They don’t talk once they’ve made it off the court, even after shaking their opponents’ hands and muttering half-hearted congratulations. They don’t look at each other, neither at their team, nor their captain, nor the coach, who all look like they want to say something, but don’t know what. They don’t go back to the benches. Instead, they pick up the towels and bottles of water and stride off towards the men’s washroom.

 

It’s ironic how they don’t need words to understand where their destination is, but a few minutes ago, failed attempts at silent communication are what got them here.

 

What made them lose the match.

 

Sehun chugs down water while flexing his right hand at the same time. They’d never played such a long match and his fingers feel like they’re about to fall off and his feet aren’t faring so well, either. He settles down on the cool grass beside the taps, towel covering his head and face, a sad attempt to shy away from reality.

 

Kyungsoo seems to have given up washing his face and has dunked his head under the water, relishing the cool feeling of cold water through his sweaty strands. He’s going to regret it later because none of them have a dryer; it’s an away match and with the sun about to set, it’s bound to get a lot cooler.

 

It only takes a minute too long of Kyungsoo doing this for Sehun to ponder about whether Kyungsoo is crying. It’d be just like him, drowning his tears into water in a silly attempt to drown what he thought was a weakness.

 

If Sehun himself wasn’t in a public place, he’s pretty sure he’d be bawling his eyes out by now, preferably with his head pillowed in Kyungsoo’s lap and his hand softly and consolingly patting his hair. At least that’s how he had imagined it would be if they ever lost. Now he hates himself for ever even entertaining the idea, because who knew losing would hurt so much?

 

Kyungsoo finally turns the tap off and plonks down beside Sehun with a heavy sigh.

 

They still say nothing.

 

But Kyungsoo’s hair is still wet and while he doesn’t seem too inclined to dry it anytime soon, Sehun really doesn’t want to deal with a sick, grumpy Kyungsoo, so he grabs the towel form Kyungsoo’s hand and gets to work wordlessly.

 

It gives them both something to do, a reason to ignore the elephant in the room, an excuse to pretend like something did not grow wrong there, and it’s that thought, that very thought that something went wrong, something that they couldn’t fix during the match, something that made the ball drop on their side of the court too many times, something that made Sehun send all his serves into the net or long, that scares Sehun so much, because they were supposed to be just getting started, it’s their first year only, and he doesn’t want this something to break them.

 

“They’re not kidding when they say communication is the key to a healthy relationship, are they?” Kyungsoo says finally, when Sehun's hands still on his head.

 

There’s a pause, which is filled with the faraway sound of cheers—someone must have scored a good point or a set, Sehun can only hope that it’s their team—until they both blurt out, ”I’m sorry!”

 

Another pause accompanied by more, slightly louder cheers, until the silence is broken by stifled sniggering.

 

Kyungsoo is laughing.

 

It’s infectious, the clear sound, loud, but not enough to be rambunctious, the way his lips spread into a wide smile, and his eyes which are normally wide, and alert, crinkled into crescents by his cheeks. So much that Sehun finds himself smiling, in spite of how baffled he feels.

 

It seems unstoppable, seems to go on forever, but at last Kyungsoo stops himself with a heavy sigh that reminds Sehun of the painful reality that he wants to forget. But it’s still with a slight smile that Kyungsoo says, “So… we lost.”

 

Sehun tries to think of something appropriate to say, something comforting, something his doubles partner would like to hear, but comes up with nothing and ends up saying,”…we lost.”

 

“You know,” Kyungsoo says. “We could have totally saved that break point in the last set if I had stuck to the left and let you take care of the center, you have longer arms than me and you’d have totally gotten it. I should have let you.”

 

Sehun makes a protesting noise, “It was deep, and I would have exposed the right court and the front completely.”

 

“That’s what I’m telling you, you have longer limbs! You could have totally made it!”

 

Kyungsoo does have a point, but Sehun does not want him blaming himself. “Well,” he says. “We’d definitely have gotten more games if I had served better.”

 

And Kyungsoo laughs like he is remembering all the ridiculous serves Sehun has served today, it was particularly embarrassing because he was so tall, and replies, ”Yeah, your serves big time today.”

 

“Your drop-shots weren’t fantastic either,” Sehun retorts. “The spin was all over the place.”

 

“Who’s taller between us, huh? And yet, who made that awesome ace return in the second-last game?” Kyungsoo counters back, and Sehun has no reply to this and is just left staring at Kyungsoo because damn that shot was ing fantastic.

 

Kyungsoo’s eyes soften a bit as he ruffles the tuft of hair peeking out below the towel still perched on Sehun’s head. “We lost,” he says. “But it’s ok, I’m glad we get to experience the view from this side. It’s a learning curve, and we still have a long way to go. We just need to start communicating more on some aspects. And building stamina, because I was dead beat at the end.”

 

They’ve been friends since childhood, and Sehun can say, with 110% confidence, that nobody knows Kyungsoo better than he does, every one of his quirks, how a fist-pump means he’s happier with a shot than a hissed yes!, how offering Sehun a banana first instead of eating it himself means that he’s more nervous, how he can tell from the intensity of their fist bumps whether Kyungsoo is excited or not…

 

But people change. People want to grow. People want to grow wings and fly.

 

And with the way they are, both their wings are clipped and deformed, and Sehun isn’t about let Kyungsoo fly off with half-baked wings. They’re both going to change, accommodate each other, be a team, and fly off together.

 

For some reason, Sehun remembers all their previous matches, and he doesn’t remember the scores by which they’ve won all of those matches, no, he remembers the feeling, of happiness, of satisfaction, of how it had felt to have Kyungsoo by his back, with Sehun ready with a net volley because that was how much trust he had in Kyungsoo and his service placement, that was how much trust he had in Kyungsoo in general, because he wasn’t just his incredibly talented doubles partner, he was also his best friend.

 

And right now, they were a pair of best friends returning home from their first defeat in a war, nursing disappointment, resentment, even a bit of disbelief, and Sehun knew what Kyungsoo was talking about when he said that he was glad to see this view, because this is somewhere Sehun never wants to be again, and he knows that Kyungsoo doesn’t either, and this is what will make them stronger, what will push them, and make them work harder and get better.

 

“Hey,” Sehun says, shaking the towel off so it hangs around his neck, standing up and offering Kyungsoo a hand. “You remember all those punks who laughed at us because of the difference in our heights?”

 

”Hey, hey! Did you see that pair on court 2? One of them is so tiiiny, how the hell do they even play together?”

 

”Shorty, you’re a foot shorter than him, how does the world look from down there, huh?”

 

”Who the hell are they? Is that guy honestly going to play? Isn’t he like in middle school?”

 

“Let’s show them who we are, yeah?”

 

Kyungsoo smiles, grabs Sehun's hand, and pushes himself up on his feet. “Damn right we will!”

 

Whoa, did you look at those two guys? They aren’t even using any signs, and yet, they’re so in sync!”

 

”Where the did they come from? What the hell, are you sure they’re only first years?!”

 

”Damn, what wouldn’t I give to play like them!”

 

They’re the Dream Team. The Dynamic Duo. The Perfect Pair. The Terrible Two. The Indomitable Oh Sehun and Do Kyungsoo.

 

They just lost.

 

And they’re never going to, ever again.