Being a figure skater was hard. Strenuous hours of practice, a stolen childhood, limbs that knew more about the chilling touch of meeting ice than that of a tender lover's. Eyes that were trained to appraise people constantly, than to admire them. It was tiring. Kibum was tired. Tired of his knee shooting up shocks of pain every night, even more tired of the way his brain refused to listen to it, and practised.

 

Practised all day and night, just to restore his former glory of being famed and adored as an Olympic gold medallist, and erase the public's memory of the failed triple axel that cost him his knee and his second Olympic tournament.

 

But it all seemed futile at the moment, because in front of his eyes was Lee Taemin the prodigy, cutting gracefully across the ice, performing spins like he had learnt them since birth. Not that Kibum would be surprised if he had. Technical skill was a given in ice skating– most skaters worthy of competing globally were technically sound, but the points that became the difference between the podium and the hotel were the artistic ones. Taemin seemed to aim for both with the way his hands moved to bedroom worthy pop music– sensual and electrifying, instead of the more conventional choice of Beethoven or Tchaikovsky, Pop-punk like Kibum liked, or even Drake, like the American figure skaters loved to make routines to. Taemin was captivating, easy on the eyes and flirtatious with his audience, drawing them in and tantalising them with his beauty. Kibum could already imagine the hoards of baby chick plushies being thrown at him after the performance, as he had learned was the animal Taemin was compared to from his interviews.

 

It was hard to do opposition research, when the opposition was so stunning.

 

 

 

 

“If you were watching Lee Taemin practice in the rink till nine in the evening without calling it a day and getting some sleep instead, then I suggest you sleep now.”

 

Kibum balanced the phone between his shoulder and ears, closing the fridge after resisting the urge to take out his emergency craving chocolate bar. “Like you are one to talk Jonghyun.”

 

“Yes, I never sleep but I also don’t have World Championship trials in six months.”

“That is exactly why I’m up.”

“That is exactly why you should sleep. You’re working yourself to the bone.”

 

Kibum scoffed. Jonghyun used to be a figure skater too— in fact they had trained in the same academy as children, been selected for the nationals at the same time too, but whereas Kibum went on to debut in the Olympics, Jonghyun bowed out, not because of an injury, but because he simply didn’t want to pursue this career anymore. Kibum often resented him for it– Jonghyun was too talented, and once upon a time they had promised each other to always be by each other’s side. Jonghyun was still fulfilling that promise by being his best friend, but not as Kibum had hoped for in the past. He had wanted him as a partner, both in athletics and in bed. But the past was in the past, and Kibum secretly admired Jonghyun’s resolute determination. Kibum wished he had some of that– he would have probably quit years ago to live a peaceful life rather than push himself to go on till the point that the media mocked him for his attempt to come back to the scene.

After all, Kibum was only twenty-six, but he might as well have been ancient for figure skating. Especially for someone who had battled with his injury for almost two years, and had to now start from scratch. An Olympic medalist like him had to compete with absolute kids to even receive a shot at going global again. Kibum tried hard not to sneer with disgust.

 

“You're overthinking again aren't you?”

“Sorry. Force of habit. Anyway, you're coming with me tomorrow for Lee Taemin's performance right?”

Jonghyun hummed, “Right, KSPO Dome. It's amazing how popular he is to be doing ice shows without any World Championship participation.”

“Yet,” Kibum added. “He's the championship sweetheart, he'll go through. What amazes me is that he is agreeing to do these public shows instead of simply focusing on his training so close to the trials.”

“Some people have different ways of letting off steam. He does it by putting up ice shows for the general audience, you do it by obsessing over him.”

“I'm not obsessed!”

“Keep telling yourself that Kibum. Goodnight, see you tomorrow at seven.”

 

Kibum cursed at his phone after Jonghyun hung up. He was not obsessed. He just watched Taemin’s performances in his down time, analysed his techniques and sought to fault them— but that was normal, especially as solo competitors without a team to fall back upon. South Korea had performed well in ice skating in the World Championships last year, which would grant them at least two slots of male single skaters to send and Kibum had every intention of making it in one of these spots– with or without Taemin. Sure, there was no particular need to watch his interviews or monitor his instagram reels but Kibum was not obsessed.

 

 

A thought he’d do well reminding himself as he sat with Jonghyun in the first row, thanks to association preference ticketing, his mouth agape at the performance Taemin was putting on for the ice show. He sashayed in a beautiful skin-tight black lace shirt, blonde hair styled to look artfully messy, and smoky, dark makeup. He was enticing, and teasing the crowd in the sold out KSPO dome with the way he almost seduced on the ice, skating and spinning with such dexterity it made Kibum feel dizzy. He was good. Too good.

 

 

“Your boy is good.” Jonghyun confirmed out loud.

Kibum grit his teeth. “He’s not my boy.”

Jonghyun shrugged, relaxing in his chair. “Might as well be with the way you talk about him. But I get it now. He has quite the presence huh? The cameras can’t really do it justice.”

This, Kibum could agree with. The recorded performances truly did not capture the extent of Taemin’s artistry. Small mercies, Kibum thought. At least Kibum had more experience flirting with the lens.

 

But life wasn't certainly as merciful as Kibum had hoped.

 

Taemin bowed after the show, making eye contact with the first row and dipping his head in thanks, and much to Kibum’s horror, breaking out in a huge smile when his eyes landed on him.

His heart thundered even long after he had looked away. It wouldn't be outlandish to imagine that Taemin knew him; Kibum had been a celebrity after all, but had he noticed him before? Hanging out like a creep on the sidelines as he practised? Kibum was sure the smile had been directed to him.

Jonghyun nudged him, oblivious to his thoughts. “Time to leave lover boy— you have practice tomorrow.”

“I–” Kibum felt too stunned to even come up with a disgruntled retort to that. Had he mistaken that the grin was for him and not for the audience in general? He almost imagined Taemin to come back out, but the stadium was emptying out quickly, and Kibum would actually do well to leave and not dwell on this either.

 

“Sir?”

Both Jonghyun and he turned sharply to the source of the voice— a middle aged man at the end of their aisle, wearing all black with a staff ID card hanging off his neck.

“Would either of you happen to be Kim Kibum?”

“That would be me,” Kibum answered, having a sneaking suspicion where this was going.

“Oh good,” The staff looked relieved, “Would you and your friend like to follow me backstage? Lee Taemin would like to meet you.”

“Uh—”

“Sure,” Jonghyun answered enthusiastically for him, “Lead the way.”

 

 

Kibum’s usually restless mind was a complete blank as he trailed behind Jonghyun and the staff member, the two of them having already struck up a conversation, unsurprisingly— Jonghyun was friendly like that. But Kibum couldn’t be bothered to chime in. He was going to meet Lee Taemin. The enigma. Who, despite the easy smiles on his social media and interviews, always had a touch of unattainability about him. Kibum had not ever thought of talking to him, had never even imagined what it would be like— in his head Taemin was a competitor who was to be solely treated that way. But now, as the green room door was pushed open and he stood in front of him, he really wished he had thought of such a possibility and had been mentally prepared for this.

 

Taemin’s lips pouted at the interruption, before easing into a smile seeing that it was them who had interrupted his post-performance makeup removal routine. If Kibum thought he was ethereal from afar, it was nothing compared to his presence in the same room as him.

 

Taemin immediately stood up from his chair, bowing to them.

“Hello I am Lee Taemin,” he introduced himself, despite it being wholly unnecessary, “I am a big fan of you Kibum-ssi, and I am honoured you and—”

“—Jonghyun.”

“Jonghyun-ssi.” Taemin added with a smile, “Attended my show today.”

Kibum bowed stiffly back, sure that his smile looked like a confused grimace.

“I wasn’t aware that you’d know of me.”

Taemin laughed, like Kibum had said something silly. He had a funny laugh– a loud, breathy one.

“Kibum–ssi, you are an Olympian. I watched your first Olympics growing up, and you were one of my inspirations to skate! Of course I would know you.”

Growing up? How young was this kid? Wasn’t he twenty-two? Far too old to never have debuted in a World Championship, and certainly too old to remind Kibum of his age.

Jonghyun laughed as a response instead, aware of Kibum’s increasingly sour expression at the sore spot that bringing up his age was.

“Our Kibum here,” he wrapped his arm on Kibum’s shoulder. “Is very humble. I often tell him that he should own up to being an Olympian more. Right?” Jonghyun prodded.

“Right.” Kibum smiled, saccharine sweet. He wanted to be out of here.

“We enjoyed your performance a lot,” Jonghyun continued undeterred, “You’re very good!”

Taemin blushed at the praise. Kibum raised an eyebrow. He wasn’t buying this fake humble act. Someone like Taemin must be used to hearing compliments like this every day.

“Thank you so much Jonghyun–ssi. Would you two like to care for a drink? I was thinking of going out to eat after I wrap up here, and I’d love to talk with the both of you.”

“No thanks,” Kibum refused before Jonghyun could do something ridiculous such as accept the offer. “I have practice tomorrow. But I do hope you enjoy your dinner.”

“Oh,” the pout on Taemin’s face was back. Kibum wondered if he was unaware of his expressions, or if he was aware of the powerful tool it seemed to be in making Kibum feel guilty. “Another time then.”

“Another time,” Kibum agreed politely, bowing and turning to leave.

“Kibum-ssi?” Kibum looked back in surprise at Taemin’s call. “Do wait for me the next time you come to watch me practise. We can definitely chalk out some plans then.”

 

.

 

Kibum glared at Jonghyun snickering under his breath, and offered a curt nod to Taemin, who smiled beatifically, which in hindsight, had a teasing edge to it, something that Kibum had not noticed before. Kibum was thankful that he had too big an ego to feel the full mortification of the interaction, even after he was back home, in bed, and especially after an hour of Jonghyun’s incessant teasing.

 

Well the game was clearly up, and unfortunately for Taemin, Kibum was never one to back down.

 

 

 

 

The thing was, Kibum’s opposition research had not actually started out deliberately.

There were roughly around five ice skating rinks in Seoul worth training in, it just happened to be that Taemin and he frequented the same one, and often had consecutive time slots booked for their practices. That was how it had started— Kibum staying back out of curiosity, and then witnessing the force that was Taemin on ice.

 

 

It was a week later after their encounter, and once again they had consecutive slots— but instead of Kibum slithering into the shadows the moment he saw Taemin’s team, this time he stood his ground, taking his sweet time to vacate the rink and untying his skates.

 

“Kibum-ssi!” Taemin greeted cheerily, joining him on the bench to tie his laces. Kibum had worn his best practice clothes today. Tight dark green leggings and yellow jacket to compliment his light brown hair– his battle armour so as to say, in anticipation of this exact meeting.

“Hello Taemin-ssi,” Kibum greeted back cooly, “We are supposed to make dinner plans today right?”

If Taemin was surprised by Kibum’s sudden willingness to his previous offer, he hid it well.

“Oh yes, I’m free. Thankfully today’s is only a three hour practice. Would you be okay with waiting till then?”

Kibum nodded. He would be. Besides, Kibum had expected that— not only was he too wound up after his own six hour practice today to go straight home anyway, but he was also determined to untangle Taemin as a person.

No matter how much he could hear Jonghyun in his head asking him to just rest.

 

It was also strangely fascinating to observe Taemin now that he knew the other was aware of him. It had him second guessing— had his axel jumps always been this smooth? Did he usually look up at the bleachers so often during practice? Hell— Kibum was sure Taemin did not look at the seats this much even during an actual performance. Ordinarily, Kibum took notes— mental or otherwise, but today he slumped down in his seat, slowly massaging his aching joints and thinking of how he wanted this dinner between them to go.

Kibum could play it in one of two ways. One; he could act as the cool celebrity Taemin seemed to idolise, and go through the meal in that fashion– aloof and polite. His second option was acting like what they truly were— equals, no matter how much it hurt Kibum’s ego to admit so. Treating him as an equal would have its advantages; he would hopefully get more insight into Taemin’s life, his weaknesses and his strengths, and Kibum could make changes in his own routine accordingly.

But when Taemin approached him after practice, bundled up in an oversized padded jacket, smiling and thanking Kibum for waiting, he could not remember any of his strategies.

 

 

 

 

“So when is it that you started skating?” Kibum asked casually as Taemin poured him a glass of soju, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he attempted not to spill the drink. But he still did so anyway. For all the grace Taemin exhibited on the ice, he was incredibly clumsy out of it.

Kibum would intervene and just do the refills himself, but for once he was enjoying the hierarchy privileges his age seemed to provide.

Taemin, satisfied with his work, sat back on the hard plastic seat of the Pojangmacha they were in. A fancy restaurant would have been a better choice, but they were both weary athletes, tired of their diets and craving horribly unhealthy street food.

“Hm— I had my first lesson at fifteen. I know what you're thinking, that's pretty old, but my family couldn't afford classes before that. Though I had been taking dance classes since I was ten.”

Kibum raised an eyebrow. With Taemin's background he would have assumed him to go into ice dancing events, not figure skating, but it explained a lot about the approach he took— he was focused more on the artistry of it, than on how many jumps one could humanly incorporate into the choreography.

But ice dancing was also always a pair event, and Kibum had a feeling Taemin would rather command an audience on his own.

“That sounds nice,” Kibum commented neutrally, “You are very skilled for the short training time.”

Taemin beamed at that— lips stretched wide, pearly teeth on show, the apple of his cheeks shining and eyes turning into pretty crescents.

 

To Kibum’s dismay, he felt himself being endeared by it way too much.

 

“Thank you. It means a lot coming from you.”

“Uh–” Kibum fumbled, “You keep saying that. Am I really an idol to you?”

“Of course!” Taemin defended, “I was fourteen when I first saw you on TV! Why do you think I begged for figure skating classes in the first place?”

 

Kibum sat back, a little stunned at the honesty.

He was not a celebrity in the way he had fans herding around him, or keeping track of him. He was an athlete, an Olympic medallist who had fallen out of grace— the most he could grasp of his fame was when he popped up in general knowledge books sometimes, or a clipping in a documentary.

To have someone sitting in front of him, who became a skater because of him, was a weight he hadn’t expected to carry.

 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Taemin apologised softly at Kibum’s silence.

“No,” Kibum gulped, reassuring him quickly. He did not like the forlorn expression on Taemin’s face. “You did not make me uncomfortable. It’s just a lot to take in.”

Taemin offered him a small, shy smile at that.

“When my manager first mentioned that you watched me practise sometimes, I didn’t really believe it. And when I did see you, I was so flustered that I never approached you. But I am different when I perform for an audience, a little more brave, so I apologise for the abruptness of that meeting.”

Kibum’s cheeks burned. He took a sip of his drink, hoping the redness of his face could be explained away by the alcohol. How long had Taemin known that Kibum stayed back for his practices?

Fortunately, it seemed like Taemin was more delighted by his monitoring and appraisal than being put out by it, so Kibum did not let embarrassment show.

“It’s fine.”

“And your boyfriend must have been surprised too—”

“My boyfriend?” Kibum spluttered, momentarily forgetting about their earlier conversation. “Jonghyun is not my boyfriend! Did you just naturally assume I’m gay?”

“He’s not?” Taemin blinked innocently, “And aren’t we all gay?”

Kibum groaned in exasperation, smothering the laugh that threatened to come forth at his antics.

“Taemin, that is such a stereotype about male figure skaters! You shouldn’t say it like that!”

“I shouldn’t?” Taemin giggled. “Okay.”

Kibum snorted, finally letting out his first smile for the night. It was hard not to.

 

It was hard not to be affected by Lee Taemin.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kibum stretched his arms out, arching his back and closing his eyes as he let the momentum slide him over the ice, the cool wind in his hair grounding him, and making him smile absentmindedly. He finished with an elegant twirl, arms now hugging himself as he slowed down, and spun into a standstill.

 

He opened his eyes when he curtsied, meeting the harsh overhead lights, and the grinning face of Lee Taemin.

“Hyung, that was so good!” He clapped enthusiastically, “I can never do the spins like you do!”

 

He could. Kibum knew. What Kibum hadn’t known was how dangerous it had been to grant Taemin’s request to let him watch him practise. It felt too intimate. Personal. A lot like they were friendly colleagues.

But Kibum had been given no choice in the matter really. Taemin, just a little tipsy from the soju had pouted until Kibum had given in to his whines of can I call you Hyung, please?

Next was Taemin’s complaints about how unfair it was that Kibum could watch him practise but Taemin had not seen Kibum on ice yet. Bewildered, Kibum had relayed his schedule, inviting him on any day he was free, which would not be for two more weeks since Taemin, unlike him, listened to his manager and actually rested in his off time between training sessions.

But despite his apprehension, Kibum skated towards the sideboard in front of Taemin’s seat, and shot him a small smile of appreciation.

From this proximity, it was easier to see the sparkle in Taemin’s eyes, as if he downright glowed at the mere sight of the rink, the skates, and even the damn ice resurfacer machine. Kibum felt a pang of envy for the love Taemin had for the profession. Kibum himself wasn’t sure if he was still in it for the passion, or was just doing this out of spite to prove everyone wrong.

Nevertheless, it was refreshing to have someone other than his team watch him practising. Even Jonghyun had stopped coming by because he worried too much about his knee, and found it infuriating that Kibum refused to listen to his advice of taking it easy. He didn’t blame Jonghyun though. Kibum could be a stubborn when he wanted to be.

 

Kibum rested his elbows on the board, leaning forward to talk to Taemin.

“Give me fifteen minutes to shower and then we can go eat.”

“Okay,” Taemin nodded, “Can we get barbeque? Please?”

Kibum snorted. “And what about your diet?”

“What my trainer doesn’t know won’t kill him.”

Well, at least it eased Kibum’s heart that he was not the only person Taemin was being a menace to.

 

 

 

 

It was easy to forget that Taemin wasn’t just a skater, or a competitor, or even a dongsaeng. That he could also simply be an attractive man, one who smiled at him like he held the whole world in his hands just because Kibum had given him the best cut of the meat to eat.

 

It was ridiculous.

 

Absolutely ridiculous that Kibum was going along with this.

 

“Can I ask you something?”

Taemin was also extremely blunt. But Kibum appreciated that. At least he didn’t have to second guess his intentions about approaching him.

Not that he had figured out what his true intentions were, yet.

Kibum chewed on his rice slowly, wondering what Taemin could ask. Ultimately, his curiosity won.

“Go ahead.”

“Your accident—”

“What about it?” Kibum replied sharply.

Taemin flinched, and Kibum almost felt bad, but this was not something he readily shared with anyone. There was a reason why Jonghyun was his only close friend, and he had not been on a date in ages either. He was simply not equipped to open up, and felt no desire to do so either.

“I’m sorry, it must be an uncomfortable topic for you,” Taemin squirmed, “It’s just that—”

“Look,” Kibum said sternly, putting down his chopsticks, “It is an uncomfortable topic for me and I do not appreciate this, but since you have breached the subject already, just get on with it and ask me what you want to.”

Taemin looked at him with wide eyes, but nodded.

“You bounced back from it so nicely. How did you do it?” Taemin sighed, looking down at his plate. “Every time I go out on the rink— I have this fear that my career will be over. I don’t think I’m strong enough to keep going sometimes.”

Kibum softened, the tense, defensive line of his shoulders sagging. That dread was something he could understand well.

“Taemin, do you have any friends in skating?”

Taemin looked surprised at his question, but hesitantly shook his head.

Kibum sighed. That explained a lot. Taemin didn’t have anyone to share his worries with. Not related to his career at least. And Kibum wasn’t surprised either. Taemin was shy, and intimidatingly talented. It didn’t make the most conducive combination to making friends in the business.

And it seemed that Taemin thought Kibum could help. No wonder he had latched on to him.

 

Well, Kibum couldn’t be too annoyed with that sentiment.

 

“There’s this term I learnt in therapy. It’s called predicting future. It’s when a person predicts something bad before it happens, and imagines the worst outcome. I am prone to that– and it came true, in the Olympics. But Taemin, the reality is I can’t predict what will happen to me. I can’t predict when I will fall, or when I will excel. I won’t lie to you– we run a real risk every time we skate, but the same could be said about walking on the street.”

“The percentages of accidents of skating on ice and walking on the street are wildly different I’d say.”

Kibum huffed. “You asked for my advice. Take it or don’t.”

What a brat. Gosh.

“Sorry.” Taemin smiled, rapidly blinking up at him. “I understand what you mean. It’s hard to internalise it. This talking thing is hard.”

Kibum chuckled, rolling his eyes.

“That I could agree with. So why are you doing it?”

“What am I doing what?”

“Sitting here. Talking with me.”

Taemin smirked. “What if I said it’s because I find you hot?”

“Then I’d say you’d be lying.”

“Predicting my words hyung,” Taemin tsked. “You shouldn’t be doing that.”

 

Kibum contemplated throwing a glass of water on Taemin’s wide, teasing grin, but ultimately ended up just looking away, hoping the redness of his face could be explained away by the burning grill in between them, and the shiver that ran through his body when Taemin parted ways with him with a hug by the cold wind.

But there was no explaining away the skip his heart did when he shrugged off his coat at home, and found a piece of paper slipped into his front pocket, with a phone number scribbled in messy handwriting.

 

What had Kibum got himself into?

 

 

 

 

 

The preliminaries to the trials always had Kibum jittery. The trials were the main event, but the preliminaries were a check-in of sorts for the athletes, to filter out the best performances, and accordingly give them the order of performance for the trials. Starting from worst, to best.

It was the first time he would be meeting Taemin as a competitor.

 

And also would be seeing him for the first time since their dinner. Three weeks of intense practices had passed by in a blink, and now Taemin was here, warming up before him, his pretty face scrunched in concentration as he practised his spins right before his performance started. Kibum on the other hand stretched slowly, observing everyone else looking at him from the participants’ pit. Even relaxed, Taemin was commanding attention with his near perfect bodylines and revealing dark blue satin shirt. It was sometimes hard to correlate this image with the same man who had called him up at twelve in the night, without any preamble, to talk about a documentary on global warming he had just watched. Kibum had been mad, but had soon realised Taemin was just lonely, and didn’t mind Kibum falling back asleep to the sound of his voice.

 

It was a good thing Jonghyun was busy today, or else he would have pestered Kibum about the fond smile he shared with Taemin from opposite ends of the rink.

But the smile dropped quickly off his face, morphing into horror as time seemed to slow down. One moment Taemin was spinning gracefully into a Lutz jump, suspended in the air for a stunning few seconds, and the next moment his landing wobbled, his ankle bent in the wrong angle, and he was collapsing on the cold hard ice.

 

Kibum felt paralysed. A numbness spread throughout his limbs, unable to look away from the sight of Taemin clutching his leg in agony, unblinking on his crumpled figure even when the paramedics shoved past Kibum to reach the rink.

 

So much for predicting future.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Hyung, you came.”

“Why wouldn't I?” Kibum joked weakly, trying not to grimace at the sight of the thick plaster around Taemin's ankle. “What kind of hyung would I be if I didn't?”

The bright beam on Taemin's face was enough to dull the pain of the memories the sterile stench of the hospital brought to Kibum.

“My manager negotiated with the Association and they told me I could still have a shot at the Championship trials if I can recover by then,” Taemin pouted. Kibum could see the pain and disappointment flash in his eyes before it disappeared again. He decided not to press on it, personally knowing how hard it was to be vulnerable like this.

 

Kibum dragged a stool to sit beside him, smiling softly in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. It was different, to be alone with Taemin in the privacy that his hospital cabin offered. His manager seemed to have long left, with a bouquet of blush pink peonies on the side table. Taemin’s favourite flower, he recalled from an interview.

It was unnerving how much he knew about Taemin, and Kibum felt he should fess up about his online stalking ways eventually, but there were more important matters at hand.

 

“And what did the doctor say?”

“That I need a month of rest at least.” Taemin sighed.

“That’s not too bad,” Kibum reasoned. “You still have months till the trials.”

“I suppose. How did your prelims go?” Taemin smoothly changed topics. If Kibum thought he was evasive, it was clearly nothing compared to Taemin.

“They were fine. I got a good ranking. But it wasn’t the same without you.”

Kibum had received the best ranking in fact, a feat he knew was possible only because Taemin was out of the competition.

“I'm sure it wasn't. Must be hard without the best skater around.”

Mock pride. A defence mechanism Kibum understood well.

“It wasn't,” Kibum admitted honestly. “You are the best skater around.”

Taemin's eyes widened in surprise at the earnestness, a soft blush spreading throughout his face, and making his cheeks resemble the peonies beside him.

“They say I’ll have to stay in the hospital for a week more. Will you visit me?”

“Sure,” it slipped from his lips easily. Kibum had spent months in the hospital— a knee injury was career ending after all. Companionship from Jonghyun and his family was the only thing that had kept him going.

 

Also, he wanted to see Taemin too.

 

“Thank you.” Taemin grinned, eyes suddenly sliding past his face to a point behind him.

“Oh Minho hyung! You’re here!”

Kibum turned to appraise the new entrant— a tall man with a handsome face and a warm smile. Something about him bothered Kibum, and he was unsure if it was because of how infuriatingly charismatic he looked, or if it was the unbridled affection with which he looked at Taemin.

“Hey Taem, glad to see you have company,” Minho smiled, briefly bowing at Kibum, which he acknowledged with a small bow of his own, the knot in his chest tightening at the sight of Minho bending down next to press a small kiss on Taemin's forehead.

“Of course I have company,” Taemin puffed out his chest in retaliation, “Minho hyung meet Kibum hyung— he's the one who watches me practice—”

Kibum turned red. “That's not—”

Taemin was smirking teasingly. “And Kibum hyung, meet Minho. He's my friend and the boyfriend of my brother Jinki, who isn't here because he's on a business trip in Japan.”

Kibum blinked, earlier embarrassment forgotten.

 

Boyfriend of his brother.

 

Suddenly it was easier to reciprocate the handshake Minho was offering.

 

“I have heard a lot about you from Taemin.”

“I can't say the same about you.” Kibum furrowed his eyebrows.

Minho laughed good naturedly. “Yeah, he can be a bit of a private person.”

No kidding. Kibum had a lot left to learn about him, but now he was truly questioning his own intentions behind his keen interest in Taemin.

“I'm still here in the room you know,” Taemin piped up.

Kibum smiled unsurely. He felt like he was overstaying his welcome between Taemin and his family. A Taemin he barely knew outside of skating, and yet Kibum had come rushing as soon as he was done with his performance, heart in his throat in worry for him. Kibum was supposed to be focused. Concerned with himself. Not his competitors.

And he certainly should not be feeling so odd about seeing good looking men around Taemin.

“I’ll get going.” Kibum stood up from his seat. Some distance would do him some good.

“So soon?” That damned pout.

“I’m tired,” Kibum lied, “I’ll see you soon.”

“I’ll hold you to that!” Taemin beamed.

 

 

 

 

Kibum truly wished he hadn’t.

 

Especially when he spotted Taemin’s disgruntled face, high up in the stadium seats, glaring so intensely that Kibum was surprised he had not managed to burn a hole through Kibum’s skates.

 

In hindsight, ignoring Taemin’s existence for two weeks had been a bad idea. Considering it had left him with more crippling guilt than Kibum thought was possible.

 

Kibum slowly skated out of the rink, a lump in his throat while he took his sweet time in untying the laces and shrugging on his jacket, all the while feeling Taemin’s gaze on him when he walked up to his seat with his head down.

Kibum had been extremely focused for the duration of his practice— a tactic he used when he wanted to ignore everything else in his life. He wondered how long Taemin had been sitting there, watching him. Although, going by Taemin’s injury, Kibum already knew the answer to that. The entirety of it.

 

“Hi,” Kibum greeted softly, trying not to wince at the sight of Taemin’s plaster and crutches. His hair too, was messy— black roots peeking through, instead of the usual immaculately dyed and maintained blond hair. But it was nothing compared to his eyes– so filled with betrayal and hurt that it almost had Kibum reeling back.

“Hey,” Taemin’s voice was clipped.

“How are you?”

“I’m great. Not that you’d care.”

Kibum actually winced this time.

“I’m–”

“—You know, after you didn’t visit me at the hospital, a part of me was fine with it. I am sure you have trauma associated with hospitals, so I let it slide. But it’s been a week since I was discharged, and you haven't even bothered to send a text.”

“Have you eaten?” Kibum asked weakly instead, his mind unwilling to argue, or plead with Taemin at the moment.

Taemin scowled at his deflection, but reluctantly shook his head.

“I have been here for five hours watching you practise. What do you think?”

Kibum sighed. He had expected as much.

“No more eating out. We’ve had enough cheat days. My apartment. I’ll cook– and I’m driving.”

“You can cook for yourself. It doesn't matter if I maintain my diet or not.”

“Taemin. You need to be healthy and fit for when you will skate after your ankle is healed.”

“Why do you care?”

“Because without you I don’t have any real competition. I need you back here so you can keep me on my toes,” Kibum huffed out. “Happy now?”

Taemin still glowered, but he picked up one of his crutches, stumbling to walk ahead of Kibum as if to prove a point.

“If your cooking isn’t good we are ordering pizza.”

 

Kibum smiled softly, walking slowly after him so Taemin could have his moment. He had missed him, despite however many times he had tried to convince himself he didn’t. But Taemin didn’t need too much to edge back into his life again it seemed. He just needed to show up, and Kibum was helpless when it came to him.

 

 

 

 

“Okay.” Taemin wriggled in his seat, chopsticks rapidly picking up one kimbap roll after the other. “This is good.”

Kibum smirked smugly, eating his food far more slowly. He had less of an appetite knowing he would have to apologise. Properly. The shared silence between them in the car and during the meal prep had hardly helped matters.

But he was glad Taemin was at least distracted by the food enough to diffuse the tension just a little.

“Taemin.”

Taemin looked up at him. “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.”

 

Taemin put down his chopsticks, straightening up to give him his full attention. Kibum tried not to shrink under the intensity of his gaze. Taemin was unnervingly intimidating when he wanted to be.

It was kind of hot.

Kibum blinked himself out of it, focusing on Taemin sighing.

 

“You need to tell me why, Kibum.”

The lack of hyung in the sentence stung somewhat, though Kibum knew it was well deserved.

“I care about you Taemin—”

“Sure,” Taemin snorted. “Great way of showing that.”

“I scared myself,” Kibum continued, undeterred, determined to make up for his absence with some honesty. “I scared myself with how much I care about you.”

“What are you so afraid of?”

“I'm–” Kibum paused, stumped by Taemin's bluntness.

 

I'm afraid of letting someone in.

 

“Yes?” Taemin prodded, an adorable scrunch between his eyebrows and a natural pout on his lips.

 

Kibum took a deep breath.

 

“The universe of my life– it's very small. There are my parents, my manager who has supported me ever since I started competing professionally, my best friend Jonghyun, and that's about it. This is what I know. This is all I had after I recovered from my injury, my sponsorships and other friends having left me long back.”

“And I do not fit into this universe of yours?” Taemin meant to sound defiant, but he looked so small at the moment. So young. So lonely.

 

Kibum was forced to remember that Taemin was just twenty-two. Old enough to understand pain and loneliness, but too young to deal with it. Too sheltered, as a full time athlete in training.

 

“No,” Kibum chuckled in disbelief, forcing himself to keep up with his streak of honesty. “That's the thing. You fit in too well.”

“You are so confusing, hyung. You know that right?”

Kibum smiled at the honorific being back in use again.

“I'm sorry,” he repeated. “I'm really sorry.”

“I don't have many friends either, just saying.” Taemin dropped his gaze down to his plate. “It's hard making them when you're spending twelve hours a day in training, and sleeping when you're not.”

“I know. I realised that when I quickly went from being your idol to the person you could call up at two a.m to talk about whales.”

“And yet you snubbed me for the past two weeks while I was struggling.”

 

They were talking in circles. Kibum was tired.

Tired of this conversation. Tired of his own stubbornness. He clearly didn’t want to ignore Taemin either.

 

“I'm sorry for being an idiot Taemin. How can I make it up to you?”

Taemin met his eyes again, a smile on his face. The first one Kibum had received from him today. It was hard not to smile back in the face of something so beautiful.

“Now we're talking.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Taemin.”

“Yeah?”

“This is emotional blackmail.”

Taemin grinned. “Precisely.”

 

Kibum looked at the controller in his hands, then back to the TV flashing some sort of action game. He didn't even want to bother to know the name.

 

“Look, I can't walk for too long, so I can't go out.” Taemin tried to explain himself, “And you have limited hours outside the rink. So here. A compromise.”

“A compromise works both ways, Taemin. This is what you want.”

“Remember you're the one who wanted to make it up to me. For the two weeks of radio silence, as a symbolic gesture, we are meeting two times a week. No take backs.”

 

A deal Kibum had made under the pressing circumstances.

Circumstances that consisted of Taemin's whining, Kibum's glaring, an exchange of addresses, and a promise to reply to Taemin's texts with a date and time to inform him when he was free to hang out at his place.

So now here he was, regretting his words far less than he initially thought, and quickly finding out that pitting two professional competitors against each other in a game was a bad idea. Especially when Kibum was a fast learner who had the basics down after the first two losses, and Taemin an unrelenting rival who refused to go easy on him despite knowing Kibum had not touched a game control before in his life.

But it was fun, more fun than he’d ever admit, even when Taemin smiled smugly at Kibum’s deep and fervent commitment at winning against him, although it had been three hours since they had started.

 

“I’m hungry.” Taemin paused the game, laughing at the way Kibum groaned. He was so sure he was going to win this round.

“We are not ordering in.”

“I don’t have any food in my fridge.”

“Lucky that I brought some to cook.”

“So that is what the huge bag is for!” Taemin gasped, referring to the bag of groceries Kibum had lugged into his apartment.

Kibum nodded, admitting defeat and making his way to Taemin’s tiny open plan kitchen instead.

“I figured you wouldn’t have fresh vegetables or anything at home, and I was right. I’m stocking up your fridge while I cook the kimchi jjigae.”

 

There was silence while Kibum washed the vegetables, before he heard a rustle of clothes, the snap of crutches, and a face pressing onto his shoulder.

 

“Thank you hyung.”

 

Kibum froze, a furious blush rising through his face. Taemin probably wanted to hug him from behind, but with his injured ankle, had instead settled with pressing against him and hooking his chin over his shoulder. He could feel Taemin's body warmth, and his breath on his neck.

 

He was close. So close.

 

“What for?” He managed to choke out, slightly leaning back into Taemin’s embrace.

“For doing this. For being here.”

“It’s the least I could do Taemin.” The guilt was eating him up inside. “I am truly sorry for how I behaved. I don’t want you to think I’m a bad person.”

 

Taemin’s breath was almost tickling him now. Had he moved closer?

 

“Are you really that scared of letting people in?”

Kibum tried to shrug in reply, but with Taemin’s face digging onto his shoulder blade, he opted for a simple nod.

“Then thank you for trying to let me in. Although, I wouldn’t encourage that every person who wants to get close to you should get themselves injured.”

A sincere comment followed with a joke to diffuse the rawness of it. Maybe Kibum and Taemin weren’t so different after all.

He turned his head to face Taemin. They were only centimetres apart.

“It’s a two way street. How come I didn’t get to know you even have a brother until you got yourself injured? Not to mention that he’s gay too. The aren’t we all gay comment just makes so much sense now.”

Taemin grinned, “You never asked.”

Kibum huffed in annoyance. “How would I know what to ask? I don’t have any siblings so forgive me if it’s not my first thought—”

He stopped abruptly, his pulse quickening when he noted Taemin’s gaze dropping down to his lips.

“I–” Kibum stuttered as Taemin unwittingly his own plush, pink lips “—I should get back to cooking.”

Taemin finally blinked back to look at his eyes, like he hadn’t even realised what he was doing.

“Right. I should let you– I really am hungry.”

Kibum chuckled, his chest feeling a lot less heavy now that Taemin had moved away from him.

“Oh hyung, what movie should I play while we eat? Are you more of an action person or a romcom person? Or hey maybe we could even watch horror—”

 

Kibum shook his head as he prepped the vegetables for dicing. Taemin was endearing, and persistent, and despite all the attempts Kibum had made to push him away, Taemin was also a part of his life.

 

 

 

 

 

Taemin’s recovery was slow. Faster than Kibum’s own was, obviously, but it felt too slow for Kibum’s liking. He already missed seeing Taemin dancing on the ice, missed his racy outfits, missed the way Taemin would place a reverent palm on the ice before he delivered the performance of a lifetime.

 

The Taemin of now resembled more of the baby chicks he liked. Wobbly and hesitant. But just like them too, at least he looked adorable while taking his first steps on the rink in two months.

Skating was muscle memory for them. The apprehensiveness on ice was all trauma. All fright of slipping once again, mixed with depression and intrusive thoughts of incompetency.

Kibum had been there, he had beaten that obstacle.

And he was going to make sure Taemin did too.

 

“A few more steps Taemin!”

 

Taemin glared at him. He was already getting a tough time from his physical therapist and his manager for his unwillingness to skate again, but Kibum was also unforgiving. He stood in the middle of the rink, skating and spinning around Taemin, mouth set in a firm line.

“Don’t you have to like practice? Why are you even acting as a babysitter?”

“Well, this is eating into my practice time. You could remedy that though by skating with me and letting me practise some spins. Have you ever done pair skating? Just for fun? I used to do some in my ice shows back in the day.”

As he had expected, it baited Taemin. His face flashed with interest, his skates sliding over to Kibum with much more dexterity than he had started out with.

“Show me,” he said breathlessly.

 

Kibum was more than happy to.

 

 

 

Taemin looked perfectly composed with his hands on his waist, but Kibum’s heart felt like it was thundering in his throat. He had asked Taemin to take the traditionally ‘masculine’ role in the pair despite being the shorter one out of the two, because it was far more important to let Taemin lead and skate, but Kibum had not anticipated his own reaction to letting Taemin hold him in his arms.

 

“You okay?” Taemin asked, eyebrows furrowed in worry at Kibum’s rigidity, and Kibum wanted to laugh at how their positions had been reversed.

“All good,” he reassured. “Want to start with leading me into a slow circle?”

Taemin nodded, a concentrated pout on his lips as Kibum brushed his hand over his' to guide the palm on his waist to the middle of his spine, and then leaning back on it and arching his body to give Taemin the momentum he needed to curve them into a circle.

It was unsurprisingly clumsy, both for Taemin's nervousness and their collective lack of coordination, but Kibum giggled at the sensation of skating with someone else. They competed in a lonely sport, both inside the rink and outside of it, so it was refreshing to share this experience. To have fun, for once.

“You have a beautiful neck.”

Kibum raised his head to meet Taemin's eyes, laughing at the sudden absurdity of the comment.

“That's a strange compliment.”

“Is it strange if it's true? You looked pretty with your head arched like that.”

Ironically enough, Kibum felt the back of his neck burn by Taemin's forwardness.

“You are strange,” he deflected, hoping his face didn't look as flustered as he felt.

Taemin smirked. “I never denied it.”

“Look,” Kibum avoided his gaze, “You're skating so smoothly already.”

Taemin let out a squeak of surprise. Kibum had distracted him enough to forget about his worries, and let his muscle memory kick in.

“Oh. Wow,” he muttered in amazement. “Do you think we have a future in pair skating? We could make headlines. Two male skaters competing as a pair for the first time.”

“Careful there tiger. Next thing I know you'll be talking about outlawing heterouality all over the globe.”

Taemin laughed. Clear, loud and happy.

Kibum was happy too. More than he ever thought he could be.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“So when are you telling him, hey, I know we ice skate, but do you wanna play ice hockey with our tongues?”

“That’s the worst ing pickup line I have ever heard Jonghyun. No wonder you can’t land a date for the life of you.”

“At least I try to go on dates because life doesn’t hand me over people on a silver platter. Unlike you Kibum. You have Taemin right here and you refuse to do anything about it.”

“I’m not going to date Taemin.”

“Why?”

“Because—” Kibum faltered. Because what.

“See? You can’t even come up with a proper excuse.”

Kibum threw a pillow on Jonghyun’s face, sinking down lower into his couch.

“C’mon Kibum,” Jonghyun pleaded. “You’ve already done the hard part. You opened up to him. Now you just need to drive it home.”

“I invited you home to watch a movie, not to be my life coach.”

“I wouldn’t be a life coach if you desperately didn’t need one.”

 

Kibum scowled. It had been ages since he had hung out with Jonghyun– his free time had been all hogged by Taemin, and he had almost forgotten how self righteous and preachy Jonghyun could get.

Although at the back of his head, he knew Jonghyun was right.

 

“Me and Taemin talk, you know. We exchanged numbers last time.”

 

How could Kibum not know? Jonghyun and Taemin had gotten along as smoothly as the ice resurfacer machine on the rink surface. It had been somewhat of a mistake to invite them both over for dinner at his place last Saturday, but it had warmed his heart to see how nicely Taemin fit into his little universe.

 

“What do you two even talk about?”

“You. Mostly. Sometimes about figure skating and me retiring, and life, I suppose.”

“He isn’t thinking of retiring is he?” Kibum was alarmed. Taemin was back to practising regularly. Not as intensely, but he was working his way well into his old form.

“No,” Jonghyun chuckled. “I can’t believe that’s what you got out of the sentence. We talk about you a lot, Kibum. He likes you. I can tell this much. I know you can tell too– and that is exactly why you’re running away from it.”

Kibum sighed.

“Well, if you aren’t going to watch the movie, and you refuse to stop talking about this, I might as well go and watch Taemin practice. He should be in his last two hours by now.”

Jonghyun shrugged, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “I’m not stopping you. Take your skates too, who knows, maybe you’ll play ice hockey with him.”

 

Kibum stomped over Jonghyun’s foot in retaliation as he stood up, but on second thoughts, took his skates along with him after all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

“He likes you. I can tell this much. I know you can tell too– and that is exactly why you’re running away from it.”

 

Kibum felt like he was living in a moment of deja vu. The exact moment where he had stayed back to watch Taemin for the first time. He felt the same sense of wonder now as he had felt then. The same awe, the same admiration, and envy. But this time the jealousy was of a different kind. This time he wanted to know him not to beat him at his own game, but to hold him, to kiss him, to figure out what was going through that mind of his’ when he smiled at Kibum like that, when he jumped gracefully and landed perfectly and asked him ‘hyung did you see that?’

 

He saw everything. Except for his own feelings of course.

 

Jonghyun’s words burned like fire under his skin, and he couldn’t wait till Taemin’s team could vacate the premises and he could spend some time with him.

 

“Hey hyung.” Taemin bent forward onto the sideboard to talk to him. “I am the last booking on the rink. Want to skate with me before they close up?”

 

He did. He was glad he wasn’t the only one who was addicted to skating with each other now.

 

Kibum had always worried about going back to competitive skating just to prove a point, which would lead to an artistic and professional burnout, but now, with Taemin on the ice with him, his hand now correctly supporting his back, his fingers entangled with Kibum’s on the other, he was finding his love for the sport once again.

 

“You are oddly quiet today,” Taemin commented after a few minutes of aimless downright ballroom dancing. They were chest to chest now.

“I have a lot on my mind.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“Yes,” Kibum shocked him with his quick reply. “I do want to talk about it.”

Taemin nodded, skidding to a halt. If he was surprised at Kibum refusing to let go of his hand even when they weren’t dancing together, he didn’t show it, choosing to lean back on the sideboard for support and let Kibum start speaking.

“Do you know why I started watching you practice?”

Taemin shook his head. There was a glint of excitement in his eyes. His curiosity comforted Kibum somehow.

 

“I was doing opposition research. I hated how perfect you were. Your choreographies were perfect, your jumps were perfect, even your goddamn face is perfect.”

Taemin bit his lip to try and hold in his laughter, shoulders shaking in a silent wheeze when Kibum glared at him.

“So anyway,” Kibum cleared his throat, “I stalked you. On social media. I followed your instagram through a random account. Saw your interviews. Is that weird? It's definitely weird.”

 

“I mean, it's not any weirder than me saying hey I watched you as a kid, you're the reason why I skate, and now that I have seen you in person, I have the hots for you.”

“You have what?” Kibum felt dizzy.

Taemin laughed outright, his chuckles faltering as Kibum remained silent.

“What? You didn't know? I have been trying to be so obvious about flirting with you. I figured you're ignoring it because you don't look at me the same way, which is fine, but you didn't seem to mind it either, so I didn't stop. I like flirting with you.”

 

“.”

 

The lingering touches. The teasing smiles. The easy compliments. Kibum wasn't imagining all of it. Taemin wasn't simply just like that. It meant something.

 

“Hyung?”

“Right.” Kibum breathed out. “Give me a moment.”

 

Taemin waited with wide eyes, mouth parted in confusion. He was so beautiful. The overhead lights gave almost an ethereal glow to his freshly dyed brown hair, his porcelain smooth skin, the dip of his philtrum that was so uniquely wide, but looked perfect leading into his pillowy lips. He wondered how it would feel to kiss them. He wondered how it would feel to kiss Taemin.

 

“Hyung, you’re scaring me.”

“Can I kiss you?”

For the first time in a while it was Taemin who looked flustered, a shy flush on his cheeks as he nodded quickly, as if answering too late would make Kibum change his mind.

Kibum tipped forward, gripping his hips and capturing him in a soft, tender kiss. Taemin’s limbs seemed to be frozen for a split second before they slipped up Kibum’s shoulders, pulling him closer, lips melding onto his’ more fervently.

There was something to be said about the enthusiasm Taemin kissed back with– his mouth so eager and playful and good that Kibum couldn't help but smile and bite down on Taemin's bottom lip, resulting in a breathy moan so sinful that it made other parts of Kibum react.

 

“As ing hot as you are hyung, the sideboard is really digging into my back. Can we continue this at home?”

 

“Yeah,” Kibum laughed. “Sure thing.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

When Kibum had attended a figure skating performance for the first time as a kid, the sound of friction of the razor sharp skating blades cutting on the ice had been electrifying.

 

Numerous years and championships later, the feeling hadn't changed. He still had the same air of reverence watching the skaters, his fellow competitors, perform magic with their bodies. But this time, for this World Championship, he had eyes only for one of them.

 

 

 

Lee Taemin stepped onto the rink in a sparkling tight violet shirt, black hair parted and styled away from his forehead, and looking every bit of the figure skating God his fans likened him to.

 

He placed a palm on the ice, whispering a soft prayer, as was his habit before performing, but now he also had a new one— looking over at the participant's pit and flashing a dashing smile at Kibum.

 

And Taemin was ready.

 

Ready to deliver the performance of a lifetime.

 

 

 

It was hard to do opposition research, when the opposition happened to be your boyfriend.

 

 

 

 

—The End—