"He is literally perfection."

"Oh, jesus christ."

"Kyungsoo said he sings, can you believe that?"

"Someone save me," Luhan pleads, both legs dangling off the thin ledge, head held between his hands.

"He looks good in anything," Kris sighs against the scoreboard, eyes on the game below.

"He's wearing a uniform. Everybody is wearing the same clothes. I don't–" Luhan knocks his cast against a supporting beam and hisses. He hugs his broken leg in, glaring at the distant turf. "Honestly, can you even hear me?"

"What do you think his type is?"

"I am going to puke," Luhan threatens, sighing in relief as the whistle is blown and there it is–that's the end of the game. He glances up at the clipboard held loosely between Kris' hands. There's uneven hearts scrawled all over the page. He screws up his face. "Weren't you supposed to be taking notes on plays or something?"

Kris shrugs and leaps down from the ledge, making his way over to the field.

"You're a rotten manager!" Luhan shouts after him, reaching for his crutches.

Clipboard clutched close to his chest, Kris nears the football team with a smile plastered on his face. Minseok is the first to reach the pile of towels by Kris' side, yanking off his goalkeeper gloves and grabbing one, he crumples onto the bench.

"Nice win."

"Barely," the team co-captain groans, accepting the offered clipboard, giving it an odd stare before Kris launches forward and rips off the top page, stuffing it into his pocket and looking away. Minseok says nothing and flips through the schedule, handing towels to the rest of his teammates. "It's going to get harder," he murmurs to himself but Kris isn't paying any attention. He's watching a group of defenders rapidly approaching, chattering animatedly and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. The opposing team is already packing up to leave.

Jongdae is reaching for a towel when Minseok stops him. "It's your turn to take down the nets."

"Cap," Jongdae groans, "Luhan can do it!" Minseok shoots him a look and the defender rolls his eyes. "On it."

"Kris, there's a few stray balls out there."

He doesn't need to be told twice.

Minseok makes room for Luhan as the captain of the team hobbles over. "You know, you're not helping him," the crippled man snaps, stretching out his leg.

Minseok shrugs. "It's cute."

Kris has rounded three dirt-covered footballs, and he is proud of his accomplishment. He looks up and apparently the team has retreated to the locker room, but Jongdae is still removing the second net. He's standing the balls of his feet and Kris feels a fond smile working its way onto his face. He hurries over to be of assistance, but stops once he can see the defined calf muscles spattered with grass and dirt, and strong, sinewy muscles through the thin material of the green shirt. Something huge wells up in Kris' chest and he really can't help himself.

"I think... I'm in love with you."

Jongdae freezes and turns. Kris' heart stops. The crickets silence their chirping. The world stops spinning.

"Right. And, um, who the are you?"

Kris bolts.

*

It helps that he has the company of chicken soup and a biology textbook as he mopes in the dining hall the next day, because honestly, what was he thinking?

He came home to his dorm room last night and flopped onto his bed and stayed there for the remainder of the day. His roommate had brought him food and left him alone for the most part, something he was infinitely grateful for.

Focused on the intricacies of cellular reproduction, Kris doesn't look up when someone sits down across from him. After all, there are only two dining halls on campus and both are usually filled to the brim with students during peak times.

"So, you're the guy from yesterday."

Kris stops breathing. His eyes flick upward and he wishes he could melt into the floor through osmosis.

Jongdae smirks. "Hmm. You don't look all that bad, but I don't date strangers, sorry. Strict policy."

Kris notes his exits.

"But that can be changed."

Despite a mighty effort to retain composure, Kris is pretty sure he looks like a kid in a candy store.

Jongdae chuckles. "Look, I'm doing really bad in my English class."

Scenarios start popping up in Kris' head. Jongdae wants him to be his tutor. Late night dates at cafes, pulling all-nighters in the library, the possibility of seeing Jongdae's room. It'll be strictly professional up until Jongdae aces his first test, then they'll celebrate and–

"So it would be great if you could do my work for me," Jongdae finishes. At Kris' expression, he adds, "don't worry, I'll pay you."

"Um. I," Kris is painfully aware of how bad he is at speaking. Especially speaking to gorgeous, talented, ruthless dream killers. "I don't. I mean, I can't-"

"Ah, he has a moral compass," Jongdae nods in understanding. "That won't do. Too bad though, Luhan said you were great at English." And just like that, he picks up his things and leaves.

Kris takes deep breaths and stares at the spot the brunet had previously occupied. "Bye," he murmurs.

*

"Alright, so I think we can work something out."

Kris is going to have a heart attack if Jongdae springs another surprise meeting on him like this. He gently sets down the book he had been pulling from the shelf when Jongdae had appeared out of nowhere and Kris had almost knocked down the entire bookcase.

Why hello, Jongdae, he wants to say, nice weather we're having and nice to see you and your hair and your face and–yeah no, maybe it's a good thing he can't speak.

"English isn't really that important, but you know what is?" The shorter man pauses for dramatic effect. "Food. Food is kind of very important and I though meal plans were dumb so I never got one. But now I'm broke. You have one so you should give it to me."

"But, it's on my ID," Kris lamely holds up the laminated card with an outdated photo of him back when his hair was dark and long and he wore it in a ponytail until Yixing accidentally cut it off in a freak (it was a dare from Luhan) accident.

Jongdae huffs. "You know, you're really not much use for someone who's supposedly pining over my fantastic body." He gives Kris another once over before vacating the library.

Kris refrains from telling Jongdae he'd honestly give him anything his heart desired.

Barely.

*

Kris works off steam by shooting hoops in the empty basketball court around the time all the dormitories are locked and most of the students have turned in for the night, or have holed up in the lounge or library.

Throwing basketball after basketball helps loosen the tension that gathers in his shoulders after a long day and it keeps his mind off of ethereal burn–homework. It keeps his mind off of homework.

As another swooshes into the net and Kris jogs over to retrieve it, the squeak of sneakers starts up behind him and then the tell-tale sound of a ball being dribbled accompanies it. Ball secure between his palms, Kris turns just in time to see Jongdae attempt a layup, but really fails horribly and only just manages to edge the ball over the metal rim. He collects his ball and turns to Kris, triumphant.

"Bet you didn't think I could do that."

Extremely elegantly, Kris utters, "um," in reply.

"So, this time, I've got an offer you can't refuse." Jongdae tries to dribble the ball between his legs, fails and hits his thigh, and settles for just bouncing the ball up and down.

Kris hopes that it isn't selling his organs.

"One on one. If you win, you... I don't know. What do you like? Wait. What's your name?"

"It's, uh, Kris."

Jongdae snaps his fingers. "Right, right. Luhan said something about that. Well, Kris. If you win this championship match against me, I have to buy your textbooks for next semester. If I win, you have to buy me food and coffee whenever I want it. Also, you have to suffer through my game this weekend because I want coffee afterwards. Okay? Deal?"

Kris has to go to the game anyway. He is the manager of the team. "... okay?"

"No backing out!" Jongdae warns seconds before he shoots the ball into the basket and announces, "that's one for me, zero for you."

Kris is competitive, but Jongdae has a game tomorrow and he doesn't want to hurt him, so he gives the boy a wide berth. Jongdae, however, does not think the same way. He pushes past Kris and whenever the taller man manages to get ahold of the ball, he throws himself against Kris and grins when the shocked man lets go.

After an hour, Jongdae has fifty-five points. Kris has one. It's a pity point.

Jongdae whoops and does a victory lap, launching the ball at the wall. As he runs out, he shouts a reminder to Kris about tomorrow and gives him his coffee order.

Even after the double doors slam shut, Kris can't seem to wipe the smile off his face.

*

This game is different. For one, Jongdae seems to be searching for something the entire first quarter, and he finally finds it when he stares at the scoreboard and he sees Kris standing beside Luhan, coffee cup hidden beneath the fold of his jacket to block the chilly fall breeze. Kris doesn't miss the flash of a grin before the game resumes.

It's also different because this team is much more violent than those in the past. Already, two players have had to be substituted, and Luhan and Kris wince every time a player is slammed to the ground.

"They know this isn't American football, right?" Luhan questions at one point.

"I think someone needs to tell them." Kris answers honestly.

Minseok is covered in grass stains, and has a split lip. Luhan has stolen the clipboard and is furiously jotting down flaws and improvements for the team when it happens. An attacker from the opposing team plows right into Jongdae and the brunet goes down. Hard.

Kris is running before the whistle is blown. He reaches the fallen defender at the same time as Minseok, not knowing what to do.

"Are you okay?" Minseok demands, staring intently down at his teammate.

Jongdae's eyes flutter open. "Winded," he weezes. "I'm winded."

Minseok groans. "Here let me–"

Kris leans down and pulls Jongdae into a seated position, working a limp arm around his neck and hoisting the man up, other hand on a thin waist. "I've got him." Minseok nods and turns to negotiate with the referee. He signals to the coach.

Kris half-carries Jongdae off the field, settling them both on the bench and immediately checking the man for injuries, bruises, fractures or worse. When he pokes around his ribs, he earns a whimper and immediately stops, looking up with worried eyes.

"After," Jongdae bats him away, voice rough. Then he gives him a pointed look. "Coffee."

Kris runs back to the scoreboard and Luhan hands him the still-warm cup with an eye roll. Kris thanks him and returns to Jongdae. "Here."

The man merely holds the cup for a few minutes, then takes a tentative sip. His eyes widen and he makes a small noise in the back of his throat.

Kris frowns. "Is it not what you wanted?"

"No," Jongdae hums, "you got it right." He takes another sip and sighs. "Well. We're ed. For the game."

"Well, you never know," Kris starts, taking a seat beside the brunet. "Something could happen and–"

"Yeah, no. These guys made it to the championships last year. We really don't have a chance." He prods around his midsection until he winces and Kris slaps his hands away with a deep frown. Jongdae chuckles. "So. Kris. You're going to have to buy me a pretty nice lunch to make up for the game."

Kris nods. "What do you want?"

Jongdae laughs, drowning out the sound of the shouts from the players. "You're really up for it?"

Kris nods.

Jongdae sets down his coffee and begins listing what he wants for lunch, but Kris doesn't miss the way the shorter man casually leans into his side and Jongdae doesn't miss the way Kris' smile broadens until all he can see are pink gums.

The team loses the game, but by the end of the day Jongdae is trying to cajole Kris into pulling an all-nighter with him in the library for his English test.

Kris is ecstatic.

**