To be quite honest, Kris wasn’t good at a lot of things. He wasn’t graceful, couldn’t cook to save his life, and don’t even get him started about his math skills. But if he had one thing to brag about: it was basketball.

As pathetic as it sounded, the sport was pretty much all he had. It was a constant for Kris, something he knew that at the end of the day would be there. Girls came and went. So did friends and games and failing grades. But no matter what happened, there would always be a ball and a hoop there for him.

It shouldn’t have been a surprise for anyone that Kris ended up having a job that revolved around the sport later on, it only made sense (and of course, with his grades). And at 25, Kris was truly content with his simple job as a high school P.E teacher, or more importantly, also the basketball coach. Sure it didn’t bring in the big bills, but it allowed him to remain around his passion, and most importantly, Kris got to wear sweats pretty much every day.

And this year should have been like the ones before: with Kris leading his team to a relatively successful season against the surrounding high school teams, and hopefully even with a winning record against their biggest rival: Jeguk High. Then Kris could relax for the rest of the year as a gym teacher that did little to no work and wait for the next season. But luck was another thing that Kris wasn’t really good at…

The first day of tryouts for the year usually brought Kris into school with a rare smile on his face, his whistle swishing back and forth comically on his neck as he almost strutted down the school’s hallways. After all, it was his favorite time of year, football season was ending and, in his right opinion of course, the best sports season was about to get into swing.

But not even the feeling of Kris’s new running shorts against his legs could keep him from remembering the conversation he had with the school principal earlier that morning…

“They’re talking about cutting sports funds, Kris.”

Kris stopped gazing at the mounds and mounds of trophies littered around Principle Xiumin’s desk at the statement.

“Don’t you mean cut art funds? Like theater… or even all of those damn pottery classes we have here?”

Xiumin sighed, reaching out with his hands to knock the side of the other’s head. (There were some definite advantages to being close in age)

“I’m serious, Kris. They’re talking about cutting athletics! And they’re looking VERY closely at basketball as the first one to scrap.”

The idea of going through a whole year without basketball was hard to even imagine, and it had Kris sitting up, determined to make sure it never happened.

“What do I need to do, Xiumin..?”

The Principle grinned, relaxing into his large seat, turning his eyes to the basketball section of trophies on his desk. “Do well, Kris. Do really well.”

The day of tryouts wore on, and Kris thought over the plan more and more. It was simple enough, just train the team hard and make sure they won the Championships later on. Hell, there was no way the school district could cut the sport if they saw that Kris had led the group of students to do so well.

The tricky part, though, was the fact that the majority of last year’s team either graduated and/or moved away, Kris was left with literally no returnees for the sport. But his love for the sport and his passion for the season wouldn’t be crushed so easily, and he was almost sure that there would be new and upcoming talent to lead the way for this year’s team. After all, in an all-boys school, there had to be at least five guys who were decent at the sport!

                At least Kris will always have his assistant coach, Yixing, to help him through the season. Kris’s normally stoic expression softened at the thought of the man, and he mentally noted that if basketball was number one in his life, then Zhang Yixing would be a very, very close second.

                The two were polar opposites, which makes it all the more surprising the strong feelings that Kris felt for the other. While Kris lazed around during the school day in the gym, a clipboard in his hands with nothing actually on it, and not really “teaching” anything, Yixing was different.

                Yixing was the school’s best English teacher, the kind that kid’s told their parents about at the table over dinner and the kind that had graduated students come back to talk all the time.

                Even their coaching styles were different. Kris was direct and blunt, never shy about telling a kid he messed up a play or that he needed to run laps for punishment. Yixing, instead, took a different approach. He was always telling Kris to try to understand the player’s perspective, and to not get to verbally upset. “They’ll never listen to you, Kris, when you’re only yelling at them,” Yixing would say, before he walked off to pat a kid’s shoulder or ask another how their day was going when they seemed down. In fact, Yixing never seemed to even get angry, not even when they’ve lost in the past, and while Kris would be livid at times, stomping loudly in the locker room or dramatically slamming down his clipboard, Yixing would merely give a small smile at the team, murmuring things like “Next time” or “We tried our best.”

                They were different as can be. But Kris loved every single different thing about the man. So even when Yixing would sometimes make the team go through “bonding exercises” that constituted singing and dancing, or even when he asked them to hold hands and think positive thoughts on game days: Kris was glad that Yixing was his assistant.

                So perhaps Kris shouldn’t have been surprised to come into the gym after school finally ended, to find the assistant coach sitting Indian style on the floor, hands grasped together and making animal noises and surrounded by the ten or so kids who came to try out.

                Kris groaned as he watched two kids in the back fall over unbalanced on the floor, and even one on his side as if he fell asleep. Unperturbed, Yixing let out a loud goat sound, holding the syllable for longer than was necessary, Kris stopping to take his hat off to scratch his hair tiredly.

                It was going to be a long season.

                Needless to say, none of the old players returned to tryouts this year, and what was left for the pickings was…less than average, to put it lightly.

                But there were exactly eight of them, and despite Kris’s best desires, he knew that he couldn’t cut any of them. Eight was barely enough to fill a team by itself anyways…

                Kris was scribbling on his clipboard furiously as the day ended, noting out of the corner of his eye when the students left. He tried to recall everything the team needed to work on just from the two hours he spent observing: rebounding, defense, shooting, dribbling…

                Soft fingers reached up, pulling the corners of Kris’s lips up in an attempt of a smile. Kris jumped, backing up a bit to see Yixing grinning down next to him.

                “Smile, Coach! It’s the first day!”

                Grumbling softly, Kris lowered his clipboard only to reach out to tug Yixing’s shirt over his shoulder, fixing it from falling off. As if suddenly realizing what he was doing, Kris yanked his arm back, looking away embarrassed as the other man merely chuckled.

                “We have to win this year, Xing…”

                The two started to move around the now empty gym, picking up stray balls and cups as they go.

                “You say that every year.”

                “It’s…different this year.”

                Yixing turned the lock on the storage room, turning around to look at the other curiously. “How so…?”

                Kris breathed deeply, leaning his shoulder against the hall wall in exhaustion. Just thinking of what happened earlier gave him a stress headache. “Xiumin gave us an ultimatum. Win the championships, or the basketball team will be cut from school.”

                Yixing’s eyes blinked rapidly, before finally taking in the information after a moment. “Oh.” His own body gave out, leaning next to Kris with a frown.

                It was weird for Kris to see Yixing like this, for the first time he looked sad, not optimistic or free spirited or loaded with energy. And it hurt more than Kris like to think to see it.

                It might have been why Kris wrapped his arm around the others shoulder, bringing them closer in what he hoped was a sense of comfort.

                “It’ll be hard, Xing…but-“

                “We can do it.” Kris necked swiveled sharply, staring down at the other in pleasant surprise.

                Biting his lip, Yixing turned his head to stare at Kris’s hand on his shoulder before pushing himself up and off the wall. Kris had to school his facial expression into one that wasn’t disappointment.

                Kris coughed, playing with his whistle like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. “You think we can??”

                Yixing’s light laugh caused Kris to look up into the other’s eyes, awestruck at the glow he saw just from a simple smile. Kris loudly gulped.

                “We’re gonna win that championship, Kris.