#yeo and san make a cameo

[eightmakesonebraincell]

i have so much love for this royal!au bc joong in his regal suits and slicked hair is a superior look i will never not kneel for 🧎‍♀️ but fr i loved the plot idea of prince joong holding a selection to find his princess, but mc is the translator for one and not actually a selected. we love setting our stories up for a little extra ✨drama✨

also the characterisation of our three main characters is the absolute cutest 🫶 they have such an easy friendship between them and even though they're meant to be royals and figures of high importance they're really just a couple of crackheads who like to banter with each other too much

cut for my live notes whilst i was reading (spoilers)

kudos to mc for reeling in her reactions when she's surprised by the prince in the garden bc me as mc would've ended the fic right there and then with me getting executed for screaming in the prince's face and kicking his family jewels

NOT ARIN STRAIGHT UP BEING LIKE cake i make better HAHAH SHES THE CUTEST. the baking date is so sweet bc flirting aside they're like three bright eyed and bushy tailed teenagers just messing around. ofc joong is a clumsy baker i can imagine the lil flour streaks on his face that he isnt aware of. PLS HJ SULKING AND BEING LIKE princes can sulk theres no rule that i cant 😤

HAHAHA and then there's joong straight up ready to bANISH yeo bc mc said he was dreamy ☠️☠️ i'll bAsniH hiM If HE LookS AtY  OU FuNnY

OMG THAT TWIST WITH ARIN ??????? HANG ON SOMEBODY HOLD MY HORSES but omg thats genius bc nobody gets hurt in the process (no one that i find important anyway HAHA)

BLESS MAMA HONGJOONG. "Now what kind of a mother would I be if I couldn’t recognize the look in my son’s eyes? Your King looks at me the same.” <3333333 WE LOVE HEALTHY RELATIONSHIPS

I'm The One

prince!hongjoong x reader

genre: fluff, angst, suggestive

word count: ~24k

synopsis: In the Kingdom of Wonderland, Prince Hongjoong is holding a Selection: 30 eligible candidates from the kingdom competing against each other, one of which would be his wife and the future princess. You, however, aren't one of the candidates, you're only translator to your best friend Arin, which means you get to talk to the prince directly. In an effort to remain in the shadows and pass unseen, Hongjoong only seems to notice you, and he can't help but think you're the one.

You never imagined that you'd one day get to step inside the Palace itself, let alone live in there and get to interact with the Prince, the King and the Queen.

As your friend Arin shook you back and forth with disbelief and excitement in her eyes, it took you a moment to comprehend the situation, and soon you were responding with equal enthusiasm, jumping up and down in circles as Arin yelled loudly about how if this was a dream, she never wanted to wake up.

You laughed, finally hugging her, so happy for your friend. "It's not a dream. Want me to slap you and confirm it?"

"Hell yes!" Arin grinned, her mother shushing her, telling her to act 'ladylike' because she'd be needing that now that she was one of the candidates for the future Princess and Queen of Wonderland.

The Kingdom of Wonderland was in dire need of a distraction- with the unison of two kingdoms into one- Wonderland and Utopia- just a decade ago, the initial happiness and celebrations had long since died down, the people beginning to question the wisdom of the decision, the previous residents of Utopia feeling less favoured since the kingdom was still called Wonderland, rebels growing because there was still discrimination between the Utopians and Wonderers.

Though the King and Queen had long struggled for equality among the residents of the two kingdoms, there had of course been discrimination from both the sides- bound to happen at one point, but the people were now frustrated and rebelling against the royals, because who better to blame?

So the King and Queen had decided to distract the people- to give them something to look forward to, a possible strengthening of the residents of the previously divided kingdoms- the distraction being holding a Selection- an opportunity for random girls to be selected if they met the requirements, which were basic enough (mostly age and specialties)- through which they would stay at the palace and compete for the heart of Prince Hongjoong.

And you were happy for Arin- she was selected to be one of those candidates for Prince Hongjoong along with 29 other girls, which meant that she had a good chance at becoming the future Princess of Wonderland. The only reason you were going to be tagging along was because Arin was bad at Korean- having been raised in an English household, so you were going to be her translator as she learned Korean. This was a drawback, and when Arin finally let you go to hug her parents, you wondered why she was selected- the King and Queen or the Prince, or whoever it was that sorted through the thousands of the girls to select 30 must have seen something special in Arin despite this very large language barrier.

Which meant Arin was special, and you, as her translator and teacher, were going to make sure she would have no problem and would learn Korean soon, for her sake and the Prince's.

Arin's parents told you to stay for dinner to celebrate, and you could barely hold in your smile through the hour, the phone ringing nonstop as Arin's relatives and friends congratulated the lucky girl and her parents, the neighbours stopping by to join the celebration as well, and you kindly excused yourself, saying you needed to prepare everything since you'd be leaving for the capital soon.

"I'm glad you'll be with me- I can trust you with anything," Arin told you as she hugged you.

"Thank you, Arin. I'm just glad for you, truly," you smiled earnestly at her.

Arin and you had met a few months ago when they had moved from Mist Island to the countryside. You were her neighbour, and when Arin realized you spoke fluent English, she immediately announced you her friend, and you had no objection to it- Arin was as sweet as one could be. She looked and felt like literal sunshine, her light blonde hair just adding to her bright personality. You smiled to yourself- she would truly make a great Princess, and you hoped it would happen.

Arin called you as soon as you stepped inside your house, informing you that the people from the Palace would come in two days time to inform Arin about all the rules and regulations that followed this process, as well as process your own application as Arin's personal translator who would be accompanying her basically everywhere she went along with the Prince- unless she wouldn't need you anymore or the Prince dismissed you.

You supposed that would happen sometime too, but you couldn't help but feel awkward about all of this- you would have to tread very, very carefully. You were going to appear nothing more than a shadow, only stepping in when you were needed, and pretending to be the walls or the trees whenever you were following Arin. No one could notice you.

As you picked the books out of the shelf, a picture slipped in from one of your books, and you bent down to pick it up, smiling when you saw that it was the only photo of the Prince that you had, in which he must have been around 10, where your parents had made you stand with the Prince as they clicked the photo, both of you with scowls on your faces.

Prince Hongjoong... He was an interesting character. He had great leadership skills, was great with speeches, didn't seem stiff. He was a natural, and people admired him for that. Girls swooned over his charisma and boys wished they were him. The fact that you would be seeing the Prince in a week... it meant so much to you, since the fact that your parents had served in the castle and had been on good terms with the Queen and the Prince, and had always wanted you to meet the Prince- properly. Not when you two were sticking out tongues at each other from afar.

You wished your parents were alive to witness this- you, finally meeting the Prince, though you laughed at the thought that if your mother was alive, she would have made you enter the Selection itself, just like any other mother of a daughter in this kingdom. You looked at the side, at the frame that contained the family picture, and picked it, slipping it inside the bag, then hesitating before slipping the photo of Hongjoong inside too.

One week. Your life would change.

You fell asleep wondering what the Palace was like and what the Prince was like.

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

"Do I look horrible?" Arin asked you for the 15th time.

"If you ask me again, I'm going to say yes, and then you can start crying," you were pinching the bridge of your nose now, "For the hundredth time, Arin, you look beautiful. Happy?"

Arin grinned, making you grin back- you couldn't help it. She really did look beautiful in her cream coloured gown, diamantes at the neckline, her blue eyes brighter than ever. She had never looked better- the ladies at the parlour had polished and enhanced her natural beauty, not overdoing the makeup and keeping everything simple and elegant, just like Arin wanted.

"Alright, get your sleep- you look like you're gonna faint."

"I will," you pouted, closing your eyes shut.

It had been one hell of a week- two days from when Arin was selected, an official had visited, explaining the guidelines- you, as the translator, had explained everything- the guidelines being a set of rules she had to follow.

"You are now considered the property of Wonderland. You must take care of your body. You have to fill the several forms explaining the guidelines- any failure to comply on your part will result in your immediate removal from the Selection"

It started with you explaining the long list of rules, the official translator present making sure you were doing a good job, rules that informed her that the Selection could stretch as much as years but considering that it was Prince Hongjoong, it would last a few months only, that Arin could not leave the palace of her own accord once she arrives, that she would have to be dismissed by the Prince herself, not even the king or queen could force her out, though they could tell the prince that they did not approve of you, that the prince himself would arrange for her meetings and not her, that she could not stress or steal from other candidates, that romantic relationship with anyone else from now until the end of the Selection would be considered treason and would be punishable by death.

Though you were feeling weirded out by the set of strict rules, it looked like it made absolute sense to Arin seeing how her eyes were set and gleaming as she fiercely nodded along. You contained the urge to squeeze her cheeks at that. You just hoped she understood that it wouldn't be too easy.

You had three hours session with Arin each day- but they weren't very fruitful, especially when Arin was as excited as you'd ever seen someone ever, and you both couldn't help but forget all about teaching and learning Korean and instead memorizing the names of all the other participants and guessing who'd be nice, who'd had a chance, who'd get eliminated first, and having a good giggle over it. You supposed Arin needed these giggling sessions more, considering how stressed she must be because the weight of this was huge as well.

Today, the two of you had been accompanied to the airport after a teary goodbye to Arin's parents and annoying little brother who was just glad he had 'one more room to himself'. After reaching the capital where Arin greeted the crowd and even stopped to sign some autographs and take photos, you both were taken to the parlour first where even you were scrubbed and polished- literally. You told them it made no sense that you had to go through this torture as well, but the ladies just hushed you, saying that you had to look 'refined' since you would be making appearances literally everywhere too, and you realized it did make sense.

You were dressed in a comfortable deep blue suit, thanking heavens because they told you no dresses for you (unless the occasion called for it) to differentiate between the candidates and you, and you couldn't be happier. You wanted to feel sorry for Arin who would be wearing dresses and heels from now, but she looked so beautiful and happy that you realized she didn't need your pity at all- she was living her best life.

"You're smiling," Arin whispered in your ear and you opened one eye to glare at her.

"I'm smiling because I'm not the one in a dress and high heels right now," you told her.

The other two girls that were in your limo on your way to the palace were watching you both interact in English silently- not many in this kingdom spoke the language. But you had, in the beginning when you all sat inside the car, introduced Arin to them, and they had asked you if it would be tough for Arin to communicate with the Prince and if you though that could cause the elimination sooner, and you assured them that Arin was a quick learner and would be able to communicate without your help soon, which wiped the growing smirks on their faces.

You supposed it was going to be competitive- very, in fact. Some fought for the crown, and some fought for the Prince. Arin would be one of the few who genuinely liked the Prince. You hoped the Prince wasn't foolish enough to not notice that.

When you arrived inside the palace, you couldn't help but wow, the surprise echoed from the other girls in the car. The palace was a beautiful structure of coloured glass windows and deep brown rock, a vintage vibe to it even if it was built to be modern. The gardens with the greenest grass you'd ever seen was adorned with flowers of various colours and fountains every few feet.

As you got off the car, you were accompanied inside to the waiting room, the other girls already there, and Arin nervously fidgeted with her hands, biting her lips.

"You'll ruin your lipstick," you patted her shoulders, "You're probably not meeting the Prince right away, so relax."

"Doesn't make me less nervous," Arin laughed a bit, and you smiled hoping it would assure her.

The doors opened and an aged woman entered, glancing at each one of the candidates, and you stepped a bit behind Arin, the woman nodding at you and acknowledging you.

"My name is Sophie, and I will be your guide, watching over your progress and your lessons as you spend time in the palace. Please accompany me to the dining hall- I'm sure you all are famished. We can have a chat over tea, after dinner."

The girls erupted in satisfied sighs, you quickly summing up what Sophie had just said to Arin, and she smiled, the two of you moving along with the rest of the selected to the hall.

The dining hall was one generous hall, with food of every kind and desserts of every shape, making your stomach swoop. You had to remind yourself that you were only here because of Arin, smiling to yourself because you had to thank Arin. After all, when could you have had this opportunity to have so much food to select from!

"I know we're thinking the same thing," Arin laughed as she told you to sit beside her, and you did, figuring it would be easier to keep up with the conversation and translating it for Arin.

The girl next to Arin- Byeol, you recalled from the list of selected you had memorized- said hello, and Arin said hello back, asking how she was. The girl peeked forward to say hello to you too.

"Where are you from?" She asked Arin.

"From Mist Island. My mother... English. My Korean not good right now."

You patted Arin's back in encouragement- she had done well.

"Isn't it hard to be here? How will you even interact with the Prince?"

"It won't be too hard," you butted in with a polite smile, "Arin is able to understand better than she can speak, and I'm sure she'll catch up in no time. She's a quick learner."

"I hope so," Byeol let out a nervous laugh, "I mean, the competition's tough as it is. Wouldn't want her out because of language barrier."

"There are worst reasons to be kicked out," you smiled, hoping she'd get your point. You quickly summed what happened to Arin, who nodded in agreement, and Byeol only shook her head and smiled, as if she had the upper hand here.

Though Arin, being the epitome of kindness, didn't mind anyone's attitude one bit, you wanted to smear the chocolate pastry Byeol was eating all over her face. How dare she think she had the upper hand just because she was a native speaker!

You decided to do the observing as well as you ate, taking in the girls. It was so easy to figure them out, except the few that looked mysterious. You knew that as soon as they would get the first look at the prince, you'd realize if they were here for the prince or the crown.

After the dinner where you definitely did not hold back, Sophie got up from the main seat, clearing her throat and going in a speech of why the girls who were selected all possessed a worthy quality that had the king and queen vouching for them, and that they were to prove themselves in more ways now that they were here, and learn the ways of a lady who one day might bear the crown.

After the very long speech which you translated as she spoke, the girls clicked their glasses and had a drink, after which they left for the night. One guard stationed to accompany each girl stood and you bowed to your guard in greeting. He escorted you two to Arin's room, where three maids waited to attend to Arin, and the guard told you that your room was right next to Arin's, so she could call you whenever she needed. You thanked him, going into Arin's room first.

You helped her settle in with the maids- Sana, Momo and Mina, all very cute young girls, gushing about how they were so happy that they were assigned to Arin since she seemed like she was the sweetest of them all, and you assured them that Arin definitely was. They told you that language wouldn't be much barrier here since Mina knew basic English thanks to her lineage, and you sighed in relief, excusing yourself when Arin threatened to kick you out because 'I have this under control, go rest! We have a big day tomorrow!'

You took a deep breath as you entered your room- as big as Arin's but pretty much empty. Your bag was already placed at the edge of the bed and as you walked to it, you realized you didn't even have the energy to change anymore. You washed your face after taking off your coat, suddenly feeling overwhelmed.

Your parents had spent most of their life in the palace, you raised by your grandmother who lived in the town near. You'd visited the palace as a kid quite a few times, playing with the other children, but you'd never seen the Prince close enough. You, as a kid, wondered just why he couldn't simply play with kids his age.

As you sat on the bed, you suddenly missed your parents immensely. If they were alive, you would have been in their room in the palace right now. Feeling an ache in your chest that was only growing, you got up, drinking a glass of water, but when that ache didn't settle, you decided to get some air.

There was a guard stationed between the distance of your and Arin's room, closer to Arin's, and you informed him that you were going to the gardens to get some air. Since you weren't one of the selected, you had the freedom to roam around the castle (as much as a visitor could) and go outside whenever you wanted, as long as the guards allowed it.

You almost rushed outside, sighing in relief when you breathed in the fresh air- the air truly was different here. You walked around, recognizing the familiar fountains from your childhood, recalling that you used to mark the fountains as a kid as a 'proof' that you had been here.

Smiling to yourself, you bent down and looked under the basin, spotting the scratches- an eight pointed star. You went to the next fountain, and the next, your smile growing bigger as you found all those stars.

"Looking for something?"

You were glad your reflex action wasn't a scream like Arin's, just a jerk, and you immediately straightened to look at the source of the sound-

You struggled to keep your scream in.

It was none other than the Prince standing in front of you.

"Your Highness," you immediately bowed, cursing internally at your state- one too many buttons undone casually, sleeves rolled up, your feet in pink slippers.

"And you are? I'm sorry, I can't recall all the names of the girls right now-"

"Oh no, I'm not one of the Selected," you said and the prince raised his brow, "I'm one of the girls' translator- if you recall."

"Oh," Prince Hongjoong nodded, smiling, "I hope you find the palace comfortable."

"Of course," you smiled, standing awkwardly, not knowing what to do, taking a moment to scan him- his silver hair shining with a slight pink tint, his posture good and straight and you mirrored it automatically, and it looked like he was still in his uniform.

"So, what were you looking for?" Prince Hongjoong smiled.

"Nothing- it's... embarrassing," you laughed a bit.

"I once lost my father's ring in the garden and spent the whole night looking for it myself, telling the guards to warn me if he came. Nothing could be worse than that."

You couldn't help but laugh at that- the Prince wasn't as uptight as he had seemed to you- he was joking around so freely. You supposed he had a similar nature as Arin's.

"I used to visit the palace when I was young, my parents served here," you admitted, "The kids and I played around here, so I'd leave some marks on the fountains every time I visited."

"Oh," Prince Hongjoong's eyes flashed for a brief moment, "And where are your parents now? I'm sure I've met them."

"You have," you nodded, smiling sadly as you looked at the moon- a half-moon, "They passed away in the rebel attack 2 years ago."

The Prince's face fell, and he took a deep breath, "We lost many loyal subjects that night. I'm sure they're in a better place now, and are watching over you and are proud."

"Thank you for your kind words," you smiled.

"So what's the mark?"

"The mark? Oh-" you realized, bending down again and pointing, "Eight-pointed star."

"Eight-pointed star?" Prince Hongjoong bent down as well, examining the scratch, "And you marked most of the fountains?"

"Uh, I may just be realizing that I damaged the king's property..."

Prince Hongjoong threw his head back and laughed, "Kids do most of that, though we'd have to look into it if we catch you scratching another star on one of the fountains," he winked at you.

Once again, silence fell as the two of you stood side by side, watching the water in the fountain. It was you who decided to break the silence.

"If you don't mind me asking... how do you feel about meeting 30 potential candidates tomorrow?"

"I'm very stressed, actually, which is why I came here to take a breather," Hongjoong admitted.

"Oh, I should leave then-"

"No, no, I didn't mean it like that. I'm glad to talk to someone who is not my mother or father right now," he laughed awkwardly, "Actually, it's pretty intimidating. The girls will be expecting something from me during their course of stay, but I'm not sure I can give them anything."

"You realize you are not required to, right?"

"I know," he nodded, "I would just feel bad if they leave broken hearted. I'd feel like an ass."

You let out a short laugh, the Prince joining. "Well, the girls... they're new to this too. They're all pretty excited. You don't have to figure them all out right away. Take your time, roll along... you'll find yourself used to it soon, I hope."

"Thank you," Prince Hongjoong smiled at you, "And what about the girl you'll be translating for?"

"I'm probably biased when I say this but Arin is the sweetest of them all," you smiled, "I've known her for long now. She's the kindest soul, wouldn't hurt an ant if she could manage it, but she's also very strong. She knows where she stands. I'll do my best with the language barrier, but... I feel like you'll click with her well."

"You look like you admire her," he said, and you nodded, "I guess if I click with her, language wouldn't feel like a barrier anymore."

"Exactly what I mean," you grinned at him, forgetting for a moment that he was the Prince and not your friend, until you found him scanning your face.

"I should go," you said, "I just needed some air, and the guards were kind enough to allow it."

"You can come here whenever you like, I'll let the guards know," the Prince said, and your heart swelled in gratitude.

"Good luck for tomorrow," you smiled, "Whatever your decision, I hope you'll end up being happy."

"Thank you, truly," the Prince nodded in acknowledgement when you bowed before beginning to leave.

"I never got your name!"

You turned, laughing a bit at how he'd shouted this after you were a good few feet gone. You told him your name, waving at him before leaving with a smile plastered on your face.

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

You told Arin all about how you accidentally met Prince Hongjoong before any of the girls, and Arin was all squeals and laughter, the maids struggling to make her stay in place as they did her hair.

"How is he like? Is he as handsome as he looks in the pictures? Does the new hair suit him?"

You rolled your eyes- Arin was literally the Prince's fangirl. It truly was a dream come true for her to even be in the proximity of the Prince, let alone be a candidate for his future wife. "I guess the hair suits him- it sort of looks pink with the light."

"Every hair colour suits him," Mina sighed happily, "But I'd personally love it if he goes back to his natural hair colour."

You nodded- the Prince was blessed in that department.

"So? Is he more handsome or more pretty?"

"I don't know," you shifted, looking in the mirror as you fixed your tie, "He seems to be both? I don't know how he manages that. But Arin, please remember what I told you before we came here, okay?"

Arin saluted, smiling. You'd had a nice talk with Arin the night before you'd arrive here, where you'd make sure that Arin understood that being a fan of the Prince was a separate matter, that she had to be completely unbiased now that she was here. Her responsibility would be that of a crown and a princess, and she had to keep in mind that.

"But what if I don't... like him like that?" Arin had asked you.

"I think not everyone is gonna like him like that in the first place," you had assured her, "And I'm sure the Prince would know that. I think you should tell the Prince if you think you won't be happy with him."

"All done!" Mina announced, and Arin got up from her chair, twirling in the deep blue gown that made her eyes look the brightest blue, her curls pinned with pearls and falling like a waterfall down her back.

The guard knocked on the door, announcing that it was time to go, and Arin squeezed your hand once before the two of you went outside, waving goodbye and thanking the maids, who wished Arin best luck. You were led to the Women's Room, where one by one the girls entered, all dressed in beautiful gowns that they couldn't stop touching nervously, and as you stood back and watched them, you realized that though they knew they were each other's competition, they also felt a kind of sisterhood, especially when they tucked someone's stray hair behind or wiped smudged makeup off each other-

"Ugh, why am I the only one wearing pink here?" One of the girls- Nara, who had to be the visually most attractive one present here, huffed as she looked at the other girls' dresses.

Of course there were girls like her too here. You smiled inside- she would get used to it soon, you hoped.

The room immediately quietened when Prince Hongjoong entered, all regal with his slicked back hair and navy blue suit, the girls all curtsying while he smiled, Sophie standing right beside him.

"Good morning, ladies."

The air immediately felt different, the girls now straightening and arranging themselves. The Prince smiled, "I'd like to introduce myself to you all, so if you don't mind, one at a time I will be calling you. I won't take much of your time- do forgive me if I'm a little slow with names."

As he said that, he surveyed the room once, his eyes landing on you and his smile getting wider- you weren't expecting that so you just smiled back, hoping no one else had noticed.

The girls giggled and grinned, waiting by the couch on Sophie's instructions, one by one moving to the Prince who stood by the window with a drink, what seemed like casual conversation flowing between them. It only lasted for a few minutes each with the girls returning with nervous smiles.

"I wonder what he's asking," Arin fidgeted.

"Maybe he's just wondering what's your favourite food," you scoffed, making her laugh a bit.

Before you knew it, it was Arin's turn, and she squeezed your hand before the two of you went to where he stood, Arin saying hello with a smile, you doing the same and standing beside Arin.

"Arin? You look lovely today."

You knew Arin understood that, and she bowed a bit, replying with a thanks. Prince Hongjoong smiled, "I heard you're English. I know a bit of it."

You translated that to Arin, and she replied in Korean, "Really?"

The Prince nodded, "Where are you from?"

"Mist Island, my parents had an English lineage, we moved to this kingdom before I was born."

The Prince looked at you and you translated that for him as he nodded, "Mist Island is beautiful. I've only been there once when I was little, but I hope to visit again. Maybe you could show me around."

Arin noticed the flirtatious smile on his lips as you translated that, and she beamed, "It would be an honour to show you around my home town."

"But you live in the countryside now, right?"

As you translated that for Arin and she nodded, you realized the Prince had done his own research as well- probably on every girl.

"Well, it's been a pleasure meeting you, Arin. I hope we can get along well despite this obstacle."

Arin got that, bowing to the Prince and you did the same, finding his eyes beaming as he looked at you. "You're doing a good job. I hope you find the palace comfortable."

"I do," you assured him with a thanks.

"I didn't get to say this last night, but," Hongjoong sighed as he ran a hand through his hair, "If you wish to visit your parents' room or anything like that, you can talk to Sophie. I've already talked to her."

You were surprised- was the Prince this generous or was this an exception? You shook the thoughts off, thanking him for his kindness and he told you both to join the girls in the dining hall after he announces what's next.

As you both went back, you told Arin what he had just said, who only sighed happily, saying something about how generous he was and how he was a born Prince. You shook your head, smiling as you reached the others, Arin immediately surrounded by the girls who asked what they talked about, and Arin told them in broken Korean, the girls laughing and correcting her mistakes.

Prince Hongjoong walked to the center of the room, clearing his throat, "If I have asked you to move to the dining hall, please follow Sophie out, the rest of you can stay here."

The girls looked at each other in nervousness, most of them following Sophie out, you and Arin along with them, and as you entered the hall, the King and Queen greeted the girls, everyone including you curtsying before taking their seats and digging into the food.

"I wonder why he asked some of them to stay," the girl beside you, Nayoung, said, "Did they do something good? Maybe he wants extra time with them."

"No idea," you muttered, "He wouldn't eliminate someone so soon, would he?"

Nayoung looked at you, "I doubt he would."

But he did. Just like that, 22 girls remained out of 30. And you wondered if Arin really had caught his attention or if he was just giving her a second chance because of the language barrier.

The next morning at breakfast table, everyone thought so as well. Why Arin was kept, why girls like Nora or Nayeon were eliminated, who clearly looked like they had potential. The girls ate nervously, all except Arin, and you had to keep yourself from laughing as Arin moaned after each bite of chicken. Prince Hongjoong sat at the end of the table, watching Arin with amusement in his eyes.

"Lady Arin? Enjoying the food?"

Arin almost dropped her fork, looking at you and you translated.

"Food delicious, but cake-" Arin waved at the dozens of pastries and sweets, "I make better."

The table erupted into laughter and Prince Hongjoong straightened. "Really? Is that a challenge?"

You laughed as you translated, and Arin nodded enthusiastically, the Prince looking at you as if to ask you if Arin was joking or not.

"Arin is an exceptional baker," you were beaming proudly as you announced, "And she accepts the challenge."

"Well," Prince Hongjoong, "I guess I'll have to arrange for a date in the kitchens- mother would be the most happy to learn I'll be stepping in there!"

Everyone looked at Arin in awe for securing her first date with the Prince, and as you conveyed that, Arin smiled and bowed her head a bit in acknowledgement. You felt proud at that moment- a very sisterly pride as you grinned at Arin. She had done it!

The Prince told you both after the breakfast that he would arrange for a suitable time and let you know, and by the time he left, you and Arin were practically jumping up and down, in a very unladylike manner- for Arin. Sophie let you both have your moment before she cleared her throat and told all the girls to write letters home and let them know how you were holding up. The girls sighed collectively in relief, rushing back to their rooms and while Arin went back, you decided to take that moment and ask Sophie about your parents.

"Ah, so it's you," Sophie's face changed as she smiled, "I remember the lot of you. It was always troublesome when the kids gather. Hongjoong would always be at one of these windows watching you all play enviously."

Now that was news. You always thought as a kid that the Prince was a stuck up snob who wouldn't bother to play with kids like you- but apparently all this time he wanted to join?

"You remember me?"

"Not much, but just the few kids playing in the gardens- it has been a memory I look back to sometimes. I was the one who'd always tell you all to keep your voices down, if you remember."

You gasped- it was her! Sophie laughed as you put a hand over your mouth in disbelief, bowing once in recognition as Sophie waved you off. "I remember you!"

"Of course you do," Sophie smiled, "I'll let one of the guards accompany you to your parent's room-"

"Not today," you hesitated, and Sophie looked confused, "I... I need some time. Can I visit once I'm ready?"

Sophie seemed like she understood, "Of course, dear. If you need anything, do let me know. Your mother was the most kind to me. The Queen misses her dearly."

"The Queen does?" You frowned.

"Don't you know? She was one of the queen's personal maids."

"Oh... They kept their work very private," you smiled. Of course she was. There was a reason she sometimes looked guilty when she slipped something about work- or the Queen- in front of you.

"Good to hear that," Sophie said.

"I'll take my leave now," you thanked her and left the room, feeling overwhelmed by the information and the weight of all this.

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

The next morning, all the girls including you were having breakfast with the royal family, casual conversation flowing between everyone, the girls around Arin asking her if she had her date yet, Arin shaking her head no repeatedly with a smile.

You were just on your third chocolate cookie when you were interrupted by the sudden opening of the doors, the guards shouting 'rebels!' and the room erupted in chaos.

"To the back of the room, ladies, now!" Prince Hongjoong got up, all except two guards leaving while the two shut and bolted the door from inside, the King putting a protective arm on his wife leading her to a corner, a few girls following them on instinct, and you immediately grabbed Arin's hand, telling her that rebels were inside the palace.

Arin was positively scared and you shushed her, telling her that now was the time to maintain her calm if she wanted to get Prince Hongjoong's attention, and she straightened her back a bit as she followed the girls to the back of the hall. Some of them were quietly sobbing, while some were shaking. It looked like not many had experienced such a situation.

You saw Prince Hongjoong pull down the shutters of the windows one by one and instead of following the girls, you decided to do the same, going to the other end of the room and drawing the shutters down, until there were two windows between you and the Prince, and at that moment you caught a flying object in your direction-

"Prince Hongjoong, duck, now!"

You only had time to say that as you drew your arms in front of you and crouched down, a sigh of relief escaping you when you saw the Prince follow your lead, the sound of a crash following soon after, the shards of broken glass spraying around you.

You heard Arin's scream, glad when you saw one of the girls hold her back protectively, and you got up, waving to her to indicate you were alright. The Prince got up, shutting the remaining two shutters- the window right next to you was broken.

"Are you hurt?" Prince Hongjoong grabbed you by the shoulders as he scanned you.

"Are you hurt?" You scanned him, and he shook his head, looking at the broken shards of glass.

"You're hurt," he noticed a shard of glass buried in your palm, blood trickling down your hand. He took out his handkerchief, and before he could pull the shard out, you stopped him, taking it out yourself and wincing slightly- it was a few inches big. You let the prince tie the handkerchief.

"You should have been careful, I thought I told all of you to get back to the room."

"The girls did," you replied, "I had to do something."

"I clearly addressed 'ladies'," Prince Hongjoong smiled at you, "You fall there too."

"Sorry," you held back a grin but the Prince noticed.

"Get there, please. I need to make sure the situation is okay before I get to the girls," he looked back once at the huddled girls, beckoning you to join them before going to the guards and speaking to them.

You joined Arin who hugged you, "I thought you were hurt badly!"

"Nothing much," you shook her off, "You know my instincts are good- I saw it coming, literally."

Arin rolled her eyes and you smiled- good. She was relaxed now. "You holding up okay?"

"Yeah, I just never expected something like this, I guess," Arin bit her lips, looking at the girl next to her, "Should we comfort them?"

"You should," you smiled, "I'll... see. I should too, I guess."

Arin looked at you knowingly and you gave in- she knew exactly what was going through your head, that some of the girls were sobbing more than they needed so maybe the Prince could come and console them.

And he did, patting every girl's back, telling them it was okay, that they were safe. Some girls even dared put their heads on his chest as they sobbed, and you noticed that the Prince was clearly nervous as he comforted the girls. When he reached Arin, you were proud that she didn't cry and he smiled at you both.

"You should go to the hospital wing after all of this is over," the Prince said, "You might be needing stitches."

"It's just a small cut," you said, but Prince Hongjoong narrowed his eyes at you.

"It's an order."

You couldn't resist rolling your eyes this time and he laughed at that, you internally slapping yourself because how dare you roll your eyes at the Prince? But he didn't mind, telling you both to take care of yourselves as he went to the next girl and the next.

You did go to the hospital wing after everything settled, the nurses cleaning the wound and bandaging it saying it wouldn't need stitches, and you went to Arin's room after that. The girls were going to have dinners in their room since they were a bit shaken after the events of today, and you decided to have dinner with Arin.

"Do you think the rebels come here often?" Arin asked.

"I remember dad told me that they came at least three times a year on average," you said, "Some people aren't happy with the Selection, thinking the royals are neglecting the problems of the people, so I guess this was bound to happen."

"I hope it doesn't happen again," Arin shivered, "I'd hate anyone to get hurt."

"I hope so too," you suddenly weren't hungry anymore.

You decided to go for a walk before sleeping, just to clear your head, dressed in your deep purple silk pyjamas. The guard were now recognizing you and let you out without question, and you walked along the rows of flowers, your head blank, until you noticed a figure strolling casually as well.

"I guess you needed to clear your head too?"

It was the Prince.

You nodded, bowing once, "Are you... alright?"

"I am, thank you for asking," he said, and now that he was closer, you noticed that he was still in the same clothes, the coat off now and sleeves rolled, hair a beautiful mess. "How's your wound?"

"Oh, it's okay," you showed your bandaged palm, "It was a small cut after all."

"I've been meaning to ask you," he shifted, "How did you know to click the shutters close? Not everyone gets that on first try."

"Ah," you nodded, "It's my dad- he taught me how to when I visited the palace once, in case rebels came when I was present."

The Prince nodded, "When I told Sophie about you, she told me who your parents were- I was trained by your dad, in fact."

"You were?" Your jaw fell open- now that was news.

"I was, I knew your dad well," he smiled, "And your mother too. They were very close to us. I'm surprised you didn't tell me earlier."

"I... I didn't know," you admitted, "They always kept their work a secret from everyone, just said they served in the palace. I guess they didn't want anyone asking for favours or something, not even their own daughter."

The Prince noticed how confused you looked, "There must have been a good reason for that. They always talked about you. They were immensely proud of you- your dad was always comparing me to you as well."

"And how exactly? I don't think I can compete with you, Prince."

"Call me Hongjoong," he said, putting his hands in his pockets, "He said you were a better learner than I was. He said, and I quote, 'my daughter could flip you as if you weighed nothing but a sack of potatoes- an empty one at that'."

You couldn't help it, you laughed out loud at that. "I cannot! I mean, I could, but I'm not that good. I'm sure he only said that to get you to learn quicker."

"It worked," Hongjoong laughed, "So he trained you too?"

"Just a bit, mostly defense," you told him.

"Have you visited their room yet? Did Sophie update you?"

"She did, but I... I can't go visit their room right away."

Hongjoong paused a bit before continuing to walk. "Is there a reason?"

"I... I just need some time. Now that I'm here, it feels like they're still running around, mom nowhere in sight like always, dad with the guards while I wait for them to finish their work so we can go home. Plus, with all the new information about their jobs..."

"I understand," Hongjoong assured you, "Take your time. It must be hard for you."

"Thank you," you passed a smile, "Will the rebels be back anytime soon?"

Hongjoong realized you must know a great deal about rebels, "They might come back sooner than we expect. They're not happy with what's going on these days. It'll take some time to calm them down."

You nodded, suddenly aware of the time you'd taken. "I'm sorry- I'm always interrupting your alone time-"

"No, it's perfectly fine, I appreciate this," Hongjoong said, and you narrowed your eyes at him, making him laugh.

"I truly do. I like it when I have someone to talk to, to sort my thoughts out, but there's not many I can talk to. If you'd like... can we be... friends? Can we talk like this sometimes? No pressure though, don't feel obliged to accept just because I'm, well, the Prince."

You shut your mouth before your jaw could drop- did he really ask you to be his friend?

"You don't have many friends, do you?"

Hongjoong put his hands up in surrender, and you pretended to consider. "I guess we can. If you were friends with my dad... you should know I'm very much like him."

"Bad humour and no regard for authority? Can I take my offer back?"

"Too late, Prince," you grinned.

Hongjoong sighed dramatically, asking you if you wanted to take a seat with him and you nodded, sitting on the bench and watching the sky. "Can I ask you why you're holding this Selection in the first place?"

Hongjoong looked at you once before sighing and looking back, "I didn't want to, actually. The thought of 30 girls with their futures depending on my decision is more intimidating than I thought. But it was a tough time for everyone, and the Selection was killing two birds with one stone- providing a distraction and hope to the kingdom, while hoping I find someone who can stand me here."

You looked at him, "You think those girls can't stand you?"

"I know most of them will be changing their minds once they get to know me and this lifestyle more. It's more appealing from a far, as you must know."

"You do have a point," you nodded, "It must be tough. I'm..."

"Don't say you're sorry, I know that if you're like your dad, you're enjoying my misery."

You passed him a guilty look as you both laughed, and you shook your head, "I really hope you find someone you'll like in there. Someone who can actually stand you, the Prince and... Hongjoong. Both."

Hongjoong nodded at that, a little surprised, "Not many people know how I am really like."

"If you want, I can tell the girls you're the type to become jealous really quick."

Hongjoong frowned, and you grinned, "Sophie might have told me how you used to watch us kids play outside with a little scowl on your face-"

"I was a kid!" Hongjoong laughed out loud, "Of course I wanted to join you all!"

"You didn't tell me this the night I told you I was one of those kids," you looked at him pointedly.

"Should I really have told you that I was the one you called 'stuck-up brat'?"

You gasped at that, Hongjoong silly dancing victoriously while you looked away, ashamed. "It's okay, we were kids. I was envious, and you thought I was, well, a stuck-up brat."

"You're not denying it."

"You think I'm a stuck-up brat?"

"I don't know, are you?" You raised a brow, and Hongjoong grinned mischievously.

"I guess you'll find out soon."

The two of you stared at each other, not even realizing until you heard one of the guards walk past, the two of you suddenly drawing out of your trance, and you both got up, suddenly feeling aware.

"I should go," Hongjoong laughed awkwardly, "It's been nice talking to you."

"Same," you told him, brushing your clothes, saying bye and beginning to go back, pausing when you felt a hand stop you by the arm.

"Sorry, I just wanted to say... don't tell about our... interactions, to anyone- not even Arin. I don't want the other girls to give you a hard time because they'll think you're competition or something like that."

"Of course," you said, "I'm only a shadow here, don't worry."

You thought there was something sad about Hongjoong's smile as he said bye and went back.

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

Hongjoong remained busy handling kingdom affairs while you were busy with Arin as you gave her language lessons, kept her up to date with everything, sat with her through the etiquettes lesson and guided her along. Everyone was getting used to conversing through you, and you were glad that no one could hate Arin- she was always so bright, always smiling and happy and clearly meant no harm, but you also understood that part of the reason was because the girls clearly thought Hongjoong would let go of Arin sooner or later.

But everyone sure was envious of Arin's date, scheduled in the evening before dinner. Arin sat in her room in pants and a blouse, wondering which recipes she should try.

"Tell me you'll help me too," Arin narrowed her eyes at you.

"Oh, I wouldn't want to interfere in your date," you grinned slyly.

"You witch!" Arin laughed, "You know we work better together."

It was true- Arin had taught you quite a few recipes and she was usually instructing you to do the menial tasks while she worked on the main ones to save time.

"Will you bring some for us?" Sana sighed dreamily, "It's been forever since I tried food that was not from the palace."

"I know right," Momo slumped in the couch, "I really want to go out and taste something new."

"Maybe you all should come and help us too," Arin said nervously.

"No, never," Mina scolded Arin, "Stop being nervous! The Prince will be here any second."

As if on cue, a knock sounded, and the maids immediately got up in a flurry, gushing over how Arin looked one last time before opening the door, letting Hongjoong in while they left, grinning.

"Ah, so you're prepared," Hongjoong scanned Arin- it was his first time seeing Arin so casual, yet she still looked elegant enough.

"Prince Hongjoong," Arin curtsied.

"Please skip the formalities and call me Hongjoong when we're alone," he smiled at the two of you.

"You're going in the kitchen in that?" Arin asked, and you kept in your laughter as you told Hongjoong what she had said.

"Now what's wrong with this-" Hongjoong looked down at his very polished black jacket, his prince attire- his usual attire.

"Do you think you're just going to be sitting back and watching her cook?" You asked Hongjoong, "You're helping."

Hongjoong's jaw dropped and as you told Arin what you'd said, she grinned, giving you a thumbs up, and Arin went ahead, snaking her arm in his and saying, "Lead the way."

"If I had known I was going to be the one doing the work," Hongjoong looked at you, "I would have maybe changed the location of the date and accepted Arin as a better chef."

"Which is why this was a surprise, but you should have figured it out," Arin said with a wink, making him laugh.

He led you both to the kitchens, where the staff greeted the Prince, Arin and you, saying this was a first time someone would have a date in the kitchen.

Arin asked for aprons, helping tie Hongjoong's and you smiled at how comfortable they looked with each other. Arin asked for the chef and looked at you as she said, "We're making brownies and scones. Should I leave the brownie batter to you?"

"Of course," you nodded, "I'll stay close by- you and Hongjoong can work on the scones."

You translated that to everyone and the chefs went to get the ingredients, Arin following them as she picked some of her own while you rolled your sleeves.

"You should roll your sleeves too," you said to Hongjoong who was watching you, "And do keep your arms tucked in as you work."

"Alright, ma'am," Hongjoong saluted, following your lead.

"So have you never baked before?"

"I have never cooked or baked," Hongjoong said, "I was always too busy."

"Well, first time for everything," you smiled, "Don't worry, Arin is a sweetheart. Even if you do something wrong, she'll tell you you did excellent with a smile."

And sure enough- Hongjoong was supposed to be following Arin but he was way too clumsy, which earned a good laugh from everyone, but Arin kept encouraging him- in Korean, thanks to the last lesson you'd given her where she'd specifically worked on phrases she'd probably need. It was cute to watch Hongjoong struggle with English while Arin struggled with Korean.

You were standing beside Hongjoong, not too far so you could help if they mistranslated anything, and the few cooks were following your lead, asking you about how Arin knew so much about baking- which you told them was thanks to her aunts being professional bakers.

"That looks way better than mine," Hongjoong looked at your batter as you dropped the chocolate chunks in the bowl, "can I have the chocolate?"

"No," you continued pouring the rest of the chocolate in, but Hongjoong slipped a hand in and picked a chunk, grinning in victory.

"Focus on your batter, Prince," you scoffed, "You don't wanna embarrass yourself on your first date, do you?"

"I'm afraid it's too late to worry," Hongjoong sulked as he fiddled with the spoon.

"Now we bake," Arin announced, smiling at you two and wriggling her brows at you, and you told her you just needed 5 more minutes to be done. Arin helped Hongjoong with the rest of his batter, and Hongjoong finally sat and watched as she set the tray and put it in the oven.

"Good riddance," Hongjoong muttered, and you kicked his leg from under the table before going to pour your own batter and tossing it in the ovens.

There were enough scones and brownies for everyone in the kitchen- a few people only, which meant you could take some back to the maids too. The three of you sat side by side as you watched the scones and brownies rise dreamily.

"I love this smell," Hongjoong muttered, "Maybe I should come in the kitchen when I want to relax."

You were sitting beside Arin so you quickly told her what he'd just said, and she smiled, "I used to do that. The smell alone made half my worries disappear."

"I can see that," Hongjoong smiled.

"The kitchens are open to you lot whenever you want to come," the head chef announced, "Especially you, Arin. I already know these are going to taste amazing. We could learn a thing or two from you."

Arin grinned, "Maybe I could learn from you all too- the food is amazing here. Thank you."

Hongjoong noticed how everyone was looking at Arin with admiration- she truly was humble and kind.

One by one the bells started to ding and Arin and the chefs picked out the trays from the oven, setting it on the tables to cool down, Arin swatting Hongjoong's hand away when he tried to pick one, scolding him because it was hot and 'a Prince should be patient' at which Hongjoong rolled his eyes and slumped down as he glared at the scones and brownies.

"Come on," you teased, "you're sulking way too much."

"Just because I'm a prince doesn't mean I can't," his sulk went deeper, making everyone around laugh.

Arin fanned one of the trays, making Hongjoong's face lift in hope, and when she finally touched the food to make sure it wasn't burning hot, she picked a scone and a brownie, setting it on a plate and adding a few toppings before handing it to Hongjoong.

"Go ahead and try," she smiled.

Hongjoong looked at you for confirmation and you nodded, and he finally picked the fork and took a bite of the scone, then a bite of the brownie, Arin eagerly waiting for him to react.

Hongjoong looked at the chef first, who raised his brows, then at Arin, then at you, and then slid his plate away.

"This is too good to eat."

Arin's face fell but you laughed, telling her what he had just said, and she almost cried, scolding Hongjoong for making it look like he hated it, at which he laughed, digging into his sweets again, everyone else passing scones and brownies too, compliments flowing for Arin and you didn't need to translate any of that- their faces said enough.

"For the maids," Arin picked some scones and brownies and asked for a box, and Hongjoong smiled.

"Maybe we should make these again for dinner one day. I'm sure the king and queen would love these too."

Arin gasped in surprise, but when Hongjoong nodded to assure her, she smiled, "Maybe."

"I should compliment you too, after all, you made the brownies," Hongjoong looked at you.

"This was Arin's recipe, I only followed the instructions," you told him.

"You know, my mother says that nothing tastes the same when made by different people even when the instructions followed remain perfectly same- the taste of one's hand- or heart," Hongjoong smiled, "you got that too."

You rolled your eyes but you were clearly pleased, "Thanks. I guess I do."

After eating until you all felt like you would throw up if you ate any more, Hongjoong thanked Arin for this experience, saying he'd never forget it and he promised to come to the kitchen more. Arin told him he didn't need to, but he could come if he wanted to relax. He walked her to the room, leaving with a kiss to her cheek that had her jumping up and down after he left, and you laughed at how she was going on about her 'fantasies fulfilled'. Entering, the maids waiting, you waved the boxes in front of them and they thanked Arin graciously before eating and moaning because these were too good.

The news of Arin's date got to the girls too, and you heard them talk about it the next morning, asking Arin how the Prince was like, if he was too uptight or if he was funny, etc. Arin truly felt like a star.

You sat through the history lesson, learning things yourself as you conveyed everything to Arin. It was the history about how the kingdoms of Wonderland and Utopia had united, how they always used to be at war for one reason or another, until about 49 years ago when the two had been united by the king, peace settling for a few decades, but the people growing restless with every passing year as discrimination grew.

Sophie asked how the rebels could be handled, and the girls had interesting answers to give- ranging from getting rid of the rebels altogether to actually finding a solution, such as a hearing from the rebels where they talk about the problems with the royal family and figure something out together.

Two days passed by, Hongjoong spending time with all the girls whenever he could, the girls who hadn't had a date yet getting insecure and nervous about it, until it was finally the day for the report- the first time the girls would have a live talk and reveal themselves to the public after getting in the palace.

Sophie had done you a favour and let you in on the script for Arin's questions, so she could prepare her English accordingly, and you were glad for it. Though you would be present and guiding her along, it would really help if Arin already knew what could be asked.

The maids insisted on getting you in a dress, but you strongly rejected- you really did not want to steal Arin's spotlight. You would only distract the public if you appeared the same as Arin. And even though Arin pouted and asked you (something you couldn't usually refuse), you had to shake your head no this time.

"Just dress me in the best suit," you winked at the maids, "I'll be good with that."

So while Arin had dressed in a deep red gown with lots of frill and pearls, her hair half tied with curls framing her face, you had dressed to match in a deep red three-piece suit. You absolutely loved it and thanked the maids for coming up with this- the pearls near the neckline were cherry on top. Your hair was slicked back, pearl earring in your ears the only jewellery you had along with a watch. You had matching heels to finish your outfit.

"We look more like a couple than I could ever look with Hongjoong," Arin grinned.

It was true. You grinned back, "We'll get Hongjoong to match with you one day and see who makes the better couple."

Arin slapped your arm playfully, and then you were escorted by the guards to the room where the broadcast would be conducted, and you had to blink your eyes a few time to adjust to the lights and the colours of the selected girls seated in the front. You both went inside, sitting side by side in the second row, Byeol next to you.

"Arin looks gorgeous, but you? Holy hell, woman."

"Is it too much?" You frowned- you hadn't expected to grab attention.

"I'm just saying you look great- if you weren't in a different dress, you could easily pass as one of the selected," she smiled, focusing her attention back on the crowd.

You thought about it- would people think the same after seeing you on television? Probably not. You were only a translator, you'd be sitting in the shadows as you translated everything to Arin- and you hoped she wouldn't need you.

The girls were pretty nervous, one even having to rush to the toilet because she felt like she was going to throw up. You looked at Arin- she seemed excited but the way she was unconsciously cracking her knuckles gave her away.

"If you crack your knuckles while you sit there I'll break your fingers," you warned.

Arin laughed, "You're such a mother. But if I do, feel free to poke me. I'll do the breaking myself."

You chuckled, the lights getting dimmer, and the host Kang Yeosang entered, his hair in a blonde mullet, and looking as beautiful as ever.

If there was one man you thought looked perfect, it was Yeosang. He looked too perfect to be real, and you were probably more nervous about getting to meet your favourite celebrity and host of variety shows or talk shows than the interview itself.

"I think I'm gonna have to shake you one or two times during the interview," Arin said as she closed your mouth shut with a finger, laughing at how star-struck you were after seeing Yeosang, and as you glared at her, you pointed to the girls- you weren't the only one with a hanging jaw.

"Good evening, Wonderland!" Yeosang announced, looking as much a prince as the Prince himself in his deep purple suit, "Tonight, we'll be getting an inside scoop from these young ladies I know you're all dying to meet. We'll learn how things are going with Prince Hongjoong, we're just going to ask! Let's welcome... Miss Kim Kahi from Utopia City!"

Kahi moved elegantly from the first row to the stage, greeting Yeosang with a curtsy before settling down. She was composed and did well, so did the others, but it was pretty predictable. Some girls were acting shy on purpose- you'd never seen them like this and you knew because you were usually the one sitting back and watching everyone objectively. Some were clearly nervous but Yeosang joked a bit, which helped them calm down.

Arin was called when there were two girls remaining- the two of you got up, you immediately rushing to the backstage from where you would seat yourself as Arin would walk to the stage and greet Yeosang. You stood waiting until Arin was ready to sit, which was when Yeosang shook your hand too, and you prayed your hand wasn't sweaty as you smiled.

"Miss Arin from Mist Island, a unique case here because of the language barrier- I hope you're holding up well?"

Arin looked at you in confirmation and you nodded, and she smiled as she looked at Yeosang, "I'm doing well, thank you for asking."

"Ah, you sound good! Do we have your translator to thank for that, Miss...?"

You told him your name, "Arin is a quick and eager learner, I'm sure she'll get the hang of this is no time."

"Definitely! So, Arin, tell us, have you had a date with the Prince yet?"

"I have, we made cake in the kitchen," Arin was gleaming, making Yeosang chuckle.

"Now that's something unheard of! So tell us- is our Prince as good at baking as he is at running the kingdom or does he need practice?"

Arin looked at you with confusion this time, and you quickly told her what he'd said, "He's very good! Pro!"

As she said that, she looked at Hongjoong sitting in the front row who was laughing and shaking his head, making the crowd laugh as well as the cameras panned back and forth.

"I think the Prince disagrees, now which one of you is lying?" Yeosang narrowed his eyes dramatically, and you told Arin, Arin instead asking you to explain.

"She says she would never lie about this," you tried to stop the grin appearing on your face.

"Let's hear from the Prince," Yeosang looked at Hongjoong, who picked up his mic.

"Arin refuses to admit I'm a bad chef, but I did exceptionally well thanks to Arin's instructions. She's an excellent guide and baker!"

"Ah, that's great to hear," Yeosang smiled, "So Miss Arin, how do you feel about the Selection?"

Now Arin got the question, and she spoke confidently, "I'm honoured to be a part of it, no matter the outcome. Whoever he marries will be a lucky person. And..."

Arin turned to you as she spoke, and you cleared your throat, "Arin says that Prince Hongjoong is an amazing person, and she hopes he finds a good partner through this process, no matter who that is."

Yeosang smiled warmly at the two of you, "Thank you, Miss Arin. We hope to see you again in the next report, good luck!"

With that, you and Arin took off, you going backstage while Arin stood for a few pictures before leaving the stage. As you made your way back, the girls grinned at you. "You two were amazing. Arin did such a good job, I feel happy for her."

"Thank you Byeol, Nayoung," you smiled.

After the interviews, you all were led to have dinner in the hall, where Hongjoong joined, applauding everyone for doing a good job with the interviews. He was going from one girl to the other to have small talk after dinner, and then he finally reached the two of you.

"Good job, Arin!" Hongjoong smiled and Arin thanked him, "You did better than I expected."

"You should thank her," Arin said, but the two of you shook your head.

"It was all you, Arin," you said, and Hongjoong nodded.

"A little bit of her too, but all you," he laughed.

Arin smiled, and Hongjoong looked at you, "Are we walking in the garden tonight?"

"Are we?" You cocked your head- was that an invitation? Hongjoong only smiled.

"I'm not supposed to tell you already, but there's an assignment coming up where Arin would have to present something verbally. Just dropping a hint- foreign visit taking place soon."

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that," you zipped your lips, squeezing Arin's hand as in 'wait'.

"I'll be taking my leave then, have a good night, Arin."

"Good night," Arin smiled and Hongjoong took her hand and kissed it before taking his leave, leaving Arin watching him dreamily.

"Snap out of it, woman, we have work to do," you clicked your fingers in front of her, "Assignment. Foreign visitors, you'll have to present something. Don't tell anyone- he only told us."

"Why did he only tell us though?" Arin frowned.

"He probably wants you to do a good job," you put a hand on your hip, "Which means you might be one of his favourites right now."

"Wow... that's good to hear," she let out a breathy laugh.

"Also... I should tell you this, but Hongjoong knows me from our childhood too- not much," you sighed, "Remember how I told you I used to visit the palace often? He's seen me around."

"Ah, that's so cool!" Arin gushed, "I wish he'd known me too."

"That's not cool in any way," you muttered, flashbacks of your dark past- especially the fact that he knew you used to call him a stuck-up brat flowing in your head, and you shook the thoughts away.

"I'll tell you more later- I found out that my mother was the queen's maid and father was Hongjoong's personal trainer- tell no one, okay?"

"Who would I tell, you're my only friend," Arin rolled her eyes, "But how come you did not know this? They didn't tell you?"

"That's what I keep asking," you bit your lips, "Why am I the last person who knows this?"

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

You tried to ignore the excitement you felt simply because Hongjoong had very casually invited you for a walk. You supposed that now that you were 'friends', you'd be hanging out more. Plus, it really looked like he needed someone like you right now- someone who could understand Hongjoong but understand the selected girls too, help him sort his thoughts out.

What you did not know was the thoughts that ran through Hongjoong's mind when he saw you at the broadcast room.

Hongjoong knew it was somewhat wrong, seeing how there were literally 22 girls who all dressed up for him, in absolutely beautiful gowns- and they did look beautiful. However, when you had walked in with your slicked back hair dressed in a suit... he couldn't take his eyes off of you.

He would never say it out loud- there was a goddamned Selection going on just for him. But you were stunning, you were funny, you knew more about how the palace and this country ran than any of the girls here, and Hongjoong had one question in his mind that he wanted to ask you tonight.

Now that part was tricky. He would have to remain as casual as possible, and he knew you were very clever and would realize if something was off too.

Hongjoong thought it was crazy- you two hadn't known each other for two long, but the way you clicked... he supposed you were just one of those people who he'd felt like he'd known forever. And even if you were going to be just friends, he really appreciated that.

He arrived in the garden first- or so he thought, until he saw you playing with a flower in a corner and he took in your appearance- you were still in your dress, only your heels changed.

Hongjoong had to shake his head- this was downright cruel. He was sure you didn't realize the effect you had on him tonight but maybe the deities did and they were punishing him for having these thoughts when 22 girls were waiting for him.

As if you'd notice him watching you, you turned to him, smiling and waving at him, unknown to the fact that he had been here and thinking about you. Hongjoong neared, taking a deep breath.

"Long night," he sighed, "You didn't change."

"Neither did you," you pointed out, and he looked down as if he hadn't realized.

"I was busy," he laughed, and you raised a brow.

"I was busy too."

"With what?"

"Just this and that," you sighed, "Helping Arin calm down after all the excitement, playing a game of cards with the maids. I didn't realize it was so late until I went to my room, and I wouldn't want to keep our busy prince waiting now, would I?"

"I love how you always find a way to mock me with my title," Hongjoong shook his head.

"So," you turned to him, beckoning him to walk and he did alongside you, "Is there a reason you called me for a walk?"

"Can't friends do that?" Hongjoong pouted.

"True," you shrugged, "How was tonight then? Like anyone?

"Well," Hongjoong took a long time to think, "Arin certainly did a great job. Kahi was a natural. The people love Nayoung. Byeol is well educated."

"I asked about who you liked," you gave him a pointed look, and laughed at how torn he looked, "Too early to ask?"

"Yes," Hongjoong sighed, running a hand through his hair, "I don't know if I like any of them like that. I don't feel a spark with anyone- maybe there's no such thing as a spark."

"There is," you assured him, and he raised a brow.

"Have you felt it?"

"I felt it, tonight," you smirked, watching his expressions change into confusion.

"Who, exactly, are you talking about?"

"Well, who do you think? Come on, it's easy. Who looked like a Prince tonight?"

"Me?" Hongjoong pointed at himself, and you laughed.

"I said looked like a Prince. It was Yeosang, of course. I can't believe how handsome he is! The camera really doesn't do justice to his beauty, and that's crazy because he looks so beautiful even on tv."

Hongjoong groaned, "Come on! Yeosang?"

"And why not?" You put your hands on your hips, "Can't a girl dream?"

"Sure. Dream along, I won't stop you," Hongjoong waved a hand in dismissal, "For a moment I thought there was a special someone back home."

"Nah," you smiled, shaking your head, "Never has been, and at this rate, never will be."

"Why? I think you're pretty fun to be around."

"You think that because you have no one to talk to and I'm your best option."

"Not at all," Hongjoong shook his head, "I know a lot of people. I'm not lying."

"Okay, let's accept that I'm fun and likable. I never liked anyone. Well, maybe if Yeosang would give me a chance..."

"I'll banish him if he looks at you funny," Hongjoong mumbled, making you snort in a very unladylike manner, "But I was wondering... did you enter the Selection?"

"Me?" You looked at him, and he nodded, "No, I didn't."

"Why?" Hongjoong asked, and you scanned his face.

"A number of reasons, but the main one being the lack of self confidence I have. The probability of getting picked, and then getting picked after the Selection... it's too little and too stressful. Why would I do that to myself? Also, I don't think I'm princess material."

"Well," Hongjoong began, "I can understand that you thought you didn't stand a chance, but I think... I think you would have done well."

"Oh, come on," you slapped his arm lightly, "Stop making fun of me."

Hongjoong grinned, and you shook your head. You'd just never fantasized about Hongjoong or being a princess. You were glad for Arin though, who had. Hongjoong was staring at you and you caught him.

"Would you have liked me to enter?" You wriggled your brows, and Hongjoong pretended to throw up, making you mutter a few curse words under your breath.

"Anyways," Hongjoong exhaled, "I'm thinking of announcing an elimination tomorrow. I've talked to every one of the girls. I don't want to keep hanging this matter."

"Ah, do take your time. It's your future, after all."

"Of course," he sighed, "Wife. Friend. Partner. I don't know what I'm looking for, but I hope to find it soon."

"Don't worry about the sparks, by the way," you said, "you should really get to know the girls. Sparks will come if you click with them and begin to like them."

"I suppose so," Hongjoong said.

"Can I ask you something?" You said after a moment, and he nodded, "Will I be going home tomorrow, with Arin?"

"Isn't this cheating?" Hongjoong asked, and you rolled your eyes.

"I'm not telling Arin. Come on, as a friend, I should know if I should sleep after packing my bags or not."

"Well, you're not going. I like Arin more than most of the girls there- she's easy to be with. Plus, I think I'll keep her anyway if it means I get to eat those scones and brownies anytime-"

"Prince Hongjoong, are you out of your mind-"

"I'm kidding!" Hongjoong laughed, "About the brownie part. Though I certainly wouldn't mind- I'm just saying that I'll keep Arin for now. And don't worry, if I decide to send her home, I'll let you know beforehand."

"Can you promise me one thing?" You said, and Hongjoong stopped as he looked at you. "Promise me that if you don't like Arin, you won't keep her hanging in here. You'll let her go. She's my best friend, and I don't want her to live here longer if she would be living in false hope."

"Does she really like me?" Hongjoong asked, and you shrugged.

"I'm still trying to figure that out- if she's still in her fantasy phase or if she genuinely likes you. But can you please consider her, despite the language barrier?"

"Of course, I am already," Hongjoong assured you.

"Thank you," you gave him a nod, "I know I shouldn't be asking this of you- you're the Prince, for heck's sake-"

"I'm just Hongjoong when I'm with you, so... you can ask anything."

You looked at him in gratitude, trying to ignore the way your heart flipped when you heard that. "Thank you. Should we go now? It's pretty late."

"We should," Hongjoong said, and his face twisted into surprise when you tucked the little flower you had been playing with in his hair over his ear.

"You look pretty," you laughed, beginning to walk back.

"Hey," Hongjoong said, and you turned, "I don't think I told you... but you looked really beautiful tonight."

"Me?" You pointed at yourself, making him laugh a bit as he nodded.

"Yes, you. I like this look on you. I mean it."

You made an impressed face as you playfully ran your hands over your hair as if to slick them back, making him laugh before saying bye and taking off.

As you lay in bed, you tried to ignore the fact that he'd call everyone pretty in the hall just a few hours ago, but-

He'd called you beautiful. And he had said that he meant it.

You wondered what life would have been like if you had entered the Selection, and wondered if you were better off like this.

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

The next few days were the busiest days you'd all seen so far- with the royal family of Halaland visiting Wonderland, it was all hustle and bustle in the palace, and you'd think the palace had months to prepare as they set the tents, as decoration was done and champagne of the highest quality was brought out from the cellars.

You'd all learn that the royals of Halaland were easy to offend, so the selected girls especially had to be super careful with their etiquettes and manners, but they were no boomers as well and loved to enjoy so you had to charm them. Natural charmers like Kahi and a few other girls were pretty relaxed compared to girls like Sohee and Wonyoung who were naturally shy and reserved.

As for Arin... she was both nervous but also confident now that everyone including Hongjoong had praised her for her natural charms, and you were glad she finally understood that she just needed to be herself.

This time, you had to give up wearing the suit, since it was a very formal event, and your maids came up with the brilliant idea combining the elegance of a suit with a dress- a sheath surplice neck asymmetrical dress with sleeves that reached a bit below your elbows, the length of it just above your knees. You felt strangely exposed after wearing suits and pants for so long, but you couldn't deny you felt good- the pale mauve colour of it seeming more purple when you shifted in the light- you couldn't help but admire the dress.

"You guys always outdo yourselves," you breathed as you looked at yourself in the mirror, paired with heels of the same colour, "How did you even come up with this colour? It's so nice!"

"Wait till you see Arin," Momo smiled, "She'll look different tonight- we've had enough of her innocent looks."

"Ooh," you raised a brow, "I'm looking forward to that."

"Come on, let me do your hair," Mina made you sit, tying your hair in a loose bun with messy curls falling, pearls in your hair, a pearl bracelet the only accessory you would be wearing tonight apart from your usual diamond studs.

"Dressing you up feels like you're one of the Selected too," Sana smiled as she patted your arm.

"Even I start to feel like it- you guys do too much to me, it's really unnecessary."

"Please, where's the fun if you hang beside Arin looking as plain as a mouse? Everyone deserves to look stylish."

You shook your head, the maids taking you to Arin's room who was already done getting ready before you, and you audibly gasped when you saw her in the midnight black off-shoulder dress with a silver belt on the waist, shimmery stars growing more as you looked down, her hair left straight and open, pinned at one side, her eyes bold and smokey.

"Now, now," you scanned her up and down, "Who is this? I don't think I recognize this sexy lady."

"Shut up," Arin laughed, "Is it too much?"

"I think it's perfect. Hongjoong won't be able to look away from you after this. And if he does, I'll assume he's blind."

Arin smiled half-heartedly, and you assumed she was nervous, asking her if she was feeling okay.

"Let's just go, I need to go over the things with the girls too," Arin said.

You reached the great hall where some of the girls were already there, and the way they gasped when Arin came, hugging her and complimenting her, you felt a little teary eyed. After every elimination, the remaining girls seemed to get closer too despite the growing competition, and now that Hongjoong had eliminated 6 more girls, they were down to 16.

"You look wonderful too, I'm glad I'm seeing you in something that is not a suit," Nayoung scoffed, and you scoffed back playfully.

"Ladies!" Sophie came hurriedly, dragging all the girls to the entrance so they could receive the guests, "Remember- chins up, backs straight, and don't forget to smile."

The girls stood in two rows, in front of each other. The sounds of laughter and chatter grew stronger with every passing minute, and you stood on your tiptoes to peek at the guests, noticing Arin doing the same, and you poked her from the back.

"Stand straight, miss," you ordered, and she gave you a guilty smile.

The ladies and the gents started to enter, all in the most elegant dresses you'd ever seen, mostly shades of blue and blacks, the girls all greeting with hugs and kisses, getting compliments with a smile. It seemed that the royal family of Halaland was very interested in the Selection.

As the guests dispersed, greeting the queen who looked regal in her own black gown, the king and Hongjoong were at the farthest corner of the hall, and the girls all dispersed around him, hoping to catch Hongjoong's eye.

You and Arin stood by the table, you sipping on the champagne which tasted as expensive as it must be, while Arin was looking around nervously.

"Go ahead," you told her, "I think you're good enough in Korean to have a basic conversation. Or should I tag along?"

"You should, just in case. I don't wanna embarrass myself," Arin pouted.

"Arin, honey, you're adorably sexy today and if you fumble a bit with words, that would only add to your charm tonight. I'll tag along, lead the way, wherever you wanna go."

Arin grinned as she led the way, the two of you walking around until one of the younger guests, who you assumed was the Princess of Halaland approached Arin.

"It's so good to see you in person," she said in English and took Arin's hand, "You're my pick, just so you know."

Arin gasped, "Really? Thank you!"

"You're cute," she grinned, looking at you, "And you're definitely doing a great job since she's still here."

"Thank you, your Highness," you bowed.

"Call me Miyeon," she said to the two of you, "Should I put in a good word for you with Hongjoong?"

"Thank you, but I think Hongjoong should like me without anyone telling him to," Arin smiled.

"That's wise," Miyeon grinned, "Do you like Hongjoong?"

"I was more of a fan before the Selection, but I'm trying to really get to know him and how the palace works."

"See?" Miyeon looked at you, "I had a reason I picked her."

You gleamed at Arin, "See? You're doing great, Arin."

Arin laughed, and Miyeon told you she could take it from here, that she wanted to get to know Arin and would introduce her to the royal family. You thanked her, and though Arin looked nervous, you told her it was a great opportunity to interact with everyone with you not by her side, and Arin reluctantly but happily went with Miyeon.

You watched the two of them go away like a proud mother, going back to sipping your champagne, watching the girls interact with Hongjoong one by one too, Hongjoong all polite smiles.

"Penny for your thoughts?" A deep voice sounded, and you looked at the source- a tall boy around your age with a sharp face and even sharper eyes.

"Just observing," you said, "And you are?"

"Prince San of Halaland," he bowed, and you gasped, curtsying and apologizing for not recognizing him.

"I'm not one of the Selected girls, by the way, in case you want to interact with them."

"Oh no, why would I want to interact with the ladies who are only interested in Prince Hongjoong?" Prince San grinned, making you shrug as you smiled, "I saw you on the TV, you know. With Miss Arin. My sister Miyeon is crazy about her, and with the amount of times she watched her clips in front of me..."

"Ah, is that so?" You couldn't help but grin at that as you looked at Miyeon and Arin talking like long lost best friends, "They do look like they have been apart for too long now."

"Indeed," San huffed as he put his pockets and shook his head at the way his sister was chatting with Arin, all laughs and giggles, "How's job as a translator?"

"I'm actually Arin's best friend before translator, so I'm good," you told him, offering him a glass which he took, "And what brings the Prince to a measly translator?"

"Well," Prince San looked at you as he drank, "This mere old Prince wanted a break from girls in frills."

You scoffed, "I could have been in frills tonight too."

"And I still would have approached you," his gaze was... flirty. You raised a brow, and he laughed.

"I'm saying I could use good company," Prince San said as he scanned you up and down, and you suddenly felt uncomfortable-

"Prince San," a familiar voice sounded and you almost sighed in relief when you saw Hongjoong, "Long time."

"Long time," Prince San hugged him, "How's the Selection treating you?"

"I don't even know how it's treating me," Hongjoong said, finally looking at you and smiling, "You're alone."

"Arin was snatched by my sister," Prince San put a hand up as in surrender, "She's a bit of a fan of hers."

"Ah, I forgot you both were fluent in English. It's good for her to hang out without a translator for once," Hongjoong looked at you.

"Definitely, I had to push her, but she really needed this," you smiled.

"Well, you've got eyes, Prince San," Hongjoong pointed to a group of older ladies calling him over, and he rolled his eyes, muttering a bye before taking off.

"What did he want?" Hongjoong asked you, and you raised a brow at his tone.

"Nothing, he was just talking."

"Be careful of him- he loves to talk to people and then use them for 'distraction'," Hongjoong sighed, and you nodded- you'd got that vibe from him too, "Anyways, I never thought I'd see you in a dress."

You rolled your eyes, "It had to happen one day."

"I'm not complaining, you look as beautiful as always," Hongjoong said.

"Well, thanks, I guess. It's definitely a change I needed tonight- I think it would have been odd wearing a suit tonight, no one's wearing one."

"Exactly," Hongjoong nodded, "Can we see you in a skirt next time?"

"Stop teasing me," you almost slapped his arm, remembering you were very much in public, "Don't you have other girls to go to and tell them they look beautiful or something?"

"No," Hongjoong smiled distantly, and you frowned.

"Hello, you're still in the Selection. Go. The girls are literally waiting for you to notice them, and do compliment everyone at least. They all probably spent the whole day dressing up for you."

"Ugh, it's so pressurizing!" Hongjoong waved dramatically, and this time, you did push him forward, sending him laughing as he walked away to the nearest girl, who eagerly snaked her arm in his.

The rest of the event was mostly boring for you, making small talk with anyone who came to greet you, trying to avoid Prince San, and running into Hongjoong again, who said he needed to charge himself for at least two days after this event. Food was served and you finally sat with Arin and Miyeon as you ate, mostly listening to their conversation, adding a joke or two in between.

The night was still young, and you needed to take a breather. Telling Arin you'd be back, you went to freshen up a bit, deciding to go outside and take a breath of that chilly fresh air. You took a turn and nearly bumped into someone-

That someone being Hongjoong, your faces incredibly close as you both took ahold of your footing, finally breathing when you stepped away.

"Careful when you walk, we could have crashed rather painfully."

"What's got you in a rush?" You asked as you tried to calm your beating heart.

"Nothing, just coming back after taking a breather," he ran a hand through his hair, "I guess you're in need of one too."

"Absolutely," you said, "See you around, Prince."

With that, you took off into the night, leaving Hongjoong staring at your back for a good minute before he shook his head and walked back inside.

The rest of the night was as uneventful as it could be, Arin and Miyeon engaged in a heated conversation and you couldn't help but smile at the two- good for Arin. She had little to no conversation with the selected girls and you really liked that she was talking to someone finally.

As for Prince San, he kept coming back to you after every half an hour, apologizing for making you feel uncomfortable, saying he just wanted good company since he would be here for three days. So you accepted, the two of you finding yourself talking about anything and everything, from childhood stories to habits.

"Don't tell anyone, but I really adore cats," he smiled.

"That's surprising, but nothing to be ashamed of. You should tell everyone this, in fact. Don't you have pet cats? If I were you I would have opened my palace gates for all cats."

"Miyeon's allergic, so I can't do that," he sighed, looking at Miyeon and smiling warmly.

"You two seem close."

"We're practically best friends. We tell each other everything."

"That's sweet," you smiled, "What do you do other than performing your princely duties though?"

"Well, I like working out. I like to play with my cats- stray cats, in the garden. I also like to sing in the shower."

"You should hold a shower concert sometime, your cats could be your audience," you said, and he laughed out loud, putting his hand over his face- a habit of his. "Also, I have a question- I'm curious about something."

"Ask away."

"Do you and Miyeon have as much responsibility as Hongjoong, or is it less of a burden to you?"

"It's definitely less, my elder sister is in line for the throne. In fact, don't tell anyone, but we were considering their marriage before the Selection."

You gasped, "Really? Did they know each other or like each other?"

"They know each other, but not really- they've only met twice or thrice. But considering how things are in this kingdom, we decided against the unison of our kingdoms."

"Ah, so it just happened."

"I think it's sad," San shook his head, "I can't imagine marrying someone I don't know or like. I can't imagine having a Selection either- I don't know how he's handling it."

"I know. I think it's sad that he doesn't have the freedom to date and explore. What if he doesn't like any one of them?"

"Let's pray he does," San said.

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

The next day was chaotic, to put it lightly.

Kahi had basically announced that she and Hongjoong had kissed last night. Nayoung admitted that she had kissed him a few days ago too.

The reactions ranged from jealousy to anger to curiosity- what was it like? Who kissed first? How did it feel?

You supposed it was bound to happen sooner or later, though you were a bit disappointed in the obvious choices- Nayoung being the palace star and Kahi being people's favourite.

However, you were more surprised when you conveyed all of this to Arin and she showed little reaction.

"Did you already know?" You asked.

"I didn't," she admitted, saying nothing, but you didn't spot disappointment on her face either, so you shrugged it off.

Arin told you that she would be spending more time with Miyeon since she was here for only two more days, offering you to join but you turned it down. You didn't want to be the third-wheel and you really wanted her to talk to someone else as well. You were glad that she had a friend now.

You went to Arin's room, chatting with Momo, Mina and Sana, catching up with palace gossip such as what the selected were up to, who was whose favourite, etc. After a game of cards, you went to your room and slumped on your bed, wondering if it was time to finally visit your parent's room.

You were still conflicted, but you decided to go to the kitchen and steal something while you would decide.

However, you were surprised with the sight of Hongjoong sitting by himself in a corner, watching the brownies in the oven bake, the rest of the kitchen busy with their own work, paying no heed to the Prince.

"How long has he been coming over?" You asked a woman you knew was the assistant chef.

"Every other day, basically. Sometimes he eats, sometimes he just watches us, poor thing," she waved her hand in a motherly nature.

As if Hongjoong had felt your stare, he turned, his face lighting at the sight of you as he patted the spot next to him.

"What are you doing here? Don't you have a kingdom to run or girls to kiss?"

You cringed a bit, wondering if you sounded jealous, but he just put his face in his hands, clearly ashamed. "I guess everyone knows now."

"Well, it was bound to happen," you shrugged.

"I didn't mean to. With Nayoung... she kissed me at our date. And Kahi... I was really frustrated and- ugh, I feel ashamed."

You grinned, "No need to. You can kiss whoever you like."

Hongjoong clapped when the oven went off, and you got up to take the brownies out, placing them on the table you sat.

"Enough about that, why are you here?"

You sighed, "I was wondering if I had grown the balls to visit my parent's room."

Hongjoong choked on his brownie, muttering 'language'. "Do you want me to come with you?"

You looked at him, wondering if that was what you needed. Someone to be with you. Someone who knew.

"I don't know... I don't know if I am ready."

"Well, if you're here, you're ready," he told you, "Let's go after eating."

You watched him eat his brownie as he gazed at the rest dreamily. You wondered how you two had become so comfortable with each other- to the point you'd forget he was the Prince. Hongjoong caught you staring.

"What are you looking at?"

"You, obviously," you scoffed, shrugging awkwardly as you took a bite, "Just wondering how we got... here."

"I know," Hongjoong smiled, "I didn't expect a friend out of the Selection."

After eating another brownie, Hongjoong told you to wait while he got the keys from Sophie, and you sat trying to muster up your courage.

You were finally going to go to their room and not find them there, only their belongings left. You didn't know what to expect.

Hongjoong led you to the other side of the palace, stopping in front of a room you assumed was your parents. "If you really feel like not going in, I understand."

You shook your head, "Rather go in then turn around from here."

He smiled, putting in the key and turning, opening the door.

The first thing you noticed was the sunlight illuminating the white sheets on the bed, and it looked like someone had packed their belongings. You stepped in, Hongjoong behind you, turning once.

"This doesn't feel like their room anymore- everything's packed."

"Your mom's friend packed the stuff. Do you want me to leave while you look at it?"

"No- you can stay," you told him, and he took a seat, you bringing a box to the seat next to his, opening it to find your dad's clothes.

One by one, you opened the boxes- clothes, personal belongings, a few of their favourite books, and then you found a few pictures- pictures of you, pictures you had never seen. You didn't even remember half of the moments.

"You were cuter when you were little," Hongjoong laughed as he saw one of your pre-teen years.

"I admit that I was," you smiled, finding a photo album and flipping through it, Hongjoong bringing his seat closer.

You didn't realize you were crying until your tears fell on the album, and you hastily wiped your eyes, holding back a sob but failing when Hongjoong put a comforting hand on your back.

"It just... feels real, now that I'm in their room alone without them. They'd never let me come here alone," you smiled sadly.

"It's okay, let it out," Hongjoong rubbed your back as you sniffed, bursting in a sob and holding your face in your hands, Hongjoong's arm wrapping around you as he held you.

You really felt their absence now. You'd grown up away from your parents, but this was the one place you'd always be with your parents, with your dad's funny face as he cracked jokes while your mom would scold you both for being too loud.

Hongjoong handed you his handkerchief and you wiped your eyes and nose, apologizing for being a mess.

"It's okay, really," he said, "I know it's hitting now that you're here."

You nodded, another stream of tear escaping your eyes, and Hongjoong's heart ached- he had always seen you with a smile or a smirk on your face. He couldn't bear to see your eyes full of tears, pain evident on your face. He didn't realize what he was doing- he brought his hand to your face, cupping it as he wiped your tears, kissing your cheek once, drawing back rather slowly and you looked at him.

It was as if time stilled- his hand remained on your face, fingers unmoving, while the two of you stared at each other. You were the first to draw away from your trance, muttering a sorry, looking away awkwardly, staring at the distance as you wiped your face.

"Do you want to take some of these to your room?" He asked, getting up, "We can make a box and you can take that."

"That's actually a good idea," you got up, putting all the pictures and photo albums in a separate box, some of your mom's jewellery, your dad's favourite books, and then you were done. You noticed Hongjoong smiling at a picture.

"What are you looking at?"

"I think this is the most recent one," he waved it at you- he was right. It was from the time they visited your home, a candid picture of you where you were out in the sun with a hand in front of your face to block the light. Your mom was always clicking such random pictures of you. "I'm keeping this."

"You are not," you glared at him, coming forward to snatch it away from him but he only stepped back, holding it in the air, smirking playfully.

"I'm gonna frame it and keep it in my room, caption it, 'the only time she looked normal'- hey!"

Hongjoong was startled when you jumped, holding on his shoulder for support, but he took another step back, which was a mistake, and he ended up loosing his footing, his free arm automatically going around your waist for support, but he ended up falling back- thankfully on the bed-

And you on top of him.

You groaned loudly, getting up a bit and laughing loudly when you snatched the picture from him, waving it in front of his face in victory.

But he wasn't having any of that- and he really wanted to wipe the smirk off your face. He brought you closer- dangerously close- and you realized only then the position that you were in, your eyes going wide.

"You're giving me that photo back," his voice was hoarse, expressions smug.

You shook your head, putting your hand behind you, only one hand holding you up for support.

Hongjoong shook his head, muttering 'you're gonna make me regret this' as he pushed himself up and caught your lips in his, kissing you rather furiously, swallowing your surprised moan, his hand tightening around your waist as one hand snaked up your face.

He wasn't even giving you time to think or breathe as he moved his lips along yours, and you didn't realize you were responding to the kiss until you heard his own satisfied moan, your hand on his shoulder now squeezing it unconsciously, because this was wrong, this shouldn't be happening, but you didn't care in that moment, those thoughts being pushed out and out-

Hongjoong snatched the photo from you, and you thought he'd stop, but his hand went to the back of your head, guiding you along better, pushing into you until you both had switched position, your back arched very low.

You had to break apart for breath, your foreheads still joined as you both tried to catch your breath and you couldn't help but sigh at how out of breath you both were. His arms stayed around you as he drew apart, out of words as you stared at each other.

You shook your head, "All this for one photo?"

"I'm definitely framing it," he muttered.

You exhaled, licking your lips as your gaze fell on his, and you finally came to your senses, getting up and away from his warm embrace, suddenly feeling cold.

Hongjoong cleared his throat as he straightened himself, and you picked the box, awkwardly standing in the middle of the room.

"This was definitely only because you wanted to distract me and snatch the photo, right? Because you're in a goddamn Selection, Prince Hongjoong, and Arin is my best friend and I could never do this to her."

He felt his heart twist, but he nodded, "Definitely."

The two of you knew you weren't being honest. But you decided to ignore it for now. "Let's go then. I'll be taking this to my room."

"Alright," he said, motioning you to go forward, locking the room back. As he walked you to the chamber where the girls and you were staying, he told you he was gonna go to his room.

"Can I ask you something?"

"What?"

"That was... just how many girls have you kissed?"

Hongjoong realized you basically meant he was a pro, and he threw his head back as he laughed, making you laugh as well, the ice breaking for now. "I'm not that experienced!"

You made a face that said that you were not having any of it. "Liar."

"Believe it or not, before the Selection, I've only kissed twice," he admitted, and you gasped.

"I guess you're a natural. Let's forget about this, okay? Stay focused, Prince! 16 girls waiting for your response, and I'm not one of them."

Hongjoong saluted, going back to his room- once he was inside, he slumped down with his face in his hands.

He was glad you were cool and things hadn't messed up indefinitely, but...

One thing he was sure of was that he'd never felt anything like this in his life before- and he wanted more. He wasn't sure if he could forget this.

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

You knew you were never going to look at Hongjoong the same way again.

Something had inevitably changed between the two of you, and though you were trying not to think of it, you were now aware of him, more than ever. And though Hongjoong was an excellent actor, you could see that he was a bit awkward too.

But maybe you two only needed time to forget that.

What you did not know was that Hongjoong was trying to forget about it, he really was. And he was busying himself in more work than usual, trying to interact with the Selected girls more, another broadcast taking place as well.

With Arin hanging out with Miyeon, you didn't have anyone to talk to- but you were scared to face Arin after that. If Arin really liked Hongjoong and was serious about it (of course she did, there were no ifs!), you had messed up. Your friendship with Arin was worth so much to you and you couldn't ruin it.

With Hongjoong busy, you spent most of the time in your room or with San- who was surprisingly very easy to talk to. You two had a lot in common, in fact, which created a very comfortable bond between you two.

You sat with San near the pond, the two of you glum as you tossed pebbles in the pond. If anyone would see you two, they'd think you'd lost a war- the amount of sighs you two were breathing were too much.

"What's got you so down?" You finally asked, "I thought you were enjoying your stay."

"I was, and I'm not ready to go back to my normal life. I need a break so bad," San sighed, looking up at the sky wistfully.

"Ah... I can't imagine going back to my normal life either now," you could relate to him- even though it had been only three days for him, he must have been needing this breather.

"I'm sure Miyeon must be crying right now, in Arin's arms," he grinned.

"You wanna cry too? I'll join," you laughed, and San shook his head.

"Why do you wanna cry?" San looked at you, and you pursed your lips.

"You ever do something that you regret?" You asked, and he scoffed.

"If there was one thing-"

"No, like," you turned to him, "It wasn't your fault. But somehow... you got involved. And it was a bad decision- there is too much at stake. And you regret that- nothing's damaged yet, but you can't forget it either."

San narrowed his eyes at you, "Is this what I think it is?"

"I don't know what you think it is, but it's not that, and no, I don't even want to hear what you think it is-"

San burst out laughing, shaking his head as he looked at you, clicking his tongue at you. "Does this involve Hongjoong?"

You opened your mouth to say no, but his eyes said he had you, and you shut your mouth. "Why do you think this involves Hongjoong?"

"I've seen the way he looks at you- and don't tell me I'm wrong. I know a man's gaze and what it means."

You bit your lip, turning your face away from him. What was going on? Was San right about this?

"Something happened between you two?"

"I'd rather not talk about it," you muttered, and San patted your back.

"There are some things in life we cannot change. But... I think we should be able to make our decisions without caring about someone else. You know what I mean? Sometimes we should put ourselves first, if the risk is worth it."

"I really don't understand what you're saying, and this... sober talking doesn't suit you at all, San."

San slapped your arm, "One day my words are gonna make sense to you. 'til then... Let's forget about this, eh?"

You glared at him, nodding as he smiled, pinching your cheek. "You're cute. I'm gonna miss you when I go back. You should visit Halaland with Arin soon- promise me."

"No promises," you huffed, and San started whining, making you cringe away and laugh as you promised.

"I don't understand what's so Princely about you. If anyone saw you whining like a little- can I curse?" San nodded and you did, "They'd strip you of your title."

"Come on, just because I'm a Prince doesn't mean I can be a little brat- and yes, I'm censoring it. You're too harsh."

"I'm stating facts-"

You heard a rustle, and the two of you frowned as you looked at the source of the sound.

It was Miyeon and Arin, hand in hand as they giggled in low voices, walking along the footpath. You almost got up to say hi, but San held you by your arm, putting a finger to his mouth as he shook his head, and you frowned, not understanding why-

You looked at Arin and Miyeon- they were too close. Miyeon was rubbing Arin's hand almost lovingly, but-

"They like each other- or so Miyeon says."

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you looked at San, then at the disappearing figure of the two, then back at San.

"Like each other? As in?"

"You know what I'm saying," San looked grim, "They like each other... and they kissed. I told her to be careful- if Arin gets caught now... she'd have to face a serious punishment."

You felt as if you were drowning as the words from the set of rules rang in your head: if any of the Selected are caught in a romantic relationship with someone else during that period, it would be considered treason and be punishable by death.

"But... they only met 3 days ago!" You frowned- it didn't make sense.

"3 days is enough to fall in love," San's tone was serious, "And you know how they clicked right away. Don't tell me you didn't know about Arin's preferences."

"She never talked to me about that," you put a hand on your head, trying to make sense of everything, "I don't know why, but... San, she was serious about this Selection. She was practically in love with Hongjoong."

"She only knew Hongjoong from afar, she was a fan. Her heart could have changed with or without Miyeon being here."

"But... this doesn't make sense, I need a minute to think," you stared at the pond as you thought about it- how Arin hadn't been too excited these days. How she hadn't seem disappointed when she had discovered that Hongjoong had kissed the other girls. How she wasn't even waiting for a date anymore, too busy since Miyeon came.

"I know it must be hard to digest- I was surprised too. This is a first for Miyeon too."

"Really?" You looked at him and he nodded, "I guess... whatever makes them happy. That means Arin would have to get dismissed from the Selection without anyone knowing what was going on. Shouldn't they be more careful?"

"It's not like they're doing anything right now," San chuckled, "It's just them finding themselves right now. They decided to wait- Arin is gonna go on with the Selection and see what she really wants. Miyeon would spend time away from her- maybe everything will change. Maybe it's just the heat of the moment. We should give them time and space to think."

"I'm kinda hurt that Arin hasn't told me anything yet," you admitted, "Miyeon told you everything?"

"She really wanted to think this through. So much could go wrong, even for her. She's a Princess. There's much to consider."

You shook your head, "Everything is so messed up."

"But it's beautifully messed up," San smiled.

And two days later, it was time for an elimination.

You wondered if Hongjoong would dismiss Arin- he had gone on another date with her last night, but not much had happened- the two had walked, you following beside, and he'd just asked Arin about her hobbies, her life before Selection, getting to know her.

If Arin was dismissed today, you'd be going home along with her. There were more girls who were confident that they'd stay today than girls who weren't.

Hongjoong entered after breakfast, scanning the girls once, his eyes falling on you for a second longer before he drew away. "Ladies, I hoped you slept well last night. Today is the inevitable elimination- only 8 of you will be staying."

The girls gasped- they hadn't expected it to cut to half already. "I'll be announcing those who are staying now."

He started calling the names- and Arin squeezed your hand out of nervousness, you squeezing back as you heard the satisfied gasps and the sobs that rang through the room.

The last name he called was Arin's- and you looked at him in surprise, finding him looking at you instead of Arin. Arin only sighed, slumping in her seat.

"I'm sorry to all those who were dismissed- I hope you live a happier, healthier life from this point on. If you have anything you want to say or ask, you can meet me in the Men's Room."

With that, he took off, leaving the 8 eliminated girls sobbing, and you couldn't help but sigh in relief- wondering what your sigh meant. Were you happy for Arin or relieved that you weren't going home?

That night, you went to the garden, not surprised when Hongjoong arrived an hour later, sighing when he saw you, sitting down with you on the bench.

"You've been busy," you smiled.

"I really wanted to talk to all of them once more before the elimination, just to be sure," he said.

"And? Feeling any sparks yet?"

"Not really," he looked down, the silver tendrils of his hair falling down on his forehead, and you admired his side profile- he really had the most unique nose you'd seen on a person- "I don't know what to do anymore."

"What do you mean?" You frowned as he looked at you, his eyes full of worry.

"In the next elimination I'm supposed to cut this down to 3. I don't think I like anyone more than the others- I really don't feel anything for them. This Selection was a bad idea- the rebels won't calm down just because I get married. They've tried attacking again, two days ago, but they couldn't enter. I don't want to end up choosing someone because she's someone's favourite- the king's, or the queen's, or the people's. I don't want to live with someone I don't love."

"I understand, Hongjoong," you put a hand on his back, "It's hard, I get it. But... I don't think you can back out of this now. You're a Prince, Hongjoong. There are so many people looking forward to this, waiting for your decision-"

"I didn't expect you to say that- you really don't understand," Hongjoong shook his head in frustration, "I think... I don't think I like any of the Selected. I like you. I want you, not them. They don't know me like you do- and I don't feel comfortable with them like I do with you."

You almost sobbed- your heart absolutely ached at his words. "Hongjoong, this isn't about us, please. I shouldn't even have been here. If I wasn't here, you would have proceeded normally with the Selection and found someone you actually liked- you probably only like me because I'm not one of them-"

"No. I like you because you're you. If you were in the Selection, I would have chosen you. If you were one of the Selected... I would have ended it today."

"Hongjoong, think again- you're the Prince. You can't be selfish-"

"Just tell me- tell me you like me too. If you do, nothing else matters," he locked his eyes with you, pain evident in them as he waited expectantly for an answer, his hand on top of yours squeezing it unconsciously.

You wanted nothing more than to lose yourself in the moment, but you had to be rational, "Hongjoong, this really isn't about you and me. This is about the future Princess, who one day will be Queen. Who'll share the burden of your kingdom. I can only be your friend- I don't think I can be more."

Hongjoong's face fell, and he sighed as he looked at the sky, his hand still on yours. "Would it have been different if you had entered the Selection? Or if... if I wasn't the Prince?"

"I don't know. But Hongjoong... we've only kissed once. Please forget about that and focus on what's important. It was just in the heat of the moment, okay? You're confused- all this pressure with the Selection is making you look at me. Maybe we shouldn't even hang out anymore-"

"No- that would make it worse, I know that," he finally took his hand off yours, "Just tell me one thing. Promise me you won't lie."

You narrowed your eyes at him but his eyes were firm- he was serious. "Okay."

"No lies. Just a plain answer. A yes or no. I promise to go back to the Selection, I'll properly think this through, I promise, just don't lie."

"Okay," you laughed nervously, "What is it?"

"When we kissed... you felt something, didn't you? You still do, and you did before we kissed. Is that right?"

You scanned his face- his eyes were holding your gaze as if he could tell if you would lie. You pursed your lips, wondering how you should say it-

"Your silence says enough," a slow smile creeped up his face, "You don't need to say it. It's plain as day on your face."

"You could be imagining it, you know. You could be wrong."

Hongjoong looked at you, tucking your hair behind your ear as he patted your cheek. "I don't think I'm wrong about this, dear."

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

As promised, Hongjoong spent more time with the girls, going on dates and actually talking to them and getting to know the 8. Arin had another date where the two played table tennis, and you only sat back and watched, because god, you sucked at table tennis and you'd only make a scene if you tried.

After that date, Arin told you she wanted to sleep in your room tonight, and you internally smirked, wondering if she was finally going to tell you everything.

"I really don't like Hongjoong that way," she finally admitted, "And I'm sure Hongjoong doesn't like me either."

You pursed your lips, and she narrowed her eyes, "Did you suspect that already?"

"Of course I did, I'm your best friend, Arin. I saw how your interest in him kept going downfall."

"I don't even know why he decided to keep me. Perhaps he wanted to give me a chance because of the language barrier. Anyways, I'm not wife material- I can't do this. I'll just wait for the next elimination."

"Is your heart somewhere else, Miss?" You tested the waters, watching Arin's cheeks go red- it always gave her away.

"Actually, it is," she admitted, and you gasped dramatically, putting a hand over your mouth, "I'll tell you once I'm out- I want to properly introduce her to you."

"Her?" You wriggled your brows, and it was her turn to gasp, "You know?"

"San may have told me."

"San?" Arin wriggled her brows, but you laughed and shook it off, "Nothing as juicy as your story, Arin. It's best we don't talk about it here. Let's just wait to go home."

"Should I, I don't know, disappoint Hongjoong and speed it up?"

"No!" You slapped Arin's arm, "Poor guy already has it tough!"

The two of you burst into giggles, but almost screamed when the door opened loudly and a guard stepped inside.

"Rebels are inside- please follow me," he went to the right corner of the room, clicking behind a frame and opening a doorway, "Inside, now. Follow the tunnel and you'll find yourself in the room with the King and Queen and the rest of the girls."

You felt your heart sink, wondering if Hongjoong was safe, and you and Arin made your way down the dark tunnel, you leading the way, one hand in Arin's and the other feeling the tunnel out, following the dim light until it grew and you were in the large hall with the Queen huddled beside the King, only 3 girls inside so far, trembling with fear, and Arin joined them, comforting them as best as she could.

You asked one of the guards about the Prince's whereabouts and he told you he was making sure the girls were coming here before he would join, and you felt your heart fill with pride- he was really out there making sure everyone of them was safe.

It took another very long 15 minutes until one by one the girls came, Hongjoong coming in last. Some of the girls were shaken so bad that they seemed numb. Hongjoong stood beside you, staring at them as he caught his breath.

"It was an ugly fight out there- these girls witnessed it. They want to go home as soon as this is over."

"Oh," you bit your lip, "What do the rebels want, Hongjoong?"

"They probably want to overthrow us, like every other rebel in every other country. They are not ready to accept that Wonderers and Utopians could be one."

The Queen called Hongjoong over, and Hongjoong looked at you, "Come over- I should introduce you to mom and dad."

"Now?"

"Yes, now. Now is the time they miss them the most."

He took you to them, and you awkwardly stood and bowed as Hongjoong told them whose daughter you were. The King smiled, saying the resemblance was uncanny, and the Queen smiled warmly at you as well, "I miss Mira the most these days. She would have had so much fun with the Selection."

"It's an honour to me that you remember my parents," you said, and they laughed as they shook a hand in dismissal.

"Your father was a fine man," the King smiled, "His sacrifice means a lot to us. We miss the two dearly, and you... You are welcome in this Palace anytime. I heard how you and my son are friends now."

You looked at Hongjoong and he grinned, "Mom was making fun of me, saying I finally made the friend that I should have made some 20 years ago."

You laughed, shaking your head as you went back to where Arin was sitting, and she put her hands on her hips.

"You, miss, have something going on with Hongjoong."

"I have nothing," you said, but she wasn't having any of it.

"Have you seen the way he looks at you? He's never looked at one of us this way," she said, referring to the Selected, "I say you've won his heart."

"Shut up, Arin, he's the Prince. I'm no one. I'm only his friend, that's it."

"Whatever you say, I can't hear this bullshit. You're both either blind as hell or stupid as fuck."

"Arin!" You widened your eyes at her language, "Etiquettes!"

She only grinned, silly dancing and you wished you could wipe that smug look off her face. But she had caught you red-handed. and you couldn't deny it now, it was too late.

You watched Hongjoong comfort the girls one by one. He really was better off with one of them, not you. You weren't princess material. You were only... you. Simple you who was only good at translating and being a friend. You couldn't allow yourself to hope, you couldn't mess everything- the whole kingdom was hanging on the Selection and who the future princess would be. You didn't want to create a mess.

You couldn't allow yourself the luxury of thinking that you could be Hongjoong's, because really, before anything else... He was too good for you. You didn't deserve him.

By the next night, 4 girls had gone home, leaving only 4- Arin, Kahi, Nayoung and Sohee. Sophie had announced that Hongjoong would make his decision and propose his choice on the live broadcast in a week from now, and now that the end was real, you found yourself more anxious than ever, and as you were making your way back to your room, you almost bumped into Hongjoong.

"Whoa, careful there," he looked at you, frowning when he saw your face etched with worry, "Something wrong?"

"No, just tired," you shrugged it off, and Hongjoong scanned your face.

"You wanna hang out tonight? Help the poor Prince relieve some stress?"

"Sure, poor Prince," you grinned, going to your room.

Before you could go down to the garden though, you heard a knock. You were still in your navy blue suit, your tie a bit loose, and you thought it was Arin coming to ask you something, but when you opened the door-

It was Hongjoong.

He scanned your figure rather slowly, taking in the loose messy hair and tie, and god, he would never get tired of seeing you in suits.

"What are you doing here?" You asked, your heart sinking at the way he was looking at you.

"I just thought I'd come by and surprise you," he laughed, "and you're very surprised."

"I am," you laughed a little, allowing him to enter, "What's up?"

"I just had a meeting with everyone regarding the Selection, he slumped on your couch and you sat beside him, shifting so you faced him, "They think Kahi might be the better choice."

"Thought so," you muttered, and he laughed at the annoyance in your tone, "She's the obvious choice. Do you like her?"

"Honestly? She's okay. Tolerable. She just goes along with whatever I say. She doesn't fight back, just accepts whatever I say or give. I think she just wants to end up with me because of her strong family connection and because she could be a 'Princess'."

"Ah, here for the title, and to please you while she bathes in the royal treasure," you giggled, "Somehow, I can picture that."

"Right! I can too," he scoffed.

"But that's what everyone thinks- what do you think?"

Hongjoong bit his lips, folding his hands, "I... I don't know. Not Kahi. Not Nayooung. Not Sohee and not Arin either. I mean, I could pick anyone, but I don't think I'll ever truly be myself with them."

"That's... maybe you will, Hongjoong. It might take some time, but eventually, you'll be comfortable with them. You'll find the happiness you deserve, Hongjoong."

"I think I don't deserve happiness," he sighed, turning to look at you, "Maybe I'm damned. I don't know why I'm going through this- mom and dad had a chance and they fell in love. They didn't need a damned Selection. Why am I going through this?"

You frowned, "What's really bothering you, Hongjoong?"

Hongjoong gazed at you for a few seconds before turning as if he was in pain, "It's useless to say it out loud."

You sighed, figuring you'd give him some time to sort his thoughts out, getting up and opening your drawer, smiling at the photo before you sat back down. "You might wanna see this."

Hongjoong scooted nearer, taking the photo and frowning before bursting out in a fit of laughter, "I look like a wimp, and you look worse!"

You laughed, "I definitely look better than you. This might be the most un-princely photo of you that exists- we should frame it and hang it in the Great Hall."

"I remember this," Hongjoong smiled at the photo, "Your dad actually slapped my head and told me to act like a Prince because he wanted me to impress you- but we both ended up like this. You got an earful from your mom too, didn't you?"

"She made me do this, I didn't want to," you scoffed.

"I miss being little," Hongjoong sighed, "When I had nothing to worry about. My only worry was not being caught staring at you kids from the windows."

"You should have joined," your smile was sad as you two looked at each other.

"Don't you think we were meant to meet each other and be friends, sit here together like this?" Hongjoong's voice was low as he scanned your face, "When I'm here, with you, I feel... like Hongjoong. Not the Prince that has to put up and act."

"Should I be honoured?" You teased, but he only smiled, holding your hand.

"I'm only myself when I'm with you," he caressed your hand and you felt your stomach swoop, "I really wish I could call you mine."

You wanted to take your hand away- that was what had to be the rational thing to do, but the way he was gazing at your joined hands with his eyes full of sadness... it made you pause. He looked at you, "Have you ever wanted something or someone so much that you felt like you were nothing without it? That if you didn't get it, you'd just be an empty shell for the rest of your life?"

"Chocolate?" You shrugged, Hongjoong almost wheezing as he laughed, shaking his head, mumbling something about how you ruined the moment, but you squeezed his hand.

"I don't know, Hongjoong, but I... I think it'll be too late before I realize that I let go of the thing I wanted."

His eyes flickered with hope, "It doesn't have to be that way. If you have a chance, don't you think you should take it?"

"You know... I thought about it, Hongjoong. I wondered what it would be like to be with you," you said, making his heart sink as you looked at your joined hands, caressing his hand, "I wondered if I could really do this. If I could call you mine and sit with you like this every night," you looked at him, taking your hand away only to caress his face, "If we could talk like friends yet... be more. But Hongjoong, I'm not one of the Selected, and you can only select one of them. It's for the better."

"How is it better for me," he leaned in to your touch, "if I won't ever have something like this with someone else?"

Your smile was sad and unconvincing, and Hongjoong leaned closer, already out of breath by you words, "I'd break the rules for you. I'd accept any sort of punishment. I'd lose my title if it meant that I'd get to be with you- with you, who I love with all of my heart, because you're the one that I want."

You cupped Hongjoong's face in your hands, "I know. I know you'd do that for me. I know you love me, Hongjoong, and I... I love you too." You gave yourself a moment to scan Hongjoong's face who couldn't have looked more relieved, "But you're a Prince. You have a whole kingdom to look after. Every subject of yours is waiting for an opportunity for you to slip, to make a mistake, so they can use that excuse and destroy your kingdom. You understand that, don't you?"

Hongjoong hesitated before nodding, taking your hands away from his face, holding them as he looked down and thought about it. "It's cruel that you told me you love me only to let me go."

"I'm sorry for that," your eyes teared, "We're not meant to be."

When Hongjoong leaned in to kiss you, you didn't stop him, tears rolling down your cheeks as he kissed you softly, his hands holding your face as if it was fragile, and when he drew back, his own eyes were glazed as he wiped your eyes.

"I only have one week," he began, "please don't let me be alone for this week. I don't want to let go of you without knowing what it could be like if you were mine."

You shook your head but he squeezed your hand as if telling you that it was alright, "One week, that's all I ask. Forget about everything else, forget about the stupid Selection and the fact that I'm a Prince. Just be mine for this week, please."

"And you'll let me go? After one week?" You looked at him, and he nodded.

"If that's what you want."

You leaned in to hug him- your answer. You sat in his arms for a few minutes, holding him as if someone would snatch him away from you if you let him go. "One condition."

"What?" He was caressing your hair.

"Please don't contact me after the Selection is over. I won't want you to be unfaithful to your wife because of me. And... I'd need time but I'll move on too. But please... don't contact me, Hongjoong."

He held you tighter, his heart screaming against this but he nodded, and you sighed.

Tonight was all about sweet lies anyway.

He held you for a few minutes longer, then kissed your forehead and told you that he'd be back tomorrow, that he'd be wasting no moment from now on and that he'd like it if the two of you weren't so sad every time you met, and you laughed, promising him and yourself that you'd make the most of this one week.

But tonight, you'd cry. You didn't know how long you sat on your couch and cried silently until Arin slipped inside your room, gasping in surprise and sitting beside you asking what was wrong and you cried your heart out for the first time in Arin's arms, and she shushed you as she held you and comforted you.

"You should tell me what happened before I pass away out of worry," she frowned.

You told her then. You told her that you hadn't meant for this to happen, that you two were just friends- until you two were so comfortable with each other and realized it must be love. Though Arin was listening somberly at first, she was nearly laughing by the end of this.

"I fucking knew it!" She clapped, and you resisted the urge to choke her, "I knew the way Hongjoong looked at you was different! He's smitten by you, and you were blind!"

"Arin, I'm trying hard not to cry again, you're making this worse," you said but ended up laughing because she was too excited.

"I say fuck the Selection! Fuck this kingdom! He should choose you-" Arin was interrupted by you putting a hand over her mouth and telling her to tone it down before anyone heard and got you two kicked out.

"I'm serious, though," Arin insisted, "Hongjoong like you, you like him. Simple. Who cares about the Selection? He should marry you. He should put himself first. What has this Kingdom given him anyway? A damned burden! If the people really cared about their Prince, they'd let him marry whoever he wants."

"It's too complicated, Arin, you don't understand," you said, shaking your head, "If it was as easy, I wouldn't have been sitting here crying."

Arin bit her lip, thinking. She really wanted to lift your spirits, which was why she kept joking around, knowing you always gave in after a while of wanting to kill her. "Well, at least I'm able to joke because I'm not involved in this. Can't you see? It was meant to be. Me meeting Miyeon, deciding Hongjoong wasn't for me- I know if that hadn't happened, you wouldn't have even looked at Hongjoong that way- or allowed this."

"Maybe Miyeon shouldn't have come. You would be getting selected next week then."

"Come on, that's not the point," Arin waved a hand, "Just... forget about everything else and make most of this week. We'll figure something out."

"There's no figuring this out," you sighed, "I've just prepared myself for the biggest heartbreak of my life."

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

It was both painful and lovely to be with Hongjoong- a brush of your hands as you bumped into each other in the hallway, stolen kisses in secret, winks sent across the room- really, you two were making it obvious. But since Arin was with you most of the times, the remaining girls thought it was Arin who was getting this special treatment, and they were upset because of that.

But you couldn't care less. You had one week, and you wouldn't let anyone come in between that.

In the days, Hongjoong was mostly busy, making sure he spent some time with the girls too so that no one would suspect. Each night, Hongjoong and you would walk in the gardens, hands brushing playfully as you talked just like usual. And two nights later, Hongjoong led you to a secret room in the palace through the tunnels.

"I'm pretty sure no one knows of this room," he told you as he lit the candles, "I used to explore the secret passages, leave a string of thread along."

"Hongjoong!" You gasped, "You could have gotten lost! How careless could you be? Imagine if someone found your bones here after years of searching-"

"Well, I'm here," he blew the matchstick away, turning to you, "And I need you to shut up for a bit."

You rolled your eyes as he wrapped his arms around your waist and brought you in for a lazy kiss, your arms automatically going to his chest.

"I could never get tired of this," Hongjoong mumbled, tracing his nose along your cheeks as he breathed, "I could do this all day and all night."

"Shut up," you slapped his chest lightly, suddenly feeling shy and Hongjoong grinned at that, kissing your cheek and trailing his lips down to your neck, and you gladly let him take control. He was taking his sweet time, rocking you back and forth as he played with your neck. When he drew up, he smiled as he scanned your face. "What are you thinking?"

"Nothing," you shrugged, but he brought you closer, tucking your hair behind your ears as he whined, making you roll your eyes, "Thinking about how it started."

"Hmm," Hongjoong brought you to the couch, making you sit in his lap as he played with your hair, "Totally unexpected?"

"Totally," you laughed, "I was... so happy for Arin. She really, really was in love with you, Hongjoong- or so she thought."

"I think her situation is more surprising than ours," Hongjoong shook his head, "But I have to thank her for not being in love with me."

You laughed at that, "It would have been a mess if she was still in the game." You had told Hongjoong about Arin's situation, and he had suggested that she wait until the Selection was over and lay low for a good few months before going to Miyeon or anyone else for that matter since all eyes would be on the last few candidates for a good while. "But you know what? I think I would have fallen for you anyway. I think it wasn't because of Arin being involved or not."

"Ah," Hongjoong grinned, "Is that so?"

"I really wanted to meet you, you know. And when you caught me the first night in the gardens- I think that's how everything changed, no?"

Hongjoong's smile was sad this time, and you kissed him, "We promised not to be sad anymore."

"I can't help it," he cupped your face, "How will I be able to let you go after this? How will I ever be okay after knowing what it feels like to be in love and letting it go? What kind of a prince I am if I can't even choose my princess?"

You ran your hand through his hair lovingly, caressing his cheekbone, "I feel like this is enough- if I ask for more, I'll be selfish. The fact that we are here now... that's a blessing in itself. I can't be selfish with you, Hongjoong."

The two of you stared at each other for the longest time as if memorizing each other, tracing each other's face, and you spent hours just talking about this or that or kissing each other or teasing- it was just so natural. And throughout the night, Hongjoong held you close, making you lose your mind as he kissed you like it was his last time- and it very well might have been. Each passing night of this short week had you two getting more desperate to be with each other and feel each other, skin on skin had nothing on you.

And each passing day made you weaker inside- you really had grown used to the palace and everyday life here and most importantly, Hongjoong. You promised not to be sad in front of Hongjoong but whenever you were alone (mostly Arin there to hold you), you were crying. Sometimes it was silent tears rolling down your face, sometimes hysteric crying- even Momo, Mina and Sana were worried for you, though they were kind enough not to intrude on your privacy and ask.

It was your last night here- the last time you'd be in Hongjoong's arms. Everything was going to change tomorrow.

You sat waiting for Hongjoong in your room, staring at the moon through the window, barely holding it all in. You were afraid you were gonna break down when you saw Hongjoong.

But when the knock sounded, you immediately knew it was not Hongjoong. And when you opened the door, your jaw almost dropped as you bowed.

"Your Majesty- you could have called for me."

The Queen patted your cheek- she was in a very casual attire, as if she had just decided to come to your room. You had a billion thoughts in your head but only one question- what the hell was going on?

"Please, do sit and be comfortable," the Queen said, "I wanted to see you and have a little talk."

You scanned her face- she was smiling as if she knew something. She laughed at your expressions and began, "I know you must be confused. But I had to see the reason why my son was waking up with puffy eyes these days."

She knew.

"Your Majesty- I... I'm sorry-"

"Oh no," the Queen waved a hand in dismissal, "I'm not here to scold you, dear. Hongjoong doesn't know of this, neither did he say anything, but he's my dear son, and I could see something was weighing him down. It looked like he had lost a war."

You bit your lips, "How did you know then?"

The Queen laughed, "I knew you were friends, dear. But I also saw the way he looked at you- and the way you looked at him. Now what kind of a mother would I be if I couldn't recognize the look in my son's eyes? Your King looks at me the same."

You smiled at that, "So... I don't know what to do, I... I told Hongjoong to go on with the Selection. I told him that his kingdom is more important and that he has to consider his subjects before he makes a hasty decision. And he'll go on with this decision. I'll be here no more tomorrow."

"I'm sorry, dear," the Queen's face was sad, "if it were anyone else, maybe I wouldn't have understood. But since it's you... I can see why Hongjoong loves you, dear. Your mother and father were great people. They've taken our secrets to the graves. But they were also our friends, and me and my husband had love for them as a friend would. They cherished you, their only child. I'm sure they would be so proud of you if they were alive today."

You wiped your eyes and the Queen got up, putting a hand on your shoulder, giving you a reassuring squeeze. "Sometimes, the future has things stored for us that we do not expect. Do not be sad. You are my pick, honey. And tomorrow... stay, until the announcement. I have to give you something."

You nodded, surprised at her words but also confused at how cryptic she was being. She patted your cheek and left the room, and only a few minutes had passed, you still thinking about the Queen when Hongjoong knocked and entered, and you instantly knew that he had no knowledge of the Queen's visit.

You got up, going to his arms and silently hugging him. There were no tears left to cry now. It was only silence- comfortable sad silence surrounding you two as you hugged for the longest time.

"Can I hold you tonight?" Hongjoong drew back a bit, caressing your face, and you saw it then- his eyes, as puffy and red as yours. Anyone would have known, really.

You nodded and he led you to the bed, taking his jacket off and sliding inside the covers, spreading them over you both as you lay half seated in each other's arms, your head on his chest hearing his heart in sync with yours, his arm around you as he played with your hair- a habit of his.

"You're quiet today," you muttered, looking up at him- laughing a bit when you saw him pouting.

"I don't feel like talking tonight," he pouted again, "I'll listen tonight if you want to do the talking."

"Hmm," you shifted, "not even silly retorts or dad jokes?"

"I'll try to hold them back," he finally laughed, and you kissed him slowly, smiling into it.

"Let's not be sad tonight, Hongjoong," you kissed his cheek, "I don't want the last thing I remember of you to be your swollen eyes."

"I think that's quite a pretty sight to remember," he grinned and you shook your head, kissing him when he nodded, his hand going behind your neck as the kisses got more desperate and picked speed, losing all composure and calm because really, you were kissing like this because it was your last time.

You let Hongjoong cry as he kissed you, and you only realized your face was wet with your own tears when he wiped them away, never breaking apart. You both were smiling into the kiss anyway. And when Hongjoong and you lay in each other's arms, Hongjoong muttered something in your ear repeatedly that had you smiling like a kid.

"Can you stop calling me your princess?" You cringed back, his breath making you tickle and laugh way too hard, "It's getting annoying!"

"But you are the queen of my heart," Hongjoong mumbled it in your ear on purpose, making you giggle and slap his bare shoulders. "Ah, you're getting naughty."

"I'm not! You're making me- hey!" You were interrupted as he turned so he was on top of you, his eyes now dark and changed, making your stomach flutter dangerously.

"You wanna do that again?" He challenged, smirking.

"Do what- this?" You slapped his arm, acting innocent, and he laughed out loud at your antics, pinching your cheek because you were being way too cute, and then kissing you.

"You don't let me breathe, woman," he muttered, falling back on bed and bringing you closer.

You trailed your finger down his chest suggestively, "Don't you like this? Should I let you breathe once in a while?"

He shook his head- he'd had enough of you. He held your face as he muttered something in your ear that made you go red and your knees go weak. And then he acted upon it, making love to you, the two of you trying to push the thought that this was your last night together but it leaked in to your actions as he kissed you desperately, as you ran your hands all over his body like you were deprived of his touch, as you held each other throughout the night.

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

The two of you slept in each other's arms, though when you woke up, his absence hit you so hard that you were screaming into your pillow. You had never felt so alone.

Gathering yourself for an act for the last time, you washed your face and let the girls do your makeup, Arin watching you sadly. You put on the deep red suit that Hongjoong loved so much, wondering if you would ever be able to wear suits again since it would be a constant reminder of your short time here.

You only drank coffee to keep you going, waiting in the Women's Room for the staff to call you to the broadcasting room where Hongjoong would announce his wife- the future princess of Wonderland. You suddenly felt nauseous- you couldn't watch that.

You wouldn't be able to.

You told Arin, and she understood, hugging you once, nice and good, but when she drew back, she was smiling.

"I am so proud of you," she patted your cheeks, "You'll get through this."

The ladies were escorted to the broadcast room, and you stayed behind, surprised beyond anything again when the Queen arrived, this time with Hongjoong.

"I told you I'd be back with something," the Queen smiled, and you looked at Hongjoong- even he was confused. She took off her wedding ring and handed it to Hongjoong- "Your decision, my son. It's time you think for yourself, as Hongjoong. Leave the kingdom to us."

You gaped at them, Hongjoong equally surprised, "But- father-"

"Your father is okay with this and he would have been here with me but he's handling the broadcast right now," she patted his back, "Go on, we don't have all day. If she is your happiness, then choose her. I don't want you to have regrets, son, and I don't want you to hate your parents who made you go with this Selection when they themselves didn't."

Hongjoong looked at you, then back at his mother, then finally smiled the most happy smile you'd seen on him so far, "You know, I had a ring of my own today. You beat me to it, mother."

You had to look away as you laughed and pinched your nose because Hongjoong pulled out his own ring, "I was going to go on with this anyway- I was going to tell you before you dragged me here, mother, you nearly gave me a heart attack! You should have warned me!"

"You should have warned me!" The Queen laughed, "Can you imagine the chaos if I hadn't made the connection and taken care of everything beforehand!"

"Unbelievable," you muttered, laughing through your tears, "Your Majesty... are you sure I deserve this?"

"My dear, you deserve to be Hongjoong's wife. The Princess thing- anyone can learn that, but I think the only person who could ever truly make him happy is you. Look at him smiling like an idiot- I have never seen him smile like that, and I am his mother!"

You nearly fell with relief, shaking your head in disbelief as Hongjoong stood in front of you, the Queen leaving you two. "So... can we stop crying and start being happy now?"

You laughed, shaking your head again as Hongjoong hugged you, sighing into it, "I told you last night. That you are meant to be my princess."

"Did you already have this planned out?" You looked at him, and he shook his head.

"All I did the whole week during my spare time was research over the past Selection laws, find a loophole, anything. But then mother came today and said that some laws needed to change anyway, so I better not disappoint her with my choice- you know you are her pick after all."

"I suddenly feel like I was one of the Selected all along," you groaned, "What about the girls?"

"Mom will break it to them. But enough about them-" Hongjoong drew back, taking out the two rings, "Which one are you gonna choose, Princess?"

You rolled your eyes, pretending to consider before putting both hands in the air, and Hongjoong slid his mother's ring on your right hand and his own in your left hand, kissing your knuckles before looking at you, and holding your face, kissing your lips so gently it felt like it was your first kiss, not quite able to draw back right away.

You only had a moment to yourself before Arin, not so ceremoniously, ran inside, squealing excitedly and hugging you and Hongjoong altogether, crying from happiness, saying she had 'too much of your sad ass' and scolding Hongjoong for not coming up with this earlier, which, even though you did not translate, he understood very well, apologizing as he laughed.

The staff called Hongjoong for the official announcement and he squeezed your hand, nudging you to come along. Arin took off her diamond studded hairpin, clipping it to your hair.

"Go show them who's the real queen."

You put your arm in Hongjoong's, walking proudly for the first time in your life.

[taeyongdoyoung]

summary: you are a mermaid and you save a handsome man from drowning but little do you know it’s not his first rodeo when dealing with mermaids. seonghwa, a former prince, is currently hongjoong’s first mate and boyfriend. hongjoong is the captain, the pirate king of the most savage crew across the seas. and you want nothing to do with them. not because they’re pirates, but because they’re humans…

ship: mermaid!reader x prince/pirate!seonghwa x pirate!hongjoong

genre: little mermaid!au, pirate!au, romance, ANGST, fantasy

warnings: suicide mentions, murder mentions (rip ariel), depression, panic attack, threats, someone loses a hand (bc let’s be honest, it wouldn’t be a pirate story without hooks), manipulation, betrayal, kidnapping

author’s note: mingi has a cameo, i made him a huge asshole (so sorry, irl mingi), just a reminder that everything i write is completely fictional! mingi is a a total sweetheart, i just needed a villain for the story to develop lmao

word count: 3k

chapter one ☠️ chapter two ☠️ chapter three ☠️ chapter four ☠️ chapter five ☠️ chapter seven ☠️ chapter eight  ☠️chapter nine ☠️ chapter ten ☠️ chapter eleven ☠️ chapter twelve ☠️ chapter thirteen☠️ spotify playlist

You finally felt ready enough to face Seonghwa and let him explain himself. It was only fair, after all. You couldn’t take Hongjoong’s word for it, considering how he felt about you. You had to hear Seonghwa’s side of the story in order to make a proper decision. So, when you swam back to the ship all by yourself (because you didn’t want to deal with Soojin’s cheerful remarks right now), you were happy that Hongjoong wasn’t anywhere to be seen. You assumed he would drown you himself if given the chance. Luckily, you saw Yeosang nearby.

“Yeo!” you whisper-yelled. “Can you call Seonghwa for me?”

“Y/N!” Yeosang seemed surprised to see you. “I’ll get him for you rightaway.”

“Great, thanks!”

“Are you…okay?” he was obviously concerned.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” you lied, because you didn’t feel like getting into it in front of Yeosang.

“Just asking,” Yeosang replied vaguely and went to call Seonghwa.

Soon enough, you were faced with him. It had only been a week of no contact with the gorgeous man and you felt like you had missed him for an eternity. You quickly reminded yourself of the reason you’d come here. You couldn’t go easy on him.

“I need to talk to you,” you stated directly.

“I understand,” Seonghwa sighed. “What about?”

“You know what,” you observed. Judging by how guilty his pretty face looked, he knew very well. And he’d spent many sleepless nights considering it. Serves him right, you thought.

“Do you want me to deny it? Because I can’t,” Seonghwa’s voice broke. “It’s true. I knew Ariel and loved her and she died because of that. You have every right to hate me. What more can I say?”

You looked away, overwhelmed by the painful realization Hongjoong had been telling the truth. But he’d left something out, you knew it.

“Tell me the whole story,” you insisted. “You didn’t kill Ariel yourself, right?”

“Of course not!” Seonghwa cried out.

“Then give me a reason to forgive you for keeping this a secret!” you continued. You couldn’t imagine Seonghwa to be the bad guy. You just couldn’t.

“The local tales have got it all wrong,” Hwa admitted. “I was going to marry Ariel, I didn’t give a shit about that princess my parents were trying to set me up with. See, the thing is…they just couldn’t let me be happy. They bribed the sea witch into turning Ariel into sea foam. When I found out, I was so heartbroken I considering ending my own life. But I had to avenge her death, first. So, I tricked the witch into transforming her body into an exact replica of mine. Her greed was so big she really thought I was just going to hand her my kingdom on a plate. After she was done with the magic, I killed her. I made sure my parents would find the body, because I wanted them to suffer for what they’d done to Ariel. By the time I was done executing my revenge, I didn’t want to die. I knew I had to keep living. For her.”

Your eyes were welled up with tears. Seonghwa’s story was completely devastating. And looking at him now…you knew that was the whole truth. You couldn’t have it any other way. But you also couldn’t bear staying. Not yet, at least.

“Seonghwa…I appreciate you telling me all this,” you murmured. “But I’m going to need some time alone, okay? I loved Ariel, too, you know? And this is just…a lot to take in, yeah?”

Seonghwa nodded sadly.

“I’m going to respect your decision. If you want to talk again, you know where to find me, right?”

“Right. Take care, Seonghwa,” you closed your eyes and sniffed lightly.

“You too, Y/N.”

“And…Seonghwa?”

“Yeah?”

“Remember I don’t hate you. I could never hate you.”

And with that, you swam away.

☠️☠️☠️

Seonghwa’s POV

This shit hurt like hell. I thought my heart had been at its limit when I found out Ariel had been turned into sea foam. Or when I realized Hongjoong had betrayed my trust. I didn’t think it could take any more heartbreak. But here it was. Still beating despite everything I’d been through. I remembered the time I’d wanted to kill myself. Put an end to all my suffering. I felt that wish slowly returning to me. But I couldn’t imagine inflicting such pain on Y/N or my crewmates. Not even Hongjoong…Because even though he stabbed me in the back, I still cared for him deeply. I also thought about Y/N’s last words to me. She didn’t hate me. Despite all I’d had done, she couldn’t hate me. I kept repeating that to myself. She just needed some time to figure things out for herself. If she could potentially forgive me…why couldn’t I forgive myself?

“Hyung, your hands are shaking!” Yeosang interrupted my distressing thoughts all of a sudden. He grabbed them tightly. “Just, breathe, okay?”

I tried to do as he said. But I felt so numb. So weak. So…alone.

“Everything will be fine, hyung, I’m here,” Yeosang kept repeating until my hands stopped shaking. Then, he held me while I fell asleep without saying a word. I was too weak to even open my mouth. What had become of me? I needed to pull myself together.

☠️☠️☠️

In the morning, I couldn’t find Yeosang in the room. I was just about to thank him for everything he’d done for me. I was feeling a lot better and wanted to cook him some chicken to show my gratitude. When I came out of the room, I asked Wooyoung and San if they had seen him, but they said they hadn’t, which was slightly troubling. Me and Hongjoong still weren’t on speaking terms, so I didn’t bother looking for him. I would find Sangie myself. After an hour, I had searched the whole ship. And there was no trace of Yeosang. Which was extremely distressing. Where could he have gone? Without telling anyone? Not me, not even his best friend Wooyoung. Well, desperate times called for desperate measures. So, I found myself forced to reach out to Hongjoong.

“Have you seen Yeosang?” I asked him without even knocking on his door.

“Oh, so now you want to talk to me?” Hongjoong scoffed.

“I don’t want to,” I groaned. “But I’m worried about him. No one’s heard from him for the past hour. I couldn’t find him anywhere. It’s weird.”

Hongjoong put a hand on his forehead in a tired but unsurprised manner. He obviously knew something I didn’t.

“Hongjoong, where is he?”

“Set the course for Mingi’s territory, I’ll explain everything once we get Yeosang back.”

��WHAT?” I yelled, completely terrified for Yeosang’s life. “WHAT WOULD YEOSANG BE DOING IN MINGI’S TERRITORY?”

☠️☠️☠️

Yeosang’s POV

In retrospect, coming here on my own was a very bad idea. But when I woke up in the middle of the night found a note next to my pillow, saying “Come alone if you don’t want your friends to get hurt,” signed with Mingi’s name, I just couldn’t refuse the challenge. I thought I could take him down once and for all. After he’d sold us out for more treasures and a bigger ship, I wanted nothing more than to get rid of him. But I had overestimated my abilities.

“Where is my ring, Kang?” Mingi roared angrily the minute I set foot on his ship.

“What ring?” I played dumb and gave him the most innocent smile I was capable of.

“The ring you stole from me, you bastard!” Mingi hissed. “Fight with me again. Winner keeps the ring.”

“I don’t have your ring,” I admitted. How could I? I had given it to Soojin…But I would never tell Mingi that. I couldn’t risk him going after my sweet angel.

“You lost it?” Mingi screamed in frustration.

“Whatcha gonna do if I did?” I smirked mischievously. I shouldn’t have asked, damnit. Shouldn’t have provoked him.

Mingi lunged at me with his sword. I pulled out mine quickly and fought back. But fuck me, he was faster and more skilled than the last time I’d faced him. He’d been working out, too. Why did I come here again? Ah, yes, thinking it would be noble to sacrifice myself. As long as my friends were safe, right? Well, guess what, dumbass. If I died, what’s the guarantee Mingi wouldn’t come after my friends, anyways? I fought him as hard as I could but I was so tired…I hadn’t been sleeping much the last coupled of days, because I was too busy comforting Seonghwa and making sure he wasn’t going to do something stupid to himself. And now, all these sleepless nights were taking their toll on my sword performance. One moment of distraction and I would be dead. Mingi could spot my frailness and took advantage of it. So far I was managing to give as good as I get. But I knew this couldn’t last forever. I had come totally unprepared for a fight. When Mingi cut off my right hand, I could barely register what had happened. I just stared at my bleeding arm and the limp hand lying on the ground. Mingi was staring, too. He couldn’t believe what he’d just done.

“Fuck!” I screamed in pain and no sooner had I said that than Hongjoong and Seonghwa appeared from out of nowhere and attacked Mingi’s ship with guns blazing. Thank God. Then, I passed out.

☠️☠️☠️

Hongjoong’s POV

“Shh, let him rest,” I whispered to Wooyoung who was being way too loud once we had safely returned to our own ship. Recap: we took Mingi by surprise, which is why we were lucky enough to succeed in disarming him and snatch poor Yeosang away from him. Mingi had not expected us to find him so quickly but the thing is, I knew him all too well. So, locating him hadn’t been difficult. It was watching the consequences of my mistakes that was hard. Because of my softness, Yeosang had lost his hand…If only I had killed Mingi when I’d had the chance. But he used to be one of us. I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. We’d almost gotten executed by the army for being pirates because of his betrayal. And for what? More treasures? A bigger ship? Insignificant things when compared to having a purpose in life, having a family. But who was I to judge him? After all, I had been guilty of treason myself. The way I hurt Seonghwa…I could never forgive myself, even if he, by some miracle, did. I was such an incorrigible asshole.

“What happened?” I heard Yeosang’s weak voice pull me out of my self-deprecating thoughts.

“Well, for starters, you lost a hand,” I informed Yeosang, thought I doubted my input would be of much help.

“I can see that, jackass,” Yeosang rolled his eyes. “How did you get me out in time? How did you beat Mingi?”

“We were just lucky, that’s all,” I lied. I was doing an awful lot of that recently. Yeosang didn’t have to know what I’d given up in order to get there on time. It would break him. And he had already been through hell.

Yeosang narrowed his stare in suspicion, but didn’t push it.

“Where is Seonghwa?”

“He’s resting,” Wooyoung responded. “You should, too, pal, you look like shit.”

“Thanks,” Yeosang groaned sarcastically.

“Listen, Sangie…I know you probably don’t want to hear any of that right now, but this is just a reminder that we’re here for you. And this isn’t the end. You can always learn how to use a sword with your left hand and…”

“You’re right, Cap,” Yeosang cut me off. “I don’t wanna hear it.”

I nodded in understanding.

“Get some sleep, yeah? We’ll talk again…once you’re ready.”

Wooyoung gave his best friend a supportive squeeze of the arm and we left Yeosang to his own devices. He’d be okay. He was a strong one. But me? I was way past saving…

☠️☠️☠️

Seonghwa’s POV

“You promised you’d explain everything once we get Yeosang back,” I grabbed Hongjoong by the collar of his shirt. “We got him back. How did you know he would be on Mingi’s ship? And how on earth did you make the ship move so fast?”

Hongjoong closed his eyes to hide himself from me. But I wasn’t going to let him. He would tell me the truth or he would have to say goodbye to me. For good.

“Seonghwa…”

“No, Hongjoong. You will tell me everything right now or I’m walking out of here, you hear me?”

Hongjoong opened his eyes, fear evident in them.

“Where do you want me to start?”

“At the beginning.”

“But you have to listen without saying a word. Telling you all this is going to be quite difficult for me. If you have any questions, ask me after I’m done. Can you do that for me?”

I nodded.

“So…you know how Yeosang stole this really pretty ring from Mingi back when he betrayed us? But what you don’t know is that this ring was the only thing Mingi had left from his lover. Now, I don’t know her identity but whoever she was, she meant the world to Mingi. See, the problem is…Yeosang gave that ring to Soojin. And I somehow…suspected that Mingi would find out the ring was missing. That he would come looking for the ring. And I was right. It’s just a miracle we got there on time.”

I tilted my head slightly. Something didn’t add up. I didn’t trust Hongjoong’s bullshit explanation. He was keeping something from me. Again.

“You suspected it? A miracle? Do you take me for a fool, Hongjoong? What are you not telling me?”

Hongjoong bit his lower lip as if it to keep his precious secrets from spilling.

“Mingi’s lover was the sea witch you killed. The same who turned Ariel into sea foam.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I hissed angrily.

“I wish I was. A couple of hours ago when we were on his ship, Mingi confronted me about it. He said he knew she wouldn’t just disappear from him without a trace. I told him she was dead. I’d buried her body. Well, your body. ”

“Hongjoong…” I clenched my fists and gave him a warning look that was self-explanatory.

“I didn’t tell him you killed her, of course,” Hongjoong replied quickly. “But I did tell him it was mermaids who killed her,” he announced proudly. What the fuck?

“You didn’t…” I said in vain, even though I already knew he did. He was that big of a dumbass. “What if he comes after Y/N? After Soojin? They’re innocent, Hongjoong! How could you involve them like this?”

“Was I supposed to let Mingi come after you? We barely escaped him...”

I shook my head in disappointment. He was insane. Then, it hit me. He was still hiding something. Something bigger.

“How did we get there so fast?”

Hongjoong gulped nervously.

“Don’t make me…” he begged.

“Make you?” I laughed maniacally. “You dug your own grave, sweetheart.”

Hongjoong flinched as if I’d struck him. Had I gone too far? Maybe. But he started it.

“I won’t tell you,” he was adamant about it. “I’ll tell you anything else but not this.”

“Then, we’re done here,” I turned around and started walking away.

“No, Hwa, please,” Hongjoong begged and tried to take my hand but I shrugged him off.

“You don’t get to keep things like that from me, to betray my trust again and again, and then ask me to stay,” I whispered.

🧜‍♀️🧜‍♀️🧜‍♀️

Reader’s POV

“How long will it take you to forgive Seonghwa?” Soojin sighed, exasperated.

“What’s it to you? You can go see your precious boyfriend whenever you want,” you snapped at your sister.

“Yeah, but it’s way more fun when we go to our pirates together!” Soojin explained.

You laughed sarcastically.

“Since when are they our pirates? They are humans, Soojin, not property!”

“Okay, okay,” Soojin lifted her arms in the air, surrendering. “But seriously…we should go talk to them again. I have a bad feeling…I don’t know how to explain it, I just…I’m worried about Yeosang. Please?”

You agreed reluctantly.

“But if everything’s alright, I’m going back here,” you announced.

Soojin nodded excitedly. The two of you swam up. Once you reached the surface, you realized Soojin had picked an awful time to check up on Yeosang. It was too dark. And as you approached the ship, you were overwhelmed by a gnawing sensation. Soojin had been right. Something was awfully wrong. The ship seemed exactly like Hongjoong’s…And yet, there was something strange you couldn’t quite place. Did it look bigger at night? How was this possible? You had seen it at night when you’d saved Seonghwa from drowning…And it did not look like this. Had your memories deceived you? You could tell this was certainly a pirate ship. But why were you doubting it was the pirate ship you’d been looking for? What were the odds to run into other pirates in the middle of the night? You were fairly certain you could recognize Hongjoong’s ship anywhere. And yet…

“Yeosang!” Soojin started screaming mournfully. “Where are you?” You could tell by her voice that she was worried sick about her pirate boyfriend. And for a good reason.

“Shh,” you pressed your hand against your sister’s mouth. “Quiet. Something’s not right.”

She blinked at you in confusion.

“What do you mean?” she mouthed.

“I don’t know,” you mouthed back. “But before we found out, can you keep it down?”

Soojin nodded, obviously trusting your judgement. She was uncharacteristically anxious, too. Instead of her usual cheerful self, she was being very jumpy.

“Listen…let’s come back here when it’s daylight, okay?” you suggested. “I’m sure Yeosang will be fine.”

“Just let me try calling his name one more time, yeah?” Soojin murmured hopefully.

“Soojin, no!” you tried to stop her but it was already too late.

“YEOSANG!” Soojin cried out.

It was in that moment the fishnets fell upon you.

To be continued…

[eightmakesonebraincell]

you know what's funny? that reblog or ask (i can't remember what it was) that was in response to one of chron's interactions where you said you've become dependent on me proofreading your fic so you don't hate it? THAT'S ME 🤝🤝🤝 THE WAY I WROTE THIS ENTIRE FIC HATING IT AND BEING LIKE THIS IS PROBABLY THE WORST FIC I'VE EVER WRITTEN BC I DIDN'T HAVE YOUR CONSTANT SURVEILLANCE THIS TIME LMAOOO 🤡 we've both become dependent i'm afraid 🤡 but omg we've talked about this a lot already but with my writing the emotions and feelings are one of the most important aspects so it makes ME warm to know i have ✨fazed✨ you >:D

YES MOODBOARD APPRECIATION I LOVE HAVING PHOTOS OF ALL OF THEM FROM THE SAME PHOTOSHOOT CAUSE THE UNIFORMITY OF IT ALL JUST >>> 😫🙌 AND I THINK MAKING THE MOODBOARD AND COMING UP WITH THE TITLE IS MY FAVOURITE PART OF WRITING FICS HONESTLY LMAO call me the next loseyoutoloveme 😼 if only

bro i did NOT know that hockey is your country's national sport bro if anything YOU should've been the one telling me how to write my fic LOL but i'm glad to hear that it wasn't confusing bc ik this fic was quite action-heavy

yunho is saur hot when he's competitive and uGH the coachella growling is what i imagine and i just 🥵 also you're right idk when it went from princess mingki 🌸💖 to mister mingles 🥸🧔‍♂️

no so true because it's not like they're just playing for socials or it's like changing teachers this is literally their career and everything is riding on the championships, so for their coach and literal anchor to change so suddenly is definitely hard to accept :'))

AHAHAHAH YEAH WOO AND YUNHO WERE PRICKS WITH THE NAME CALLING BUT 🤷‍♀️ ANGST YUM YUM and yes mister mingles makes many cameos as a true T throughout the fic

AASFJKSDHG YES WHEN I WROTE HONGJOONG I WAS LIKE yoikes he's an asshole like in surfers IDK IT JUST MAKES THE ANGST SO MUCH JUICIER WHEN IT'S HIM HAVING THE ENEMIES TO LOVERS ARC but also it made sense for /him/ to have said that and really set the tone for how the rest of the team would also treat you so lol sorry hongjoong babes but you gotta be the scapegoat asshole 🤭

ikkk and i think i really tried to make the scene of them finally finding their first coach super innocent and sweet like pLS just look at the things they were asking hongjoong for and how they were appreciating all the little things 🥹

RIGHT RIGHT RIGHT THE POWER THE SINGLE WORD "again" HAD IN THIS SCENE SO DELICIOUS and i was like >:DDDD each time i wrote it down again HOHOHO but defs both coach and the captain have very real reasons and rationales behind their opinions and thoughts so 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨 for now we just suffer 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

dude the yeo scene offeringish you the seat still makes ME embarrassed too bro writing it physically pained me so much i had to tell you about it HAHAHAHA it would haunt me for the rest of my life if that ever happened to me irl

i tried so hard to give them ALL a solid backstory but my one braincell couldn't handle the workload so i was only able to give half of them a solid storyline but i like to think that the ones i didn't explore as much (like yungi, san 🫶) had their moments in surfers so it sort of evens out

I LOVE WRITING THE CONFRONTATION SCENES HAHAHAHA me being good at writing angsty confrontation and arguments whereas i would cry before even speaking up irl 🫨 BUT YES GIRLIE POPPED 👏 OFF 👏 was long coming and defs necessary for the growth of the team but also for all of them to realise that they actually /all/ had fault in this (and to finally get them to think YKNOW MAYBE YALL SHOULD TRAUMA BOND)

yeah i think it wasn't entirely realistic for the WHOLE team to be completely against you and for san especially, being the one to have been picking up the pieces after woo's injury (which ik is only revealed later but still) /he/ in particular would be able to see things a little bit better from your perspective bless his heart ❤️🫶

AHAHAHA when being able to curse in eight+ languages is for cursing out the antagonist in a ff 😌☝️

dude coach cho in hockey is the haneul in surfers like i really just think it's so important to have that warm and wise figure to be there to support mc and guide her through the angst (bc that would be me too) but definitely UGH his aura is just so fatherly and warm like he's so girl dad coded i just KNOW

yunho knowing how to keep it real and humble themselves 😺 WE SHARE THE SAME BRAINCELL they are NOT allowed to sleep peacefully after the revelation >:( and right?? like as much as they're on the wrong footing with one another reader just wants her players to be able to keep playing for as long as they can and she just wants to protect them :(((

AND OFC GOTTA HIT YOU STRAIGHT AWAY WITH THE WOO INJURY ANGST AND WOOSAN FEELZ BECAUSE TIMING AND ORDER OF SCENES IS EVERYTHING 😻😻😻

omg yes the "we're athletes too" and the whole idea of it not being pity, wanting to share the hurt together uGH mY HEART DJKGHFS AHAHAHAH FINALLY SOME COMFORT AFTER WHAT 15-20K???

definitely bro the team is built upon the coach + captain and if captain wavers it's a big RUH ROH and yeah having played a lot of sports there are just times where you can't play your best regardless of how much effort you've put into training and it's just so frustrating bc there's nothing you can do about it 😔 lowkey miss playing sport competitively now cause damn the feels >>>

AHHHHH I'M SO GLAD TO HEAR THE GAME SCENE PANNED OUT WELL because that was the longest scene i've ever written before and probably the most wordy and descriptive the scenes have ever been cause it wasn't even like a montage or anything but quite a detailed breakdown. so it makes me 😮‍💨 pHEw to know you were able to see every single moment I LOVE WHEN MY FICS ARE ABLE TO BE VIVIDLY IMAGINED AND FELT and pls omg this scene being The Scene that encapsulates me as a writer i'm going to sob :(((((

yess i really wanted reader to have relatable moments that let woo know that everybody is human and even /she/ has made her fair share of (dumb) mistakes. and defs having this connection where she is able to understand him the best with such similar experiences was really the pushing point where he realises that you're actually so much more to him than just a coach. and god i just want to give woo the biggest warmest hug and TELL HIM TO LOVE HIMSELF LIKE HE LOVES EVERYBODY ELSE 😭🫵

BRO THE KINKY THAT WAS WHAT I WAS REFERRING TO IN MY LIGHT REBLOG CAUSE LIKE YOU PUT THAT JOKE IN THERE SOMEWHERE TOO AND I WAS LIKE NANIIIIII ONE BRAINCELL????

i think the travelling /to/ the retreat scene was so necessary for ALL of us to heal a little (boys and us readers alike LMAO) and it was so fun to write cause i missed writing about their silly little interactions and the chaos they create like the 40 purchases HAHA and omg yes the dappled layers of snow was so big brained i lowkey wanted to gatekeep it for the next fic but oh well i've used up all my arsenal for hockey HAHAHA

not a loren fic without a cute montage of how their dynamics shift!!! i think this scene is the equivalent to the surfers scene that explores how they have a routine of summer days and there is familiarity in it but also that the familiarity starts to turn into something more :')) and it was just so cute to write about how DOMESTIC they all are which makes absolute sense bc they live together not just as a team but as BOYFIES 🤭🤭🤭

LOOK JONGHO'S MOTHER HAD TO TAKE AN L FOR THE PURPOSE OF THE PLOT HAHAHAH but we do have to say thank you to her bc at least we get our cute moment between reader and jongho which in turn pushes the sweet convo you get with joong which in turn makes you their unofficial girlfriend sooooooo

BUT RAHHH YES THE "who takes care of you?" IS LIKE THE SOFT LESS ANGSTY VERSION OF "who hurt you?" RAHHHH I LOVE HIM SO MUCH AND I LOVE THIS LINE SO MUCH 👹👹👹👹👹👹👹

omg i don't think i've watched that before but for some reason that single line rings a bell and GOD DAMN does it SLAP like it hits bro and defs has the same sentiment because both acknowledge how the person is there for everybody but then who takes care of them :(((( bless their hearts and yours <333 hugs babes

yeah the boys deserve a retreat EVERY SINGLE OFF-SEASON @/kq blue birds are yall listening but it was one of my favourite scenes to write after all the angst because it truly encapsulates their dynamics with one another and the innocent fun that they have playing, especially ice hockey and they really needed that after all the pressure they felt related to the sport

AHAHAHAH NOT THE MOM WE'RE FAMOUS FOLLOWED BY ALL THE PASSIVE AGGRESSIVE THREATS and i think it was your 4am emo brain processing the story but nah bro the interview was the pre-finals interview asking them how they were feeling heading into the game and that's when they discover who the coach actually is ruh roh BUT YEAH THEY WILL GO ON TO WIN AND YES KARMA IS REAL HAH TAKE THAT COACH YEON 👊💢🦶💢

it just makes sense for woo to be the biggest simp (they all are, but woo would be the most vocal about it HAHAHA) AND YES THEIR FLOWERS HAVE FINALLY BLOOMED TO BE THE MOST BEAUTIFUL AFTER ALL OF THE FALLS THAT THEY HAD :'))

IK WE ALREADY TALKED ABOUT IT BUT YES I THINK BOTH SURFERS AND HOCKEY WILL FOREVER HAVE MY HEART BUT FOR DIFFERENT REASONS LIKE SURFERS IS SO WARM AND FUZZY AND NOSTALGIC AND HEALING WHEREAS HOCKEY IS MORE GROWTH AND LIFE LESSONS AND PLOT DYNAMIC i think after receiving your validation i have finally come to be proud of hockey AHAHAHAH (we both just suffer from hating our fics when we near the end)

THANK YOU SO MUCH BABES FOR YOUR LONG REBLOG LIKE I'VE READ THIS SO MANY TIMES ALREADY AND THE WAY I HEE HEE HA HA ED MY ENTIRE WAY THROUGH EVERY SINGLE ONE 👉👈

our leaves must fall before our flowers can bloom

genre: poly hockey team!ateez x coach fem!reader, enemies/strangers to lovers, athlete!au, slow burn, fluff, angst

length: 37.6k

c/w: sweaty and athletic ateez (warning well deserved), explicit profanity, themes of corruption and rocky family relationships, trauma, hurt/comfort, injuries, kissing, boys are in an established relationship, m x m interactions

synopsis: you become the new coach of the elite men's ice hockey team, the red devils. but with both yourself and the team carrying burdens of the past, you all find it difficult to see eye to eye. as you lead them to the championships in the korean ice hockey league, you discover that teamwork and trust is not as straightforward as it seems.

a/n: it has made me incredibly touched to see so many of my readers from the essence of youth come back to support this new oneshot. thank you from the bottom of my heart ♡ and as always, this fic would not have been possible without @sorryimananti-romantic and her undying support

if someone were to ask yunho–or anybody on the team–when he feels the most alive, his answer would be the same every single time: when he is on the ice, just like he is right now.

the air of the rink is already chilly, but with the added cold of emerging autumn, each rugged lungful he takes fills his chest with vigour. only his own heavy breathing can be heard as the rest of the players’ shouts become muffled into the background outside of his helmet. he tightens his grip on his stick, muscles locked and engaged with adrenaline. his vision narrows, an opening suddenly clearing itself through the tangle of sticks and jungle of skates–a golden opportunity for him to take.

“san!” he yells.

their usual goaltender glances upwards as he handles the puck rebounding off the boards. his jaw tightens and with a practised flick of his wrist, san chips the puck over an incoming stick’s attempt to block the pass. there’s a burst of explosive power as yunho speeds up along the opposite boards to receive the landing puck, hoping to break away from the opposing team’s offensive players before he passes it off.

the flash of a blue jersey appears in yunho’s vision with alarming momentum. they lower and widen their stance, shoulder positioned in front ready to knock him directly into the boards in an attempt to steal the puck, leaving yunho with no choice but to mirror their actions. he braces himself as the opponent rams into him with more force than a usual play, and in combination with their own towering height, yunho finds himself being pushed into the plexiglass panels as he loses possession of the puck.

involuntarily, he lets out a threatening growl of vexation. there is a teasing chuckle from the other player that still has him pinned against the wall despite the continuing game, which clearly tells him that the excessive body check was deliberate. yunho has half a mind to flip their positions, knowing he could easily overpower the other. but before he can adjust his stick out of the way to make good use of his hands, the opponent playfully knocks their helmets together.

“you’re hot when you get all competitive and riled up.”

all of the tension escapes yunho’s body, because he will never not find mingi’s attempts to flirt mid-game–with his mouthguard and resultant bumbling pronunciation–to be amusing. he endearingly rolls his eyes and sighs, “have you not heard of, ‘don’t poke the bear’?”

“you’re not a bear, though,” mingi squirms cheekily on the spot, still up in yunho’s personal space because he knows the older will never be truly annoyed by his antics. “you’re just a cute, harmless puppy.”

before mingi can blink, yunho grabs him by the shoulders and pins him against the wall. yunho smirks, “and they also say, ‘let sleeping dogs lie’.”

wooyoung tongues his cheek with mischief at the sight of the two, nice and cosy against the walls of the rink. he hands his stick off to seonghwa, who is starting to remove his helmet, and skates in their direction, ignoring the dull throb in his left ankle. wooyoung only bothers to slow himself down slightly, instead letting his trajectory be cushioned by something else.

mingi lets out a pathetic noise as the air is squeezed out of his chest from the impact of wooyoung and yunho’s added weight. the latter grunts out, a little breathless, “woo, please, you’re going to knock somebody out like this one day.”

it goes in one ear and out the other as wooyoung grins up at him to state, “seonghwa scored so we lost ‘cause you were too busy making out with mister mingles here.”

yunho pushes off the wall to free himself from the sandwich of bodies and pivots on his skates to jab wooyoung’s padded chest. “you and san were doing the exact same thing just five minutes ago.”

“we’re on the same team,” wooyoung shrugs, “whereas mingi is not, so you’re fraternising with the enemy. now come on losers, captain’s wrapping up practice.”

the three of them glide along the ice to rejoin the rest of the team, where they are stepping out of the rink to sit on the benches. they remove their helmets and start unlacing their skates as hongjoong gathers the attention of the team.

“great work from everybody today, especially you, jongho. your backhand wrist shots are improving–keep it up. now just a reminder to everyone that our regular games start next week so i want you all to make sure you are stretching and cooling down properly,” he emphasises. he pointedly looks at yeosang, who has already begun to wander his way off to the changerooms, at the same time that seonghwa scruffs him by the back of his jersey and gently tugs him back to the team.

jongho peels off his blue practice jersey as he scans the arena and absentmindedly asks, “is coach still not here? it’s already the end of practice.”

“he said he had something to sort out today, but would come round if everything went well,” seonghwa answers, also craning his neck to look for signs of their coach.

from where you and coach cho are watching from the designated scouting area in the arena, the team is unable to spot you two. you had come from the final negotiations of your contract with coach cho and had watched their team, the red devils, play the last period of their game. despite it only being a friendly match amongst the team’s players, you have already grasped a sense of their playing style–it is heavy on the offensive at the expense of defence, just like how you used to play. it is fast-paced, aggressive and…prone to injury.

“let’s go meet the team,” coach cho voices, making his way out of the viewing area as you follow beside him. all the players look up from their skates that they are still unlacing or from their stretches on the floor when you two near the arrangement of benches surrounding the rink. they greet coach cho enthusiastically and you can see why from the way the older man smiles at them like they are his own sons.

“y/n, this is the team, the red devils–my pride and joy. boys, this is y/n,” he introduces. “i had to miss practice to meet up with y/n and make sure she was happy to sign on as part of the red devils.”

said team gives you disinterested glances, a complete change from the receptivity with which they respond to coach cho. one of the red-jerseyed boys, who you recognise as wooyoung, utters sarcastically, “cute, but we don’t need a mascot or cheerleader.”

coach cho chuckles lightly, “she’s your new coach.”

“hold on, you were serious about–” “–are you coaching a different team–” “–you don’t want us anymore?”

some of the boys erupt into a barrage of questions, trying to make sense of the sudden announcement, whereas the others stay quiet, flickers of flashbacks stirring up from within the depths of their memories. their coach raises his hands to settle them as he apologises, “i didn’t want to say anything before i was one hundred percent sure that things would go ahead, and i wasn’t sure whether y/n would accept the offer.”

“is it because your wife is due soon?” san interrupts.

coach cho nods, “with twins, and i want to be present to help–as a husband and a father. but that just isn’t feasible as your coach, as much as i love you boys.”

training as professional athletes takes incredible perseverance, discipline and commitment. there are early mornings, late nights, weekends and public holidays. it takes sacrifices in the form of time and relationships, especially when they must travel away from home for up to weeks on end to compete in matches. and with the start of the regular season, the intensity is only going to ramp up. as hard as the athletes train, the coach works twice as hard to make it all possible.

the team needs somebody to be there for them to ensure they make it into the playoffs, and it just won’t be fair for anybody–the players and his own family–if coach cho were to keep his position. and the team gets it, they really do, but–

“she’s the new coach?” yunho frowns in confusion. “no offence, but we’re not a bunch of kids for her to practise being a soccer mum to.”

“she was the assistant coach for the grey eagles,” coach cho discloses.

“the grey eagles? the under-21 men’s championship team?” yeosang looks incredulous.

mingi sceptically comments, “the fact that we’ve never seen or heard of her before probably tells us enough.”

hongjoong’s lips purse sourly as he tries his hardest to analyse the situation with the professionalism of the team’s captain. but with the sudden change in coaches and the same critiquing doubts as mingi, hongjoong cannot help but feel his personal judgement webbing over his mind. over the team’s entire career as an elite ice hockey team thus far–five years, now well into their sixth–the red devils have only ever had two coaches. coach cho has been with them for the longest and whilst it took the team a while to eventually warm up to him, he has been with them for almost quadruple the amount of time it took to trust him.

the team’s alternate captain, seonghwa, speaks to you directly, “if you don’t mind me asking, why are you not playing as an athlete yourself? you’re clearly our age–nowhere near retiring.”

you knew from the very start that your age would make your credibility as a coach much lower, and your answer to seonghwa will not help your case either. “i stopped playing.”

“how come?”

the trigger of memories fills your nose with a sharp stinging smell. you blankly reveal, “i chose to stop playing.” you know exactly how it sounds like to somebody else, even more so to professional athletes. coach cho has also told you of the team’s hardheadedness and strong will when it comes to the passions of their career, so you are expecting the cold receptiveness that you are met with.

your response strikes the wrong chord within wooyoung. there was a point in his career not too long ago when the choice of continuing to play or not was at risk of becoming a forced decision. the way you answer so callously with those very words that had threatened to tear his world apart has his jaw grinding and eyes darkening, and he is not the only athlete in the arena who feels similarly.

“i would rather choose to die before i choose to stop playing. ice hockey is my entire life and without it, i am not living either,” hongjoong jabs and you cannot help but clench your fists because you know exactly what he means. still, you stay quiet as he continues, “sorry, but i can’t respect a ‘coach’ who chose to stop playing.”

at the captain’s words and subsequent move to leave for the changerooms, the rest of the team also gather their equipment and follow his steps. san’s feet falter in front of you, expression hesitant until he decides to voice, “our team needs a bit of time. it’s hard for us to warm up to…outsiders, and i know it might not mean much to say this but we have our reasons. don’t expect us to blindly trust you just because you’re a coach.”

the use of the word ‘outsider’ does not go unnoticed as you nod, “of course.”

san jogs off to rejoin the others and coach cho hums, “guess some things haven’t changed. they were just as prickly to me when i first became their coach.”

you raise an eyebrow, “prickly? to you?”

“yes, believe it or not,” he chuckles nostalgically. “we’ve come a long way because i’ve been their coach for years now. but it took me a while before i was able to break down their walls.”

you briefly mull over the information, then ask out of curiosity, “what would you have done if i didn’t sign the contract?”

“begged you to rethink your decision,” he jokes with a pleased chortle. “i would have to start looking for a different coach, i suppose. you were my only pick.”

“but why me, of all people? there are so many other experienced coaches that you can choose from.”

he looks at you, eyes glinting with intuition and confidence as he simply says, “you’re familiar with their playing style. they play just like you used to.” at your silent processing, coach cho probes, “why didn’t you tell them the real reason?”

you smile wistfully, “i didn't tell them because i’m not here to gain their pity.”

some of the boys’ voices grow louder as they emerge from the changerooms, changed into fresh clothes and their kit bags slung over their shoulders. you hear one of them ask, “captain, is she really going to be our new coach?”

they step out from the facility’s corridor and you accidentally make eye contact with hongjoong, yet neither of you look away. maintaining a steady gaze directly at you, he responds with a slight glower, “maybe, but she’s only the coach by title. i’m still the captain of the team, so let’s see who everyone listens to.”

as they exit the rink’s arena, you feel a fire of determination growing inside of you. you have won over your own demons and you have won the championships before–this is nothing in comparison. whether your next words are for coach cho or for yourself to hear, it does not matter.

“i may not play anymore but i was still once an athlete, and no athlete has ever, in their career, wanted pity. i’m here to earn the team’s respect and i will win over them, especially their captain.”

you watch the swing of the glass door as it shuts behind the players, catching a brief glimpse of the trees lining the arena’s perimeter. it is the first day of autumn when you meet the red devils for the first time and outside, the leaves are beginning to change their colours.

autumn, 2018: pre-season

hongjoong believes all coaches are to be respected. it does not matter what kind of team they coach, how many years of experience they have, or whether they have built up a reputation for themselves. to hongjoong, respect for coaches is not something earned nor negotiable–it is something well-deserved and expected, as is for anybody in a position that is higher in the chain of command.

he may be the captain of their unofficial team, but hongjoong knows that the way a team can place their blind trust in the coach is irreplaceable, regardless of how much the other players rely on him too.

hongjoong watches as his boys carry out the practice drill he has set up for them. yeosang handles the puck around the cones before passing it to wooyoung, primed offensively near the goal to make a quick shot, who groans when his shot rebounds off the post. as he retrieves the disc, yeosang takes over wooyoung’s position near the goal ready to receive yunho’s pass as he starts to work his way through the cones next.

they are limited in the type of drills they can practise because hongjoong was only able to rent half of the community rink for a measly two hours. the boys are not even in proper uniform, wearing only their shin guards under their sweatpants and gloves on their hands to prevent any injuries when the centre had stated very firmly they would not be allowed in with their bulky equipment.

and yet, none of this has dampened the boys’ spirits. san teasingly brags that it is his chance to show off his skills other than goaltending, and jongho thanks hongjoong quietly for renting the rink in the first place. their understanding nods and comforting hugs make hongjoong’s heart clench, even more so as the team eagerly and diligently practise the drills in mediocre conditions but with fiery determination to prove their worth as newly-signed athletes under the kq blue birds.

this is exactly why hongjoong is driven to find them a coach–any coach: to give his boys a solid pillar they can rely on, because he himself lacks the resources and strings to pull in order to fulfil their shared dreams. he needs to keep his boys as one team, instead of scattered into other teams as extra players like a gracious opportunity for the leftovers, since kq does not yet have a coach available for the eight of them.

“captain!”

the excitement in seonghwa’s voice startles hongjoong more than the speed at which the alternate captain skates towards him. seonghwa digs his skates into the ice at the last second, stopping himself just shy of knocking the other over as he exclaims, “he emailed back!”

“the coach you reached out to?” hongjoong clarifies, eyes growing wide.

having caught wind of his signed contract as a professional athlete, an acquaintance of seonghwa’s had reached out offering to pass on the contact of their acquaintance, who apparently knew somebody with coaching experience. it was rare for a coach to take on a rookie team unless there were incredible benefits, so he and hongjoong had drafted and sent an email with little to no expectations for a reply. but seonghwa’s furious nodding is telling otherwise, and his eyes sparkle as he shoves his phone in hongjoong’s face to show him the email.

dear mr park, thank you for your interest and for reaching out with your proposal. i have looked at your athlete profiles and it appears that you all have big dreams and extremely promising futures. it would be my utmost pleasure to help you all reach your true potential by coaching your team. if you would like to arrange a meeting in person to discuss expectations and conditions regarding training, competitions and future championships prior to finalising the contracts with your company, please let me know what times and dates best suit yourself and your team captain, mr kim. i look forward to working with you all. kind regards, coach yeon

“holy shit,” hongjoong steadies seonghwa’s giddy hand to read the email again. when he reaches the last line, he starts once more from the beginning to make sure his eyes are not lying to him. then he breathes out with finality, “holy shit. am i reading this right?”

“yeah, joong. you’re reading it right.”

hongjoong is not often one to be affectionate with the others, but yanking seonghwa into a bone-crushing hug as he repeats holy shit like a mantra is the only response he is able to muster. the older laughs wetly, throat constricting with overwhelming joy and he holds onto his captain until the other pulls back.

“you tell them, okay?” seonghwa does not wait for a response before he is raising his voice to gather the others, “boys! hongjoong has good news for us!”

like puppies responding to the call of food, their heads immediately perk up and they abandon the puck and the drill to speed towards their two captains. there is a clamour of questions as they enthusiastically predict what is going to be said.

“are they letting us use the rink for longer?”

wooyoung squeezes himself in between yunho and mingi to ask, “are we getting the whole rink?!”

“no way,” san gasps, “or did our practice jerseys arrive?”

hongjoong’s eyes soften at their guesses. his boys demand so little from him when he wants to give them everything they could never even think of asking for. he glances at seonghwa, who looks just about ready to burst from his own excitement, then reveals, “we’ve found a coach willing to take on our team.”

dead silence. yeosang blinks and wooyoung’s jaw drops. jongho, who had been lazily circling around the group, comically slows to a stop, joining the rest of the boys in frozen stupor. it is only broken when yunho dares to confirm, “does this mean we won’t be rostered as extras for other teams?”

everyone’s hopeful eyes look at hongjoong. he nods, “we’re staying together and playing as our own team.”

it is obvious the moment the information registers in their minds and the implications of what it means for the team’s future starts to sink in. they explode into a flurry of movement and hongjoong and seonghwa find themselves swept up into the middle of a clumsy group huddle as shouts are exchanged, uncaring of who is listening or talking.

“are we finally playing in championships with the big dogs?”

“we’re going to play interstate?”

“oh my god, what if we get into nationals?”

“nah, fuck that boys, let’s go international! we’re going to represent korea one day and become the best team in the world.”

the amount of voices overlapping one another are overwhelming, but it is overwhelming in the way that it makes hongjoong soar up into the clouds, wings stretched to their full span and carried by the hollers and cheers surrounding him in every direction. his cheeks hurt from smiling because these are the boys that he knows and loves.

they may only be a small team of eight, but they have dreams that are big enough to fill the entire universe.

“what’s the coaches name–” “–know if they’re a good coach–” “–teams have they coached before–”

seonghwa chuckles as the boys hound them with question after question and hongjoong appeases their curiosity dotingly, “we’ll find out when we meet him–coach yeon.”

but it does not matter what qualifications coach yeon has or does not have, and it does not matter what teams he has coached or has not coached before. what matters is that he is a coach and he is willing to be their coach, because it means that hongjoong and his boys are finally taking the next step towards their big dreams. 

and most importantly, they will be in this together…as the red devils.

autumn, present: regular season

“again.”

hongjoong grits his teeth, taking up his position as centre again in the marked circle for the practice drill. even during defensive faceoff plays, he and the team are accustomed to taking on an aggressive approach. when he wins possession of the puck, the wingers–usually yeosang and wooyoung, or jongho when substituted on–quickly breakaway and move forward with him into the offensive zone.

obviously, they have other strategic plays too to switch up the predictability of their tactics, such as moving the puck towards the board whilst yeosang covers him, or by passing the puck back to the mingi in defence. but overall, their team is capable of rapidly flipping from defensive to offensive play using the aggressive setup.

the practice drill you are currently running emphasises heavily on the defence–the reverse setup play. hongjoong is to pass backwards but in the direction of the boards whilst yeosang supports and wooyoung covers the area directly between the circle and san. mingi moves towards the boards to receive the puck, and their other defenceman, yunho, assists with covering the goal.

hongjoong does admit that this play is much safer and stabler, but it is also much slower and…cowardly. his team is called the red devils for a reason and their reputation as demons on ice is not something that he is going to throw away–not following years of blood, sweat and tears to stand back up after falling during their rookie year.

when he assumes his stance once again inside the faceoff circle opposite seonghwa, who is playing the centre position as the mock opponent, you drop the puck onto the centre dot. the moment it hits the ice, hongjoong clears it with his stick towards the right boards. it doesn’t go back far enough for mingi to receive though, so yeosang makes the split decision to burst sideways to retrieve the puck, all three forwards moving aggressively in synchronisation to advance offensively once he gains possession.

you stop them, shaking your head. “again.”

it has been a week since your first meeting with the team, and with the start of the regular season, training has focused on refining their strategies. the red devils are playing in the korean ice hockey league for the second time, an annual national championship with a singular men’s division.

teams from all over korea gather in seoul to compete in regular-season games at the gangneung ice arena against the other teams in rotation. depending on the number of participants, the red devils will need to play an average of three games a week for the next five to six months. then based on the outcome of the games, if your team scores within the top thirty two, they will be able to enter the playoffs.

last year, the red devils were only able to make it to the quarterfinals before they were knocked out. but considering it was their first time competing in a proper championship–as opposed to the rookie leagues and interstate competitions they competed in during the first four years of their career–making it into the top eight teams out of over a hundred or so teams was already impressive enough.

your team’s first regular-season game starts tomorrow, so it does not matter that this is the sixth time in a row that you have stopped them during this drill. you will make them restart until they perfect the play. with that in mind, you release the puck onto the centre dot of the circle once more, but this time seonghwa wins the faceoff, clearing it to the side where jongho is waiting as his left wing. seonghwa looks at you guiltily and anticipates the word that will come out of your mouth.

you bite your tongue, having sensed the rising tension amongst the team an hour ago, but now they are almost at their boiling point. closing your eyes briefly, you try reminding yourself to think about the situation from your players’ perspectives.

their career progression rides on this championship, and with their grit and determination, they will not settle for simply beating their own record in ranking. no, they vie for first place. only the top team secures a position in the international ice hockey league, the most coveted opportunity to represent korea in the championship between the world’s best teams.

and it is during this vital time–when the stress levels and stakes are as high as they can get–that the boys have suddenly had to change coaches. not only have they lost their most trusted support and guide, they have only had one week to adjust to their new one–you. in the grand scheme of things, one week is nowhere near enough time to develop any sort of meaningful relationship where they are able to listen to and rely on you.

taking a breath, you explain, “being so focused on offence leaves your team vulnerable if the opposing team also has aggressive forwards that you can’t break through. the faceoff play needs to be adjusted for those situations, otherwise it’ll be too difficult to control the puck and it will more than likely end up in chaos. it won’t be a game of professional skill anymore, but a circus of dirty play.”

your defence-focused coaching style has worked well for all the past teams you have taught, both men’s and women’s teams. you know that the boys play an offence-focused style; you are reminded too closely of your past self every time they rush head-on into every situation. and it is exactly because of that–because you know the dangers that come with their aggressive style–that you are making them adjust their play. their career comes first and if they suffer an injury, there may not be a career left.

so you will play the bad cop if you have to. they will come to understand you one day.

san bites down on his mouthguard as he listens from his position in the goal. he is able to see each and every play unfold, better than any other of his teammates, so he knows where you are coming from. whilst he has become used to the pressures that come with goaltending, no amount of training or competitions will ever fully eliminate the sudden spike in fear and anticipation the moment the opposing team’s forwards break past yunho and mingi.

san is the team’s last line of defence and the best outcome is that a game never comes down to just him, the opponent’s stick, and his goal. it is true that his team needs to work on their defensive plays, so when the others huff in defiance and reluctantly reset their positions, san simply lowers his centre of gravity in wait for your cue to restart the drill.

“again.”

outside the arena, the echo of sticks and scraping of skates sound faintly as the first leaf of autumn begins to fall to the ground. as time passes, the rest of the leaves will also succumb to a similar fate, only differing in how. some will fall in a slow and graceful descent, whilst others…

…a rapid and spiralling whirlwind downwards.

counting the heads and finding all eight of your players seated in the bus, you nod to the driver to close the door and start driving. most of the boys have chosen to sit on a two-seater by themselves, only yunho and mingi choosing to sit together. they share a set of wired earphones, eyebrows furrowed in concentration at one of their phones, likely monitoring one of their own matches or one of another team’s.

the rest of the boys sit alone, faces grim and tight as they stare out the window. they look exactly like you used to and it hits you with a wave of bittersweet nostalgia.

the ride to the competition venue–much less for the very first game of the season–is always the quietest, air strung tight with nerves as everyone prepares themselves psychologically for the inevitable pressures that the game will bring. being able to compose and centre one’s mindset is already half the battle won, and whilst nobody says it out loud, you all know that today’s results, despite it only being day one, will set the tone for the next four to five months as they fight to qualify for the playoffs.

as you make one final sweep from the back of the bus to the front whilst it pulls away from the curb, you accidentally make eye contact with yeosang. you give him a polite smile and he opens his mouth, closes it on second thought, then decides to ask anyway, “do you want to sit here?”

it is a lie to say that you are not surprised by the question, so you stumble over your response as you stammer, “oh, okay. thanks.”

yeosang reciprocates your noise of disorientation and when he fumbles to move his bag aside that had been occupying the space beside him, you belatedly realise he was only asking out of courtesy. but backtracking now and rejecting his offer would be a million times worse and you can only try to hide the flaming heat behind your cheeks as best as you can as you sit down in the seat.

he fiddles with the straps of his bag and you can feel his discomfort reeking off his hands. in an attempt to break the ice, you glance at him, “are you nervous for the game?”

he nods, “don’t think it gets any less nerve-wracking no matter how many games you play.”

“well this is a pretty big championship. you have every reason to feel nervous,” you hum.

yeosang levels you with a look. “are you trying to make me feel better or worse?”

you do not know him well enough to be able to discern whether he is joking with you or not. opting to clear your throat instead, you point out, “you have your teammates who you can trust.”

“yeah…teammates.”

and you have me, too, as your coach, you want to say.

the hopeful glimpse in the dark of your eyes is enough for yeosang to pick up on your thoughts. he swallows uncomfortably and looks away.

we don’t know that yet.

you bite the inside of your cheek, trying once more to extend the conversation after a pregnant pause. “did you guys have a coach before cho?” either you have a shitty sense of appropriate conversation starters or yeosang wants absolutely nothing to do with you (it is likely both, but one can be optimistic), because his shoulders tense almost immediately.

“we did…just one,” he starts off carefully. you think that that is going to be the end of it, but then he adds on, “we don’t really talk about him though.”

and there it is–the end of the conversation. it is his nice way of telling you that there is no more to be said, so you sit the rest of the ride in silence next to yeosang, pretending not to let the sheer awkwardness suffocate you.

when the bus arrives at the gangneung ice arena, you hurry to alight and only then do you feel like you are able to breathe again. you plaster on a smile and notify the boys, “your first game is in two hours against the panthers. you’ve been allocated locker room 3B.”

they make their way into the centre and you trail behind in wait as they find their designated space. warm-ups will be first so they will not be needing their full gear just yet, which means it should not take long for them to change.

inside the locker room, the red devils shrug off their bulky duffle bags and change into their game jerseys, lacing and relacing their skates to ensure the snuggest fits. hongjoong alerts, “boys, time to go out and start warming up,” receiving a chorus of acknowledgement as everyone grabs the rest of the gear that they need.

before jongho places his phone into his assigned locker, he habitually taps on the screen one last time to check for any notifications and finds a single text from his younger brother, jonghyuk. he knows he should not read it, much less right before his first game, but the smaller part inside him that yearns for his family’s recognition dares to hope for something. dragging the preview down to avoid opening it, jongho reads the text.

are you just going to keep pretending you haven’t read our messages?

jongho clenches his jaw and swipes the notification away as if that will also erase it from his mind. tossing his phone into the locker, he shuts it with a harsh swing, resting his forehead against the cool metal as he closes his eyes and breathes out shakily. this game–this championship–jongho has to win; he cannot afford to lose.

“captain.”

hongjoong turns around to see jongho striding up towards him, brows furrowed and voice troubled as he questions, “are we really not going to tell coach what our game plan is? shouldn’t we work together with her?”

“jongho,” the captain sighs, “we got lucky with coach cho, but we know better than anyone else that not all coaches are like him.”

from where he has been listening in on the conversation at the doors leading out of the locker room, seonghwa’s shoulders stiffen. there is a moment of silence; the rest of the team have already made their way to the ice rink.

“what if we lose?”

it is the way that his voice grows small and timid that hongjoong realises it is not his captain that jongho needs right now. hongjoong’s gaze softens as he searches the younger’s eyes, “did your family say something again?”

he receives no answer but it tells him more than enough. “you trust me?”

jongho’s almost imperceptible nod does not escape hongjoong’s observations, so he continues to reassure, “we’ll win. my boys are the best players, you included, and we already have experience playing in this competition.” he ducks down slightly to meet jongho’s gaze, “and even if we do lose? we lose because of our own skills–not because of anybody else.”

his words tug a small smile out of the corner of the youngest’s lips, and hongjoong returns it with a relieved smile. with a nudge, he sends jongho in the direction of the door, where seonghwa pretends to ruffle his hair affectionately knowing that it will be dodged. seonghwa chuckles lightly and watches him walk off, unbeknownst to his captain watching him.

“hey,” hongjoong calls out gently, “i know what you’re thinking, but that wasn’t what i meant.”

seonghwa looks back and winces, “i can’t help it.”

“and that’s why i will keep telling you no matter how many times you need to hear it. it is not your fault–never was, and never will be,” hongjoong cocks his head playfully as he raises an eyebrow.

“same goes to you then, captain,” seonghwa returns the banter, shoulders relaxing and head shaking, “not your fault either.”

“you’re right, so let’s get the fuck out there and smash our game, yeah?” hongjoong slings his arm around the other and leads them both out of the locker room to join the rest of the boys.

what he does not say, though, is that seonghwa is wrong. seonghwa may have been the one to reach out to coach yeon, but hongjoong was the one who made the executive decision to accept and trust coach yeon.

he is not going to make the same mistake twice this time, because it is not just about protecting his dreams, his career, or those of his teammates–it is about protecting the people he loves.

hongjoong will not let them fall…not again.

winter, 2018: regular season

jongho twirls his phone in his hand, intermittently turning the screen on and off. he sits in the corner of the locker room, away from the rest of the boys as they wait for coach yeon to return from checking in and filling out their required paperwork. only several competitions later will they realise that their locker room is small, cramped and dim, but to their fresh, bright-eyed excitement at competing in a professional league for the first time, they hardly have time to critique the assigned space.

the phone comes to a stop. making up his mind, jongho taps on the screen and navigates to the keypad. dialling his mother’s number, he brings the phone up to his ear and waits with bated breath as it is left to ring.

“what do you want,” comes her curt response when she finally picks up.

jongho’s words falter, “oh, nothing…i just wanted to tell you that we’re playing our first game today.”

“game? your little team doesn’t even have a coach,” his mother patronises.

shoulders curling in on themselves, jongho hesitantly voices, “i told you last month that we got a coach.”

“i forgot,” she brushes him off, “and it must not be a very important competition then, seeing as it isn’t worth remembering.”

“there’s prize money,” he reveals. maybe if he can bring some of it home for his parents, they will recognise his efforts.

she sceptically probes, “is it national? international?”

“no…regionals.”

“is it ranked at least?”

“it’s just an entry-level competition for rookie teams,” jongho trails off, discouraged and confidence in shambles.

his mother scoffs at his answers, none of which are the ones she wants to hear. “you have no excuse not to win this competition, then. this is child’s play. just look at jonghyuk. he’s two years younger than you, yet already has his eyes on the olympics. if you lose, i don’t want to hear about it–don’t bring shame to our family.”

“okay,” jongho mumbles, but his answer is only heard by the beeping dial of the ended call…and the rest of the boys it seems, if not apparent by the sombre hush that has settled over the room and the worried lips that he sees when he looks up.

yeosang’s mouth parts, the younger’s name on the tip of his tongue, but then coach yeon enters the locker room and calls for their attention. jongho gives them a reassuring smile before setting his phone beside him on the bench and directing his gaze to their coach, grateful for the distraction. it leaves yeosang and the others with no choice but to drop it for now.

coach yeon erases the old scribbles on the room’s whiteboard and replaces it with rough markings of the hockey rink. he drags the magnets into the different zones, each one representative of a player, as he goes over the final lineup and their respective positions based on the opposing team they have been pooled against.

“stay strong on the offensive and maintain a 2-1-2 formation where possible–yeosang, i want you up there with hongjoong and put pressure on the other team. if they gain puck possession, both of you fall back to where wooyoung is and maintain 3-2.”

the three forwards nod and coach yeon touches one of the magnets positioned on the player’s bench. “jongho, you’ll come on for your shift during the second period. whoever you replace will come back in later to sub the other wing. yeosang and wooyoung, you should both be playing again during the third period.”

“yes, coach,” jongho acknowledges.

coach yeon continues on to review their game plan and hongjoong steps up to assist with detailing their different strategic plays. to jongho though, their words sound like he is listening from underwater as his mind involuntary drifts off. it is a small saving grace that his parents do not care for his match, because it means that they will not see that he is not part of the starting lineup.

for seven of the people in the locker room, winning the competition is an aspiration, but for one of them it is an expectation. and for the remaining individual, the competition in itself is an opportunity, but for an entirely different reason.

winter, present: regular season

inevitably, you find out. when discrepancies start to occur between training, pre-game meetings and the actual games, it is only a matter of time before you start to notice them.

it starts off with the uncommon plays that are simply a response to the game situation–ones that are dire and not often brought up prior to them actually occurring. during their fourth regular game of the season, the red devils are behind by two goals. the last period is almost over when they miraculously gain the power advantage after two of the opposing players are sent to the penalty box in quick succession.

before you realise what is happening, hongjoong gives his team a signal and both yunho and mingi on defence and san in the goal all rush forward to attack with the wings. you can only watch with wide eyes as they risk an empty net in the hopes of scoring two much-needed goals to even the playing field.

wooyoung manages to score one with a quick shot, but with the release of the opponents from the penalty box, their advantage is put to an end and they ultimately finish the match with a loss. you do not dwell too much on their sudden change in tactics despite the lack of communication with you, because you understand that every single game requires a different approach. sometimes, there is no time to strategise, only time to act.

but one occurrence turns into two, and two turns into several. and when, during one of their matches the week prior, jongho and wooyoung swap positions on the left and right sides of the rink as soon as the youngest replaces yeosang’s shift, it becomes quite conclusive that they are deliberately withholding information from you.

the boys are not brainless. it is not a coincidence for you and the team to discuss one game plan in the locker room only for it to completely change the moment they step onto the hockey rink.

you silently watch as the boys prepare for a faceoff in their defensive zone. they are currently playing against the incheon bears and the timing of the penalty puts you all on edge; the score is currently tied four to four and only twelve seconds are left on the clock. you had requested a time-out right as the referee made the call in hopes of stopping the momentum of the opposing team and to tell the boys to play defensively for this faceoff.

“play it safe. stall for the last twelve seconds and drag the game into overtime,” you had ordered.

the incheon bears have made a shift change with their player number four coming on for the faceoff, their right wing who has low stamina but terrifyingly accurate shots. he is responsible for most of his team’s goals and several other scoring attempts that san had only just managed to block. you are also almost certain that they will be aggressively body checking your players to make this faceoff count for them. your forwards have to play safely–not just for the sake of the game’s score.

at your defensive suggestion, san had nodded in agreement with you, “forwards need to make passes with sure lanes–nothing that can risk getting intercepted. go for the reverse setup play if you guys can.”

“we don’t need to take this into overtime,” hongjoong had started to argue, “other than number four, the rest of their offence is weak. as long as we break past him, we have an opportunity to score.”

“captain–”

the whistle blows before mingi can give his two cents, the mere thirty seconds for the time-out far too short, and the boys hurry to enter the rink again. hongjoong leans in quickly to say something to them before they disperse into their positions and mingi glances at you, almost guiltily.

you do not have the confidence that your team will listen. san may have seen the advantages in favouring a defensive play, but he is not the one who will decide which direction the puck will go when the referee drops it onto the ice. hongjoong is.

the hand of the referee raises to signal the start of the faceoff and both team’s centre forwards lower their stance. then the puck hits the ice. hongjoong’s nimble reflexes help him to snap his wrist and twist the puck away from the incheon bear’s player, wooyoung already surging ahead with explosive strides towards the other end of the rink. but just as you fear, the opponent’s left wing thunders at hongjoong with horrifying speed, intention solely to bowl him over onto the ice–not to steal the puck.

“fuck, captain!” you yell, heart leaping up into your throat as it cuts off your breath.

hongjoong’s eyes snap upwards and darken, jaws aching from the force with which he grinds his teeth together despite his mouthguard. he suddenly pivots on the edges of his skates and shifts his weight to only just narrowly miss the body check, then flicks the puck away before another player can knock him down.

he does not need to look before passing to where he knows wooyoung will be, years of synergy allowing their plays to connect seamlessly. except incheon bear’s number four has predicted their exact play, having been watching from the benches and noting your forwards’ preference for aggressive attacks.

“shit,” yunho curses under his breath, ice shaving under his skates from the accelerating force of his strides towards the puck. he is not going to make it in time. “mingi!”

seonghwa jolts up to his feet from the player’s bench, chest mid-inhale with apprehension at the captain’s pass. the puck is intercepted within the blink of an eye and with a well-timed punch turn around yunho’s attempt to regain possession, the rival team’s number four makes a shot for the goal.

it is too fast for mingi’s stick to block–arm still stretching out with desperation–and although san drops down to his knees in hopes of barricading the goal with his leg pads, the trajectory of the puck arcs higher than he had predicted.

as the puck soars past san and hits the netting of the goal, the buzzer sounds in tandem with the eruption of cheers around the rink. all around, the incheon bears swarm towards their number four in joyous celebration. mingi leans over to rest his hands on his knees from both exhaustion and defeat, and the other boys stand in similar stances as the outcome of the game registers in their tired minds.

in an attempt to cheer them up despite his own disappointment, seonghwa half-heartedly smiles at his boys as they slowly start to trudge their way off the rink. “we played well, boys. it was unlucky that our pass got intercepted, but we can do better next time.”

“good thing it isn’t the playoffs yet,” yunho tries to joke, “so we’re still in the competition.”

nobody cracks a smile and wooyoung’s face is dark, hand grabbing the walls in support to favour his left foot whilst lifting his skates over the slight ledge of the bench door. noting his slight limp, san quietly murmurs in worry, “did you tape your ankle?”

wooyoung shakes his head. “i ran out. forgot to buy some yesterday.”

“make sure you ice it tonight then, okay?” san gently supports him by the elbow to the benches so they can loosen the laces of their skates and grab their things before heading to the locker room.

you look away to flip through the notebook in your hand instead, trying to calm the shaking of your hands. ice hockey is a contact sport and you cannot protect the players from every single collision, but that last body check that hongjoong had been unprepared for still has acid pooling into your mouth. you scratch the score ‘4-5’ onto a page filled with their scores from this season thus far. a quick calculation tells you that the red devils have just as many losses as they have wins, which in all honesty, is not looking good.

this…conflict needs to be cleared with the team–with hongjoong. you cannot let this concealment of tactics and blatant changing of strategies right in your face continue any longer, because at the rate they are going, they may not even make it into the playoffs. and as you make eye contact with san, who has been staring despondently at the puck that still lies in his goal, you know that you must clear the air for the team, too. the last thing you need is for their own teamwork to fall apart because their differing opinions on your coaching starts to drive a wedge between them.

san stills when you break your gaze and glance away to pivot on your heels in the direction of the changerooms. from the way your mouth thins and neck becomes rigid, he is quite certain you are not happy—and rightfully so, san must admit. he stalls time by slipping off his bulky gloves and freeing his hands up to remove his helmet and mouthguard too.

noting that the other boys have grabbed most of their belongings, san heads off first to meet you, knowing that they will follow him soon after. he walks down the corridor easily balancing on his skates and rounds the corner to their locker room. except the sight that greets him has his feet halting and taking a step back behind the doorway.

your hand is deep in one of their bags. san is unsure whose bag it is, but the brief glimpse of the black canvas bag he caught is enough to tell him that it is one of theirs. although he is not making any accusations, he also cannot think of a reason as to why you would be rummaging through their bags.

“why are you just standing there?”

jongho’s voice startles him and he mumbles, “nothing,” before stepping through the door with the rest of his team. you are sitting on a bench in front of an empty locker now and if he did not know better, san would think that he had imagined the last minute. he glances discreetly at the bag you had been poking through and recognises it as wooyoung’s.

gingerly seating himself in front of his own locker, san waits on edge as mingi also grasps the atmosphere and sits too. gradually, the boys read the room with tactful glances and linger on their feet or on the benches. all except for one.

“what was that?” you cut through the silence with a directed question at hongjoong.

the captain continues to toss his gloves into his unzipped bag at the bottom of his locker before proceeding to unlace his skates, not once turning to look at you.

“what was what?”

you know fully well that he is aware of what you are talking about but you decide to humour him as you elaborate, “that last faceoff. i clearly told you to play defensively, but you went against it to try for a goal. and let me guess, you told the others to ignore what i said.”

“and so what if i did?” hongjoong challenges. yeosang’s wide eyes dart from side to side and yunho watches on uneasily as his captain finally turns to glare at you. “in that moment–as a player on the rink–i saw the opportunity and took it. if there is a chance to attack, then my team takes it. we don’t run away like cowards.”

the successive jabs at your athletic retirement cause a lick of phantom heat to wrap around your shoulder. your jaw grinds as you hold yourself back from biting the bait. “then i’m curious as to what opportunity you saw every time you decided to withhold game tactics from me, or every time you changed the strategy the moment you and your team stepped foot onto the rink.”

“maybe we would respect and listen to your coaching if it actually suited the playing style of our team. heavy defence may have worked for the grey eagles, but i think you need to reevaluate your abilities as a coach because it seems like you are forgetting that we are not them. forcing us to play defensively like your past team is not going to work for shit, coach,” hongjoong mocks.

you scoff to the side, questioning your own ears. it borders on a laugh, because that is his reason? you have been adjusting their playing style not only based on the situation that arises each game, but in general for their own good. earning his respect be damned, you will not stand for this.

you return the same scornful tone, “well then, captain, considering you just lost the fucking match because you were too arrogant to defend for twelve fucking seconds, i think you should also reevaluate yourself. are you acting in the best interest of your team, or are you acting in the way that best strokes your own ego? and let me remind you–if you suffer an injury, your whole team suffers with you.

“if you do not have the decency to at least tell me what you have discussed with the boys so that i can adjust the plays accordingly, then i think the shit results of your games so far speak for themselves. teams have a coach for a reason whether you like it or not…or maybe i should say, whether you trust them or not,” you snap.

running your stressed fingers through your hair, you tear your eyes away from hongjoong’s defiant eyes. the two youngest avoid your gaze, whereas yunho and yeosang simply stare at you with their jaws slack at a loss for words. the fire within you almost quenches when your eyes skim over san, mingi and even seonghwa, who are fiddling with their jerseys with guilt.

the room suddenly feels too small and too stuffy. “change. the bus will be waiting outside,” you mumble, then you leave without a further word.

nobody in the room moves in the wake of the argument, not even hongjoong, who continues to bore holes in the doorway that you have just disappeared through. yunho’s eyes awkwardly dart back and forth between hongjoong and the other boys before they land on the bench you had been sitting on.

the notebook you are always holding is still there, left behind in your haste to leave. he stands up to grab it, turning on his heels to chase after you when the open pages catch his eye. “woah,” yunho breathes out, double-taking and bringing the notebook closer towards him to read the contents. “this is insane.”

you have marked down not only their score for every single game they have played this season, but you have also tracked the statistics of who has scored, assisted, or successfully defended a shot. yunho flips back through the pages as the other boys come to crowd around him. there are logs of their major games from the past five years, diagrams of their faceoff plays and formations, analyses of their strengths in games won and similarly, analyses of their weaknesses in games they have lost.

“oh, fuck,” mingi curses when yunho flips to the more recent pages and they see that you have compiled the same details and information, only more concisely, for every single opponent team the red devils have played against this season. there is no way of seeing this–hours upon hours of hard work–and still questioning your intentions as their coach. “i think we owe coach a huge fuckin’ apology.”

hongjoong immediately furrows his eyebrows with displeasure. “are you taking her side, mingi?”

“captain,” mingi deliberately calls. it is at times like this where being the only logical thinker in the team has its merits. it may be harsh, but mingi must draw the line between their professional and personal life. this dispute must stay strictly within the bounds of their career without blurring the lines over into their romantic involvement with one another, otherwise things could get messy real fast.

mingi stares at the captain as he reasons, “this isn’t about taking sides. from a solely rational point of view, i think it may have been better for us to play safe and defend like coach had suggested.”

from beside him, san nods in agreement. mingi continues, “and i’m not just talking about today–there were a lot of times when coach’s plays might have worked out better than bulldozing ahead with offence. yeah, we’ve won a few games but we’ve also lost just as many. how many of those could we have won if we had trusted coach?”

yunho backs him up whilst gesturing vaguely between the both of them and san, “it’s easier for the three of us to see from defence, but their forwards were already close to intercepting our faceoffs quite a few times that game.”

hongjoong’s immediate thought is to defend himself, because he is their captain and their centre forward; the one who leads them into opportunities to score and win. he knows that every single time he chooses an aggressive play, it is at the risk of weaker defence. the odds have never deterred him, though, because he has always been confident in his abilities–in his team’s abilities.

but if, even now with the palpable experience of losing because of his own decision, it still does not deter him from taking risks in a situation where offence may be his downfall, then is he confident…or overconfident?

it is quiet for a moment. hongjoong swallows the urge to justify against their opinions–against your opinions–instead looking around at his team. he meets jongho’s round eyes and he remembers one of the very reasons why he is so committed to leading the red devils to the gold trophy. why, if he is becoming a hurdle instead to their victory, then he needs to change. “what does everybody else think? seonghwa?”

“we’ve been wary of y/n all this time, but the more games we play and especially after…” the alternate captain vaguely gestures in the air, “...today, we should really work with her instead of relying on ourselves. we’ve seen her notebook, too, and i think that’s more than enough for us to see that the effort and resolve she places in our team is genuine. we need to acknowledge that and apologise.”

“not even coach cho went to these lengths, and most definitely not coach yeon,” yeosang shrugs as he offhandedly comments.

spurred on by everybody else, san carefully voices the thought that has been lingering on his mind, “i think it’s time to tell her the truth. we owe her that much.”

the truth. the wounds that not even coach cho knows of.

hongjoong’s distrust in you may have initially been true to his desire to protect his boys from something like that from happening again. but he is now realising that you may have seen right through him. perhaps at some point in time, it became unwillingness to trust you, blinded by his prideful title as the demon king of the ice rink but at the expense of his team under the guise of wanting to safeguard them.

exhaling shakily, voice thick with regret, hongjoong accepts, “i’ve let you all down, haven’t i?”

“no,” yunho gently rebukes. “letting us down would be refusing to listen to us. we trust you for a reason, hongjoong.”

not just as a captain, but as everything else too.

seonghwa wraps an arm comfortingly around him. with hongjoong’s demonic presence on the ice once he is in the zone, it is easy to forget that he actually has a shorter stature than all of them. “that’s right, we trust you,” seonghwa affirms. “the next step is for us to trust our coach as well. we’re a team, but it isn’t complete without our coach.”

“and this apology isn’t yours alone to bear,” yunho reminds. “like seonghwa said, we’re a team and we all have fault in our behaviour towards y/n. if i’m honest, i had a shitty attitude and gave her a hard time at the start too,” he admits, wincing at the memory.

yunho is not the only one who grimaces as they reflect on their own actions–whether they happened when you were first introduced to the team, during your first training together, or even up until today’s game. but wooyoung, who has been quiet throughout the entire ordeal, still has a niggling doubt: one that is most personal to him in comparison to the rest of the team.

wooyoung reveals his thoughts, “but what about her choice to stop playing? i still can’t think of a good reason that i can respect her for having retired.”

“then we ask her,” mingi proposes.

jongho nods, also curious to know whether there is more to your decision than you have let on. “today, though? we don’t really want to come off as accusatory or anything. it might be good to give her some space today.”

“what’s our schedule looking like tomorrow? training?”

everyone looks at seonghwa, the most likely person to know their schedule off by heart. he does, and he scratches his head as he recalls, “no, recovery day. low-intensity cardio in the morning and…a team meeting with coach in the afternoon.”

“tomorrow it is, then,” hongjoong concludes. there are hums of agreement and the decision appears to appease wooyoung enough for the boys to start dispersing, heading to their lockers to finally start changing out of their gear.

wooyoung tosses his helmet and gloves onto the bench in front of his locker before sitting with a sharp but discreet inhale. he carefully loosens the laces on his skates, easing the left one off his foot slowly. the relief is immediate and his fingertips gingerly touch the throbbing area around his ankle. it is not too swollen, but he will need to ice it when they get back to their apartment and he will definitely need to buy more tape.

he sheds off the rest of his gear and uniform, leaving them on the bench too to air out while he takes a quick shower. as he roughly towels his wet hair afterwards, he drags his kit bag further out to make it easier to toss everything in.

“huh?” wooyoung makes a noise of confusion when he unzips the bag, hand immediately reaching in to grab the item that has caught his eye. it is partially covered by his hoodie but he would be able to recognise the packaging anywhere.

“what’s wrong?” san asks, glancing over.

the younger brandishes the brand new roll of strapping tape he has found in his bag, the frown etched across his face slowly relaxing into amused exasperation as he reasons, “i must not have seen this in my bag all along.”

san is about to snort and make fun of his inattentiveness, but a sudden thought stuns the smile off his face. it was not that wooyoung had managed to miss the spare roll in his bag. it was–

“y/n,” he quietly exhales with realisation.

at wooyoung’s questioning what?, san looks at him with upturned eyebrows. “the tape–coach was the one who put it in your bag, right before we all walked in here.”

“this…she gave it to me?” wooyoung’s face drops, remorse evident in the thickness of his voice. “but why?”

san gently squeezes his shoulder with a smile, simply answering, “because she’s our coach.” he turns to zip up his own kit bag and leaves wooyoung to digest the revelation. the boy is quiet for the rest of the time, teeth gnawing at the inside of his cheek as he stares ahead and absentmindedly follows the rest of his team out of the locker room.

when they exit the ice arena, they do not expect to see you. and yet, there you stand beside their bus waiting stonily with your jacket zipped up and hands in your pockets. you mentally count them off without acknowledging them as they start to store their kit bags under the bus and board. yeosang gets on first, taking a seat near the front of the bus as usual. he watches from the window as you wait for the rest of the boys.

you follow jongho up the stairs, the last to load his kit bag, and tell the driver that you are all good to leave. yeosang sits a little straighter as he tucks his small backpack further under the seat in front of him with his feet, having left the seat beside him empty. but before he can open his mouth with an offer of a seat, you have already sat right behind the driver. yeosang leans back into the cushions of his seat, unfamiliar with the sense of disappointment he feels.

the ride back from the competition venue–much less after a lost game–is always quiet, players both physically and mentally exhausted from the strain. this time, though, it is strikingly silent, but you appreciate it–need it.

you stare out of the window as the trees flicker past like a repetitive motion film. most of their leaves have already fallen off, littering the ground in a blur of tragic glory. and with the beginning of winter, the trees will soon become completely bare, bringing about the period of time when there is nothing but bleak emptiness.

winter, 2019: regular season

‘2019 ice hockey rookie stars tournament: team standings’

hongjoong stares at the printed piece of paper with seonghwa at his side, where the results of all the team’s round-robin games have been taped up onto the walls of the stadium. hongjoong does not even bother reading from the top, eyes going straight down to the bottom of the page instead.

the red devils are dead last, having lost every single one of their matches. even the korean penguins, who had nil wins either, had managed to beat them earlier today, ranking them at the lowest of all teams. it is fucking humiliating and hongjoong hates that the sport that had brought him and his boys all together, that they had immeasurable love for, is now one that fills them with shame and indignity.

nobody else but the two captains of the team have decided to look at the rankings. they had all already known towards the end of the regular season that they would not stand a chance at making it into the playoffs. and yet, hongjoong and seonghwa need to see the results for themselves. it is almost masochistic, forcing themselves to look at the fruitless results of their hard work in their first competition that has so devastatingly crushed their morality.

seonghwa picks at his cuticles fretfully and wonders whether he made the wrong decision to give up his education in pursuit of becoming an athlete. he thinks of his parents, who had encouraged him with supportive smiles and offers of financial support the moment he brought up the idea–was it all in vain?

“are you two done looking?”

both of the boys turn at the question to find a captain with his team waiting to look at the standings.

“yeah, sorry,” hongjoong mumbles before stepping aside to yield his spot. the players swarm forwards and he is pushed further back away from the list like a physical representation of his distance from the playoffs.

somebody from the other team yells, “we made it! we’re in the playoffs!” and they simultaneously break out into cries and cheers as they celebrate together.

hongjoong watches on bitterly, wishing with every cell in his body that that was him and his boys. how is he going to walk back into the locker room as their captain when all of his boys have eyes that are rimmed red and cheeks that are blotchy from despair–when there are captains like that who have successfully led their team to at least a chance at winning the competition.

the feeling of a pinky slowly hooking around his own draws hongjoong out of his pain. “let’s go back,” seonghwa murmurs, tugging him away from the still-celebrating team. together, both of them start to walk back through the hallways to their locker room. 

“aren’t we down here?” seonghwa questions, standing at the t-intersection that hongjoong has absentmindedly walked straight past.

“oh, yeah. sorry,” hongjoong apologises and begins to backtrack. his ears suddenly perk up at the sound of a voice. “wait, doesn’t that sound like coach?”

before seonghwa can respond, hongjoong has turned around yet again towards the voice in search of their coach. seonghwa hurries to catch up and that is when he hears it too.

“have you transferred the money?”

“yes, i wired you the remaining amount the moment we won,” a deeper, unrecognisable voice reassures.

hongjoong’s footsteps falter, brows knitting together and head cocking to one side. he gestures for seonghwa to slow down, pressing a finger on his other hand to his lips. both of them creep forward silently.

the unfamiliar voice probes, “your team–you’re sure they don’t suspect anything?”

hongjoong and seonghwa do not need to see him to confirm their suspicions when they hear the unmistakable laughter of coach yeon. through the gravelly sound, he mocks, “they have no fucking clue even though they’ve lost every single one of their games. they’re dumber than fucking sheep. their captain tells me everything about their plays and strategies and they never question it when i change things around.”

seonghwa clutches the back of hongjoong’s jersey with a death grip, knowing that without it, his captain will punch coach yeon’s face into a bloody mess. but as much as their coach deserves it, it is not worth the disciplinary action that will inevitably follow, likely suspension, because–

“plus, even if they do somehow find out, what can they do about it? bullshit, that’s what. they have no evidence and they’re not going to risk blowing this up and ruining their own careers instead,” coach yeon boasts smugly. “losing like that as a rookie group in their first year out is completely normal. no one will believe them, and no coach is going to want their team after that because of their ‘shitty sportsmanship’ or out of fear of being accused in the same way if they lose again.”

at coach yeon’s words, seonghwa scrambles to put them into context with his dread-riddled mind. the echoing pounding in his ears tells him that he has just heard something that was never meant to be known. he does not even notice that the voices start to grow distant as the two men begin to walk off, but hongjoong does.

the trembling grip that is still on the back of his jersey grounds hongjoong enough not to throw everything away and sprint up to coach yeon with vile words and heated fists, but he also cannot do nothing. hongjoong peers around the corner before seonghwa can counteract his movement, desperate to identify who exactly coach yeon is talking to. except the revelation has him reeling, hands white from how hard his fingers dig into his palm–a stark contrast to the deep scarlet of flames that leap forth from his murderous eyes.

because the person who is walking beside coach yeon is the coach of the korean penguins. hongjoong and his boys have not been losing because of their skills they believed to be fucking shit–coach yeon has been fucking ensuring they lose.

for money.

winter, present: regular season

you stand on the balcony of your apartment. the sliding glass doors are shut behind you to keep the heat trapped inside, but for now you welcome the refreshing cold of the winter chill as you simply observe.

below on the streets, the miniature specks of people and cars mill around as if you are watching a game simulation. it is strangely humbling to think that each and every one of the people you see are living their own lives, completely distinct to yours with different yet very real problems of their own, but in the grand scheme of the cosmos, you are all insignificant.

you wonder what concern the people holding their coffee are plagued with right now; what problem the people crossing the street are facing. you wonder, if you were to tell them of your worries and they were to tell you of theirs, would you curse or thank the heavens?

the phone in your hand buzzes. you look to see if it is from coach cho and manage a small smile of relief when the notification is indeed from him.

apologies y/n, i was busy earlier. i can call now if you still need me?

you send an affirmative reply, then slide to answer the call that comes through. “hi coach, sorry to bother you.”

“no, you’re alright. is everything okay?”

you hesitate before revealing, “...i messed things up with the boys.”

“the team?” his voice goes gentle, fatherly nature extending to you too. “what happened?”

“hongjoong and i had an argument today after the game because he keeps changing the team’s plays without letting me know, or even after we’ve agreed on something else. it was only meant to be a talk, but then things escalated and we ended up fighting. i just–i don’t know what you saw in me, coach, because i don’t think i’m fit for the boys,” you ramble. “they’re not listening to me, they probably don’t even like me, and we’re going terribly with the season.”

you take a breath as you timidly admit, “i don’t think we’re going to make it into the playoffs and it’s going to be my fault.”

“hey,” coach cho grounds you, “making the playoffs would be great, yes, but the reality is that most teams don’t. and you’re still very young yourself–this is your, what…fifth year of coaching?”

throat too sticky to formulate a response, you simply hum.

“when i first started coaching, i was older than you and it was still a steep learning curve during my first ten years. i believed that coaches deserved the utmost respect and that my opinion was final. they’re my players, so of course i should be the one laying down the laws,” he chuckles. “but growing up was realising that whilst the respect is still there, it needs to be mutual. coaching a team is not a hierarchy of ‘i command, you listen’, but a show of leadership with the captain at the front of the team–not on top of them.”

his words strike a chord within you. coaching the boys was frustrating because they were not listening to you. but it should never have been a case of who listens to who–it should always have been a reciprocated relationship of everyone listening to one other.

as if he can physically feel the guilt that is starting to settle in the pit of your stomach, coach cho draws your attention to something else. “remember what i told you when we met the team for the first time? why i chose you specifically?”

“because of our similar playing styles?” you recall.

“exactly,” he confirms, “you know best the strategies and plays that work, and what their strengths and weaknesses are, because they were also your own. you need to be a coach to their playing style, not the other way around–they shouldn’t be a player to your coaching style.”

you cannot help but worry, “what if they get injured?”

“y/n, this is where your similarities can either be your biggest flaw or your greatest asset as a coach. no matter how safely they play, there will always be a risk of injury. that is just how the sport works and you know that the best. you can teach them to assess the risk and pull back if they really need to, but ultimately, there is no way of eliminating the risk completely.” coach cho pauses, then asks, “if you could meet your younger self, would you make yourself change your playing style?”

would you? as you imagine what you would tell your past self if you had the chance to, you find that you do not have an answer. perhaps for the sake of a prolonged career, you would. but then would it be your passion and skills that are playing the game, or your fears and worries?

if you cannot come to a decision even for yourself, then it is completely unfair for you to restrain the boys within the cages of what you view as safety for their own good. harnessing the defensive skills may have been functional for the grey eagles, but like hongjoong said, you are coaching the red devils now and it is not working for them. you must come to terms that you cannot protect the boys at every opportunity–consciously or unconsciously–you need to be a coach to them.

coach cho, aware that you have come to a conclusion, asks you one final question, “have you told the boys why you retired?”

“no, not yet,” you shake your head. you already have an idea of what he is going to say to you next.

“i think it’s time for you to tell them,” he advises. “remember, y/n, sometimes you need to be vulnerable with them first before you can make things right.”

after coach cho ends the call, you do not make a move to go back inside the apartment. you stay standing on your balcony, arms folded as you lean against the handrail listening to the faint rumble of traffic and hustle of busy activity. life goes on, and so will yours; you just have to make it count.

the trees on the streets may be stripped bare and lonely throughout winter, but eventually you learn to appreciate its nothingness. it is a necessity in order to start afresh.

mingi stares at the blinking cursor that sits in the open search bar. it has been empty for the last twenty minutes since he started up his laptop, wondering whether it would be an invasion of privacy for him to look you up on the internet.

he makes up his mind. he knows that he was the one to tell wooyoung only mere hours ago that they would ask you about your decision to retire tomorrow at the meeting, but mingi supposes it would not hurt to simply see what sort of athlete you were like before.

typing your full name into the search engine, mingi hits ‘enter’ and waits for the results to appear. he combs through the first several links quickly. they all have the same information; ice hockey databases and websites that detail your age, nationality, physical stats and position, but the sections that usually list your team and agency are now blank.

mingi is surprised to learn you were also a centre forward. he scrolls down to your game logs and match statistics that span from 2014 to 2019. you have won an impressive number of championships, most notably the under-18 and under-21 women’s ice hockey league. they are both international competitions and mingi is not sure how your reputation has flown under all of their radars.

frowning, he goes back to the search engine and clicks on the next page in an attempt to find more information. it is not until he clicks yet again to the next page that he finds a low-reputed news article from almost eight years ago where you are the main subject.

‘y/n l/n, youngest player of ‘black cats’, wins ice hockey championship at the age of sixteen’ the headline reads. there is not much to the article, but it outlines your admirable achievement at your young age as a rising prodigy in the ice hockey scene. mingi agrees, since he knows that you also go on to win another international competition a few years after that. just as he is about to close the tab, there is a recommended link that catches his eye.

he hovers his cursor over it. the hyperlinked headline does not explicitly say your name, but the phrasing really only alludes to one athlete considering it is a recommended link on your article. mingi does not know whether he wants to click on it, though, because he is afraid of confirming it is you.

and if it is…then the others will also need to see this too.

“hongjoong, guys, come look at this,” mingi calls out, balancing his laptop on his forearm as he walks out into the open living room. the others look up from where they are sitting or emerge from out of their rooms at his summon.

“what’s this?” hongjoong reaches out to receive the laptop and places it on the table. his eyes skim the screen, trying to make sense of what mingi is showing them.

mingi points to the hyperlink he had been mulling over. “i think we need to look at this.”

solemnity washes over the boys as their curious gazes dull and darken, realisation of what exactly they are reading dawning upon them. all at once, their hearts clench in solidarity. hongjoong clicks on the link. the only sound that permeates the silence is the rhythmic tick of the clock on the wall. nobody talks. nobody moves.

ice hockey star announces retirement following shoulder injury june 18, 2019 star player y/n l/n, centre forward of the ‘black cats’, has announced her retirement from professional ice hockey today. her decision follows lingering issues after suffering from a rotator cuff tear during the grand finals of this year’s under-21 women’s ice hockey league. l/n has been under the ice hockey spotlight ever since her win in the under-18’s league as the youngest player on her team. she is well-known for her offensive threat to the opponents, bold playing style and unparalleled skill breaking through the lines of defence.  during the grand finals in april, l/n was body checked from the side by ‘polar bears’’ kim hyejin. although full-body checking is illegal in women’s hockey, it is not uncommon during the heat of competitions. l/n suffered a severe right rotator cuff tear and is reported to have received open surgery last month. l/n did not provide further details about her recovery, however stated that she plans to focus on her physical rehabilitation in the meantime.

the glare of the screen stares back at the boys as they finally understand exactly why you had retired and why you had come back as a coach–you were unable to fully step away from the sport you so loved with your entire life.

“coach wasn’t telling us to play defensively at all the crucial times just for the sake of the game strategy…” seonghwa grasps.

“...but because she didn’t want the same thing to happen to us,” hongjoong finishes. one of your heated remarks during your argument with him suddenly resounds in his mind: and let me remind you–if you suffer an injury, your whole team suffers with you. you had been reliving your own demons every single time hongjoong and his boys were playing aggressively on the ice. “fuck,” he mutters.

mingi leans down a little. “wait, see if there are any other articles about this.”

fingers dancing across the keyboard, hongjoong opens up a new tab. another quick search of your name with the keywords ‘injury’ and ‘retirement’ yields no further articles. mingi is certain you would have had more media coverage considering you had suffered an injury at the rising peak of your prodigious career, so he finds it strange that there is close to no information about this.

“it almost looks as if somebody had the articles purged from the internet,” mingi observes.

jongho nods with furrowed brows, “maybe y/n? but why would she go to the length to remove them?”

“i mean, wooyoung didn’t exactly go around flaunting off his injury to the media. maybe she didn’t want the attention anymore,” yeosang guesses.

yunho nudges wooyoung playfully as he comments, “no offence to you, but none of us are exactly famous enough for the media to take interest in our injuries.”

“i think the real question is why coach didn’t tell us that her injury was the reason why she stopped playing,” seonghwa wonders, “it was never really a choice like she made it out to be.”

none of them know the answer. hongjoong slowly closes the laptop, exhaling deeply, “we’ve got a lot of things to clear up tomorrow…and a lot of apologising. i’m going to sleep early. you all should too.”

with that, he gets out of his seat and disappears into his bedroom. hongjoong’s mind is heavy and crowded and he knows he is going to be awake for a while.

nobody sleeps well that night. especially wooyoung.

spring, 2023: playoffs

“what do you mean i can’t compete in the playoffs?”

“you have a fractured ankle, wooyoung. the playoffs are honestly the least of your concerns and if you keep straining yourself like this, it won’t just be the playoffs that you can’t compete in–it’ll be the rest of your life,” coach cho admonishes.

“but this is our first proper championship, coach,” wooyoung begs, “you have to let me play.”

coach cho hates that he has to say no and if he could swap ankles with his player, he would do so in a heartbeat. “this isn’t a choice. you physically cannot play. what are you going to do out there on the ice? crawl?”

“fuck, coach, you don’t understand. it was so hard for us to get to this point. this means everything to me, fuck, please,” wooyoung pleads between heaving breaths.

“i’m sorry, wooyoung,” coach cho apologises, leaving no further room for argument as the other boys divert their gazes to the floor.

hongjoong gently squeezes wooyoung’s shoulder. “the doctor said that your cast can come off in about eight weeks and if it’s looking good, you can gradually join in on any light training when it’s off-season.”

wooyoung does not care because in eight week’s time the playoffs will already be over. he knows he is being unreasonable and that there is no chance he will be able to set foot in an ice rink within the next two months. but his heart and mind are operating separately and the only thing his heart can see is the opportunity of playing in the championships slipping right out of his grasp.

he is already angry at himself for getting injured in the first place but it is not enough to quell wooyoung’s raging inferno. so he does the only thing he can think of in the moment–he spits out his anger with a venomous, “i hate you all.”

it hurts the boys more to see wooyoung hurting and coach cho speaks up on their behalf, “i would rather you hate us now than for you to hate yourself in the future because you traded decades of your career for this one playoff.”

wooyoung jerks his head away defiantly, but they know he is only trying to hide his tears. unable to watch any longer, san moves in closer and pulls the younger into his arms.

“fuck off, san. i don’t need you.”

san swallows the hurt in his chest because he knows there is no truth behind wooyoung’s words. “i know you don’t,” he offers, “but i need you. so just let me stay.”

wooyoung’s body sags as all of the fight slips out of him in the form of shuddering sobs. san embraces him tightly, as if he has picked up all the pieces of the other and only a hug can make him whole again.

“i’m sorry,” wooyoung chokes out.

san shakes his head with reassuring hushes, “don’t be. you focus on recovering and we’ll take it from here.”

like that, wooyoung’s anger is quenched and the team goes on to compete in the playoffs without him. but in the absence of anger comes other emotions, jealousy and insecurity the ugliest of them all. wooyoung despises the bitter taste in his mouth as he sits on the player’s bench outside of the rink each game, only able to helplessly watch his team advance further in the playoffs without him.

and as much as wooyoung wants them to win, he also does not want them to win, because if they can win the championships without him playing as their left wing, then do they really need him at all? he never gets to find out the answer though. they lose in the quarter finals.

wooyoung does not tell anybody about the ill relief he feels…and he vows to take that secret with him to the grave.

winter, present: regular season

the moment you walk into kq’s meeting room, a rehearsed apology for the team on the tip of your tongue, you realise that something is off. not necessarily wrong, per se; just off.

all the boys are sitting around the table as usual, though the overhead projector that is routinely already set up with video footage of their recent games has been put on standby mode. but the thing that unconsciously makes your hackles rise is the expression they all nurse on their faces, strangely familiar yet foreign at the same time. it is familiar in the sense that people have looked at you this way in the past, but it is foreign in the sense that it has never come from the boys before.

“hi, coach,” hongjoong clears his throat awkwardly, opting to look at the wall behind you instead of your eyes as if even he knows this is the first time he has ever addressed you as such. “we had a…talk last night and thought we should probably clear up a few things before we discuss the actual games.”

although you share the same sentiment as they do, hongjoong’s words put you on guard. gingerly, you lower yourself into an empty seat across from him. “i also have a couple of things to say, but you guys start,” you cue.

hongjoong glances at seonghwa beside him, who in turn gives him a miniscule shrug. neither of them know how to bring it up with you as they are afraid of saying the wrong thing. thankfully, mingi steps in, not one to beat around the bush.

“why didn’t you tell us about your injury?” he asks directly.

with mingi’s question, you are suddenly able to place their expression. the boys look at you warily as if you are a wounded animal they are afraid will run away. you loathed the expression years ago when it was from your coach, your teammates and your family–the constant treading on eggshells around you with pitying eyes–and you still loathe it just as much as you do now.

your prickles emerge and your instinctive reaction is to deny it. you have kept your injury a secret up until now for a reason and the unexpected confrontation has all of your sirens blaring to keep it a secret. but then you remember coach cho’s advice–you remember the apology you had mulled over all night–and you force your prickles to retract.

you take a breath. coach cho would not have told them about your injury, so there is only one way the boys could have found out about it. “you read the articles, didn’t you?”

mingi at least has the decency to look sheepish as he admits, “one…but there weren’t any others.”

“i thought as much,” you mumble to yourself, smiling tightly. you choose not to think about how they came across the article. “i wanted them all removed and my agency managed to pull enough connections to sweep the articles under the rug, but i should have known that in this day and age it would be impossible to get rid of any media completely.”

the question remains as to why you have chosen to keep this hidden and also–

“why did you want them removed, though?” hongjoong furrows his brows.

you have faced countless demons in the last six years. the injury itself, the abrupt end to your golden days, and the forced reconciliation with the fact that you will never be able to play again. and yet, the demon that continues to haunt you to this day is the media spotlight that chases after you as if you are a circus animal.

you are unable to look at any of them in the eye as you finally bare yourself open to the boys. “the articles felt belittling and shameful–they still do. they made me feel less as an athlete then and they make me feel less as a coach now. i worked my heart and soul to get to where i was with the skills that i had, but you don’t understand just how crippling it is for all of that to be overshadowed by an injury. it was no longer a celebration of my achievements, simply because nobody cared anymore. it just became a fucking broken record of, ‘how does it feel to have fallen at the peak of your career?’

“then when i became a coach, it didn’t matter how well my team performed or how hard they worked to win the championships. the question became, ‘how does it feel to coach after being forced to retire because of your injury?��� no matter how hard i tried, i just could not escape the hellhole of my injury.”

guilt settles in the pit of mingi’s stomach as it also does for the others. they may not have written the article, but by consuming it and searching for more, they had unknowingly joined the faceless masses of those who had hurt you.

you dig your thumbs into the flesh of your thighs to stop your voice from shaking as you continue, “the media will not care for the achievements that myself or my players accomplish when there is something even better–a sob story. but i do not need that kind of pity. not from athletes, not from other coaches, and most definitely not from strangers silently pitying my life from behind their newspaper or screen when i did not ask for any of it. i made people forget and i kept this all hidden because my career, be it as a coach or a former athlete, does not deserve to be reduced to that kind of shit.”

the raw honesty behind your words strikes the boys silent. what they thought they had started to understand about you, they are now realising was barely the tip of the iceberg. seonghwa wonders for just how long you have left this wound bleeding and untreated. he calls out for you sadly, “coach, you should’ve told us.”

when you look up, you are surprised to find wetness brimming his eyes. you feel the hot rush of emotions build up behind your own eyes but from anger, because why is he upset? what reason does he have to cry when you are the one who has suffered all this time?

your voice is biting when you respond, “and have you look down on me like everybody else? i just said, i do not need your pity–”

“it’s not pity,” a voice interrupts firmly. of all people, you least expected it to come from wooyoung. his tone stays unyielding as he holds your gaze. “we’re athletes too, y/n.”

the way he includes you in the collective–as an athlete–has your glare softening immediately, replaced by the dangerous quivering of your bottom lip while he elaborates, albeit voice gentler now, “we are hurting for you–with you. it is not pity; it is standing by your side in hopes that we can help you up if you ever fall again.”

because it is okay to fall, and you will fall; wooyoung knows that the best.

you tilt your head upwards as you desperately blink back the tears that suddenly threaten to spill. the swell of emotions that had churned in your chest had not been anger but fatigue, you realise. wooyoung’s words give you sudden clarity that you are tired–of suffering alone and in silence. you want help.

“i’m tired of hurting,” you confess quietly.

“then let us share the hurt with you.”

the dam breaks and your tears fall freely down your cheeks. it starts off with a nod so miniscule that the boys think they have imagined it, but then slowly and surely, your head moves up and down with more conviction. “okay,” you whisper.

you had always thought that you had come to terms with your injury and the end of your career, but perhaps you are still mourning your loss…and perhaps that is okay. like looking into a time-warped mirror, wooyoung sees the fight slip out of your body with a sob as you apologise, “i’m sorry.”

san wants to cross the room and wrap his arms around you if it can take away even just a fraction of your hurt. but he knows that he cannot cross the boundaries of professionalism despite the intimate nature of the conversation right now, especially when you and the team are only just starting to patch things up. so instead, he opts to rub his thumb over the knuckles of wooyoung’s hand from under the table, which has slipped into his, hoping that one day he will be able to do the same for you.

“we understand,” hongjoong answers on their behalf, “you were doing what you needed to do in order to protect yourself.”

and if you do not realise that he says those words for himself and his team to hear too, then you will by the end of the conversation as you walk away with a newfound understanding of them.

“no, not just for that,” you shake your head, roughly swiping at your tears with the back of your hand. “it ended up negatively influencing the way i coached you guys, even if it was subconscious. i let my own trauma dictate how i wanted you to play: defensively all the time whether it was needed or not. hongjoong, you were right about me not coaching your team as your team.”

you try your damned hardest to keep your voice steady so that you can look at them properly to apologise, “i’m sorry i made it so hard to trust me as your coach.”

“okay, let me stop you right there,” yunho smiles gently, sliding a tissue box in your direction. “we were pricks too, so half the apology is ours.”

“don’t call her a prick,” seonghwa whispers. his horrified expression relaxes when you break out into a wet chuckle.

hongjoong is glad that you are able to find something to laugh about even with your cheeks still damp and blotchy, and he finds his mouth curling into a bittersweet smile. you have been honest and vulnerable with them and now it is their turn.

“we have something to tell you about our past coach,” he starts, drawing your gaze to him. “not coach cho–our very first coach. we’re not trying to justify that what we did as a result was okay, but…”

“but hopefully i can understand,” you finish when hongjoong hesitates. he nods and you mirror his action with a reassuring smile to encourage him to talk.

but irregardless of what they tell you, you already know that you want to understand them, because understanding is the first step to forgiving, and you want that too.

so with intermittent comments from the other boys, hongjoong reveals to you the hidden wounds they have been nursing. and as they tell you about coach yeon, how their trust in him had been misplaced, how he had betrayed it for money at the expense of their championship, and how they had then let that become mistrust in you and your reason for retiring, wooyoung finds himself quiet so that he can steal glances at you.

he can see it now. the untameable beast within you of passion for ice hockey that has been forcibly chained down to the ground with the weight of the earth. the devastating torment that must incessantly surge through you in the most debilitating waves, tenfold any anguish he felt when he was unable to compete in the playoffs. the blemished canvas of dark and ghastly emotions that you do not let see the light of day, yet continue to coexist in hidden silence.

it is there and then that wooyoung realises you and him may be more similar than he thought–that you may actually understand him better than any of his seven boys.

you stop the drill.

yeosang gracefully turns in an arc whilst keeping the puck close to his stick as hongjoong and seonghwa dig their skates into the ice to brake before their momentum takes out the younger.

“let’s have jongho try using the perimeter of the rink instead of passing to yeosang this time. start the faceoff again,” you instruct.

the chorus of responses that you receive are zealous, even slightly teasing as the boys lower their voices with a, “yes, coach!” and give you small salutes with their gloved hands. you cannot help but snort and shake your head, waving at them to retake their positions.

practice is short today, since your team has a game tomorrow. the first half an hour consisted of running through offensive formations for power plays and you are now focusing on defensive penalty kills. your two captains and wooyoung are playing as the mock opponents, preparing your remaining wings and defenseman for a situation where they are down a player.

hongjoong seems to mull over a thought as he looks at the formation of his boys. “you mentioned the team we’re playing against has a tendency to position their forwards higher up, didn’t you?” he asks and  when you nod, he suggests, “what do you think about trying the diamond formation instead? might help close some of their shooting lanes.”

with the captain’s input, you reposition yeosang further up to form the tip of the diamond, and yunho too to cover the right point whilst jongho covers the left. mingi moves in a little closer to the goal to cover the bottom of the diamond and you make sure to point out the importance of his position.

“if the opportunity arises, we can transition into a counterattack instead with 3-1. but we’ll need to make sure we still cover the goal in case they turn it back over again–mingi, this will probably be you. support whoever has the puck from behind, but make sure you don’t go too far forward.”

mingi answers with an affirmative and yeosang passes the puck to hongjoong for him to commence the penalty kill. at your whistle, the rink explodes into action. wooyoung and seonghwa immediately split down the perimeters to open up shooting lanes for their captain, who passes the puck off to wooyoung the moment he has cleared half the rink. with a brief adjustment of the puck’s angle, he attempts a cross-ice pass to where seonghwa is free on the other side.

with astonishing speed, jongho intercepts the puck and yells, “3-1!” he continues to barrel forward with the momentum of his explosive acceleration towards the goal as yeosang anticipates a pass and yunho joins the counterattack rush to his right. the three of your players charge forwards with adrenaline as mingi covers them from behind. jongho chips the puck over hongjoong’s stick, which is immediately taken up by yeosang. without a goaltender, he finishes it off with an easy shot into the net.

the tempo and execution of the rush surprises not just you, but the boys themselves too, who are tapping their sticks together with elated excitement at the success of the play. it may only be a simulated practice drill, but you still share in the same pride and contentment that hongjoong’s face glows at you with.

he cocks his head to the side with a paired smile and you return the same nonverbal acknowledgement. corners of your lips still lifted up, you gather the boys, “let’s have a drink break.”

as the boys make their way over to the benches, removing their gloves and helmets, you eye the water bottles and make sure you have enough–five in the cooler and three on the bench beside it. san bounds up to you after grabbing one from the cooler, bragging, “coach! did you see the way jongho intercepted that puck?”

from beside him, wooyoung reenacts the moment with wild flails of his limbs and airy whooshes from his mouth, jongho watching with bashful giggles. you indulge in their animated recount and listen intently. “he was amazingly fast,” you agree.

yeosang passes an opened bottle to wooyoung before untwisting the lid to his own, commenting, “the ankle weights on top of all the training must be working.”

the boys are not currently wearing any, but you had slowly implemented the use of vests, ankle or wrist weights during specific drills. now that they have taken them off and are playing without the burden of the additional mass, you are all starting to see the gains of their hard work.

you smirk with satisfaction, “of course. if my players are going to bulldoze across the ice, may as well make them fast enough to avoid all the opponents.”

“don’t encourage her,” wooyoung elbows yeosang scandalously. “she’s going to make us wear heavier weights next practice.”

“you don’t get to complain if you don’t even wear the weights,” you quip.

he knows his injury means that he cannot wear the weights in case it places stress on his ankle, so he curses at you with no real heat just for the sake of cursing, “fuck you.”

you wink, “love you too.”

wooyoung shuts his mouth and scrunches the bridge of his nose with faux displeasure, and jongho laughs at his inability to faze you. you glance down and open your notebook to mention, “on that note, though, how do we feel about going up a few hundred grams next week?”

“i’m fine with that,” yeosang says at the same time jongho confirms, “sounds good.” most of the other boys also nod that they are fine with increasing their weights, save for seonghwa who notifies you that he is still adjusting so he will keep his as it is for now.

you jot down ticks and crosses next to their names corresponding to their answers whilst suggesting, “yunho and mingi, you can both probably try half a kilogram since your body masses are higher.”

said boys peer over your shoulder to see what their new weights would be, then yunho makes a noise of intriguement. “coach, did you write these?”

you look to where his finger is pointing to–sticky notes upon sticky notes of unorganised observations and reminders to yourself. starting to feel self-conscious, you deny, “...no,” only for yunho to swipe the notebook from out of your grasp. “hey!”

he holds it up and open above him, voice gleeful as he reads one out, “‘jongho, wooyoung and yeosang prefer water at room temperature when training–take bottles out of cooler!’”

“aw, coach,” wooyoung coos, “did you deliberately leave three bottles in room temperature for us on the bench?”

feeling your ears heat up from being exposed, you swipe at the notebook. your skates give you added height, but so do yunho’s skates, so your attempts to jump for it are futile.

“‘boys want to eat abura soba after their win’,” he continues to read, pausing to let out a dramatic gasp, “are you going to treat us, coach?” his question is met with enthusiasm.

when another wild swipe sends a sharp sting down your shoulder from the movement, reminding you of the pain that had flared up a few days ago, you decide to change tactics. you grab the back and front of his jersey with your hands, completely ready to commit to scaling him like a literal tree. but then a different set of hands easily takes the notebook out of yunho’s and of course it would be mingi. you insult, “give it back, you tall buffoon!”

mingi is hardly fazed as you switch targets to him, your fingertips nowhere near reaching the notebook as he snickers and reads, “‘trial jongho as starting forward–wait.” he lowers his hands with sobriety and you are finally able to snatch the notebook back, shutting it before they can read any more of your sticky notes. it is not like there is anything they cannot know, but it is sort of embarrassing for them to see how much attention you pay to them.

“you want jongho on the starting lineup?” mingi confirms that he has not read it wrong, eyes as wide as all the other boys as they look at you.

jongho is almost certain that you must have meant somebody else, or something else, because there is no way that he would be given the opportunity to start for the team–not when they have yeosang and wooyoung as their wings, and the choice of hongjoong or seonghwa as their centres. he is used to being the player who momentarily relieves others of their shift on the ice, or as his parents so like to remind him, option b.

“why do you all look so surprised?” you frown. beckoning at jongho with your chin, you ask, “you’ve been practising hard to make your right hand just as good as your left hand, haven’t you? so let’s take advantage of your versatility and unpredictability on ice and throw the opponents off. what do you think?”

jongho’s mouth opens and shuts, struggling to formulate an answer through his wide beam other than, “i–of course, if you’d let me–if everyone else is happy.”

the pleased smile on hongjoong’s face is enough to make his cheeks sore and he wraps his arm around the youngest’s shoulders. he praises, “look at you, our wild card and our hidden ace,” as seonghwa declares, “i know he’ll do us so proud.”

both yeosang and wooyoung simultaneously offer their positions in the starting lineup and the rest of the boys watch on with fond expressions. they are grateful that you have recognised the talents and hard work of their youngest. although you are not aware, this opportunity holds significance not just in regards to his career.

you conclude, “we’ve been on a good streak with our games. let’s ride the momentum and show the other teams what jongho is capable of–what we’re all capable of.”

“yes, coach!” they shout, the loud echo of their voices reverberating and filling the rink with buzzing energy for the remainder of the training session.

spirits still high by the time you call it a wrap, you let them change as you grab your own belongings. there is a team meeting in the afternoon so you and the boys will be going back to kq to eat at the cafeteria and use the booked room. you pause when you see wooyoung loitering by your bag. he still has not changed out of his practice clothes.

“i’m not letting you on the bus if you’re planning on staying in those clothes,” you joke.

“i’m going to change!” he scowls indignantly, then avoids eye contact as he thrusts something out in your direction. he mumbles, “had some spares. didn’t want them. just dumping them with you so you can stash them or use them or whatever, i don’t care.”

you grab the small bag, brows creased with confusion, but wooyoung dashes away to change before you can ask what it is. you peer inside and to your pleasant surprise, there are two packs of pain relief patches. your shoulder protests at the lack of attention you have given it in the last few days. the pain is chronic and never really goes away, but it has been bothering you more than usual recently, so it is all in good timing that you now have some patches.

you make a mental note to stick one on when you get to the company and grab your bag after ensuring your notebook is stored inside. as you head towards the change rooms to wait for the boys, you spot a piece of paper on the floor. it looks like rubbish that you must have missed on your way in earlier so you pick it up to throw away. but when your fingertips touch the familiar sheen of the wax-like paper, you realise wooyoung must have dropped it.

it is confirmed when you unfold it to read the text and see that it is from yesterday evening, at the pharmacy that is just across the street from the company; in your hands you hold wooyoung’s receipt for two packs of pain relief patches.

spring marks the start of the playoffs. in synchronisation with the burst of life that blooms with the season, your boys, too, flourish in the league.

the unpredictability of your team’s strategies that entail a mix of both yours and hongjoong’s prowess helps to secure wins over the remainder of the regular season. despite the unsteady start to the season, it allows your team to scrape into the round of sixteen near the bottom of the standings.

the red devils are seeded against the team that is third in the rankings, and then against the sixth-standing team in the quarterfinals. in upsets that knock out two of the most anticipated teams in the league, your boys advance into the semifinals, their reputation as the demons of the ice rink that had laid low now rapidly spreading.

where none of the other competitors had paid you and your players any mind before, barely even noticing your presence, the opponents now glance and watch your team walk past with an air of confidence through the arena. their tense jaws and hard gazes size up your athletes–formidable rivals who have suddenly barrelled up the ranks from out of nowhere and now pose perhaps the biggest threat as a team that has somehow slipped under their radars.

you know; your team may be small in numbers. but with yunho and mingi flanking the sides of the boys, and even with hongjoong’s charismatic aura alone leading the front, which extends around him like a dark cloud of terror and envelops the rest of the group too, your team is a pack of predators at the tip of the apex.

other players part to make a path for your boys, whose heads are held high and eyes are set only on their captain and you, their coach, as you all walk to your assigned changeroom. the nerves have long dissipated because the ice rink is your territory and the other teams are your prey.

the moment you shut the door behind the last of them into the room though, the icy stare in wooyoung’s eyes melt and he exclaims, “holy shit, did you see the way everybody was looking at us? we must have looked so fucking hot, i wish i could ask for my own signature.”

from their glowing faces alone, you can tell that they are all basking in the feeling of finally being recognised and reckoned with. yunho bats his eyelids and pinches his voice higher into a falsetto, “oh wooyoung! you’re so handsome and cool, could i please have your signature?”

mingi imitates him and pounces on wooyoung, begging for a photo together as he clings onto his elbow. it sets off the rest of the boys to crowd around like mock fans with faux exhilaration. you snort at their antics, leaving wooyoung to sign imaginary sheets of paper with his imaginary pen in favour of ensuring all of their backup equipment and gear is correctly located outside or in the storage area.

you allow the boys adequate time to change into their full gear for their warm-up prior to the actual semifinal game before you walk back into the locker room. your ears perk up when you catch the end of san’s question, “that’s good for us, isn’t it?”

“what is?” you ask out of curiosity, flipping open the provided cooler and adding several sports drinks into the ice.

“i overheard someone on the white tigers team say that their head coach happened to fall sick, so they have their assistant coach today,” jongho mentions.

the surge of brazen smiles and reassured glints in their eyes at the reveal of information makes you falter to a degree. you lightly chastise, “don’t let that get to your heads and start being cocky–play as you usually do and do not underestimate them just because their head coach is off.”

you pull your notebook out of your bag, the familiar cover and weight of the book providing you with a sense of security as you remind the boys, “the white tigers have a very similar playing style as us. we may have worked hard on our defensive strategies, but with similar strengths and weaknesses overall, it won’t hurt for us to still be cautious.”

“yes, coach,” they chorus.

hongjoong nods, “let’s go warm up, then finalise our starting lineup for the game.”

your team’s allocated time on the rink passes by quickly and it is followed by the last adjustments to the discussed strategies and game plan, thorough checks of their gear, and the remaining boys who are still wearing their practice jerseys change out of the blue into their red game uniform. in full gear, there your boys stand, presence intimidating and demoniac. the boys do not live up to their team name; their team name lives up to them.

they stride through the hallway for their semifinal game against the white tigers. right at the end before it leads to the ice rink, yunho yells, “pep talk, captain!”

hongjoong groans, rolling his eyes, but places the blade of his stick onto the rubber flooring nonetheless. the rest of the boys huddle around, their sticks meeting in the centre of the circle and standing close together so that their helmets and shoulders knock against one another. you are also swept into the circle with yeosang and san by your sides.

“boys…and girl,” hongjoong snickers to himself before recollecting his very inspirational train of thought, “we’ve fought hard to make it this far–this is the first time we’ve made it into the semis, so let’s keep running until the very end, yeah?”

to the team’s increasingly loud cheers, hongjoong yells, “let’s fuck it up out there!”

their sticks hit the ground in unison and despite the muted sound of the cushioned flooring, their shouts of fighting resolve and unwavering determination drown out everything else. together, you emerge from the hallway and your starting players take their positions on the ice, ready to fuck it up.

only, it happens literally.

the moment the puck hits the ice and the white tigers’ centre forward, byun, wrestles it away with his blade, hongjoong immediately knows it is going to be one of those games. the ones where his competitive grit is fueling his mind ablaze but his body is leaden-footed as if he is wading through quicksand; where his body is just unable to keep up and move the way he wants it to. it is one of those days where his condition is just inexplicably off and there is nothing he can do about it except hope that his years of training and sheer aptitude for the sport will be enough.

“fuck,” you curse under your breath at hongjoong’s slip as jongho and yeosang rush to fall back and support those in defence. “he wasn’t like that during the warm-ups.”

byun is not only agile and swift, but is almost an identical reflection of hongjoong’s own bold and assertive offence. the centre forward powers through with evasive turns around yunho’s attempt to body check him, unafraid and confident. passing the blue line into your team’s defensive zone, byun flicks the puck at the goal.

the point shot is an unexceptional attempt to score, nothing that san’s reflexive goaltending cannot take care of. he extends his left foot and blocks the low shot with his leg pad, where the puck then slides in yunho’s direction. you did not doubt for a moment that san would not be able to save the shot, but it is still a close call that is far too early in the game to be a good sign.

your team’s greatest strength is their unspoken synergy and seamless unity, but it is also their greatest weakness. when one player stumbles, particularly when it is their captain–the very roots of the team–their bond runs so deeply that it throws their teamwork out of harmony and ultimately impacts the entire team.

with san’s save, yunho regains possession and handles the puck around the back of their net to shake off the pressure that the white tigers’ forwards are placing on him, as well as to buy his own team some time to reassemble in their formation.

you know that this is not going to work for long; you have to change the momentum of the game, and fast. “seonghwa, get ready,” you alert. “you’re going on for hongjoong.”

the alternate captain stands, alarmed at the unexpected line change so early into the game. he grips his stick with white knuckles and watches his team as he waits for your cue. yunho hits the puck against the boards where yeosang successfully receives the rebound.

“breakout!” yeosang yells and rushes forward with the chasing skates of the opponents nipping at his heels. jongho clears the centre line into the offensive zone at the same time hongjoong screens and blocks the view of the white tigers’ goaltender, setting up for an opportunity to score.

when the opponent’s left defence and wing advance on yeosang rapidly, he fakes a deceptive pass towards the boards before twisting the blade of his stick and flicking the puck between their skates instead in hongjoong’s direction. but like an eagle honing in on a small rodent, byun swoops in to snatch the puck, flipping the possession again.

the tides turn and all the athletes on the rink race towards your team’s net, a cutthroat competition between triumph and desperation to chase the puck. byun passes to the player on his left as they both dash closer, the left forward immediately returning the puck the moment he receives it to break past mingi’s defence.

you are able to see the white tigers’ right wing following closely behind ready for a drop pass, but in your team’s frenzied minds, they are unable to read the play. yunho approaches byun, who is expecting the defence and leaves the puck behind whilst skating on, knowing that it will be received by his trailing teammate. with the momentary confusion that is enough to disrupt both yunho and san’s gaze on the puck, the opponent’s right wing winds his stick back just enough to build power without sacrificing speed, then slaps the puck into the corner of the goal–

–and scores. within the first three minutes of the game.

“seonghwa,” you call out again with urgency as the whistle blows. you turn to look at him, “you’re up. you have to break the flow of the team. not just the white tigers, but ours too–the boys are panicking and you need to help anchor them.”

he nods, steadying his hand on the board in preparation to hop over it, and you yell out for the captain, “change!”

hongjoong sees the gesture of your hand pointing at the bench, and although his chest tightens with frustration at himself, he speeds towards the edge of the rink to change. once the captain is close enough, seonghwa pushes his skate off the benches to launch himself over the top of the boards onto the ice then propels himself forward to take the centre faceoff.

the captain sits down heavily on the bench, defeat already broiling off of his slumped body in smothering swells. you really cannot afford to take your eyes off the game; it waits for nobody and the whistle has already blown, the rink erupting into commotion. but whilst you need to watch the game unfold, you need hongjoong just as much, and his team needs him.

you turn him slightly to face you so that he can see your face of resolution. “you are the captain, so be the captain–for the team…and for yourself,” you invigorate, voice raised so that he can hear you over the noise of the stadium. 

you give his shoulder a hard squeeze, certain he will not be able to even feel it from under the pads of his uniform. regardless, he understands your intentions and nods grimly, the fog in his eyes clearing. wooyoung taps the back of his helmet in a show of encouragement and hongjoong returns the gesture with appreciation. 

a particularly loud thump draws the attention of all three of you back to the game. from the grimace on yeosang’s face and his hand steadying himself on the boards, it is obvious he has just been body checked into the wall. seonghwa pursues the puck with graceful yet powerful speed before he digs both skates perpendicular into the ice to suddenly change direction. pushing off, he accelerates back towards the white tigers’ defensive zone when mingi manages to disrupt the opponent’s stickhandling enough for yunho to sweep the puck and skate it up the perimeter of the rink away from their net.

wooyoung also goes on for yeosang but as the left wing, so jongho switches position to play as the right forward. he skates past the benches when an opportunity arises and he hands off his stick whilst grabbing his right-handed stick from you with practised ease.

with the line change of forwards and with seonghwa on as your centre, your team stabilises to an extent. the red devils are no longer being pushed back but they are also unable to push forward. the game is at a stalemate, although the tides remain in favour of the white tigers with both their positional and psychological advantage of the first goal.

you can see the pressure weighing down on your boys; passes that yunho and mingi would be capable of executing blindfolded are miscalculated; predictable manoeuvres still mislead wooyoung in the wrong direction; seonghwa and jongho fail to notice the opportunities for clear passing and shooting lanes; and the openings appear far too wide and innumerable for san to cover the goal from. the relentless offensive pressure that the white tigers places on your team, strikingly similar to how the boys played when you first started coaching them, does not give any breathing room either.

so that is how the first period comes to an end–losing zero to one with none of your players performing at their best condition. their steps are heavy and burdened as they walk back to the locker room for the intermission, helmets removed the moment they come off the ice to reveal hardened expressions. in the privacy of your assigned room, most of the boys adjust the pads in their gear and yunho peels off his shin guards to let them air out.

you pass around their iced bottles and as exhausted as they are, they make sure to voice their gratitude. san grabs wooyoung’s bottle for him, since the younger is bent over loosening the laces of his left skate. “here,” san murmurs, twisting open the cap and passing it to wooyoung once he straightens his back.

similarly, seonghwa hands over an opened bottle to yeosang before taking a swig of his own. “you’re okay?” he checks, the particularly rough body check that yeosang had copped earlier in the game still at the forefront of his mind.

yeosang gives the alternate captain a reassuring smile, “i’m okay.”

appeased by the answer, seonghwa turns to look at hongjoong, who is re-taping the blade of his stick. “what about you?” seonghwa softly asks, “you’re feeling okay?”

hongjoong glances up briefly at the back of your figure. you are busy shifting the red magnets around on the whiteboard and erasing the markings you had made prior to the start of the semifinals. when you turn around to gather their attention, you accidentally make eye contact with him and break out into a small smile.

“yeah,” hongjoong replies, “i’m feeling okay.”

“alright, listen up boys, that was just the first period. we’re not even halfway into this game and we’ve started to even up the playing field now that we’ve found our footing,” you encourage. “we just have to make sure we keep our heads cool and read their plays instead of simply reacting to their movements.”

you look at each of them as you direct, “their centre forward, byun, has been on for almost all of first period, so there’s probably going to be a shift change, if not a complete line change of forwards. they have the leniency to swap out their top players since they’re in the lead, which means if we want to break their momentum, we need to break it then.”

shifting yourself slightly out of the way, the boys are able to see the new arrangement of positions you have marked out on the whiteboard. “we’re starting the second period by sharpening our offence in the 2-2-1 formation,” you explain. you beckon your head at the captain, “hongjoong, you’re back on. you and wooyoung are to position yourselves up high between the neutral and offensive zones–try to screen their goaltender when our boys have possession. yunho, i want you to move up to our blue line with jongho and open up as many passing lanes as you two can. mingi will stay in defence and help cover the goal with san in case the white tigers makes a counterattack.

“use this opportunity to make as many scoring chances as you can. if there isn’t a clear shot but there’s a chance it can be continued on by another one of us, then go for it anyway–any sort of pressure we can put on their team is better than none.”

your forwards nod with understanding, so you continue to the most important point, “but the moment byun and the wings–kim and song, i think they are–come back on, we’re reversing the formation.” you reposition half of the magnets into a 1-2-2 formation. “only hongjoong will stay up high; wooyoung will fall back and join jongho in the neutral zone; put pressure on their forwards from there. yunho and mingi, you’ll play left and right defence as usual.”

san listens intently when you start moving the black magnets that represent the opposing players and call out to him directly. you warn, “san, be careful of their drop passes. kim and song have been skating forward but leaving the puck behind for byun to score multiple times throughout the first period. they have you primed to predict it now, so they’re probably going to change their tactic and pass directly in front of the goal instead.”

“yes, coach,” san acknowledges.

a glance at the screen on the wall of the locker room tells you that there are only a few minutes left of the intermission. “gear up and get ready to go back on,” you instruct the boys.

they make final adjustments to their pads and yunho tapes his shin guards back into place under his socks. you make sure they all have their helmets and sticks when they start to file out of the locker room once they are ready and you grab wooyoung’s gloves for him while he ties the laces of his skates again.

“thanks,” he reaches out for them as he stands up. except he stumbles slightly when he puts weight on his left ankle and your hand instinctively grabs his to steady him.

your eyes grow wide with concern. you know that wooyoung is the type to keep quiet about his pain, even if you ask, “does your ankle hurt?”

“no, my legs just fell asleep on me from sitting,” he reassures, conscious of your hand that still holds his. he smiles through his lie and hopes that you are unable to pick up on it. the buzzer sounds before you can, though, warning you both that there is only one minute remaining until the game resumes.

hurriedly you tell him, “let me know if you need to come off.”

somebody yells out your names, forcing you both to rush off to join the rest of the team in the hallway. wooyoung knows that he should admit to you right there and then that his ankle does hurt, but he will not–he cannot…because he owes it to his team.

they do not know and they will never know, but there is not a day that goes past where wooyoung does not feel guilty for having desired for their loss last year. he has to play and win this championship for his team because only then can he start to forgive himself. but until he wins, he deserves to suffer.

those in the lineup rapidly glide across the ice to take their positions, wooyoung included. a short buzzer sounds, the puck is dropped, and the second period starts. immediately you can see that your boys have the advantage. the white tigers had not expected you to take such an aggressive approach of offence considering that you are losing.

and sure enough, just as you had predicted, their coach has changed their entire line of forwards. the players are still undeniably skilled, but they visibly struggle to match the pace at which hongjoong and wooyoung are now leading your team to attack.

the rink is under the boys’ control; the neutral zone has become a stronghold with the resistance of both jongho and yunho’s combined strength and mingi’s reinforcement from behind. wooyoung weaves through the players with polished agility as he creates passing opportunities around the offensive zone, whilst hongjoong makes his own path with imposing might, his devilish wings spread. and even if the white tigers somehow manage to gain possession of the puck and break past your defence, san looks impossibly larger than the goal itself, leaving no openings for their forwards to score.

it is well into the second period when the perfect play sets itself up. with mingi blocking any possible rebounds off the boards, yunho’s attempt to body check the white tigers’ right wing forces the player to pass the puck across the ice. before their centre forward is able to receive it, jongho has already intercepted and is thundering ahead with his stick controlling the puck.

“high!” he shouts, ploughing through the neutral zone as wooyoung and hongjoong immediately respond to his call and skate up towards the goal.

jongho deliberately looks at his captain but flicks the puck with a forehand pass in the other direction, too fast for the defenders to react to. wooyoung easily receives the anticipated pass, thighs burning and his left ankle stinging as he rushes towards the goal from the left with powerful acceleration. the white tigers’ goaltender immediately lowers his stance and raises his arms in preparation to block his shot.

in the corner of his eye, wooyoung sees hongjoong matching his lightning pace on his right, the captain’s eyes narrowed with concentration and body weight tilted forward as he hurtles past the defenders. wooyoung pretends to wind up his stick for a slap shot into the net, only to twist the angle of his arms at the last second to send the puck skittering across the ice directly parallel to the goal. the goaltender drops down to his knees, having anticipated a scoring attempt, except the puck is now nearing hongjoong.

hongjoong sees it clearly–the trajectory that the puck is taking and the perfect point where it needs to meet his stick. without breaking its momentum, his arms contract to swing his stick and the blade collides with the puck with forceful precision, sending it hurtling through the air. the goaltender desperately scrabbles back onto his skates to defend the other side of the goal, but it is too late.

the puck flies past the posts and hits the netting.

the horn blares and echoing cheers erupt throughout the stadium as the lights flick on to shine across the net and your forward players. hongjoong yells with fierce triumph, stick raised into the air as wooyoung excitedly collides into him. the duo disappear amongst the bodies of your boys as they swarm around them feverish exuberance.

“that’s our fucking captain–” “–woo’s assist was insane!”

hongjoong cannot even tell who is who as he is jostled around in overjoyed laughter and beaming smiles, numerous hands reaching out to tap his and wooyoung’s helmets and shoulders. from outside the rink, you, seonghwa and yeosang have long stopped sitting on the benches, bodies too strung tight with hopeful tension to stay seated, so you are immediately swept up into a hug as the three of you celebrate the goal with identical exhilaration.

the game is still far from over but the morale has just skyrocketed through the roof as if the red devils have scored the winning goal. combined with the team’s fans electrifying the atmosphere of the stadium, it definitely feels like it, and you are starting to see hope that the ones advancing to the finals after today will be your boys.

“line change!” you faintly hear, so you still to watch all three of the white tigers’ forwards skate towards the boards. byun, kim and song jump onto the rink, back on offence in the wake of your goal.

hongjoong makes eye contact with you when you search for him amongst the team huddle and in unison, you both nod, pride and determination unspoken in your gazes–the real game is about to start now. the boys start to disperse and take up their positions around the marked circle for the centre faceoff, and hongjoong and byun meet head-to-head once again in the middle of the rink.

the white tigers’ centre forward smirks condescendingly, “cute goal.”

hongjoong’s face thunders over but he will not let himself resort to dirty sportsmanship. he bites his tongue and lowers his stance, focusing his attention on the game instead.

“ready,” the referee signals, then the puck is released.

byun manages to steal it and sends it backwards to his defensemen to open up more passing lanes, but as discussed, your boys mutually move into the 1-2-2 formation to fortify against their offensive plays. despite the pressure of the white tigers’ top forwards back in play, your team is riding on the momentum of your goal; although you had been treading to keep your heads above the water during the first period, there is now an air of confidence that permeates the ambience of the rink in favour of your boys. 

an angled pass from their defence rebounds off the boards and kim receives it high in the neutral zone. he attempts an immediate pass across the ice to song, except the safety net of your player’s defensive formation allows mingi to thrust out with his stick to intercept the pass. he signals, “breakout!” before deflecting it to wooyoung.

the turnover of possession immediately triggers a switch in defence to offence as wooyoung handles the puck back the other way. his wrists twist the stick with measured coordination, controlling the blade and puck as an extension of his own hands while approaching the offensive zone. wooyoung sees the white tigers’ defensemen racing towards him so he abruptly pivots towards the left to drag the black disc around their extended sticks.

suddenly, a sharp pain engulfs his ankle that has his legs crumbling as he staggers off balance. wooyoung manages to stay upright, using his stick to steady himself, but the momentary stumble is more than enough of an opening for byun to steal possession from behind him.

the rival centre forward swerves around jongho then stays close to the perimeter to avoid mingi’s resistant defence. behind mingi, san splays his legs out as he prepares to block the left side of the goal, but byun continues blazing on and wraps around the back of the net. san follows his movement and swiftly shifts over to the right instead while byun cradles the puck with his blade to lift it into the air the moment he approaches.

yunho cannot risk a penalty by raising his own stick to block its trajectory, so he shifts his body in hopes of deflecting the shot before it reaches san. but byun’s wrists snap and tuck the airborne puck at a sharp angle right past the red goalpost…and the horn blows to mark the scoring of a goal.

your jaw plummets at the same time that your heart does. not even your lungs work, your body frozen stock-still. once more, the white tigers are back in the lead only mere minutes after the score had been painstakingly tied by your team.

“fuck!” wooyoung curses and slams his gloved fist against the ice, having dropped to his knees in enraged denial.

seonghwa looks on with despondence from beside you as hongjoong drags wooyoung back up to his feet. the captain’s jaws are clenched in frustration but only because of the score itself–never because of his boys. when mingi and yunho try to comfort san with firm squeezes and uttered reassurances, he can only return a tight smile, all three of their breaths heavy and irregular from exertion and dismay.

for the boys to have climbed so arduously and persistently to even the scores, only to be knocked off and their momentum obliterated so mercilessly soon, it is even more demoralising than the white tigers’ first goal. after all, the higher the climb, the harder the fall.

through the deep ache in your heart, you mutedly say to yeosang, “go on for wooyoung, and tell jongho to change sticks and play as left wing.”

“yes, coach,” he replies, voice delicate. yeosang waits as you gesture for wooyoung to come off before he hops over the boards and skates in jongho’s direction.

“woo,” you murmur as your left wing makes his way back to the benches, but he avoids your gaze and keeps his head down. you bite your lips and decide not to push it for now. instead, you press an opened bottle into his gloved hand.

wooyoung is thankful that the bottle is half empty, because his hand unconsciously clenches around it with quivering shame and he would have spilled the water were it full. he makes no move to bring the bottle up to his lips; he doubts the water would go down his constricted throat anyway. the penetrative guilt of his tears hurts immeasurably more than the piercing throb of his ankle because he may have just cost his team the win…again.

even when the buzzer signals the end of the second period, wooyoung dares not to look up. the score is one to two and it is his fault. the intermission passes by in a haze of dissociation, his body robotically moving on autopilot into the locker room and back to the ice rink. wooyoung does not even know whether there are line changes to the positions or whether the game strategy has been altered.

but it does not matter because it does not concern him–as if any coach would put him on after his grave mistake. what wooyoung fails to notice though is the glances of worry in his direction, and they do not come solely from his boys.

the stakes run at their highest in the third and final period. tension suffocates the entire stadium, invisible hands that snake around your throats with a hangman’s loose and make you break out into cold sweats. all the players on the ice rink put everything that they have on the line because by the end of the next twenty minutes, only one team will be advancing to the finals.

from the moment the puck is dropped into play and the timer resumes, the rink is a torrential battlefield of contesting skates and grappling sticks. dramatic passes and unforeseen interceptions lead to rapid turnovers that force both teams to hastily switch back and forth between offence and defence.

but everyone learns of the juxtapositions of the world early on in life. there is no light without dark, there is no happiness without sadness, there is no spring without autumn…and there is no victory without defeat. for every scoring attempt that the red devils make, the white tigers make three, steadily and gradually pushing your boys back in the final stretch of the game. and while most of your forwards’ goals are blocked in the nick of time, most of theirs are not.

as a last resort in the face of the crisis, you calculate the risks then add seonghwa onto the field. “yunho, change!” you yell, pulling him off defence.

“behind you,” byun alerts song as seonghwa powers across the ice right into the cutthroat action, before cursing when the white tigers nearly lose possession of the puck.

your two captains unrelentingly pursue the black disc at the forefront of your team, their complementary synergy and unity a whirlwind of prowess to be reckoned with as they try not to let the burden of scoring weigh them down. despite the overwhelming pressure as the team’s last line of defence, even more so now that you have sacrificed stability to capitalise on having two centre forwards, san’s cat-like eyes do not cloud over, only intensely scanning the field and the opponent’s plays.

you glance at the clock. there are only two minutes left and even the combined efforts of your forwards is not working. you never thought that you would ever have to do this as a coach, but now you are afraid there is no choice. “yunho,” you urge.

his head turns to you and you see the ashen pallor of your own face reflected on his as the very probable outcome of the game dawns across your minds. you make your decision. “you’re going back on. for san.”

yunho’s eyes widen. “for san? i can’t play as goaltender–”

“no,” you shake your head, “we’re playing without a goaltender.”

sixty seconds.

save for wooyoung, all of your defenders, wings and centre forwards make a last-minute spurt to attack, not letting their bodies recover for even a split second as they strain their burning legs and gasping lungs.

thirty seconds.

they desperately break past the physical boundaries of their own stamina into their last reserves of pure grit and will, draining every last drop that their mental resilience has to offer.

ten seconds.

they do not give up. they try again and again to score. but against all of your prayers, all of your tears and sweat and against all of your hopes, the gap does not close. the final buzzer blares throughout the entire stadium, marking the red devil’s loss.

two to six.

your players stand motionless, ghosts of denial and despair amongst the crazed jumps and bounds of celebration as the white tigers flock across the rink towards one another. hongjoong tilts his head upwards to stop the rush of tears from falling down his face, both yunho and seonghwa mirrors of his pain as sweat and tears drip down in salty trails. san grasps the edge of the board in front of him, his head hung low and shoulders quaking from how hard he tries to stifle his sobs so that wooyoung does not hear him.

not one of your boys are able to accept the results of the match. not even you can bring yourself to utter a single word of consolation, be it for yourself or for them. and as you watch the wretched image of your heartbroken boys, choking back tears of your own that you are unaware still manage to escape the corners of your eyes, the only sounds in your ears their stricken cries, you are reminded that the path of an athlete and coach is nothing like its portrayal in movies and stories; where hard work triumphs and leads to sure success.

the harsh reality is that there is no dramatic comeback. there is no underdog victory. there is no miracle and there is no final to advance to. you and your boys lose by triple the amount of your own goals and just like that, the journey has come to an end at the semifinals.

it is an anticlimactic defeat, the gap so far that your team could not even see the light at the end of the tunnel. and somehow…that feels far worse than losing by just a marginal difference.

the locker room is mostly quiet, the silence punctuated only by the closing of zippers and rustling of canvas as the boys who have finished showering and changing pack the rest of their gear for the final time. there are no more intermittent sniffles, leaving behind a miserable hush of emptiness instead. even the dying flicker of the light in the far corner of the ceiling thrums with more energy than the boys combined.

you sit on one of the benches and absentmindedly thumb through your notebook. seonghwa sits to your right, his kit bag already long organised and tidied to preoccupy his mind. the warmth from the close proximity of your thighs and elbows is a gracious comfort to the both of you. it no longer makes your backs straighten with uptightness, conscious of the boundaries between coach and athlete–not after your hearts and bodies melded together in hugs of solace after the final buzzer of the semifinals and melted away those lines.

seonghwa places his hand soothingly on your knee and murmurs, “stop looking at that. we’ll think about it later all together.”

none of the words or diagrams had been registering in your head, but you nod and close your notebook anyway. he probably does not want to see it either. you rest your head back against the wall behind you with a small exhale, blankly watching your team instead until your eyes travel around the room. 

you count, then count again, before calling out, “captain, is wooyoung still showering?”

hongjoong cranes his neck around at the same time that everybody else does as well. “don’t think so,” he frowns, “i’m pretty sure he was one of the first ones out.”

wooyoung’s kit bag is still unpacked in his locker, so he is definitely not already waiting for the bus outside. before his absence can raise any alarms–the last thing the boys need on their plate right now–you stand and announce, “i’ll go find him. he probably just lost track of time.”

“do you need me to come with you?” yeosang rises to his feet.

you shake your head and reassure, “keep packing your bag.” then you turn to make your way out of the locker room when somebody calls out for you.

“coach, wait.”

it’s san, who skitters in front of you to press something into your hands. “give this to him when you see him?”

the item crinkles and a glance downwards reveals that it is an instant ice pack. you smile softly, stuffing it into the pocket of your jacket and hoping that nobody notices the ice pack that is already in there. “of course,” you gently touch his forearm. “i’ll be back.”

this time you make it out to the corridor but you do not get further than four steps before another voice stops you.

“coach!”

when you turn around, hongjoong emerges from the doorway. he slows down as he catches up to stand in front of you. “i…” his voice falters. “i’m sorry.”

i’m sorry i didn’t realise wooyoung was gone. i’m sorry i didn’t do my job as captain…and i’m sorry for losing. 

“no,” you shake your head. “don’t be.” because you tried your best…and you did not give up. beckoning in the direction of the locker room, you tell him, “take care of the boys, okay? i’ll be back with wooyoung.”

the rigidity in hongjoong’s shoulders dissipates. “thank you…y/n.”

you smile, “anytime, hongjoong.” you wait for him to walk back inside before you finally turn to find wooyoung.

the arena is massive but apart from the locker room–which you already know wooyoung is not in–there are limited places that offer privacy from the multitude of people who mill around, be it other athletes, staff or spectators. you know from personal experience, so you head to the one place that is usually guaranteed to be somewhat out of the public eye.

“oh, fuck me,” wooyoung startles when you sit yourself down heavily on the same step as him, his curse echoing around the both of you. “how the fuck did you know i would be here?”

you snort, bumping his shoulder with yours. “i hate to burst your bubble, but this isn’t exactly an original experience. i’m pretty sure every athlete has hidden here to cry at one point in their career.”

the slight spark of light that had ignited within wooyoung at your appearance suddenly flickers out, reminded of why exactly he is hiding in the emergency stairwell in the first place. shame tears his eyes away from you, unable to meet your gaze any longer.

“i want to be left alone,” he murmurs.

although you respect his request, that is the opposite of what he needs. left to his own thoughts and devices, you know that wooyoung will spiral dangerously in guilt and self-reproach, even if the red devil’s loss is not his fault–is not anybody’s fault.

the two of you sit in silence, wooyoung intermittently swiping at a lone tear that threatens to drip off his chin, and you mulling over the words that you hold close to your heart. eventually, you break the quietude with a soft chuckle.

“the first game i ever played i was actually on left defence. our team was losing by two goals and i suddenly had the puck. i still remember seeing an opening in the goal and feeling the surge of confidence that i did when i hit the puck…but you know what?”

wooyoung does not answer, does not look up from where he is picking at his cuticles, but you can feel his curiosity so you continue, “it was an own goal. i scored into my own team’s net and it wasn’t until i scored another goal before i finally realised which way i was meant to go. obviously, my team wasn’t very happy with me, but then i ended up winning the game for them anyway and that’s how i started playing as centre forward.

“there was also a time during internationals where i argued against the ref’s call and got myself put into the penalty box. it cost our team a goal–the tiebreaker, too. i learnt my lesson and never did that again. and then there was the first couple of years i started to coached. i thought i had enough experience as a player to be a perfect coach. it wasn’t until one of my teams told me to pull my head out of my ass that i realised i was anything but.”

that gets a small snicker from out of him. you deliberate, “i’d like to think that we make the best team now, though.”

he scowls disgruntledly, “we’re your only team.”

“and my favourite team, too,” you laugh softly, gauging his expression. “my point is, wooyoung, we all make mistakes. but the reason why we make them in the first place is because we love playing. we do what our heart wants to in the moment and we play for ourselves because otherwise, there would be nothing left of us without ice hockey. what matters is that we stand up again and learn from the experience.”

wooyoung feels the weight of your words settling heavily in his chest because they are only half true to him. his passion and love for the sport indeed burns eternally as a blazing inferno inside of him, but his persistence to play today was due to ulterior motives. to acknowledge that aloud is a different story, though.

your voice takes on a lighter tone, “although i guess in this case, you should be sitting down with that ankle of yours. you know you should not be gambling with your injuries.”

he finally looks at you; a former athlete who did not even have the luxury to gamble your injury. it suddenly scares him to imagine just an ounce of the conflicting anguish that must course through you at his continuous decisions to endanger his own career–the anguish that you have made sure to never show, lest it affect them.

“do you ever feel angry?” wooyoung abruptly asks, voice laced with hesitation.

it is your turn to look away. you know that the question is not directed at himself but your entire career. with a bittersweet chuckle, you allow yourself to admit, “every day. i still get angry and i still get upset. i wake up in the morning wondering why it had to be me and i go to bed at night wondering why i didn’t deserve a second chance.

“but i’m okay; it gets easier to be okay. coaching means that i still get to go on the ice, i still get to experience the adrenaline of games and i still get to play through you guys. and most of all…i still have a team. i don’t know if i will ever stop feeling angry, but it’s better than it used to be.”

at your admission, wooyoung is reminded of how you are possibly the only one who would be able to truly understand him. he musters his courage and confesses, “i wanted us to lose last year…and we did end up losing.”

it catches you off guard, the direction of the conversation not what you had expected, but you neutralise your expression and tone so as to not make him feel defensive. “how come?”

he swallows. “my ankle–i fractured it last year just before we made it into the playoffs, so i wasn’t able to compete. i had been so angry at first; angry at myself for getting injured, angry at my coach for not letting me play, angry at my team because they could play. then when it became clear that i wasn’t going to be able to compete regardless of how angry i was, i became jealous, insecure and…afraid. jongho and i share the same position, and i mean, look at him now–he’s able to play both left and right wing. if they had won the playoffs without me, then would the team really need me?

“they did end up losing, just like i had wanted them to, but that made me feel so much worse–made me realise just how terrible i am of a person. the guilt eats me alive every single day and i tell myself that i will make it up to them this time, that i will risk everything to win for them…” wooyoung scoffs pathetically at himself, “only for me to fuck things up because of my fucking ankle again.”

you get it. the slow gnawing of yourself from the endless feelings that you ‘should not have’ until you become no more than an empty husk. ever since your own injury, you have spent nights on end trying to reconcile with your emotions in your own confusing and formidable journey, but for the first time ever, you are grateful that you did–because you can keep wooyoung company on his. 

you carefully voice, “i think it was okay for you to have felt the way that you did. they’re your feelings and nobody can invalidate them nor your experience. what i came to realise was that all of those ‘ugly’ feelings do not make us ugly for having them–they simply make us human. it is only a problem when those feelings end up hurting other people, but i think the person you hurt the most…was yourself, wooyoung.”

at your words, he looks at you with wide eyes, a fresh swell of wetness gathering in them. wooyoung is kind and loving to everybody, yet has never once thought about deserving that kindness and love for himself. you smile gently, trying to hide the slight quiver in your own lips as your heart clenches with a desire to be loved in his stead.

“you know, woo, i’ve watched basically all of your past games including the quarterfinals from last year. but if i were to compare it to today’s game, it was as if two completely different teams were playing. your team was alive today–a truly united team where every member is the driving force behind each other’s passion for the game. i am pretty confident when i say that a huge part of it was because you were playing with them–because the team was finally whole again.

“yes, the trophy and the championship title is coveted but it is not what truly matters to them and neither to you. it wasn’t the actual win itself that you wanted today, but being able to win for them. and if your boys were to pick between winning without you and losing with you, i’m pretty sure you know better than i do what their immediate choice would be.”

should the other boys be here right now, they would instantly berate your ears off for even suggesting the first option. the thought flickers through wooyoung’s mind too and the corners of his lips tug upwards slightly.

still, he apprehensively confirms, “...no one is angry at me?”

“no,” you reply, voice soft, “not at all. but we are worried.”

you are reminded of the weight in the pocket of your jacket. pulling it out, you present the ice pack to wooyoung. “look, san told me to give this to you.”

his fingertips brush against your palm when he reaches out, hand hovering over the ice pack as if he does not dare to touch it. “san did?” he whispers.

when you nod, the final confirmation that he needs that nobody–you included–harbours ill feelings for him and his actions, he allows himself to take the ice pack. allows himself to love himself.

“you need to take care of your body,” you fondly chastise, lightening the atmosphere. “did coach cho not drill into you that as an athlete, your body is your most valuable asset? if you thought he was bad, he’s going to seem like an angel when i’m through with you. you won’t just be banned from playing, i’ll tie you to the bed to make sure you don’t walk on that ankle.”

wooyoung laughs through the few tears that are left, mood lifted enough to suggestively lift his eyebrows and quip, “kinky.” his laughter grows when you punch his arm in response.

no longer does he have to carry this burden alone because you are there for him now. but you know that you are not the only one who can be there for wooyoung. the dynamic between the boys runs past mere teammates and from what you have noticed, quite possibly even friends.

tentatively, you suggest, “maybe this is something you should tell the others about. that way you can truly let things go.”

his gaze wavers at the idea as he looks at you. yet, the miniscule smile and encouraging nod you give him fills him with tranquillity. perhaps it is time to let go, but the only way he can truly do that is if he is honest to the boys about his feelings–if he is honest to himself.

“okay,” he breathes out softly.

you grace him with another beat of silence before you stand up, extending your hand out to him. “let’s go.”

wooyoung takes your offered hand and lets you pull him up to his feet. he does not know if it is intentional, but the slight squeeze you give him right before your hand lets go of his fills him with warmth. the feeling stays with him even when he activates the ice pack as you two walk back to the locker room.

right at the doorway where the rest of the team is behind, you stop. you place your hand on wooyoung’s back, whose brows are starting to furrow in confusion. “i’ll be waiting out here. take your time,” you tell him.

“thank you, coach,” wooyoung returns your soft smile.

before you can think better of it, you reply, “i wasn’t talking to you as your coach…but as your friend.” then you nudge him towards the doorway with tender encouragement, waiting for him to walk through the threshold before you close the door behind him.

the first few months you had coached the red devils, mistrust had been in the shape of private conversations that deliberately excluded you. but now, trust is in the conversations that you know you do not need to be a part of. so you simply lean against the wall and wait.

and when they emerge from the locker room half an hour later, you know you have made the right decision upon seeing their eased expressions and relaxed shoulders. the air is still sombre, their defeat in the semifinals still fresh at the forefront of everybody’s minds, but what matters now is that they will face the loss together–the eight of them and you.

“here you go.”

hongjoong hands you your bag so that you do not have to go back in to grab it. you take it graciously from him, then with him by your side, you two lead the group through the arena–past the gazes and whispers that follow your group–and out to the team’s bus.

first to load his kit bag, yeosang takes his usual seat towards the front and waits. he has long developed the habit of placing his backpack under the seat in front of him instead of beside him. as the bus starts to pull away once all the bags are properly stored, you wordlessly take the seat next to him. your knees intermittently brush up against each other with the slight sway of the bus, but neither one of you make a move to shift your legs away.

you and yeosang watch the outside world whirl by the window, just like you always do. except the flowers that have bloomed among the trees–that had been bursts of positivity and vibrancy only just this morning–are now bittersweet reminders of the fall that you and the boys have just experienced.

a brief movement below your line of vision causes you to glance down. it is yeosang’s hand, palm upturned with a silent invitation of solace. you slide your fingers into his, an extension of the comfort you wish to give to them, and them to you.

what you and the boys do not realise, though, is that your flowers have simply bloomed elsewhere.

your jaw drops in sync with the last of the heavy suitcases that seonghwa rests on the floor outside their apartment complex. the amount of his luggage is easily equivalent to at least half the team’s.

“these are all yours?” you confirm.

seonghwa looks at you strangely, “of course. why?”

you look at him strangely. “are you planning on moving? why did you pack enough for a trip around the world?”

“well somebody didn’t want to tell us where we were going, so i had to make sure i was prepared for wherever our destination would be.”

“it’s called a surprise for a reason,” you shake your head, “and i did tell you to pack for cold weather, didn’t i?”

seonghwa fakes offence, scoffing, “can i remind you that it is still spring here, so my apologies for assuming that it might potentially mean we are travelling overseas.”

“you’re such a worrywart, you old fart,” wooyoung teases, circling around the older on his rideable suitcase.

seonghwa yelps when the wheels nearly run over his toes and he threatens, “next time you wet through your entire pack of underwear, don’t come crawling and begging for my spares.”

the suitcase halts indignantly to a stop with its rider. “that was one time,” wooyoung complains, “and it wasn’t even my fault!”

“it wasn’t even my fault,” seonghwa mocks. “i told you not to put your shampoo in a ziplock bag but no, you said that it would be fine.”

wooyoung sticks his index finger up. “correction, hongjoong said that it would be fine.”

“what the fuck, wooyoung,” hongjoong blanches at the sudden disclosure.

“and that’s exactly where you are at fault,” seonghwa cocks his eyebrow at wooyoung. “why would you listen to him?”

“what the fuck, seonghwa. i’m your captain,” hongjoong scowls.

“only during games.”

when you make eye contact with san, the two of you can only sigh with amused resignation. the rest of the boys shake their heads and proceed to load their luggage onto the bus, leaving the trio to feud it out in the background.

as mingi stacks his luggage beside yunho’s, he turns to ask, “are you sure we don’t need our kits?”

“you all brought your skates and sticks with you?” you question in return. when mingi and yunho nod, you reassure them, “then that’s all you need.”

jongho pipes up from beside you, “but what about training?”

“mental training,” you simply grin before hopping up the stairs to sit beside yeosang.

the boys gradually take their seats, even wooyoung and the two oldest despite their continued bickering. somebody yells out over the commotion, “coach! are you going to tell us where we’re going now?”

you peer backwards over the top of your seat to find everyone’s eager eyes on you. “nope,” you snicker, “you’ll find out when we get there. we are going on a holiday though, i’ll tell you that much.”

there is a surge of excitement at your confirmation and a similar fluttering eagerness flits through you, except yours is because you cannot wait to see their reactions. you really hope that the next two weeks will help to reset the team’s morale and give them a much-needed break.

“kq let us go on holiday?” yeosang asks with an impressed look as you settle back in your seat.

you give him a proud smirk. “i’m pretty convincing when i want to be. plus, we just had playoffs and we would all benefit from the rest. what better time to do that than at the start of the off-season?”

“there is no better time.”

“exactly.”

and so the bus starts the four-hour drive towards what the boys will soon come to realise is a team retreat. mingi connects his phone to the bluetooth, in charge of shuffling the music that blasts through the speakers, turning the atmosphere of the bus into a lively concert once it becomes obvious that it is going to be a long trip.

you have to yell over their deafening singing–which you have to admit actually sounds quite impressive–numerous times for them to sit their asses down, their enthusiasm uncontainable by the seat belts and law regulations. but they look their age, free and untroubled; just a group of boys up to their silly antics with one another, so you cannot bring yourself to truly regulate them.

the bus drives on, making a rest stop at one of the service areas along the highway so that you can stretch your legs in fresh air, use the restrooms and most importantly–

“food!”

their hollers resound before the doors of the bus even open. the second that the gap is large enough to fit one of them through, most of the boys go sprinting off like a stampede of toddlers in the direction of the food court.

wooyoung stays back and slips his arm through the crook of your elbow when you step off the bus too. he grins mischievously, “i’m sticking with you so you can pay for my food.”

“oh, stop it,” yunho tugs him away, pulling even harder when it only serves to make wooyoung’s grasp tighten around your arm. “i’ll pay for your food. leave her wallet alone.”

you laugh brightly as you are jostled around and you pull a card out of your back pocket, holding it up like a golden ticket. you waggle your brows playfully, “it’s on the company card.”

both wooyoung and yunho freeze. their eyes instantaneously start to glimmer, faces radiating when they slowly look at each other. then before you can react, they pounce on you, linking their arm through yours on either side of you and dragging you along to catch up with the rest of the team.

“buy whatever you want!” wooyoung brags and waves the card that he has seized off of you, “it’s on me!”

the service area itself is a field trip as the eight boys cause carnage throughout, except the destruction is in the number of times they swipe the company card. their hands quickly fill with rice cakes and fish skewers, corn dogs and grilled squid, more bags of walnut pastries and roasted potatoes tucked safely under their elbows. they demolish the snacks at the same rate it takes for the next ones to be prepared and the card is tossed around to keep up with their purchases.

they do not forget about the drinks either, getting iced americanos and barley tea to go along with their snacks, and banana milk and soda for the next leg of the trip. whatever catches their eyes–basically everything they lay their eyes upon–they buy. you do have to draw the line at daytime drinking though, narrowing your eyes at the cases of beer jongho and yunho try to pick up until they sheepishly put them back.

(you also end up having to purchase motion sickness tablets because seonghwa and mingi gorge themselves so full on snacks that they are queasy before they even make it back on the bus. kq’s president sends you a text too, asking just what exactly you and the boys have bought to rack up almost forty consecutive purchases at a service area. but the subsequent message asking if they are enjoying themselves tells you that his question is all in good fun.)

their energy mellows out during the last hour of the trip, both from tiring themselves out and from the gradual change in the scenery outside the windows. no longer can you see an endless mirage of highway road and open fields.

as the miles build up the further you travel, it leads deeper into a mountainous woodland with the trees growing denser and thicker around you. the narrower road winds around the base of hills and the bus driver carefully navigates the undisturbed peace of the forest. it starts to get colder and when the branches of the trees gradually dress themselves in dappled layers of snow, more of you shoulder on the thick coats and puffer jackets you had told them to bring.

the bus eventually arrives at a clearing amongst the pine trees, revealing a large but welcoming cottage pension. its wooden exterior and sloped roof gives it a distinctly cosy and rustic look, with large glass doors spanning the entire height of the walls that will let you admire the surrounding mountainous beauty from inside. off to the side of the cottage, there is a sizeable lake that has frozen over and immediately, you know that this was the perfect place to choose.

the boys press their faces against the window to get a better look as the bus pulls up beside the accommodation. “woah,” they breathe out, their exhales fogging up the glass.

they follow you off the bus in a trance, mouths open and unable to peel their eyes away lest they waste even a second to drink up the sight before them. here, in the heart of the taebaek mountains, it is still a winter wonderland despite the spring blossoms that cover the rest of seoul.

you turn to face them, walking backwards slowly and spreading your arms out with fond tenderness. “welcome to your home for the next two weeks, boys.”

even though it is simply an illusion created by taebaek’s geographical location and mountainous terrain, this time you find yourself appreciating the coldness and bareness of the winter-like ambience that cocoons you and your boys. it is as if time has stopped and there are no worries…only time to heal and start afresh.

living together, even if just for a holiday, is different.

you are used to only seeing the team in their training clothes, practice jerseys or bulked up in their padded gear and uniform. but here, the boys wear lounging sweatpants and worn hoodies, hair soft and poking into their eyes, bodies and expressions unguarded as they laze around. and where you are used to only seeing them at training, meetings and games, all rigorously scheduled and planned, there are no expectations to follow and no limits as to when you see them here.

the boys have their own organised chaoticness to their daily routines, having been living together for almost seven years now, and it seamlessly integrates into the space of the cottage too. but what truly surprises you and them is how you naturally blend into it.

when you rented the pension, you had ensured there were at least three bathrooms to accommodate all nine of you. however, you quickly discover that numbers mean nothing because the boys are incapable of staggering their morning and nightly bathroom routines one by one like you had assumed they would. you also realise that it is not that they are incapable, but that they like and want to do everything together.

space within a room holds no meaning to them and they are perfectly content to stand pressed up against each other’s sides, expertly dodging elbows and leaning over one another to reach for their toothbrushes or skincare. after that first night, you wake up in the morning and patter off in search for the least cramped bathroom to wriggle yourself into, up to three of you sharing the large sink and mirror that now looks comparatively tiny as you brush your teeth together.

more often than not, you find yourself sandwiched between yunho and mingi. it is moreso a matter of neither boy letting you escape from their clutches if you happen to peer into whichever bathroom they have crammed themselves into.

“we make the perfect ratio as the two tallest plus you as the shortest,” mingi likes to rationalise, “so it averages out perfectly with three boys in each of the other bathrooms.”

“but san’s shoulders are basically the equivalent of two grown men, so your point is invalid no matter how we divide ourselves up,” you like to argue back.

except they refuse to see reason. instead, yunho raises the volume of the speaker he has set on the sink’s counter that blasts out music to playfully drown you out. you relent every time and it turns into goofy dancing from the three of you as you pull silly expressions at one another in the mirror. when you rinse your mouth, mingi will start a gargling competition without fail, but none of you have lasted for more than three seconds before you begin to choke with laughter.

(when you are with people you like, everything is funny.)

seonghwa shakes his head whenever he passes the bathroom, insisting, “the only thing you guys are missing is a disco ball.” he is definitely not jealous of the fun you three are having. not at all.

the eldest has his own routine though, visible in the way he prepares everybody’s cups of coffee in the morning. they are all made differently according to individual preferences; no sugar, double shots, a dash of milk, brown sugar, matcha powder or decaf. and despite the fact that yeosang is usually up the earliest, seonghwa does not allow him to make his own coffee.

seonghwa claims it is because nobody knows how to properly use the drip brewer, but yeosang sits next to you and murmurs into your ear, “he just won’t admit that he likes to make them for us.” it must be the chill of the morning, but yeosang’s warm, whispery voice always sends goosebumps over your arms.

by the second morning, seonghwa finds himself naturally grabbing an extra cup and the hot surprise greets you with one and a half teaspoons of sugar in it, just how you like it. hongjoong emerges from the bathroom moments later to grab his cup and as he takes a careful sip, his eyes flit over the remaining cups on the table. seonghwa can practically hear the numbers ticking up in his head.

“y/n already took hers,” he verbalises, beckoning with his chin.

hongjoong turns around in the same direction to see you curled up on the sofa next to jongho and yeosang, your feet tucked comfortably underneath you as you lean forward out of curiosity to take a sip of jongho’s americano. when your expression scrunches up from the shock of bitterness, jongho giggles brightly and steadies your hand that is holding your own cup of sweetened coffee. his eyes melt at your reaction.

“oh, i know that expression,” hongjoong chortles. “he’s a goner.”

seonghwa sees the honey in hongjoong’s own eyes and he smiles knowingly, “i don’t think he’s the only one.”

hongjoong does not peel his gaze away from the three of you all cosied up on the couch. “you’re right, they’re both goners,” he hums absentmindedly, not at all registering who exactly it is who is being referred to.

(the true answer is that there are more than three of them.)

you discover that wooyoung is usually in charge of cooking, but in return, everybody else gets up to clear and wash the dishes the moment the last pair of chopsticks is placed down on the table. that is the only time they are allowed into the kitchen because they are apparently all walking hazards.

but when wooyoung realises you can actually handle a knife without giving him grey hairs from watching, the two of you easily divide the roles and tasks between yourselves. like a waltzing dance, you move together in the kitchen to prepare the meals. he passes you the spices in the overhead cabinets before you ask and you close the fridge when he takes out a pack of meat or vegetables.

cooking with wooyoung is never without bickering. he does not let you hear the end of the time you bump your head on the edge of the counter when you try to grab a saucepan from underneath, or the time you squeal after the oil starts to splatter from the onions. but if that is the reason why he starts to subtly move his hand to cushion the edges of the counters when you bend down to find something, or why he chooses to do the stirring and frying while you slice, then he pretends it is merely coincidence.

san never strays far away from the kitchen whenever you and wooyoung are cooking. you have noticed that they do not really ever stray apart–none of the boys do, though. wooyoung talks as you and san listen and the latter does not stop smiling as he watches wooyoung multitask. what you do not realise is the countless times you have forgotten to keep cooking because you are watching him too with the same expression that san wears.

(the rest of the boys realise and they also see the way san and wooyoung will pause to gaze at you.)

when you two have mostly finished cooking and it is simply a matter of waiting for the sauce to simmer or the soup to boil, you find that wooyoung will take his seat next to san on the barstools at the island, knees and thighs touching as he continues the conversation. you gravitate towards them the first time before catching yourself, cautious that you may be intruding, but then san gives you a dimpled smile and beckons for you to come and sit by his other side.

san likes to keep a gentle hand resting on wooyoung’s knee as he talks. when he does the same thing to you without even looking, your lungs stop working for a minute. the only thought that consumes your mind is the warm sensation of san’s thumb soothingly running back and forth across your skin. you do not want him to stop, so you stay still in hopes that he continues. you are pretty sure san does not even consciously realise he is doing it.

(san does, and he is glad you do not move away.)

in the hours after dinner and before you all head off to sleep, you pile the thick blankets into the open living room and squish yourselves on the least number of couches as possible. again, space holds no meaning when you are with the boys and you find the press of yeosang and hongjoong’s skin against your own more natural there than not.

sometimes you watch movies together, other times talking with low voices as the hours tick by, and other times where you are all doing your own things but in the presence of one another. regardless, the nine of you stay cuddled in front of the fireplace with the warm glow of the fire and the light dreamy flutter of snow outside the windows.

yeosang tenderly tucks the blankets up around mingi’s shoulders when he falls asleep before turning to you on his other side. “are you warm enough?” he softly asks. and even though you say you are, he still tucks the edges of your blanket under your chin, nestling you safely within the blanket, hongjoong’s side and his own body.

the boys are naturally affectionate with one another and seeing the close dynamic of their…friendship so intimately in the environment of the retreat reminds you once more of the possibility that their relationship may run deeper than they let on.

(but when that affection extends to you, you wonder what exactly that may mean for your own relationship with the boys.)

and so living together, even if just for a holiday, is different. it is different when they are the first sight to greet you when you wake up, rubbing the sleep out of their eyes and voice still husky from fatigue as they murmur good mornings to you, and your cheeks start to glow with rosiness.

it is different when the decisions you make together are not about a change in formation or a defensive power play, but what to make for dinner and what movie you want to watch afterwards, and it makes you begin to wonder what other mundane decisions you want to make with them. it is different when they wrap you in their embrace��eight consecutive hugs–to bid you goodnight, and it takes you longer to fall asleep because you toss restlessly in your bed as their smiles replay in your head.

being on the retreat together is strangely domestic and homelike. but it has been almost nine months since you have started coaching the boys and thus seeing them every day for countless hours on end. so really, this trip should not change anything.

and yet, it feels like everything is changing.

jongho pays no mind to the conversation that is happening around him. last he heard, half of you are wanting to go out to skate on the lake before the sun sets and the other half are wanting to finish the halli galli championship you had started the night prior.

he is happy to do either but his mind is distracted by something else. as the screen of his phone lights up, jongho’s eyes flicker down and he puts his hand over the glowing display before anybody can see the caller id. you glance at him when you catch the movement in the corner of your peripheral vision, only to look away when yunho calls out your name to see which of the two options you would prefer.

the screen goes black as the call goes unanswered. seconds later, it lights up briefly with a notification.

pick up.

then the caller id shows up again. jongho grabs his phone and mumbles to nobody in particular, “going to grab something from my room.”

closing the door to the room that he is sharing with hongjoong in the pension, jongho sits down heavily on the edge of his bed, phone clutched tightly in his hand. whilst he has no qualms ignoring their messages now, he still finds it difficult to do the same to their phone calls. he finds his resolve weakening as he watches his phone ring for the third time within minutes.

so jongho picks up. “mother,” he greets stiffly.

she scoffs scathingly, “you finally decided to pick up.”

“i’ve been busy with the playoffs.” a half lie.

“busy? busy losing, you mean,” his mother ridicules. jongho is taken aback by the fact that she is aware, since he did not tell his family. it makes sense when she berates, “do you know how embarrassing it was for me to find out from your aunt? she told me to congratulate you for making it into the semifinals–the semifinals, jongho.”

he feels a heat of shame at what she is insinuating. jongho defends, “that’s still the top four out of seventy six teams.”

“nobody cares,” she turns her nose up. “it does not matter if you came fourth, second or last–unless you win first place, the result is not worth anything. our entire family has a legacy of achievements and your younger brother even has an olympic gold medal now. but what have you done? this is a mere national competition and yet you are incapable of making it into the finals.”

“jong–” his name dies on the tip of your tongue and your hand stops before you can knock on the door when you hear jongho’s muffled voice.

the boys had finally decided to grab their skates so you had come to get jongho to join everybody outside. realising he is talking to somebody, you are about to turn away and give him some privacy, but the words you hear make you freeze. 

it is not the conversation itself that you overhear; it is the wounded tone of jongho’s voice that makes it impossible for you to walk away. your feet stay rooted to the spot, in fact, wanting to enter the room. you have not heard jongho in such great affliction before, not even when he was consoling the boys with tears in his own eyes after their crushing defeat in the playoffs. 

“when are you going to celebrate my achievements for what they are, instead of telling me to do better?” jongho appeals.

he has lived his entire life being told that he is not good enough–constantly compared to the accomplishments of his family, particularly those of his younger brother. what he does not understand is why he cannot just be recognised for the athlete that he is, void of any other person.

his mother is silent and for a brief moment, jongho thinks that she may finally see some sense in his words…only for her to unfeelingly state, “when they are worth celebrating.” with a simple, “do better,” she hangs up on him.

jongho’s hand falls limply into his lap, phone slipping out of his lax fingers with a dull thud to the ground. he wants to swear. he wants to cry. he wants to throw his phone against the wall until the screen shatters. but jongho simply leans forward, elbows on his knees and head in his hands, the crushing weight of dejection forcing his lungs to exhale shakily.

there is a faint, timid knock on the door. he knows who it is immediately–only one person would knock so softly. “come in,” he answers listlessly, because he could never bring himself to ignore you no matter his own feelings.

the door cracks open to reveal your tentative figure and you slip through the opening. from the way your lips are pulled down, eyes rounded with concern, jongho knows that you have connected enough dots to understand the context of the phone call.

you approach the bed and try to ignore how small the boy in front of you looks with his shoulders hunched inwards on themselves. jongho has always appeared as the most collected and composed, even more so than the captain, and it makes your chest tight to realise he has simply been hiding this whole time.

jongho is not a man of many words so you do the next best thing that feels right in the moment. you simply open your arms. when his hands slowly come up in silent acceptance, you step forward to engulf him in your embrace.

he presses his face into the soft warmth of your stomach. the darkness welcomes him with safety and comfort and he lets out a stuttering breath that racks his entire body. you wrap one arm around his shoulders and cradle the back of his head with your other, your fingers tenderly caressing his hair in soothing motions.

although silence is what he needs, you allow yourself to say one thing to him. you murmur, “i’m proud of you, jongho…so, so proud of you.”

and they are the words he has been wanting to hear his entire life. unable to keep it together any longer, jongho breaks down in your arms with tearful sobs and allows himself to grieve for the acknowledgement he has yearned his entire life and never received. however, it will only be for tonight because he has realised that it is futile to chase after recognition from a person who refuses to see his worth, even if that person is his own family.

there will always be other people who can see his actual worth; the same people who will still love him even if he does not have a gold trophy to call his. for him, those people are his seven boys and you.

so he stays in your arms with you wrapped around him, time lost to the two of you. he cries until he has no tears left and you tilt your head upwards to stop the flow of your own tears before they can drip down onto the crown of his head. and outside the bedroom, hongjoong quietly eases the door shut to give you both some privacy.

you do not know how much time has passed when you finally step out. jongho has fallen asleep after you tucked him under his covers, exhausted. heading towards your room to change out of your shirt, you are startled by the sight of hongjoong lingering near the door.

“you didn’t go out with the boys?

he shakes his head, then conscious of where you two are standing, he gestures inside your room and follows you in. “is jongho okay?” hongjoong asks.

“i think so…he’s sleeping now but probably just needs a bit more time,” you sigh, “i just wish i could do more for him.”

hongjoong reassures, “you are already doing so much more than you realise.”

for jongho. for wooyoung. for all of them. comfort has never been about the words or actions, but the person who is by their side, and for the boys, having you there is already enough.

“really?” you worry.

“yes, really.”

before he realises what he is doing, hongjoong reaches out to gingerly cup the side of your face to thumb away the worry in your brows. “y/n, you take care of us all the time…but who takes care of you?” he whispers.

“i’m your coach, of course i–”

“no,” he interrupts. “you aren’t just our coach and from what i have seen, you aren’t just our friend either. unless…” hongjoong hesitates, “unless i’ve been reading everything wrong, then in which case, tell me and i’ll move away.”

you do not reply. your eyes flicker back and forth between his, your heart racing and mind blank. it is true–they are not just your players and they are not just your friends either, but you are unsure about taking such a huge leap of faith and acting upon the feelings you have only just started to understand.

hongjoong takes your silence as encouragement to step even closer until he is right in front of you. he keeps his hand on your cheek, his other coming up to delicately cradle your waist. you are standing intimately enough for his warm breath to span across your cheeks as he tenderly pleads, “let us take care of you as more than what we are right now.

“if you do not want to put a label on it then that’s fine, we won’t. we’ll still be your team and you’ll still be our coach. but please, let us take care of you when you are hurt, when you’re upset or angry, and when you are happy, too. let us love you as one of ours.”

as one of theirs.

you swallow and confirm, “are you all together?”

“yes, we’re dating each other,” hongjoong nods.

“but then why…” your voice trials off. why me, too?

hongjoong taps the tip of your nose and jokes lightly, “is there a capped limit as to how many people we are allowed to love?”

it pulls a giggle out of you and he smiles fondly as he reiterates, “we don’t need to put a label on this and we can go entirely at your pace. just let us into your heart, please?”

for a moment you wonder what will happen to your professional relationship with the boys–what will happen if things do not work out or worse, if other people find out and report you all for it. but when you really think about it, you realise that the professionalism between you and the boys has long since blurred. 

you do not know if you can go back to seoul after this retreat and act like you do not want to continue living with them. most importantly, you do not want to know if you can. so you take the leap of faith and nod–you want to be theirs.

when you first met the red devils in autumn last year, you were resolved to win over them. never would you have expected that you would win them over in more ways than one…and be won over yourself.

“hi, girlfriend.”

seonghwa smacks the back of wooyoung’s head. “stop pressuring her,” he hisses as the younger cackles delightfully and strides away through the snow impressively fast considering he is wearing his skates.

“ignore him,” seonghwa turns to you, where you are sitting on the porch steps to the cottage. he squats down and takes the laces out of your hands to start doing up your own skates.

“i can do it myself,” you start.

“i know you can,” seonghwa hums, gazing up lovingly, “but i want to do it for you.”

you press your lips together in an attempt to hide the shy smile that blooms across your face and when that fails, you duck your head down instead. ever since your talk with hongjoong the other day, the boys have been significantly more obvious and proactive with their displays of affection for you. however, you are pretty sure they had their own conversation when you were asleep or in the shower, because not one of them pressures you into something you are not ready for, even if that includes making your relationship official.

“there you go. is it too tight? too loose?” seonghwa taps your skates and you tell him they are perfect. taking his offered hand with an appreciative smile, he pulls you up to your feet and you go to join the rest of the boys on the frozen lake.

you are sure it feels the same for every single one of your boys–nothing can compare to that moment when you first step onto the ice. it is where you become a completely different person; a fish back in water, in control and at home.

it had been a gamble renting the cottage pension as you were unable to know whether the lake would be frozen over enough to allow for skating. but it is as if the heavens know not to separate you and your boys from the love and passion that your entire lives revolve around, because you are blessed to see them scrambling out to play on the frozen lake almost every single day, just like they are right now.

san spots you and seonghwa and beckons for you two to join. “hongjoong’s the tagger,” he calls out.

the captain stands at the other end of the lake, back facing everybody as he drawls, “green light…”

before hongjoong even starts to enunciate the first word, yunho, wooyoung and jongho have already pushed off their skates to advance. it sets off an immediate chorus of indignant shouts and desperate acceleration amongst everybody else to catch up. you laugh and seonghwa drags you along with him urgently, unable to stand your apparent nonchalance and uncompetitiveness.

but oh, how wrong he is. very quickly, you join the majority of the boys in a game of who can be the most sneaky with dirty play. wooyoung and mingi tussle with one another right as hongjoong turns around with his yell of ‘red light!’, trying to topple the other over so they get caught. jongho yanks on the back of seonghwa’s jacket whilst yeosang giggles and joins in to yank on jongho’s, effectively preventing all three of them from advancing forward.

“let go of me, you brats!” seonghwa flails forward against the combined weight of the two boys but to no avail.

you use yunho’s height to your advantage and hide behind him, steadily creeping forward even when hongjoong has turned around to face you all. yunho quickly catches on and extends his hands backwards for you to latch onto. you are more than happy to let him do all the hard work skating you both towards the captain and you grin cheekily at the trio–still caught up in their self-induced tug-of-war–as you overtake them easily.

“y/n’s cheating!” san hollers, the only one who is actually playing by the rules.

“life’s not fair!” you holler back gleefully at the same time that hongjoong sniggers, “san, you moved your mouth! go back.”

san gives an indignant cry, “favouritism, i say!” but, bless his heart, moves back to the starting line regardless. 

when yunho is almost towering over hongjoong, he cues you to get ready to escape by letting go of your hands. you pivot around and without waiting for anything else, you start to run away.

“gree–”

yunho tags hongjoong’s right shoulder before pushing off to the left so that he escapes the other’s immediate line of vision. except it means that the first person that hongjoong sees when he turns around is you.

an involuntary squeal escapes you when you hear the terrifying crispness of skates on ice right behind you followed by the captain’s arms snaking around your waist. “caught you, babe” he beams. hongjoong lifts you up with shit-eating smugness at your reaction–both at his close proximity and the pet name–spins you around for good measure, then sets you back down to chase after the others.

wooyoung skates in a wide arc to dodge the captain’s frenzied rampage, only to suddenly appear right beside you with the most telling glint in his sparkling eyes that he is up to mischief. he grins.

“wooyoung, no,” you warn.

he grabs you by the waist. “wooyoung, yes.”

wooyoung pushes off his skates with you in front of him at breakneck speed across the ice, bellowing at the top of his voice, “make way for the cripples!”

you scream the entire way to the end of the lake, hands clutching onto his like a lifeline as a colourful string of words flies out of your mouth. you think you black out for a second because when you open your eyes again, you are in a heaving tangle of arms and legs on the cushiony surface of powdery snow.

“oh, shit,” hongjoong winces.

the boys speed towards you and wooyoung, and yunho peers down at you on the ground with panicked concern in his eyes. “are you two okay?” he asks but when he sees that you are laughing, unrestrained and radiating joy, yunho relaxes and joins in with relief.

they–mainly seonghwa–fuss over you both enough to reassure themselves that there is not so much as a scratch or bruise, before mingi suggests playing a casual hockey game of five versus four. there are to be no goaltenders and san fashions makeshift goalposts by poking sticks into the snow on either ends of the lake.

the team splits into their usual arrangement when they are required to be in two groups; hongjoong, yunho, san and wooyoung; seonghwa, yeosang, mingi and jongho. normally, you would offer to be the honorary referee…but the boys have never been rough with you and you have confidence that you will not get hurt. so for the first time in years, you play.

it is far from a proper league game and it will never be enough to quench your thirst as a former athlete, but for now, gripping your stick on the ice in tandem with the others, you are content–you are alive.

like red light, green light, the game starts off fair and proper for a grand total of two minutes. then it becomes a circus of foul plays and increasingly creative methods of cheating as all sense of order is tossed out the window. yunho and san stand in front of you, leaving just enough space for you to handle the puck, whilst hongjoong and wooyoung flank your sides and use their sticks to block any attempts to steal the puck. as a shielded group of five, you all move up towards the goalposts like a formidable army tank.

in retaliation, jongho physically manhandles hongjoong out of the way, hugging him from behind with a vice grip that he swears not to let go. seonghwa, mingi and yeosang imitate him with similar displays of strength, turning the entire match into a childish scuffle of chaos and hysterics.

there are no proper rules, no proper gear and no proper stadium–only the bare minimum, yourselves and uncontainable laughter. it feels like you are kids again, little souls harbouring colossal dreams, running around on the fields with long branches and a pine cone you had found when you could not afford to go to a real rink.

it is like you have gone back in time to when all you knew about ice hockey from watching it on your television screen was that you had to get the puck into the goal. you and the boys are fresh, blank slates without a care in the world for the countless strategies and tactical plays that you have learned over the length of your careers.

without the pressures and routines of strict training regimes, you all reignite the very roots of your ardour and fervour for ice hockey. no longer is it about the scores and making it into the playoffs. no longer is it about winning the championships to gain the acknowledgement of other people. no longer is it about the trauma of betrayal, injury and defeat you have experienced.

playing is simply the thrill of skating liberally with no burdens across the ice. it is the feeling of thriving when your blade connects with the puck and sends vibrations up your arms. it is the rush of adrenaline as everyone moves in tandem with the same singular thought in your hearts–that you love ice hockey with your entire lives. and that in itself is already more than enough, even without a gold trophy and championship title to prove it to yourselves.

for the last five years, the boys have had the leaves of their trees forcibly plucked and removed–by family, by coaches, and by injuries…but now?

it is time for their flowers to bloom.

spring, 2025: playoffs

standing off to the side, you watch your boys listening attentively to the reporter who is conducting an interview with them. you have continued to stay out of the media spotlight where possible, not yet entirely comfortable standing in front of the cameras again, but your boys have quickly grown accustomed to media coverage ever since their popularity gained traction thanks to their undefeated streak in the regular season.

the interviewer glances down at her prompt card before asking, “so tell me, what has been a major contribution to your success this season? your team has made a name for yourselves as the undefeated champions so far–quite a contrast to how you started off last season.”

seonghwa laughs cordially with her. “we were getting used to a lot of changes last year so our teamwork and mentality wasn’t the best,” he admits. “our agency gave us some time off to recalibrate, which really helped us to focus on building ourselves–as individuals and as a team. i think we learnt to place our unconditional trust in one another and our coach. we still play with a dominantly offensive approach, but we’ve been adopting different playing styles and experimenting with them, so this relies heavily on believing in each other.”

yunho nods, gesturing for the microphone to add, “as cliche as it may sound, a huge part of our growth was also learning how to accept loss. this wasn’t just in the context of being defeated in the semifinals but in the wider lens of our past mistakes, relationships, and even situations that we could not change.

“it has been a tough journey for a lot of us over the last year, but we were lucky enough to have each other’s support,” yunho’s nostalgic smile reflects your own as you realise just how far both you and all of your boys have come. “once we were able to let go, it meant that we could enjoy our career for what it truly is–playing the sport of our dreams together, every day.”

the reporter’s ears perk up in interest at the segway to probe and she jumps on the opportunity to ask, “i am sure many of your fans have been curious for a long time. is there a special somebody who has supported you–or any of you–throughout your journey?”

yunho passes the microphone to the hand that has extended out to reach for it. it’s san this time, who has a charmingly confident persona that he takes on whenever he answers questions during interviews. good thing too, because their fans are going to need something to distract them from understanding the confession he is about to make.

“there is. we all do, actually,” his deep voice rolls off his tongue like butter. the way he smoothly talks with a flirtatious smirk never fails to make you swoon. “funnily enough, we all met our girlfriend at about the same time.”

off to the side, wooyoung sends a wink in your direction and you have to muffle a snort with your hand and divert your glance away. the structural framework of the stadium ceiling suddenly looks very interesting. san stands there incredibly smug at his joke that he knows nobody but you and the boys will pick up on.

by the time you tune back into the conversation, the reporter has moved onto the next question. “last year, you lost to the white tigers in the semifinals. how do you feel about facing them again later today?”

due to a spike in popularity, the korean ice hockey league had to divide its teams into two separate groups for the regular season matches this year. both the red devils and the white tigers had been placed in different groups and by some twist of fate, had ranked at the top and then seeded accordingly on either ends of the tournament brackets. now, your team faces theirs in the very last game of the season.

the finals.

“we’re quite excited, actually,” jongho responds. “we have been wanting to play against the white tigers again some day and i don’t think it gets any more fitting than meeting them in the finals. they have some incredible players but like seonghwa mentioned before, we’ve been working hard to adjust our playing style to suit the situation. our coach has put in a lot of effort to hone in on our strengths and weaknesses, so no matter what today’s outcome is, we’re confident that it won’t be an easy win for either team.”

“i am sure the finals is going to be a thrilling match. now, speaking of coaches,” the interviewer starts and you can see hongjoong’s hand twitching subtly at his side, ready to step in and deflect the question need be should it pertain to you.

she continues, “how does it feel to play against your former coach?”

yeosang and mingi frown, unable to neutralise the confusion on their faces. hongjoong smiles calmly, ultimately taking over the microphone as he apologises, “sorry, could you please elaborate your question?”

it is the interviewer’s turn to fluster slightly but she nods quickly, “you must not be aware, then.”

your eyes dart back and forth as you try to recall whether there is a crucial piece of information you have somehow missed or forgotten to tell the boys. the tone of her voice foreshadows something that makes the pit of your stomach churn.

“last year, the white tigers had a stand-in coach, so you probably did not know.” she says her next words carefully and despite the bustling movement that fills the entire stadium, you can hear the exact moment all of your hearts drop.

“the coach of the white tigers is coach yeon, your team’s former coach in 2018…and he’s here today.”

you are the first to rush back into their locker room. frantically, you grab the official guide that had been given to you by the ice hockey league prior to the start of the regular season from out of your bag. you flip through it, team profiles upon team profiles blending into a hazy blur of faces as you find the one you are trying to look for.

“y/n,” somebody gently murmurs from behind you but you do not register their call. you continue to flick through the pages and when you find the profile for the white tigers, you scan the top of the page for a certain name with a shaky finger.

head coach: yeon ha joon

“oh my god,” you breathe out, hands lowering to your sides and gaze wavering. how the fuck had you managed to miss it this entire time?

you are not the only one affected by the revelation. the change room is pervaded by unease and restlessness, and wooyoung paces back and forth despite hongjoong’s attempts to get him to sit down. hongjoong himself cannot even remember how he answered the question about coach yeon, only that he had somehow excused themselves not long after to cut the interview short.

“how is he still a coach?” seonghwa furrows his brows.

wooyoung stops pacing and your eyes are drawn to him when he suddenly blanches, “what if coach yeon is doing the opposite now and paying other teams to let his own team win?”

“no way–” “–i wouldn’t put it past him–” “–surely not?” the boys’ voices overlap at the speculation.

it is a valid speculation based on what they have told you in the past about coach yeon. however, you stay quiet, suddenly aware of the fact that it is not something that would favour you should it be true. you gnaw the inside of your cheek because as much as you know that your boys would not suspect you, you still worry that doubt may cross their minds at one point, even if only briefly.

“unless the money he offered every single time was equivalent to the prize money, it’s highly unlikely the teams would have all accepted, right?” jongho points out.

yunho shrugs nonchalantly, “but even if they did, we all know that coach yeon would never be able to bribe our girl.”

the way everybody immediately agrees expels some of the anxiety within you, filling you with reassurance and security that starts to relax your chest instead. wooyoung chooses that moment to finally sit down on the bench beside you. he adds, “we’re too whipped for you, so even if you were bribed, we would probably ask whether the money was enough and if you wanted more.”

san chucks a water bottle at him. despite yourself, you laugh and admit, “that is…strangely comforting.”

“see,” wooyoung triumphantly boots the bottle back at the older. “she gets it.”

seonghwa intercepts the pitiful bottle before it becomes weaponised and sets it down next to him. “she wouldn’t accept the money in the first place.”

“exactly, so why does any of this matter?” mingi suddenly questions.

yeosang knits his brows together as he states the obvious, “it’s coach yeon.”

“and?” mingi mirrors his expression with genuine confusion.

it is quiet in the locker room. the coach of the white tigers is indeed coach yeon…and so what? what exactly about the revelation has pushed you all to the edge of the cliff?

mingi cocks his head. “what i’m trying to say is, does it make any difference whether he is their coach or not? think about it–regardless of how he got his team to the finals, he has no unfair advantage over us. there’s no way that he has bribed a fixed win in the finals, and he has no access to any insider knowledge that could jeopardise our tactics and plays.

“the only leverage that he ‘has’ is a psychological advantage–if we can even call it that. but we’re not the same boys who were too naive and powerless to do anything about it six years ago. if anything, we can easily turn this to work in our favour because i don’t know about you guys, but i’m ready to drag his ass through the mud. what we said earlier about not caring for today’s outcome? nah, fuck that. we’re going to fuck him up and show him that he messed with the wrong people.”

he takes everybody’s silence as misunderstanding of his last statement and he hurriedly clarifies there is no violent intent, “by winning. fairly.”

“damn,” jongho whistles. “you’re onto something for once.”

mingi clambers over seonghwa’s legs to grab the forgotten bottle and it goes flying across the room with violent intent. “dude, what the fuck,” mingi grouses.

the dull thud that resounds when jongho holds san’s leg pad up to block the projectile is enough to shift the mood in the room entirely. you finally relax into hongjoong’s side and he moulds you closer to him with the arm that he snakes around your waist as you both watch the locker room erupt into familiar pre-game mayhem.

yunho immediately scoops up the bottle and pitches it again. san stands to the side worrying over his poor leg pads as jongho uses them to bat the makeshift ball. his impressive accuracy makes you wonder whether they would have made it just as big as they are now had they formed a baseball team instead, but then yeosang narrowly dodges the bottle before it gives him a black eye, wooyoung cackles in the background, and you think better of it.

seonghwa joins you both on the bench and amongst all of the mischievous chaos and raucous laughter, you feel at peace, your hands clasped tenderly in the hands of your two captains–in unity, trust and love. you affectionately squeeze their hands with unspoken conviction.

you know your boys are going to play well; you just have a good feeling.

the energy in the room spikes exponentially as you huddle together one final time before you walk out of the locker room, through the hallways and to the arena–one final time before you step out to the ice rink as the red devils, playing in the final match.

you and your boys stand in a circle as close as it is physically possible with their bulky pads and game jerseys that they wear so proudly. it is indiscernible where one of you starts and where another ends from how intimately you all press together. your huddle is a woven nexus of arms and your hearts pound as one entity.

everyone learns of the juxtapositions of the world early on in life. there is no light without dark, there is no happiness without sadness, there is no spring without autumn…and there is no victory without defeat. not a single one of your boys has made it this far without falling at least once, and the conscious thought makes your heart swell and your throat constrict with overwhelming emotion.

somehow, you manage to choke out, “i am so, so proud of all of you.”

yunho and seonghwa’s own eyes start to heat up with wetness. from your side, san kisses your temple with feather-like tenderness, “and we’re so proud of you. y/n, you have grown just as much as we have.”

“thank you for being our coach,” hongjoong murmurs into your ear from your other side, the tip of his nose softly nuzzling you.

wooyoung reaches out to thumb the round of your cheek, “and thank you for loving us when we found it difficult to love ourselves.”

you had always viewed your injury and career with anger, bitterness and anguish…but you have finally come to terms with it. in the process of healing, you have learnt to love yourself, love eight other people, and to be loved. you have had your golden days as an athlete and you are now living your golden days as a coach–

–the very coach of the red devils, your team of boys who are living through their golden days as athletes, and you are going to lead them to victory in the finals.

swiping at a tear that slips down your cheeks, you grin. “boys, let’s win this match and then,” you pause as you meet their determined gazes, their smiles wide with uncontainable excitement, the tension in the room electrifying and palpable.

“let’s go international.”

you may have all fallen before–as athletes, as coaches, as a team–but you will always stand back up together, because at the end of the day your dream is theirs and their dream is yours. and like autumn, the leaves fall for a reason; they must fall before the spring flowers can bloom to their full beauty.

and bloom your flowers have.