Author’s Note: Ah, I'm a little later on updating this than I had hoped, but life is such a distraction. I am not one hundred precent happy with it, and that could be because I did not edit it as many times as I edited my TaoRis story, "Say Something" (by the way, still working on that new one I promised) but I feel like this story will get better as it goes, so fingers crossed. Regardless, thank you for all of the subscriptions and the words of encouragement, and I hope you all enjoy it!

Just to clarify, I know South Korea was not a part of the Mixed Team skating at Sochi this year (ten nations compete in it, based on tops scores at international competitions), but just provided skaters for different events. But this is fiction, so I’m taking some creative liberty and twisting the facts to fit what I want.

Also, I’m not really that in-the-know with girl groups (besides 2NE1, but even that is lacking), so if my representation of them, however brief, is off, please forgive me. I know nothing of their personalities besides what I could find on google, so I literally picked these girls almsot at random. The criteria was younger that 21 for my story. Both IU (Jieun) and f(x)’s Krystal (Soojung) were chosen based on their envolvement in the reality show “Kim Yuna's Kiss and Cry” (figure skating idols!). Sulli (Jinri) gets thrown in because of her close friendship with Krystal.

I refered to the characters by their Korean names, so I hope that doesn't confuse anyone. Also, if you see something wrong with the honorifics, let me know. I’ve never written them into my stories, and if I am using them incorrectly I’d be grateful for the correction (as long as it is done politely).

“Ladies and Gentleman, I present the team that will represent South Korea in the Mixed Team Competition at the 2014 Winter Olympics at Sochi.”

Applause filled the press conference as Kyungsoo stood alongside his newly announced teammates, a small smile on his face as the camera’s flashed. It felt good to be representing his country again in this year’s Olympics, and standing here with the others was evidence of how hard he had worked. At the age of twenty-one, he would be entering his second Olympic competition, and he had already been pegged as “a competitor to watch” according to the predictions for this year’s winter games.

The last time he had stood in an Olympic ice rink, he had been only seventeen, a child who was just happy to be there. The announcers had called him “a skater who is here for the experience,” meaning that he was a skater who was not supposed to stand on the podium. He was supposed to just compete and become one of the names that no one ever notices, down in the bottom of the ranks. Nobody, except maybe his own country, was supposed to know who the seventeen year old Do Kyungsoo was in 2010.

But that had not stopped him from skating his way into fourth place, missing the bronze by a mere two points.

Now he was returning as a favorite. In four years, he had gained more experience, learned more difficult jumps, and competed in multiple international competitions. Out of the seven he competed in, he finished first in one, placing in another five. He liked those odds. And so did the judges of South Korea, who had ranked his routines in first amongst the national solo competitors as each skater competed for an Olympic spot. It was an added bonus that South Korea would be represented in the Mixed Team competition this year as well. Only ten nations could compete, and to earn a spot in the recently added sport was an honor.

Six of the ten South Korean figure skaters who would be attending the Olympics would also compete in the Team events. A men’s solo skater, a ladies’ solo skater, a pairs team, and an ice dancing team would make up the ranks and compete against the other nine nations. Only the best of the Olympic skaters would compete, and Kyungsoo found himself in the solo men’s skating position.

A nudge to his right side had Kyungsoo turning his attention to a smiling Kim Joonmyun, his partner for the pair’s team Jung Soojung linked to his arm with a wide smile. While Kyungsoo did not know Soojung well outside of recognizing her accomplishment on the ice, this being her first Olympic run, Joonmyun was a familiar face. He had debuted at the last Olympics with Kyungsoo, and being young and wide-eyed at the idea of competing in such a large competition, they had inevitably clung to one another throughout the games.

Though Kyungsoo considered himself somewhat of a loner, forever pegged as the kid who was far too quiet and far too serious growing up, he saw Joonmyun as the exception to the rule. The elder was always looking out for him, keeping in touch and Kyungsoo had grown rather close to him in the years they had known one another.

“Another year for the taking, eh Kyungsoo-yah?” Joonmyun asked quietly, speaking low enough for only the two of them to hear.

Kyungsoo chuckled at the phrase. It was an inside joke between them, originating from the last Olympics. They had heard one of the Russian competitors in an interview saying those words in answer to what his expectations of that year’s winter games would be. The over-confident competitor had finished twentieth in the games, much to their amusement, and even now they used the words in jest.

“It certainly feels like a good year,” he replied with a grin. “Our team is strong, so I look forward to the competitions.”

“We’ve got a bunch of young members this year,” Joonmyun commented, his gaze sweeping the others who stood in the line.

“You are the oldest, hyung. You’re practically an old man with us,” Kyungsoo teased, earning a soft snort from the other.

“You’re one to talk, being second oldest,” Joonmyun pointed out, and Kyungsoo only nodded as his own eyes followed his friend’s line of vision. He had made it a point to know each name of his teammates, plus their skills on the ice, gathering as much knowledge as he could before the press conference to see where their strengths and weaknesses would be. Out of the six of them, only three had been to the Olympics before, but Kyungsoo doubted their youth would hold them back.

Next to Soojung was the ladies’ single competitor and the only female skater in this team who had Olympic experience, Lee Jieun. She was a beautiful girl, graceful and refined and known for her ability to perform routines seamlessly with near perfect technique in her jumps. With grace and an air of innocence, she had won the hearts of the nation in the last games only to come in tenth, but she was determined to place this year.

Beyond her was Choi Jinri, who waved cutely at the cameras that still flashed around them. She was the youngest of the group, the least experienced, but she was somewhat of a prodigy, the product of two former skaters who had instilled the love of the ice in her since she was old enough to lace up a pair of skates. This would be her first Olympic run, but it would be unwise to count her out.

The last competitor, Jinri’s partner for the ice dancing segment, was the only one who remained an enigma. Sure, Kyungsoo knew his name and his rank in the skating world, but he had no understanding of the younger male.

Kim Jongin was, for lack of a better world, unorthodox. As far as figure skating went, Kyungsoo could do without the ice dancing segment – he preferred his technique to the emotional displays ice dancing consisted of – but he tried his best to focus on the skill of the ice dancers and recognize their skill for what is was.

Jongin, however, was completely reckless on the ice. He’d go into jumps at breakneck speeds, incorporate contemporary dances and clothing styles to his routines that seemed more emotion-based than skating-based, and had an almost explicit appeal. His jumps and tricks were not always executed the best, a little shaky at times, but the judges seemed to always be seduced by his performances and somehow he would always receive high marks. It baffled Kyungsoo.

Technique earned points. Not heated glances and gyrating hips set to a strong base. But Jongin was slowly climbing to the top of the ranks. He had only been in the skating world for two years, and at nineteen displayed a lot of raw, unrefined talent. But no matter how skilled he was, Kyungsoo could not get past the rejection of traditional skating that followed the newcomer.

Even now, as he watched the man smile for the cameras with his hand on Jinri’s lower back, he could feel the difference in their mannerisms. For the most part, the skaters were all standing with their shoulders back, polite and formal and looking every bit the trained figure skaters they were. The girls gave small waves, the men sometimes a nod or two, but other than that it was all business. And then there was Jongin, his stance relaxed and his smile on the side of playful. It was nearly a smirk, Kyungsoo thought with disbelief. Figure skaters never smirked at press conferences. Yes, they played different roles on the ice, showed different emotions – though Kyungsoo was one of the few who shied away from the more overt expressions and settled for “contemplative” or “determined” in his routines – but never at a press event.

But here was this kid, acting as if he was in a photo shoot for some big shot fashion magazine. Kyungsoo really didn’t know what to think of him or his skating style, didn’t know his reason for being so ready to throw away all of the traditional principles figure skating was set on, but he knew how he felt about the man’s choices. It was rash, unprofessional, and just all together irritating.

He hadn’t realized he was staring at Jongin until the young man looked in his direction, eyes locking with his and the smile growing a little wider. Kyungsoo stiffened at being caught, swearing quietly under his breath as he turned to look back towards the cameras. This was exactly what he meant. The man had a seductive quality, ensnaring the minds of others with only a look. It wasn’t natural. It wasn’t even a real skill, in Kyungsoo’s opinion. A trick to use at the bar, trying to pick up a one night stand, but not one for the rink.

He pushed the annoyance out of his mind and put a smile on his face, refocusing his attention of showing the press he was ready for the Olympics. Only a moment later they were being ushered off of the makeshift stage and out of the room.

The minute there were out of the sight of the photographers and reporters, Joonmyun fell into step and clapped him on the shoulder. “This is going to be great,” he said confidently. “I can feel it. With a team like this one, South Korea will surely come home with the gold.”

“We do have a good chance,” Kyungsoo agreed quietly, watching as the team split up. Jinri tugged Jongin down the hall to catch up with Soojung, who had gone ahead to the catering table that had been provided, leaving Joonmyun and Kyungsoo to talk by themselves. The young man put on a show of not being hungry, but sneakily stole some sweets from Soojung’s plate when she wasn’t looking, much to the amusement of Jinri.

“Jieun will be a favorite,” Kyungsoo notes, watching as the girl in question excused herself to take a phone call.

Joonmyun hums his agreement. “And as long as you don’t fall, you’ll make out fine,” he says with a wicked grin, earning a small shove from Kyungsoo.

“Very funny,” Kyungsoo said with a roll of his eyes. “You just worry about keeping up, old man. Poor Soojung might skate circles around you if you get tired.”

Joonmyun waves his off half-heartedly before turning his attention back to the three crowding the food. “I think the ice dancing will be interesting with those two,” the older man commented, nodding towards the group as he spoke. Kyungsoo watched the three younger competitors talk amongst themselves, eating and laughing now that the cameras were gone. “The press has been giving them a lot of attention. Jinri for her talent and her parents, and Jongin for his style.”

When Jongin’s eyes flicked up towards the two of them, his eyes found Kyungsoo easily. The smile from before was back, and Kyungsoo did his best not to sneer as he turned back to Joonmyun. “As long as that style doesn’t interfere with his form, they should be fine,” he muttered.

Joonmyun barked out a laugh, shaking his head at the tone of annoyance. “Come now, Kyungsoo-yah. The kid skates well. So what if he’s a little passionate?”

“It’s showy.”

“It’s expressive,” his friend countered playfully, “and the judges seem to like it. It’s different, but I think it’s refreshing to see a skater like him.”

Kyungsoo scoffed at the words, crossing his arms stubbornly. “Lemonade is refreshing. He is more like…an energy drink.”

“Tasty and stimulating?” Joonmyun guessed.

“A heart attack waiting to happen.”

His friend laughed before offering a shrug, a sign that he would drop the topic. He wasn’t going to convince Kyungsoo of Jongin’s unique abilities any time soon and he knew it. Kyungsoo had a knack for being stubborn. “Whatever you say. But come on. I want to get in on the food before those three finish it off.”

Kyungsoo consented with a nod, following behind the man and doing his very best not to look at Jongin, who not so subtly watched as they approached.

X

Breathe in. Breathe out. Relax.

Kyungsoo repeated those words in his mind as he wiped the ice from his skates’ blades, keeping his eyes lowered. He could feel his annoyance building, but he brushed it away as he tried to find where his routine was in the music that played over the speakers. Of course he would fall now, of all times. The routine had been perfect when he was alone, but now it was ruined.

It was a rare thing, indeed, for the ice rink to be empty of other competitors, and Kyungsoo had gone through quite the process to reserve the rink for himself, if only for an hour or two. The emptiness calmed him. He could go through his routine with his music playing and give his full attention to his moves.

He hated sharing the ice with others, always had. It was one of the main reasons he was a solo skater. He had tried to compete in couples once, a task assigned by his trainer as a bonding experience within his team, but he could never focus. Another person on the ice was distracting.

It wasn’t an ego thing. He would gladly share the spotlight with others if they deserved it. He wasn’t above admiring another skater’s skill, either. He just couldn’t handle having another person to worry about while he skated. His routines were intense, technically challenging, and he was a perfectionist. He would be on the ice for hours, going through every move over and over again until it was second nature. Adding another person into the mix, who could throw him off or – God forbid – botch a jump, was not an option. He dreaded sharing the ice during warm ups in competitions because of his need to keep tabs on the others’ movements. Where was that skater going to jump? Was he getting too close to that skater’s spin? What happens if they collide?

He was constantly aware of the other person’s actions, to the point where he would forget his own moves and make ridiculously simple mistakes. He could perform in front of hundreds, thousands if you count television coverage, but put another skater on the ice with him and he crumbles, tripping over his skates and falling like it is his first time on the ice. All of his years of training, gone in an instant.

It wasn’t uncommon to mess up. Ice skaters fall all of the time, even at the Olympic level. But for a technical skater like Kyungsoo, it is his worst nightmare.

It was exhausting to be aware of other skaters. Therefore, he stuck to his solos and happily took any opportunity to have the ice to himself during practice, much like this morning when he first arrived.

But now Jongin was here.

The younger man had strolled right into the arena without a care in the world, skates thrown over his shoulder and head bobbing to whatever music was blaring from the headphones he wore. The clock on the wall told Kyungsoo he still had the ice for fifteen minutes, but Jongin had apparently shown up early. And that was all it took for Kyungsoo to lose his footing.

It was only a double salchow, a jump he had perfected years ago, but his blade caught the ice wrong on the way down and suddenly he was hurdling towards the ice. He landed hard on his side and slid a few feet, hands dragging along the surface to slow his momentum. Kyungsoo was up in an instant, trying to find his place in the routine and ignoring the sharp ache in his hip as if nothing had happened. But despite the nonchalant attitude he tried to emote to the younger skater, Jongin, ever the emotion-driven individual, had seen the fall and was now watching him carefully, headphones pulled away as if expecting Kyungsoo to call out for help. It was only a fall, yet Jongin was poised and ready to rush to his aid if he needed it, as if Kyungsoo couldn’t handle a little pain.

It was embarrassing. It was frustrating. And it was all Jongin’s fault.

His attempts to find his place in the music proved useless, his focus lost in the slip-up. That only added to his irritation with the younger male. Even if he fell in his routine during the competition, he could always find his spot easily. But not today. His entire attention span was given to the young man who had perched himself on the edge of the wall, feet dangling inside the rink as he laced up his skates. The nerve of the rookie, to put himself in his space during his routine. It was an unspoken rule for all skaters to not break the rink’s wall during another skater’s performance, and he was blatantly ignoring it.

Kyungsoo let his arms drop to his side, looking at the clock on the wall. He still had enough time to go through the free skate routine twice if he wanted. Well, he thought as the throbbing in his hip worsened, maybe only one more time. This was all he needed right now. His first appearance in this year’s games was only three days away, and as much as he wanted to prove he was fine, he wouldn’t push himself to the point of further injury.

He skated over to the radio, ignoring the questioning look from Jongin who still sat on the wall. Only about ten feet separated them, but Kyungsoo acted as if he was alone and gave him no indication that he was willing to communicate with the younger skater. In fact, he was certain that his body language screamed “leave me alone” to anyone who had enough sense to read into it.

But Jongin apparently at reading body language, yet another thing to piss Kyungsoo off.

“Is your hip okay?” Jongin asked, his concern ringing out and only adding to Kyungsoo’s embarrassment. Honestly, to fall on a double salchow like that in front of another competitor was humiliating enough without said competitor questioning his ability to continue with his skating.

Kyungsoo wordlessly nodded, his fingers pressing the buttons on the radio to stop the track and sending the rink into silence, cutting a violin off mid-concerto.

“Are you sure?” Jongin pressed, his feet swinging as he spoke. Always so full of energy. “It looked like a pretty nasty fall.”

“I’m fine,” Kyungsoo said shortly, eyes focused on resetting the track.

Jongin was silent for a moment, before starting again undeterred by the underlying annoyance in Kyungsoo’s voice. “So what song are you using for your routine? I only heard about thirty seconds of it, but it sounded familiar.”

Kyungsoo sighed in exasperation, wishing the younger man would just learn to shut up, but answered. “It is Vivaldi’s ‘The Four Seasons’.”

It was a beautiful arrangement of four violin concertos, each resembling its respective season. Not only was it Vivaldi’s best-know work, but it held a soft spot in Kyungsoo’s heart. It was the first piece he had ever skated to, and though the years have changed his level of skill and sophistication, he still revisited it from time to time and reworked the choreography to match his needs.

“Specifically, ‘Summer’ is the part I will skate with,” he added as an afterthought.

“It’s beautiful,” Jongin said with a small smile. “It suits you, hyung.”

Kyungsoo faltered at that comment, partially because of the honorific – they were not close enough for him to address him as such – and partially because he was unsure of what the boy meant by the remark. It suited him? In what way? “I beg your pardon?”

“It’s a very traditional piece, and with your focus on technical precision that I've seen in your performances, you seem like a very traditional skater. I only meant the music fits your style.” Jongin’s smile never wavered as he spoke. There was a sense of confidence in how he worded himself, as if he thought he knew Kyungsoo better than anyone else. 

It surprised Kyungsoo just how much that thought irked him, how much he was bothered by Jongin’s apparent knowledge of his inner workings. “There is nothing wrong with traditional skating,” he quipped, turning back towards the radio.

“I never said there was,” Jongin countered lightheartedly, taking no offense to the sharp tone in Kyungsoo's voice. “I only said it was your style, hyung.”

Kyungsoo ignored him and his misused familiarity, having nothing else to say, and restarted his music. He moved to his spot on the ice, awaiting his cue and doing his very best to keep the scowl off his face.

But even the routine seemed to mock him now. It only took one jump for the pain to radiate up through his hip, and he knew he was done for the day. With as much dignity as he could muster, he glided over to the radio and cut the track off once again, removing his CD and making his way to the exit of the rink. Which happened to be right next to Jongin. He loathed the idea of passing him, but climbing over the wall would probably only make the situation worse. If he was going to leave, he was going to do it on his terms.

“You should really ice that hip, hyung,” Jongin commented softly as he passed, sending him a look of concern.

Kyungsoo had to suppress the growl that wanted to leave his throat at those words. The little was far too smug for his own good. Pushing away his internal monologue describing the many ways he could kill the younger man, he gave a sharp nod to show he heard him and stepped out of the rink. He was out of his skates and packed up in record time, marching to the nearest exit as fast as his hip would allow. He knew he looked stupid, but he was too angry to care how childish he must have seemed. He had practiced enough, and it was time to leave while he could still do so without further injuring himself.

He had hardly reached the door before the sound of music filled the arena, and Kyungsoo found himself hovering by the exit, listening. He told himself not to turn around, to just keep walking to save what little pride he had left, but the song beckoned him with soft piano notes and haunting tones. He turned, telling himself he would only observe for a moment and then continue storming out like he had originally planned. And besides, Jongin had watched his routine. It was only fair that Kyungsoo crowded him in return.

Jongin stood in center rink, awaiting a cue in the music as he looked down, his body poised and relaxed. He knew Jongin couldn’t see him from his position, having chosen the side door to leave from, but he felt even if the skater could see him, he wouldn’t have been aware of his presence. He was there, but then again, he wasn’t. Not completely, anyway. Gone was the easy smile from before, as his face, half-hidden by a fringe of dark hair, had been twisted into something akin to agony.

Even from his distance, Kyungsoo could see his chest rise in a deep breath, and then he was moving. Slow, flowing movements like water, and Kyungsoo’s eyes followed every twist of the body, every curve of the spine. It wasn’t just the motions, but the feeling put into each one. Kyungsoo didn’t recognize the man on the ice now, the Jongin before replaced by someone experiencing heartache and loss. The emotions were so real, so potent that Kyungsoo could practically taste it in the air, could almost feel the pain in his own chest as he watched Jongin skate.

Kyungsoo had never seen Jongin perform in person. In the videos Kyungsoo had watched for his research, his faults were all too clear, so he had assumed he was immune to the man’s ways of winning over the hearts of the judges. Do Kyungsoo, the man who could not be moved, least of all by Kim Jongin. Kyungsoo’s self-control was as solid as the ice he skated on, and he took pride in that fact.

But here, in a deserted ice rink, Kyungsoo could do nothing but watch Jongin pour himself into every gesture and jump. Joonmyun had called it refreshing the other day, and Kyungsoo couldn’t help but agree. It was like a breath of fresh air, cool and crisp and something that people needed to help them feel alive.

Every now and then, Jongin would position his hands just so, his hand raised to clasp the hand of an invisible partner or stretched in a mock-lift, and Kyungsoo frowned when he caught the meaning behind those gestures. He had been so lost in the routine that he had forgotten this would be performed in as an ice dance performance, meaning Jinri would be on the ice as well. While he understood the concept of the ice dance, he couldn’t help but think of how it would be unnecessary to put another person on the ice with Jongin. Jinri was a beautiful skater in her own right, but this display of emotion that Jongin was giving…he didn’t need anyone else out there with him, and anything that would distract from Jongin would be a shame.

“Are you just arriving sunbae?”

Kyungsoo jumped at the voice, turning to see Jinri had appeared by his side, her bag flung over one shoulder as she looked at him questioningly. The wide-eyed man blushed, suddenly feeling in the wrong. Not only was he here, hovering by the door and silently watching Jongin skate, but had he not just been thinking of reasons why Jongin should skate alone? And here was Jinri, the very partner whom Kyungsoo had referred to – albeit mentally – as unnecessary moments before. Kyungsoo had a moment of panic, thinking she would somehow know his thoughts and how he had cut her from her own program in his mind, but quickly recovered, stammering out a response in an attempt to save face.

“N-no,” he muttered, clearing his throat to steady his voice, “My practice is over. I was just watching. Tell me, what is the song?”

“It is called “Dancing” by Elisa,” Jinri said with a wide grin, clearly pleased that Kyungsoo had been interested enough to ask. She turned to look at the Jongin as he skated, her lip parting ever so slightly as she watched her partner move on the ice. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Kyungsoo nodded, filing the song’s name away in his memory as he smiled at the younger girl, though her attention was on the ice. “It is a lovely song,” he said in agreement. “He’s only just started, but from what I’ve seen the routine is breathtaking.” As he spoke, he forced himself to keep his gaze on the girl. It was hard not to watch Jongin, and that fact only made his blush more prominent. How could the man have this much of a pull on him after only a minute or so?

Jinri laughed softly, shaking her head as she turned to face Kyungsoo again. “Thank you, sunbae, but I wasn’t talking about the song that time.” She nodded once more towards rink. “His way of skating is what is so beautiful. Jongin-oppa is a good athlete, and he can do a lot of challenging jumps, but his emotion is what really gives the routine life. I doubt I’d be in the Olympics this year if I had not been paired with him.”

Kyungsoo opened his mouth to protest, ready to assure her of her talent and importance as a member of the team, but she only smiled and held up a hand to stop him. “I’m not saying I’m a bad skater," she ammended, "but I do not skate like Jongin-oppa.”

At the sound of Jongin’s name, Kyungsoo’s attention returned to the rink unconsciously. He watched him for another moment, watching as Jongin went into a spin effortlessly. His positioning was gorgeous, tight and controlled, and Kyungsoo found himself sighing at the sight.

“Not many people skate like Jongin,” he agreed softly, before realizing he was still staring. He needed to leave before he made an even bigger fool of himself. Giving another small smile to the girl, he nodded his head in farewell and pushing through the door.

As he walked down the hall and towards the exit of the building, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander back to the brief display he had just witnessed. Jinri was not the only one who felt outshined. While Jinri may feel she would have been out of a position on the Korean team had she been skating without Jongin, Kyungsoo wasn’t so sure his own standings on the team would be a done deal if Jongin had been placed in the singles competition. Jongin was the wild card of the group, putting everyone on their toes and pushing them to work even harder to assure their place on the Korean team was well-deserved. Kyungsoo knew he was a good skater, knew he had talent, but he could not help but feel he was lacking when compared to Jongin. It was a disorienting feeling, questioning your worth, and Kyungsoo didn’t particularly like it.

He had never worried about the emotions behind his skating. Emotion was vulnerability. It made his movements heavy and awkward, and he did much better without it, was more precise without it. But as he had stood there, watching Jongin lose himself in his emotions, all of the beliefs he had had for years as a figure skater was brought to question in a matter of seconds.

Once again, Kyungsoo found himself flustered, and it was all Jongin’s fault.