Mo Yeon scampers in as the ambulance lurches forward, taking a seat opposite the paramedic. Si Jin’s uneven breathing overshadows the clattering of medical equipment. She scans his face, which is completely devoid of colour, covered in a thin layer of sweat. His eyes are still panicked, but they now focus on her. She watches Si Jin’s face soften as he is administered a painkiller. She impulsively encloses his hand in hers.

“You're lucky to have such a caring sister,” the paramedic comments while sterilizing his wound. He winces, and Mo Yeon has to stop herself from flinching as well.

“Sister? I don't remember having a sister,” Si Jin slurs, his eyes glazed over. He laughs deliriously. “Is she my sister? This girl looks like a princess. Look at her dress!”

She is racked with panic when she realizes Si Jin has just exposed her for a fraud, but the paramedic seems too engulfed in treating him to realize. Si Jin fumbles with the ruffles in her skirt.

What happened? She wonders helplessly as the only person with the answer closes his eyes.

He can feel the stadium’s eyes drilling into him, the clear favourite to win the tournament. His qualifying heat is comprised of skaters from a variety of teams, at a variety of calibers. He nods at each of them, both familiar faces and new ones.

The cheers of the crowd threaten to deafen him, but nothing is louder than the gunshot that propels him forwards. He easily snatches the lead, almost hovering above the ice as he makes the first turn.

A once-in-a-generation skater, they called him. It was a heavy weight to bear, but he held it with pride. And humble as he is, he can't deny that he's the best when he's in the midst of a race, feeling unconquerable.

He's on the last lap when he hears one of the skaters behind him trip in a desperate attempt to improve his standing. He can't afford to look back, and so all he can do is listen to the crowd gasp in horror as he neglects to realize the domino effect that is headed straight for him.

The second place and third place skaters collide with him - he can hear his teammates scream his name - and the next thing he knows, a long, sharp blade is tearing into his skin, creating a chasm in his leg.

He cries out and nearly faints from the pain, his blood seeping into the ice. Despite the calamity, the first aid team whisks him onto a stretcher before he has time to fully digest the situation. From his position, he can see his father frantically try to clear a path through the crowd.

The medics are feeding him reassurances, but they pass through him like wind. He knows he is headed to the hospital. He knows that the competition cannot be cancelled for a single athlete. He knows, with absolute certainty, that he has lost. He knows his coach needs to tend to his other teammates, who have their own races to skate.

He doesn't know, however, whether he'll be able to recover.

He knows he doesn't want to be alone.

As they rush him to the ambulance, he sees a fleeting image of Mo Yeon, bewildered and stunned at the sight before her. Somehow, she negotiates her way onto the vehicle. He catches intermittent sections of the conversation, and despite the pain, he almost laughs when he hears her claim to be his sister.

He feels a sharp prick against his skin, and the pain dulls. His thoughts blur together, but he gladly submits to the haze.

Mo Yeon sinks into the fabric of the waiting room chair, sourly considering whether she has some kind of twisted fate with hospitals. She decides that she hates hospitals and injuries, but she can’t bring herself to say that she hates the cause of her hatred - skating. A clipboard asking for her supposed brother’s medical information lays incomplete on her lap. Si Jin had been immediately ushered into surgery.

A stranger enters the waiting area, and Mo Yeon quickly hides the blank paperwork against her chest. She looks up at the newcomer, and she feels a strange sense of familiarity. Si Jin’s eyebrows and soft gaze rest upon this man’s face, and she is currently the receiver of a similar amused look.

“Apparently, I have a daughter,” he says in a low voice, cautiously avoiding unwanted ears. He glances at the glimmering skirt peeking out from his son’s hoodie. “Are you the figure skater that Si Jin speaks so fondly of?”

She can feel the blush spread over her face, nodding silently. Bowing, she hands over the clipboard.

Si Jin’s father smiles and starts filling out the blanks. “I’m glad my son had someone looking after him, I couldn’t make it out of the stadium in time.”

“He’s in surgery right now,” she explains. She whips her head to the door, where an intern in light blue scrubs is exiting. She straightens her back as she watches him make a beeline towards the two of them.

“How is my son?” Si Jin’s father asks without pause.

“He lost a lot of blood on the way here, but he stabilized quickly,” the intern recites. “He’ll have to stay in the hospital until we can make sure his wound doesn’t reopen. I can take you to see him, if you’d like. The anesthetic should be wearing off soon.”

She looks up at Si Jin’s father, at a conflict of what to do. Mo Yeon abhors the idea of intruding on a private moment between father and son, but the subtle nod that she receives from him puts her at ease. She follows behind the two as they venture through the maze of the hospital, up floors and down hallways, before finally coming face-to-face with a sleeping Yoo Si Jin.

As the sounds of people shuffling inside filter into his ears, Si Jin begins to stir. The intern calls for someone to page the surgeon, who enters just as Si Jin blinks open his eyes. Si Jin’s brows immediately furrow, his mind processing the situation. Mo Yeon watches as his eyes wide, reaching for his injured leg.

“That was quite the fall you took, Yoo Si Jin,” the surgeon says. “How are you feeling?”

Hints of confusion still flicker in Si Jin’s expression, but he comes up with a reply. “My leg hurts, and so does my pride,” He switches his gaze to Mo Yeon. “I guess I lost the tournament.”

Despite the joke, only Mo Yeon is able to muster a smile for Si Jin. He turns his attention back to the surgeon. “I’m a speed skater - when will I be able to get back on the ice?”

The surgeon’s face grows solemn. “The gash was very deep. He’ll have to undergo months - maybe years - of physiotherapy to regain the ability to walk.”

The last words snuff out any remaining oxygen in the atmosphere. Mo Yeon knew the kind of ambition that Si Jin harboured in him, the one that dreams of going to the Olympics and winning gold. She saw it in the mirror every day. How could he achieve that, when just walking again would be an enormous feat? She watches helplessly as she sees the ambition they share die a little.

Overall, however, he keeps his disappointment carefully locked away, as he turns his head and avoids everyone’s gaze, biting his lip. The surgeon takes this as a cue to exit, leaving just Mo Yeon, Si Jin, and his father standing in silence.

“Did you win?” Si Jin asks Mo Yeon after several moments.

Wordlessly, she pulls her hoodie over her head, setting it in his lap. He follows the line of her arm, and his eyes rest on the bronze medal sitting on her chest.

“Only third place? I saw that performance. I need to talk to those judges,” he says with an eyebrow raised and a lip jutted out.

“Focus on yourself first,” Mo Yeon chokes out, her voice close to breaking. She blinks away tears and pats his bedsheets.

The door behind them clicks, revealing a nurse who sheepishly tells Si Jin’s father and Mo Yeon that visiting hours have concluded. She reluctantly leaves, her eyes trailing after the sight of Si Jin through his window as she braves the hallways. Si Jin’s father offers her a ride home. She gladly accepts, pouring out copious amounts of gratitude from the cracks in her heart.

They cruise past the bright highways and delve into the dimly lit suburbs, Mo Yeon giving directions at every intersection.

“My house will be on the left,” she comments as they approach the last leg of their trip. She abhors the dull, depressed tone in her voice, but she can’t seem to muster any feeling but numbness.

“My Si Jin, he’s tough,” the driver remarks. Her head raises at the peculiar announcement. “He’s already lost so much. My wife passed away just a couple years ago, and yet he still manages to smile every day.”

He doesn’t turn to direct his words to Mo Yeon, but rather aims them to the sky, hoping some otherworldly being shows mercy to his son. She is at a loss of what to do or say, whether or not to comment on her opinion of Si Jin. She curses her timing as she realizes they are about to reach her house.

“It’s this one,” she says quietly, and in response the wheels of the car cruise to a stop. She pauses in the car, thinking of what to say. A simple thank you didn’t seem to convey the correct emotion.

“I haven’t known Si Jin for long, but-” A generic cellphone ringtone blares against the walls of the car, cutting her off.

“It’s from Si Jin’s coach,” Si Jin’s father casts her an apologetic look and picks up.

Mo Yeon tries, in vain, to refrain from eavesdropping, but her close vicinity to the conversation deems it impossible. She can make out almost every word that comes through the receiver, and the dead of night provides no distractions for her to filter out the voices.

“Your son called me,” echos the stern voice of Coach Park, laced with sadness. “He says he’s taking a hiatus from the team... indefinitely. Is it that bad?”

“Yes,” Si Jin’s father replies, his eyes screwed closed. “But my Si Jin doesn’t give up.”

“Good. It would be a shame to lose such a talented skater.”

Mo Yeon’s breath hitches. She remembers the pain of Chi Hoon prematurely ending his career all too well, like a wound that keeps reopening. Just the thought of Si Jin experiencing the same unlived potential forms a lump in . She couldn't let this story repeat itself again.

She barely hears the rest of the conversation, her own thoughts overpowering her sense of hearing. She bids her farewell to Si Jin’s father, and makes a beeline for her room, the front door clicking closed just as she enters.

She spends the rest of the night immersed in articles and case studies, yet the mound of unfinished homework remains the same height.

Si Jin spends his morning waiting to be discharged, prodding his leg every ten minutes, trying to force feeling into them. The doctor had tried to explain the circumstances of his injury, but he only understood the severity of his words. Severed this, damaged that - basically, start considering other career choices. He feels completely and utterly defeated.

The minute visiting hours begin, Si Jin is surprised to find Mo Yeon opening his door, doubled over and panting. Her red-rimmed eyes lock onto his.

“J.R. Celski.”

“I... what?” Si Jin responds, his mind trying to find the connection behind her strange greeting. The name sounds vaguely familiar.

She reaches into her shoulder bag, retrieving a stack of papers, loose sheets fluttering to the ground.

“The world record holder for the 500m speed skate. He was injured five months before the Winter Olympics in Vancouver. He didn’t know if he could walk either. But he went through physiotherapy and rehabilitation and he got two bronze medals.”

Si Jin’s eyes grow downcast as he realizes that he is receiving a motivational pep talk. He wants to dismiss her evidence as a miracle story, the story of people who had the fame and support to go through physical therapy of that intensity. He tries to look away, but her hand clutches his chin, forcing him to look at her. With her free hand, Mo Yeon forces her research into his lap.

“Shani Davis, Kelly Gunther, I could go on. You can’t let this stop you, Yoo Si Jin,” her voice is heavy with emotion as he examines her face, taking notice of the dark circles beneath her eyes and the stray strands of hair in her uncharacteristically messy bun. “I won’t let this stop you.”

They remain like that, locked into each other’s gaze. Mo Yeon searches his eyes desperately, hoping to find a trace, a spark, anything - of that determination and drive that had been absent since the accident. She senses a remnant of it returning, yet she is unsure of it herself, having spent so long in his eyes.

“I’ll...” Si Jin croaks. He clears his throat as Mo Yeon finally realizes how close she is, backing away immediately. “I’ll try. Thank you.”

Tears well up in Mo Yeon’s eyes, threatening to spill over. He almost tries to comfort her, but the enormous smile stretching across her face reveals her true emotion. She quickly wipes away any trace of tears when she hears someone enter the room, spinning around to greet him. He laughs to himself the way she continues to spin like a figure skater, even when her feet are off the ice.

His entire speed skating team storms in at once, yelling “Team Captain!” Over and over again, before Cheol Ho spots Mo Yeon at his bedside, his eyes widening in tandem with his mouth as he recognizes her from the livestream. Mo Yeon’s eyes dart to Si Jin, brows slightly furrowed, before smiling nervously at the boy.

“You’re the pretty figure skater from Myung Ju’s competition!” He exclaims.

Mo Yeon’s eyelashes flutter, her cheeks glowing a bright pink almost instantly. Si Jin feels the faint sensation of jealously cloud over him, though he is unable to discern whether it is from someone else making Mo Yeon blush, or from Mo Yeon captivating his team’s attention. His teammates surround her, complimenting her and confirming that she is, in fact, “the pretty figure skater.”

As he watches his teammates cajole Mo Yeon into signing autographs, Si Jin reflects on the promise he made to Mo Yeon, chiding himself over almost giving up so easily. He wonders whether he really would have ended his career, had she not inspired him. He tries to inconspicuously hit his leg again, and the lack of sensory response brings him back to reality. Even if he was capable of recovering to his prior glory, it would be a long and arduous fight.

But he looks at Mo Yeon again, and her dazzling, shining smile as she handles his rambunctious teammates with ease. How despite her disheveled exterior, her elegance and poise still manage to enchant those around her.

One look at her, and he’s willing to try.

A/N: AHH SO SORRY FOR THE EXTREMELY LATE UPDATE. I hope you can forgive me! Life always takes longer than you expect it to. I have an outline for how this story should progress, but this arc of the story has the least detail, but it was also a necessary part of the story, so I struggled to flesh it out.