“Okay, that’s all for today’s practice,” Coach Kim addressed his hockey team with his hands on his hips. “We’ll meet here again tomorrow, the same time, but Jungkook,” he turned to him, “remember you have to do twenty full laps for those five goals you missed on Saturday.”

He rolled his eyes, “Yes, coach.”

“See you guys tomorrow,” the coach said, before skating off.

The other members of Jungkook’s team started following suit, clapping his shoulder with their farewell and not too long after, he was left alone in the large complex.

Taking his helmet off, he shook his head, shaking the sweat, the exhaustion and sleepiness from himself. Gliding to the barrier, he placed his helmet, his hockey stick and gloves next to the exit before starting his laps.

Both the coach and he knew this wasn’t a punishment, for anyone, let alone an ice hockey player, he got to practice his skating and had time to himself.

When his twenty was over, Jungkook skid to the barrier, shaving the ice off the rink and watching as it hit the wall. He stepped out, checking the timetable to see if he had just skated into someone else’s time for the rink, but was relieved to see that the next schedule started in five minutes.

He dawdled into the changing rooms, and to his personal locker. After taking a thorough shower and changing into a hoodie and track pants, he was back out into the cool air of the rink again. Before leaving, he couldn’t help but look over to the ice, and seeing that someone had just occupied it, a figure skater he assumed by the way she skated with so much grace, moving her body in ways he thought were impossible to do in ice.

Turning back to the doors, he slipped his hands back into his pockets and walked out.

--

They next day was the private-social booking day. This was when only a certain set of athletes from the area were allowed on the rink, but it was social in that it wasn’t limited to only one ice sport. Jungkook would never do on these days, because he didn’t want to risk the possibility of someone else hogging the entire space and he wouldn’t have the chance to practice.

But his coach made him practice, saying he had to practice on his own at least once before their training. And of course, he had to send him a photo.

Heaving his new shin pads through the door, he swiped his card and looked around.

It was empty enough. Apart from the owner’s daughter at the ticketing booth, there was no one else there.

He smiled.

Maybe he could get some useful practice done.

Getting his skates out of his locker, he pulled them on and ped his jacket, throwing it on the bench. He gleefully leapt onto the rice, first running up and down a few times, warming up, and then a couple of times in a circle around the full rink, before grabbing his hockey stick and climbing back in.

Concentrating on the ice, he did some drills, skating in diagonals forward and then backward, forward and backw-

“Oomph,” something hit Jungkook’s back and he was pushed forward slightly.

Turning around, he saw you lying on the floor.

His eyes widened.

“I’m so sorry,” he held his hand out for you, “I didn’t see you there.”

You ignored his hand, standing up on your own and brushing yourself off.

He pulled his hand back and raised an eyebrow at you.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, surprised at yourself for doing so.

He looked confused, “It’s booked for figure skaters and hockey players, I’m allowed to be here.”

“But nobody ever comes here, what are you doing here?”

What you said wasn’t wrong. You basically treated these days as private practices because you were the only person that ever showed up.

“What do you mean what am I doing here? What are you doing here? I’m always here on Thursdays.”

“Which would be nice, if it was Thursday.”

“What?”

“It’s Wednesday.”

“No, it’s Thursday.”

“Wednesday.”

“It’s Thursday.”

“No, Wednesday.”

“How can you be so stupid, you forgot what day it was.”

“I’m not the one who forgot,” you defended, “You forgot, typical hockey player.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Makes sense, you wouldn’t even understand what I’m saying.”

“Are you calling me dumb?”

“Hey,” you exclaimed, “he gets it. Good job, go get your medal.”

“I might actually, I have seven,” he told you.

“Eight.”

You remembered counting them before. They were right next to yours, you had to see your competition.

“Huh?”

“You have eight medals.”

“Seven. I have seven.”

“You have… eight medals.”

“Eight?”

“Yes. For figure skating. Eight. You know? The number before nine? Or didn't you learn to count that high.”

“Okay boys get on the ice. Jeon! What are you doing not training?”

Jungkook jumped at the sound of his boss’s voice. You found it weird that although you two hadn’t met before, arguing with each other came like second nature.

You looked at him once more before skating off to the exit. Furious that he had interrupted your practice for the day.

--

Putting your skates on, you scanned the auditorium, just making sure you were the only one there.

Your phone speaker wasn’t incredibly loud but it was loud enough considering you were the only person using it. Practicing your latest routine, you felt yourself become immersed in it, closing your eyes and letting your body move to the rhythm of the song.

When it was over, you felt yourself long for more, so skimming on the ice to your phone, you started to play another song, but that was when you heard some heavy gear sliding in through the exit on the opposite side.

Heaving a deep sigh, you turned to give the person interrupting your ‘private practice’ a death glare, and wasn’t surprised when you saw him again.

“Well hello stranger,” he smirked, holding the barrier and sliding his skates along the ice to get a grip before he started to run up and down.

“What are you doing here again?”

“Training. Can’t you see?”

“Whatever, just don’t mess with my side of the floor, okay?” you clenched your teeth, trying to sound as polite as possible as you indicated ‘your side’.

“Of course, of course, you better do the same.”

You nodded, turning back to your music and pressing play, it was then that you heard his skates stop in the ice.

“Turn that off. Don’t you have headphones?”

“No. I don’t. I need my music to practice,” you insisted and he sighed.

“It’s distracting, I need to focus on my training, it’s important, I understand you wouldn’t know but-”

“Excuse me?”

“I said, I know you wouldn’t understand how hard it is to train as a hockey player-”

“Oh and you think figure skating is easier?”

“Well yeah, you don’t do anything but skate around,” he shrugged, continuing to make your blood boil, “Do you get shoved to the wall? Or slammed against the ice so hard your face bleeds?”

You re