a backflip, but he recovered with a sharp swat to Hannie's arm—so hard the lunchbox nearly went airborne but Hannie caught it effortlessly, looking far too pleased with himself. Damn him.
Coach Jang watched the chaos, torn between annoyance and satisfaction. Despite himself, he felt the shift—the boys were suddenly more focused, more alive. "Alright, enough! If you're done reuniting like a K-drama—"
Woongki gasped. "Coach! This is a drama! The heartwarming underdog story!"
The team burst into laughter, the gym buzzing with energy. Even Coach Jang smirked. "Tch. Fine. Take a 15-minute break. But if you don't improve, I'm kicking you all out."
The gym erupted in cheers as players scattered—some heading for the lockers, others collapsing onto the polished hardwood floor. Hannie guided JL to the bleachers, his grip just a little too tight to be casual.
The moment JL sat, Hannie slid effortlessly down between JL's spread legs, his back resting against the bench as he melted into JL's space with practiced ease. His arms draped heavily over JL's thighs like they belonged there. "God, I've waited for this," he murmured, tipping his head back to gaze up at JL, his eyes tracing every familiar feature like a man starved for sunlight.
JL gazed down at him, that familiar warmth spreading through his chest. Feels nice. By now, he knew Hannie could be a flirt—clingy, touchy, and surprisingly, he was getting used to it. Fast. JL thought.
Without thinking, JL grabbed the towel hanging around Hannie's neck and began dabbing at his sweat-damp hair. The simple domesticity of it made Hannie's grin widen, transforming his exhausted expression into something bright and boyish.
"You're gonna waste your break staring, Park?" JL chided, nudging the lunchbox closer. "Eat before someone steals it."
Hannie's smirk turned wolfish. "Let them try." His voice dropped to that low, possessive register that never failed to make JL's pulse stutter. "What's mine stays mine."
"Ridiculous," JL muttered, but the way Hannie's gaze lingered made him suddenly unsure if they were still talking about food.
Hannie plucked a piece of gimbap from the box, holding it up between his fingers. "Here. Say 'ah'."
JL rolled his eyes but leaned in anyway - then froze when his lips accidentally grazed Hannie's fingertips. The contact sent an electric jolt through them both, so intense JL swore he could feel it in his teeth. When he dared to look up, Hannie's eyes had gone dark with something far more primal than hunger for food.
The raucous noise of the gym faded to a distant buzz as they stared at each other, caught in that charged moment. JL could see the exact second Hannie's breathing changed, could feel the answering heat creeping up his own neck—
A sharp whistle shattered the spell. Coach Jang's voice cut through the tension like a blade. "Park! Back on the court!"
Hannie's frown was fleeting but unmistakable—the look of a man being forcibly separated from something precious. Reluctantly, he pressed the nearly empty lunchbox into JL's hands, his fingers lingering just a second too long. "Keep this safe for me," he murmured, voice rough with unspoken meaning. Then, softer, almost pleading: "Stay right here." The playful flick to JL's nose did nothing to mask the intensity in his eyes as he finally pulled away.
As if JL could be anywhere else. This—this easy intimacy, this unspoken understanding—was what they might have had years ago, if only they'd been braver. But as JL watched Hannie jog back to the court, the past didn't matter. Because right now, in this perfect moment, he wouldn't change a single thing.
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Practice 2.0 – Love (and Snacks) Fuel the Comeback
The gym buzzed with a new kind of energy—one Coach Jang hadn't seen in weeks. The boys were still sweaty, still breathing hard, but now their eyes sparkled with something dangerously close to enthusiasm.
"Alright, lovebirds," Coach Jang barked, though the edge in his voice was softer now. "Let's see if all this motivation actually translates to skill. Five-on-five scrimmage—losers run suicides."
Normally, groans would follow. But today?
Hanseo pumped his fist. "Joohyung, watch me destroy them!"
"Better not embarrass me, Koo." Joohyung smirked.
Kyungho cracked his knuckles. "Woongki, if we lose, I'm blaming you." Woongki gasped. "Excuse me, jagi?!! I brought you ramen, and this is the thanks I get?!" Kyungho winked at Woongki, letting him know he was just kidding.
Hannie looked at JL, waiting for the latter's reaction. JL, not knowing what to say, simply cheered him on. "Fighting, Hanniya!"
All eyes turned to him curiously. JL rolled his eyes to them but smiled, turning his attention back at Hannie. "Please don't trip over your own feet, Hannie!"
The room exploded with rowdy laughter and playful shouts, the sound bouncing off the walls as teammates jostled each other. Amidst the chaos, Hannie caught JL's eye and gave him a small, knowing nod. Then, with cinematic slowness that made the surrounding noise fade into background static, Hannie raised his pinky finger and pressed it deliberately over his heart.
JL's breath caught. Wait—was this some kind of secret signal between them? The gesture tugged at something deep in his subconscious, achingly familiar yet just out of reach.
Then, like a lightning strike, the memory tore through the fog of his drunken recollections—fragmented images of whispered promises and intertwined fingers flashing behind his eyes.
"You're... too good. Too gorgeous."
"Wanna keep you. In my pocket. Or—or my apartment. Every day. All the days."
Him—raising his pinky towards Hannie, "Promise?"
Hannie whispering, "Promise," like it was a vow and slowly raising his own pinky in return.
Hannie flashing him a blinding smile.
"Oh...," JL breathed, heart racing, the words settling between them like a sacred vow.
A golden warmth unfurled in his chest, spreading through his veins like sunlight. He held Hannie's unwavering gaze, letting the moment stretch as his lips curved into a smile that held years of unspoken affection.
With deliberate care, he raised his pinky finger, pressing it lightly over his heart in perfect mirror of Hannie's gesture.
The world seemed to pause as Hannie froze, his eyes widening slightly before his entire face lit up with a smile so bright it could rival the sun.
In that suspended heartbeat, something profound clicked into place between them - an unbreakable understanding that needed no words, a connection that thrummed with the rightness of two puzzle pieces finally finding their match.
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The Practice Game Play Begins
Hannie, usually overthinking every play, moved with sharp precision—dishing no-look passes like he was showing off. Well, he absolutely was.
Hanseo hit three-pointers with Joohyung yelling, "That's my Koo!" every time.
Kyungho dominated rebounds, Woongki dramatically narrating like a sports commentator: "And... the crowd goes wild!"
Chih En and Shuaibo exchanged a look before Chih En stole the ball mid-dribble, Shuaibo cheering, "That's my man!"
Coach Jang watched, arms crossed, eyebrows creeping higher. "Huh." The team was faster. Smarter. Hungrier.
Was it the snacks? The morale boost? The sheer power of not being lovesick idiots anymore? He sighed, whatever it was, he was just glad the boys were getting back on track.
It was just a practice game but it's getting intense. The score was tied. Last possession. Hannie had the ball, seconds ticking down. JL stood up, abandoning his usual calm. "Hanniya! Just shoot it already, for Pete's sake!"
Hannie grinned—and launched a half-court shot.
Swish.
The gym erupted. Hanseo tackled Hannie to the ground, Kyungho actually smiled, and Chih En high-fived Kenta like they'd won a championship.
Coach Jang pinched the bridge of his nose. "...Fine. Maybe you're not hopeless."
Woongki clapped his hands, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Awww, Coach! Was that a compliment just now?!" He pressed a dramatic hand to his chest as the team erupted into laughter.
"IT WAS AN OBSERVATION!" Coach Jang bellowed, veins popping in his forehead, but his words were swallowed by the team's whoops and cheers. No one was listening—not when victory still buzzed in the air like electricity.
Across the court, JL's gaze locked onto Hannie's. Sweat-drenched and breathless, Hannie flashed a grin, lips shaping silent words: "For you. Always."
JL's breath hitched. For a second, the noise around them faded—just the hammering of his own pulse in his ears. Then he let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking his head. "Unbelievable," he muttered, but the warmth in his chest betrayed him
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The training ended with a marked improvement, earning the team rare praise from Coach Jang—though he warned them not to get too comfortable. As the others dispersed for dinner or showers, Hannie, Kyungho, Hanseo, and Chih En lingered behind, sprawled across the court with their "partners."
Hannie leaned back against JL, entirely at ease in his lap, indifferent to the curious glances flickering their way. JL stiffened for only a heartbeat before melting into the moment, gently brushing the towel over Hannie's damp forehead.
A quiet thrill curled in Hannie's chest. He hadn't dared hope they'd fall into this so effortlessly—no hesitation, no pretense, just the two of them fitting together like it was always meant to be.
The world around them blurred—other couples lost in whispered conversations, laughter, tender touches.
Chih En slumped dramatically, legs sprawling toward Shuaibo with a pained whine. "Aibo, I'm suffering. My legs might actually fall off."
Shuaibo rolled his eyes then sighed but reached into his bag, pulling out a roll of cooling tape with the effortless grace of a practiced magician. "Drama queen," he muttered, patting his thigh. "Come here." Chih En's grin was instant as he flopped into place, melting under Shuaibo's careful hands as the tape soothed his sore muscles.
JL froze.
His entire body locked up, gaze sharpening on that strip of tape like it was a ghost from a past he couldn't escape. Hannie noticed—of course he did. Noticed the way JL's jaw hardened, the way his fingers flexed against his knee like he was forcing them still.
"Hey." Hannie's voice was soft, barely audible as he tugged lightly at JL's sleeve. "You with me?"
JL didn't answer. Didn't even blink. His stare stayed fixed on Shuaibo's hands, on the tape. Then—understanding dawned.
Silently, Hannie pushed to his feet, dug through his bag, and pulled out a battered packet of cooling tape. The one JL had given him before. The edges were frayed, the creases deep from being clutched too many times when no one was watching.
He didn't speak. Just nudged JL's shoulder and pressed the packet into his palm, their fingers skimming—just for a second, just enough to send a jolt through both of them.
Hannie held his gaze, voice barely above a whisper.
"Help me with my shoulder?"
JL's fingers closed around the packet automatically. "Sure," he said, voice distant. Then his gaze dropped—and his breath hitched.
The packaging was worn at the edges, creased from repeated use. That particular shade of blue, the limited-run design he'd searched three stores for... It looked exactly like the one he'd given Hannie. The one that had been dismissed with barely a glance. Ouch!
His thumb brushed across the surface, as if testing its reality. It couldn't be the same one. That would mean—
No. It was just a coincidence. A popular brand. This meant nothing.
Hannie's gaze burned into him, reading every microexpression. "JL?" The question came softly, carefully balanced between concern and something heavier. Like he already knew exactly why JL's hands had gone still. "Anything wrong?"
JL's grip tightened around the tape, his knuckles whitening as if it might dissolve in his hands. "I didn't... think you'd use something this cheap," he said, voice fraying at the edges. "Your team could've given you better."
Hannie's smile was a blade wrapped in silk. "But this one's different—special." His tone dipped, intimate, like he was peeling back layers JL had sealed shut. "Recognize it?"
JL's head snapped up, eyes locking onto Hannie's—hope flaring, bright and treacherous. The air between them stilled.
Then, slow as a heartbeat, Hannie pressed JL's fingers harder into the packet, his own hand caging JL's—deliberate, burning.
Hannie nodded slightly. "Thanks for the gift." The words were rough, a confession wrapped in smoke. Then, lower, a secret dragged into the light: "It's the first one I ever accepted. Only one I wanted to keep... was from you."
JL's lungs seized. The memory struck like a slap—Hannie turning his head, letting Daisuke's offering hang untouched in the air. A dismissal so casual it carved into bone. Now, his own nails bit crescents into his palms, pain the only thing tethering him.
"But you refused it." The words cracked open, raw. He'd seen it. Lived it. Carried it. And yet—
JL's wrist burned where Hannie touched him - that first featherlight brush exploding into a vise grip that pinned him in place. Not restraint. Possession.
"God, I'm sorry—" The apology tore from Hannie's throat like broken glass, each word bleeding. His free hand came up to frame JL's face, fingers shaking against stubble. "Please look at me, JL." The 'or I'll die' hung unspoken between them.
JL allowed the barest nod, his jaw locked tight enough to fracture. Not absolution. Just oxygen for the collapsing star between them.
Hannie's forehead dropped against his - close enough to share breath, not close enough to heal. "Daisuke never said," he whispered, the words raw. "I didn't know it came from you." His thumb found JL's rabbiting pulse, pressing like a sinner at confession. "You know my rules. No gifts. Not ever." His dark eyes held JL's. "You were always the exception, JL."
The air between them crackled with every unspoken truth. Hannie's fingers traced JL's cheekbone like rediscovering scripture. "When I realized..." His voice husky, the confession spilling like a gut wound. "I burned every damn rule I have for you. Only you."
JL's breath stuttered. The tape's edges bit into his palm, pain grounding him as his world tilted. That moment in the court—Hannie's dismissive shrug, Daisuke's awkward retreat - rewritten in searing new colors.
"You kept it." The realization punched through him, leaving his voice shattered.
Hannie's laugh came out wrecked. "Took you long enough to see." His lips brushed JL's knuckles - a silent vow in the space between heartbeats.
Then JL was moving—no thought, just need—crashing into Hannie with enough force to make him stumble back. Hannie's arms locked around him, holding him so tight JL could feel the frantic beat of his heart through his practice jersey. He buried his face in Hannie's shoulder, breathing in the scent of sweat and laundry soap and something indefinably Hannie.
The crumpled packet dug into Hannie's back, a sharp reminder of what had brought them here.
"Thank you, Hanniya," JL murmured, voice muffled against Hannie's collarbone.
Hannie turned his head, lips brushing JL's temple in a silent reply. "No," he whispered. "Thank you."
Time stretched and compressed around their embrace—narrowed into just the two of them in their own world—until the unmistakable weight of being watched prickled Hannie's neck. He cracked one eye open to find six smirking faces observing them with varying degrees of amusement.
"Fuck off," he mouthed without heat, lifting a middle finger that lacked any real malice. The group dispersed in a chorus of poorly stifled giggles and exaggerated retching sounds, leaving them alone in the suddenly too-quiet gym.
Hannie's breath hitched as JL's arms tightened further. "Babe," he gasped, laughter threading through his strained voice, "at this rate you'll snap my spine before playoffs." His fingers found JL's waist, digging in playfully even as he made no real effort to escape. "And Coach would kill us both if you take out your own point guard down."
The words vibrated against JL's collarbone where Hannie's lips brushed with each syllable—a teasing threat wrapped in unmistakable affection. Around them, their last straggling friends rolled their eyes but wisely kept walking.
JL sprang back as if electrocuted—but not before delivering a sharp smack to Hannie's bicep. "Yah!" Hannie still clutching his arm in exaggerated agony, lips twitching betrayingly. "Apha! And this, after I saved your gift and everything—"
"Saved it?" JL scoffed, stepping back into Hannie's space to poke his chest. "You mean after you rejected it in front of—oomph!"
The protest faded from JL's lips as Hannie yanked him tight against his chest. A sharp gasp caught in his throat—their bodies pressed together, so close he could feel Hannie's pulse hammering beneath his jersey, matching the wild rhythm of his own. Heat flooded JL's cheeks, his fingers instinctively curling into the damp fabric at Hannie's waist even as he tried to deflect.
"W-wait—" JL's voice trembled, embarrassingly unsteady. The tension coiled around them, thick with something electric. He tilted his head, lashes fluttering as he glanced around. "Where'd—" But the words dissolved the moment Hannie's lips brushed against his.
The world seemed to pause, heightening the sensation until it was all JL could focus on. His fingers twisted tighter into Hannie's uniform, eyes slipping shut as he lost himself in the moment.
It was just a whisper of a kiss—lips barely touching, breaths mingling—yet it felt like so much more. Hannie's lips were impossibly soft, his exhales sweet, his restraint palpable. He didn't push, didn't demand, just lingered like he had all the time in the world. JL's hand slid up, fingers tangling in the hair at Hannie's nape, gripping just enough to draw out a low, shuddering groan.
The kiss lingered for what felt like an eternity, yet ended far too quickly. Hannie drew back only to brush soft, fleeting kisses along JL's cheek, the slope of his nose, and each quivering eyelid. He hesitated at his forehead, his lips resting there for a tender moment, before his arms encircled him, pulling him into a tight, almost desperate embrace.
When Hannie finally released him, JL blinked dazedly. The fire in Hannie's gaze seared through him, igniting an answering heat low in his stomach. That kiss—gentle, reverent—had been a masterclass in control. Hannie had held back, for him, for his first time and the realization sent another shiver skittering down JL's spine. He pulled Hannie close again, earning a low, amused laugh in response.
JL could have never fathomed—not in a million dreams—that something like this would happen. The kiss was tender, almost hesitant, yet his body burned in response, every nerve alight. God help him if their next kisses held even a fraction of passion—he'd be utterly ruined.
For a long moment, neither moved, arms still tangled around each other, breaths unsteady—until JL's stomach betrayed him with a loud, ungainly growl, shattering the quiet. Hannie laughed, low and amused, before releasing him, offering his hand, palm up, fingers beckoning. "Alright, pretty boy," he teased, voice laced with affection, "let's feed you before you start nibbling on me like I'm your last meal."
JL's face flushed, but he slid his hand into Hannie's without protest. The other man's grip was firm, calloused fingers slotting perfectly between his own as he pulled him forward. Sunlight streaked through the room, Hannie's side-profile a view he can't resist, creating a soft halo making JL's pulse stutter.
"Keep staring at me like that," Hannie murmured, voice dipping into something darker, "and I won't be responsible for what happens next."
JL hesitated for only a second before a lazy, defiant grin curved his lips, his eyes glinting with challenge. "Oh? And what's next, Park?" He closed the distance between them, near enough to feel the other man's warmth, his voice lowering to a taunting murmur. "Because from here, that sounds like either a threat... or an invitation."
A pause. Then Hannie's fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around JL's, his gaze turning molten. JL didn't flinch—even as his heart hammered, he lifted his chin, meeting Hannie's stare without blinking, his tone cool but edged with provocation. "Unless you're all talk?"
Hannie's breath hitched—just for a second—before a slow, dangerous grin spread across his face. "You're playing with fire, sweetheart."
JL arched a brow, feigning indifference even as his heart hammered against his ribs. "Maybe I like getting burned with you."
Hannie went utterly still, his jaw tightening as if physically holding back the words—or actions—threatening to spill out. His grip on JL's hand didn't loosen, but it didn't pull him closer either, suspended in that breathless space between restraint and surrender. JL hovered on the edge, his next move hanging on Hannie's words—would he lean into his teasing or retreat?
A slow, measured exhale escaped Hannie, his voice rough but deliberate when he finally spoke. "Careful, babe. You're testing me." Not a question—a fact. His thumb brushed once, lightly, over JL's knuckles, a fleeting concession to the hunger simmering beneath his control. "And if I were anyone else, you'd already be against that wall."
JL's breath hitched at Hannie's implication. Guess he had that coming for all his teasing.
The corner of Hannie's mouth lifted, just slightly, something rueful and heated in his gaze. "Lucky for you, I have just enough self-control left..." He leaned in, close enough for JL to feel the warmth of his breath against his lips, "...to walk away right now."
Then, with a final, lingering squeeze of JL's hand, he stepped back—slow, deliberate, every movement a quiet battle won. "Food first," he said, voice low but firm, already turning toward the door. "Before you tempt me into forgetting my manners."
JL let out an exaggerated sigh, rolling his eyes with playful dramatics. "Fine, fine—since you're so determined to be a gentleman," he drawled, swaying closer just enough to make Hannie's breath catch. His fingers lingered against Hannie's palm, tracing a slow, teasing circle before pulling away.
"But just so we're clear," he added, stepping backward with a smirk, "this isn't me surrendering. It's me... strategically regrouping." He turned on his heel, tossing a glance over his shoulder—just to watch Hannie's reaction. "And when you finally do lose control?" He winked. "I'll be ready."
Then, with a laugh, he sauntered ahead toward the kitchen, leaving Hannie standing there—equal parts frustrated and fond, pulse hammering, torn between throttling him and dragging him back.
The kitchen lights buzzed, unstable as the tension between them. The night? Oh, it was just getting started. And as for who'd cave first?
Hannie grinned. Let JL think he had the upper hand—he loved proving him wrong later...
🌻+++🌻+++🌻Stay tuned for the next chapter update, soon. 💙🌻+++🌻+++🌻