Your family's backyard is, more or less, the gathering place for your neighborhood's social events; they aren't bad, necessarily, just really noisy and incredibly boring. The adults congregate and, within a few beers, start talking about those far-off glory days; the young children of the neighborhood climb up and down your rusted old backyard monkey bars with enough energy to power the neighborhood for a month. 

"Oi, Y/N," Seungcheol calls, leaning over a cooler full of various cans of soda. "What do you want?" 

 "Get me a Sprite," you reply, shrugging. Choi Seungcheol has been your neighbor since the both of you were in 1st grade, and now, he was the only shining light in your neighborhood's social calendar. Though you didn't talk much at school - him being the captain of the basketball team, and you being the editor in chief of the school newspaper - at these events, it was like he was the only other person in the world. 

He sits next to you and hands you your drink with a sigh. "Why do they even make us go to these, even?" he asks, exasperated. 

"Too old to hire a babysitter, too young to let us go out on our own," you reply, opening your can and taking a long sip.

"This is terrible." Seungcheol lets out a groan. "Let's sneak out. Let's go on a walk -" 

 "Our parents will know we're gone in, like, three seconds. And they'll kill us when we're back," you remind him gently. 

"I don't care," Seungcheol proclaims, defiant. He takes your hand and pulls you up out of your chair. "Y/N, you're always on your computer. It's about time you went on an adventure." 

"That's not even a point!" you argue as he takes you through your house's front door and down the street for about three feet. "You're in the gym practicing...practicing three-pointers 24/7." 

"So we both need an adventure." He lets go of your hand and turns around, looking at you pleadingly. "Please, Y/N?"

You sigh. You do hate these parties, and any excuse to leave one was fine by you. (And he did have a point about the whole sitting-behind-your-computer thing, you admit to yourself, begrudgingly.) "Fine. But you're taking the blame for this one," you say, shaking your head. 

Seungcheol's face breaks out into a wide smile. "Score!" he says, pumping his fist in the air like he just dunked, or something. "C'mon, c'mon, let's go." He grabs your hand, interlacing your fingers in his, as you begin your walk down your neighborhood's sidewalk.

"They just - are crazy," Seungcheol finishes, shaking his head and tossing his long-empty can of Coke between his hands; it's been almost had an hour since your walk started, and naturally, he took the opportunity to rant at you. 

"It's a locker room, you know? Not a shooting range. Coach blamed me for it, too. Jeon Wonwoo and Kim Mingyu are devils." 

You laugh. "Sounds to me like you just got scared. You can't get killed by a Nerf gun, Cheollie, you know?" 

"It was scary! I was justified!" he protests. "You're just jealous since the newspaper doesn't have any terrifying anecdotes to tell." 

"Are you kidding? I don't even know where to start," you reply, shaking your head. "Seungkwan accidentally offends everyone he interviews. Jihoon has never positively reviewed any song ever. And then there's Joshua." You sigh. "He just watches anime all day. He says he's reviewing it, but seriously, all he does is watch anime. It's a problem." 

"And you, the Editor in Chief, can't do anything about it?" 

"Nope," you confirm. "Hansol's tried, but once he's got his headphones on, he's completely absorbed in whatever it is he's doing." 

"Damn." Seungcheol looks at you, half-surprised, half-impressed. "And I thought I was the one who had to somehow reign in a bunch of idiots." 

"You've got it easy," you agree, nodding. "It's worth it, though." 

Seungcheol sighs. "You must really wanna do this for the rest of your life." 

"I'm gonna work for the New York Times if it'll kill me," you agree. 

"You have it easy. Even if you don't end up working for your dream paper, you can probably still get a job working for some paper somewhere. I highly doubt I'm gonna get a career in basketball any time soon. It's never enough to just be good - you gotta be great." He pauses. "Sorry. I didn't, uh, mean to spill my guts at you -" 

"It's fine," you interrupt. "Big man on campus - it's no wonder you don't have somebody to talk to." 

"Yeah," Seungcheol agrees. "I don't know. I love my team, but...it'd be weird talking to them about this. Y'know?" He pauses. "That's why I like you. You're easy to talk to." 

You shake your head. "I'm honest. There's a difference." 

"Well, maybe honesty is exactly what I wanted to hear." He pauses. "Thanks."

"It's nothing," you assure him, good-naturedly shoving him on the shoulder for good measure. 

"Think we should head back soon?" he asks, stopping your walk briefly and turning his gaze to the sky. 

"No," you say, surprising even yourself - normally, you'd be the type to head home ASAP in order to avoid getting in trouble. "We could always talk more. Watch the sunset or something." 

"I - I think I'd like that," Seungcheol says, nodding. "I know, like, a park." 

"With a bench?" 

"With a bench!" he confirms cheerily; you can't help but let out a laugh at his enthusiasm as he takes your hand to lead you the way.

If you could be anywhere else, you would be; sitting in the stands of your school's gym is definitely not your ideal way to spend a Friday night, and yet, here you are, covering the game. It's not hard work - tweeting out when the team scores is not hard by any stretch of the imagination. It's just so unbelievably boring.

You sigh, and let your mind drift to something more interesting. Your thoughts make sense, at first - Jihoon's newest review, what you can make yourself for dinner when you get home, your plans with your friends this weekend - but before you know it, you’re thinking about Seungcheol. He really is a good basketball player - or, well, he’s good at making baskets and passing them to the other kids on the team, anyway. And when he’s on court, he looks different - his smile when his teammates high-five him is just so bright. 

At the same time, though, it looks just a little bit out of place. The Seungcheol you know - the Seungcheol who’s afraid of Nerf guns and his future, the Seungcheol who holds your hand while you sit on a bench and watch the sunset together - and this Seungcheol look like completely different people. He’s happy, but it’s not the same happy he is when he’s with you. 

And then you shake your head, turning your attention to the scoreboard, before you continue that train of thought any longer - though suddenly, the idea of interviewing him after the game is over is almost dreadful. 

As you wait for the bus to take you home after the game, you sigh and put on your headphones, attempting to transcribe the interviews you’d gotten from Mingyu and Wonwoo. There were hardly any quotes you could use at all - mostly, it seemed, they were just high on post-game energy, and had mostly just been saying ridiculous, mostly unpublishable things. Meanwhile, much to your irritation, you hadn’t been able to find Seungcheol after the game at all. What kind of post-game story works without the words of the team captain?

You shake your head and attempt to focus on the matter at hand, but once again, your thoughts are interrupted - this time by a voice, loud enough to be heard over your headphones, somehow. “Oi. What are you listening to? You look like you just on a lemon.” 

“An interview with your teammates,” you reply, looking up at Seungcheol with a small frown. His hair is wet, and he’s changed out of his basketball uniform into a clean T-shirt and shorts. “This is terrible - did it even occur to them that a school newspaper can’t use the term ‘-’?” 

“Told you they were idiots,” Seungcheol replies, chuckling. “Come on. I’ll drive you home.” 

“It’s fine - ” 

“We live right next to each other and your bus won’t come for a while.”

“What about your parents?” 

“They’ve been to all my games - I figured I should let them skip one. And you can interview me in the car,” he adds, sheepish. “I figured you were covering the game but I didn’t...I needed time to cool down afterwards. And stuff. So you can interview me then. If you want.” 

“...You make a convincing argument,” you say, thinking about your story (and solely your story, and not the whole you-and-Seungcheol-together-in-a-car thing, nope). You smile, and start recording on your phone. “So - when you’re preparing for a game as important as a play-off, what’s going through your mind?” 

Seungcheol helps you up and pauses to think as the two of you begin walking towards his car. “It’s all about getting my team to be the best they could possibly be,” he decides, nodding. “Usually I end up improving along the way, so that helps. But it’s all about the team, in the end.” 

You grin, liking what you’re hearing, and open your mouth to follow up - but, of course, Seungcheol interrupts you. “That sounds good, right? Or can I be honest?” 

“Honesty is good,” you reply, nodding. 

“Okay. Well, uh, honestly, it kind of . Practice goes on for ages and ages and Mingyu and Wonwoo, for the most part, just mess around. It wouldn’t be annoying if it was just those two, but usually they rope in Junhui and Minghao too...and it’s annoying,” he finishes, nodding, as he unlocks the door to his car. 

“But you still play, despite that, and you’re still captain despite that?” you ask, raising your eyebrows. 

“I don’t know if it’s something I can do forever, but it’s something I can do for at least a few more months. And I can spend that time figuring out what I can do otherwise, too,” he says, nodding. 

You frown. “You’ve been thinking about this a lot, haven’t you?” 

“Kind of. I’ve been thinking about a lot of stuff,” Seungcheol admits, stopping to lean against his car. “There’s a chance I can get a basketball scholarship to somewhere, if we do good during the championships. And I want that, but it’s not like it’s something I can rely on, and if it doesn’t work out...I don’t wanna get stuck doing something I hate for the rest of my life.” He pauses. “Sorry -”

“You don’t have to apologize. This isn’t going in the story - don’t worry,” you assure him, leaning next to him on his car. 

“Yeah...I mean, I figured you weren’t that mean,” Seungcheol jokes. “But really...just...thanks. For coming, even though you had to...I mean, I figure you had to. You hate sports. But I’m glad. That you were here.” 

You smile, looking down at the ground. “No problem?”

“...Since you’re honest and stuff,” he adds, nodding. “And it’s easy to be honest around you.” 

“We should probably head home,” you suggest, purposefully ignoring his assessment of your character. “It’s dark…” 

“But I’m not done yet. Mingyu and Wonwoo were getting on my case for practicing this after the game ‘cause I had to tell you - so just. Hold on a sec.” He turns to face you and takes a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. “It’s easy to be honest around you, so I’m telling you...that...I don’t know. I think I - I have a crush on you, or whatever - god, that’s a terrible word. Crush. And I guess this is me confessing to you, or whatever, and it’s cool if you don’t want to be involved with me since you’ve got your whole New York Times goals -”

“Choi Seungcheol, shut your trap,” you reply, shoving his shoulder. “You’re digging yourself into the deepest hole, right now.” 

“You aren’t responding though! I just - I just poured my heart out to you and you have yet to say anything!” Seungcheol says, raising his eyebrows. 

“You want an answer - sorry. An answer.” You think back to your thoughts at the game, the thoughts all about him...and his smile, and his hand in yours, and taking long walks together, and you think of how you feel in that exact moment - 

And you smile, taking his hand and squeezing it. “I don’t think the newspaper I want to write for is going to have any effect on my feelings for you, so don’t worry,” you reply. 

“Oh, okay. Wait.” He pauses, letting go of your hand for just a second. “Did you just say you had feelings for me?” 

You sigh, though your amused smile doesn’t leave your face. “Yes, I did. Now let’s drive home, alright? I’m tired -” 

“So you’re cool with doing the whole dating thing? With me?” 

You lean up and kiss his cheek; even in the darkness, you can tell he’s bright red, but at least it shuts him up. “Yes. Now take me home, Cheollie. It’s dark and I think my parents are worried.” 

“Gotcha,” he replies, opening the door for you with a smile. As you buckle your seatbelt, you turn around for just long enough to see Seungcheol pump his fist in the air.