~~~

MONDAY

8:30 AM

Walking in the doors to school, Jongin feels ten feet tall. He doesn't know if it's because of the fact that he feels like a giant weight has been lifted off his shoulders or the fact that he's got his red and blue duffel bag, which he, with Jungah's massive help, managed to find in the deepest pits of his closet, slung over his shoulder. But, either way, he can't help the feeling of pride that swells in his chest upon entering the building.

He's extremely thankful for the fact that he managed to get ahold of his coach via email last night, because that in turn resulted in Minseok, being the awesome friend he is, offering to bring Jongin his uniform after school, which made the latter nearly jump with joy upon hearing.

Jongin is a little worried when he turns the corner to get to the hallway and his locker, but Jongin exhales in relief when he finds the hallway surprisingly empty. Figuring the morning bell hasn't rung yet, he hurries over to his locker and unlocks it before carefully stuffing (or rather, forcing) his duffel bag inside, not caring if he ends up squashing a textbook in the process.

When he's finished, Jongin bites his lip because he has no idea what to do with his stick bag. It's far too tall to fit in his locker without it snapping in half, and he curses under his breath because he really didn't think this one through (he blames it on the excitement he felt this morning after waking up and practically dragging Jungah out of bed while asking her to help him find his bags).

For once, he regrets choosing a top locker because upon closer inspection, Jongin notices that the bottom lockers are significantly wider. The thought of whether he could ask Jongdae, since the latter's locker just so happens to be a bottom, to keep his stick in his locker until practice starts briefly strikes Jongin and the latter has to mentally punch himself for even letting the thought enter his brain. He figures he'd rather carry his stick around all day instead of asking Jongdae to keep it for him.

Slamming his locker shut, and barely avoiding closing it right on top of one of the straps to his bag, Jongin clicks the padlock into place before brushing his hands together. He wants nothing more than to escape the building and head straight to the rink but Jongin figures that would be a bad idea since his coach has yet to supply him with his skates and helmet. Not to mention he'd probably find himself gliding across the rink by himself because if he remembers correctly, Minseok and Yixing's last period ends at half past two, so Jongin figures he'll have to make do until then. Unfortunately.

Turning around, Jongin stares down the deserted hallway and, despite feeling happy only three seconds ago, a wave of loneliness suddenly hits him out of nowhere and threatens to drown him, and he has to grab onto the padlock on his locker to keep himself from toppling over in surprise. He doesn't even know why he feels the way he does, honestly, because this is Jongdae and Baekhyun; the know-it-all and the idiot, as Jongin likes to refer to them.

Jongin figures he has no reason to feel lonely. If anything, getting rid of Jongdae and Baekhyun serves as good riddance, at least on his part, and he rolls his eyes for feeling the slightest ounce of sympathy for either of them. At one point, however, Jongin is briefly struck with the mental image from when the three of them were chatting away in the lunch room, something they've been doing for three years in a row, as happy as can be, and the brunet has to bite his lower lip so hard that it draws blood to get the thought to go away. The thought of getting to see Minseok and Yixing in just a couple of hours instantly makes Jongin feel better and he slowly lets go of the padlock when he assures himself that he can stand on his own.

Despite not wanting anything to do with either Baekhyun nor Jongdae, Jongin still shoves his hands in his pockets because he has absolutely no idea what to do for seven hours and thirty minutes. As sad as it may be, Jongdae and Baekhyun are (correction, were) his only friends, really, and the brunet bites his lip in thought. Quite frankly, Jongin would much rather strip and throw himself into a sea of cactuses than hang out with Sehun or even have the displeasure of seeing the latter's face right now, so he opts to buy himself a sandwich and a carton of juice from the cafeteria and catch up on all the work he's missed. It's a truckload and Jongin knows it, but he figures he'd rather torture himself with schoolwork than torture himself by roaming around the hallways like a ghost. Well, that, and by seeing, talking to or even thinking about Jongdae, Baekhyun and, especially, Sehun.

3:50 PM

Nearly choking on a piece of lettuce, Jongin puts his pencil down and quickly skims through the three pages he's written, by hand, for his lab report, which he didn't even know he had, and picks up his juice. The sweet apple taste travels down his throat and briefly makes him forget about the headache that's been plaguing him ever since he walked into the library one and a half hours ago (it would've been two and a half hours ago had he not managed to accidentally run into his Literature teacher on his way to the cafeteria, which in turn lead to the uttermost sinful sixty minutes of his life). It's nothing Nobel prize worthy or anything of the sort, but Jongin figures it'll have to do, as long as he doesn't end up with nothing to turn in, and he carelessly tosses the papers aside before tending to his sandwich, and inwardly screams when he accidentally bites down on the plastic.

Jongin has been tapping his foot impatiently for the past hour or so, much to the librarian's irritation, and the buzzing in his nerves never seems to stop, but he can't blame himself, because Minseok and Yixing's last lessons end in exactly twenty minutes and Jongin figures he'll be standing right outside their classroom door the second the bell rings, waiting, because not only is he dying to play for the first time in God knows how long, he's also dying to see them. He momentarily feels a little nervous because what if they're both awfully different from what he remembers? Although Jongin knows for a fact that Minseok sounded just as bubbly and energetic as he usually was in eighth grade, and Yixing, well...Jongin prays to God that Yixing has improved when it comes to constantly losing his belongings. Jongin figures Yixing hasn't in the slightest and the thought makes him want to cackle. 

If he's going to be honest, Jongin did find himself internally panicking after he ended the phone call with Minseok yesterday, because the thought of weirding Minseok out made Jongin want to cry, and the latter briefly wondered if he should ditch them both and go to the training sessions all by himself, but he decided against it because not only would that be impossible, it would also break his heart. Jongin has to take a big bite out of his sandwich to distract himself before picking up his History textbook and placing it in his lap with the full intention of not opening it.

He wonders if his coach is still the same as he was all those years ago. He wonders if the new rink is an improvement from the previous one. He wonders if anybody else dropped off the team after he did. But most of all, Jongin wonders if he's still got game.

Jongin has never doubted himself or his skills, since they did win on a handful of occasions, all thanks to him, but he internally panics at the idea of losing most of his game because, no matter how you look at it or no matter how high up your chin might be, three years is still a long time to go without playing a single match or even stepping into the rink even once, even Jongin knows that. One thought leads to another and before Jongin knows it, he's having a minor meltdown over whether or not he'll even be able to stand upright once his feet touch the ice, and the thought of losing his balance and falling on his behind on the ice is enough to make him want to suffocate himself with the books surrounding him, even though, he'll admit, he's never, ever fallen over or lost his balance even once. But then again, that was then and this is now, and the thought of not knowing for certain makes Jongin want to use his juice carton as a breathing bag, although he figures the hole is way too tiny. He has to remind himself to take a deep breath and relax before the librarian walks over and shoos him out.

In fact, Jongin is so occupied with his innermost (destructive) thoughts that it takes him a long, long time to realize his phone is buzzing repeatedly, and he scrambles to retrieve it from his back pocket, not even sparing the screen a glance. 

"Hello?"

"Jongin, why haven't you been answering?" Minseok says loudly, making Jongin jump a little. "We're in the changing rooms, I've called you like, ten thousand times, why haven't you been picking up? Where are you? You didn't forget, did you? Do you need directions? Are you lost?"

Blinking at the bombardment of questions, Jongin furrows his eyebrows because he doesn't recall feeling his phone buzz even once, but then again, judging by how deep in thought he was only a minute ago, Jongin figures he easily would have missed an earthquake or even a tornado.

"Uh, sorry, I didn't forget, damn it," Jongin babbles, running a hand through his hair and quickly getting to his feet, instantly regretting it when his head starts to spin a million miles an hour. "It's just- I was doing my homework, , I'll be right over, wait for me, will you?" he adds while hurrying to collect his things, forgetting to pick up his trash in the process, and less than a second later, he's running out the door and down the hallway towards his locker. 

4:43 PM

From: Minnie

the white tent right behind the building!!!!!! do you see it???

Putting his phone away, Jongin squints when he barely makes out something white and very tall in the distance. He's approaching the familiar sports hall and upon seeing that the white, tall structure before him is triangular shaped, he exhales in relief because getting lost would be a nightmare, even if he's familiar with his surroundings...sort of.

Gripping his duffel bag even tighter in excitement, Jongin hurries up the steps to the building and throws the glass doors open, only to stop dead in his tracks. He hears the doors close behind him and feels like he's stepped inside a vacuum; like the air has been out of him for reasons he can't explain. Jongin is halfway through questioning his sanity when he looks to the right and clenches his jaw because, if he remembers correctly, that's the exact same spot he and Sehun (honestly, simply saying the latter's name in his head makes the brunet feel like vomiting) stood at roughly one and a half weeks ago, when Sehun complimented his makeup, kissed him, whispered loving words to him and-

Jongin is halfway up the familiar set of stone stairs less than a fraction of a second later.

~

Walking towards the door marked 'MEN'S', Jongin bites his lip when he stops right outside it, because his nerves are threatening to explode one by one and his legs feel like overcooked spaghetti. It's not like he's unfamiliar with the place; heck, Jongin has lost count of the amount of times he's changed beyond this door, it's just that the feeling of uncertainty is extremely overwhelming, even though he's been here before. 

Maybe this was a mistake, Jongin thinks, fidgeting with the strap of his stick bag as he bounces back and forth on each foot. I'm probably not nearly as good as I used to be. His eyebrows furrow in contemplation because even though his brain is screaming at him to open the door and go inside already, there's a small voice at the back of his head that's telling him not to, for reasons unknown, and after a good five minutes of internally panicking, he's about to turn on his heel, figuring he needs some time to think it through. 

Except he barely even has a chance to move his feet when a sharp pain is surging through his forehead and Jongin stumbles back in a daze, promptly losing his train of thought. What the fu-

"Whoops! Sorry! I didn't see you there, why were you standing like, right behind the door, anyway?" Minseok laughs, his signature laugh that the brunet has grown so increidlby used to, while poking his head through the door before swinging it open entirely. "I was just about to go out and look for you since I thought you'd gotten lost or something," he adds and presses his lips together when Jongin keeps mumbling incoherencies under his breath. "You need an ambulance?"

Hoping he didn't get a concussion, since he has a painful history of (his face) being the victim of other people's hasty door openings, Jongin slowly removes his hands from his face and blinks when he looks up, every ounce of pain instantly disappearing without a trace when he lays his eyes on Minseok. The latter hasn't changed a bit since eighth grade, except his height, which has increased by at least three inches, and his hair color, which is now a shade of orange-y blond instead of its usual chestnut color. But other than that, he looks exactly the same and Jongin fights the urge to exhale in relief. Minseok is fully clad in his uniform, save for his helmet and skates, and a wave of memories crash down on Jongin at once upon seeing the former's attire. Upon closer inspection, Jongin notices Minseok is only wearing one of his shin pads, and he doesn't even need to ask in order to know what happened to the other one. The wave of emotions filling his body is enough to reduce him to a starry eyed, open-mouthed, probably salvating, statue and it takes three calls of his name to get Jongin to snap out of it.

"Before you ask, yes, Yixing had to borrow it," Minseok says sourly before walking forward and grabbing Jongin's wrist before the latter has a chance to turn into a statue for real, and dragging him inside the changing room. "Look familiar?" he chuckles, throwing Jongin down onto one of the benches with a little more force than needed.

Wincing when a sense of pain surges through his bottom, Jongin nods while he looks around. It does look familiar. To be precise, this is where he just so happened to get his heart ripped out of his chest and violently stomped on, only to be ditched less than thirty seconds later, leaving him to fend for himself on the cold, hard ground with an aching body. He remembers it all too well. In fact, it's almost too familiar for his liking and Jongin has to clench his jaw to stop himself from punching a hole in the nearest wall.

"You look like you're about to commit a mass murder," Minseok laughs before shaking his head. "You that nervous or what? Take it easy," he adds before walking over to another bench and picking up a pile of clothing as well as a few other things. "Your majesty's uniform, I take it!"

Fighting the urge to yell 'I'm not nervous!', which he actually isn't, at all, Jongin's words quickly die in his throat when he sees the uniform - his uniform, in Minseok's hands. Upon seeing the shin guards amongst the pile, Jongin shudders involunatarily because he suddenly feels a phantom pain in his right shin after nearly getting it shattered thanks to Yixing's forgetfulness. Jongin makes a mental note not to let Yixing borrow any of his things this time before slowly reaching out and running his palm across the material. It's coarse yet velvety, like he remembers, and the elbow, shin and shoulder pads are just as squishy and foamy as they were all those years ago. Averting his gaze, Jongin sees his neck guard, and he nearly tears up when he sees the words 'KIM JONGIN' on it, which is embroidered into the soft, black material. Christ.  

Chuckling in amusement and awe, Minseok wastes no time in dumping the contents of his hands into Jongin's lap, making the latter squawk in surprise, before brushing his hands together and shooting Jongin a triumphant smile. "We've missed you, Tiger."

Jongin unfolds his jersey and tries not to smile when the number '88' stares back at him in big, bold letters, and it looks exactly like his old jersey, except much, much cleaner. Jongin figures that if he were to continue playing the same way he did all those years ago, the blinding whiteness of the garment will soon be replaced with every shade of black and brown (and in worst cases, red) in existence, and he chuckles to himself before putting it aside. Jongin is about to look through the rest of the pile, not that he has no idea what's in it, when a sudden voice nearly causes him to jump out of his own skin. 

"Seok, I need to borrow your other shin guard, I los- What the." Yixing stops dead in his tracks after he opens the bathroom door, his eyes widening to the size of quarters when his gaze lands on the brunet. His facial expression is honestly unreadable, which honestly makes the brunet feel a little (correction, very) worried, but his worries quickly subside a moment later. "Oh my God, is it- It is you! Jesus, holy , you've grown!" he practically yells in excitement before rushing over and enveloping Jongin in a bone crushing hug, and the latter prays he doesn't suffocate.

Patting Yixing on the back in an attempt to get the latter to let go, in fear of his lungs deflating any minute, Jongin chuckles. "I've been the same height for a year now, you're the one who's grown if anything," he says and, come to think of it, Yixing really has grown a lot, maybe even more than Minseok and the brunet blinks in astonishment because who knows how tall this kid is gonna be. 

"Can you two stop talking about height? It's getting annoying," Minseok mumbles, being the short self he is, before adjusting one of his gloves. He looks at Yixing and squawks when he sees that the latter is only wearing his shoulder pads, (hockey) pants and, of course, only one shin guard. "And you ing lost my shin guard? How on Earth- you haven't even left the room since we came in! How the hell- Damn it, I'm not letting you borrow my other- Damn it, Yixing, where's the rest of your u-"

"Right, about that," Yixing says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, except he doesn't even get a chance to say anything when Minseok shoots him a disapproving look, and he huffs before turning to face Jongin. "Hey, so here's the thing-"

"I'm not lending you my precious shin guards, or even just one, sorry," Jongin chortles, grabbing his shin guards in case Yixing were to try to swipe them, which he has done on numerous occasions. "Just because I've been M.I.A for a couple of years doesn't mean I've forgotten about your idiotic antics, just so you know!" he adds, shaking his head in disbelief when Yixing emits a noise of agony.

"I'll buy you pizza!" 

"I had to walk around with my goddamn leg in a cast last last year because of your forgetfulness," Jongin interjects, smiling smugly when Yixing's jaw nearly hits the floor in surprise. "Don't think I've forgotten, Zhang Yixing," he mumbles under his breath before standing up and proceeding to remove his shirt, excitement bubbling in his gut.

Yixing pouts. "Damn. Elephant memory, much? I barely even remember what we did yesterday during training," he mumbles, mainly to himself, before grabbing his jersey off the bench and quickly sliding it on. "Motherer, I hate these neck guards, they tickle the hell outta my chin," he grumbles, ignoring Minseok and Jongin's stifled laughter. He lets out a chickle himself less than a second later. "Nice shirt."

Jongin stills when his shirt, the one Jungah had practically begged him to wear (which he did, not because she wanted him to, but because he had literally nothing else to wear) yesterday, is halfway over his head. He screams internally. "Thanks."

"No seriously," Yixing says, although both Minseok and Jongin can tell he's on the verge of one of his godawful laughing fits. "It's nice. It, uh, suits you," he adds when Jongin proceeds to stuff said shirt into his duffel bag without a word.

Minseok drags a hand down his face while motioning Yixing to turn his face away and quit laughing. "Let's not make him uncomfortable," he mumbles before adjusting his neck guard. "Anyway, we practiced, , don't you remember?" he huffs with an eyeroll. "You better do your best and try to avoid getting whacked down there, because I'm not lending you my shin guards or anything like it as long as I live, just so you know." He walks over to the bench and picks up his navy blue stick, which is so damaged you can barely even tell what color it is (Jongin only knows what color it is because he was there when Minseok first bought it in sixth grade). "And Coach'll roast you alive if you turn up to the game wearing only one of 'em, or even worse, none at all, just saying."

"They cost like, forty bucks a pair!" Yixing squawks angrily, picking up his elbow pads and putting them on with surprisingly little effort. " that," he adds before sitting down and retreiving his socks from his duffel bag.

Jongin chuckles. "Right, and a knee replacement surgery'll only cost you fifty quid, so you're good," he cackles, letting out a yelp when Yixing threatens to throw one of his socks in his face. Judging by the condition of Yixing's socks, Jongin definitely doesn't want one of them square in the face, that's for sure.

"Have you talked to Coach about everything?" Minseok asks, voice turning serious, as he nods at Jongin. "Like, you've discussed everything, nice and thoroughly, right? I don't want him rejecting you the second we open that door and see him, just so you know."

Nodding, Jongin slides on his undershirt, shuddering when the cool material comes in contact with his bare skin. "Everything should be fine, we've sorted everything out," he replies before removing his jeans and quickly putting on his shorts. He makes sure Yixing is within a distance of at least six feet before proceeding to put on his shin pads. "Hey, by the way, when's the game?" he adds absentmindedly, getting out his long, navy blue socks and carefully sliding them up his legs, on top of the pads on his legs. "Probably should've asked Coach but I forgot."

Watching Jongin buckle his hockey pants, Minseok crosses his arms over his chest. His uniform is surprisingly clean, much to the brunet's surprise. "On either the 9th or the 10th, I can't really remember, but in like, a little more than two weeks," he says before walking over to the bench and fetching his skates - the ones that nearly sliced a fallen opponent's fingers clean off back in the days, as Jongin recalls with a shudder. 

"I checked Coach's email yesterday, and it's on the 10th," Yixing hums, tying his own skates. "Hey, by the way, what made you wanna return?" he asks, lifting his head to look at Jongin. "I mean, you know, besides the obvious, of course," he adds dramatically, placing a hand on his chest and batting his eyelashes. Minseok retches.

"First of all, ew," Jongin starts, ignoring Yixing's squawk of protest, "and second of all, it's uh...kind of a long story, actually." He bites his lip and clears his throat, hoping Yixing will leave it at that. He doesn't, obviously.

"Okay, let's hear it," Yixing says after tying his skates. He wobbles over to Jongin's bench, much to the latter's dismay, and leans in uncomfortably close. "Tell your good ol' pal Yixing, come on."

Sighing, Jongin (almost choreographically) buckles his elbow pads and picks up his shoulder pads. "I'll, uh, tell you some other time," he mumbles, sliding them over his head and tightening it around his waist. If nostalgia could kill, Jongin would be dead. 

Clearing unsatisfied with Jongin's reply, Yixing rolls his eyes. "Come on."

"Dude, he just came the hell back after a three year break, leave him alone before you end up scaring him off again," Minseok huffs as he grabs Yixing's shoulders and pulls him off the bench. Jongin has to remind himself that, just like Jungah, what Minseok lacks in size he makes up for in strength and attitude.

"'Again'?" Yixing squawks, rolling his eyes in irritation, grabbing his jersey off the hook above his head and putting it on. "I hate you, Seok."

Putting on his own jersey, slowly, as to not die from a sudden overload of nostalgia, Jongin chuckles low in his throat. Same ol' Yixing, he thinks to himself before looking around him in confusion. "Where are my-"

"Dang it," Minseok exclaims, slapping a hand on his forehead. He suddenly points to Yixing, who blinks. "Skates, 9.5, quick!" he orders, shooting Yixing a stern look. "On the shelf outside, dimwit."

"Why should I-" Yixing protests, but his words quickly die in his throat when he sees the strict look on Minseok's face, and he mutters a quick 'Be right back' before rushing out the door.

Watching the door close, Minseok shakes his head. "Sorry about that, things have been awfully hectic around here," he mumbles before trudging over to the bench and sitting down. "How long are you planning on playing, by the way?" he asks, tightening his skates.

Jongin shrugs. "Until graduation, at least," he replies, leaning back and resting his head against the wall. Out of nowhere, a sudden thought hits him and his eyes fly open. Wait a minute. "Hey, uh...where's, um, where's Lu Han? I haven't seen him." 

Minseok seems to still for a second, but the brunet quickly dismisses it. "Uh, right, I forgot to tell you," he mumbles, his tone shifting a bit as he works with the laces on his skates. "He quit, actually."

Jongin's jaw nearly hits the floor. "What? When?" he asks, blinking in awe. Honestly, he doesn't remember much about Lu Han, except that the latter seemed to be unnaturally hung up on his physical appearance for whatever reason, and also that he was, without a doubt, one of the most skilled players on the team next to Minseok and, well, Yixing. Jongin was never close with Lu Han; heck, Jongin barely ever talked to him, but he still finds himself surprised, anyway.

"Like, two months ago," Minseok says simply before standing up. When he sees Jongin's questioning gaze in his peripheral, he clears his throat when he hears footsteps approaching the door, signalling Yixing's return. "I'll tell you later," he adds seconds before the door flies open and Yixing comes running in. It sounds like a stampede of buffalo have entered the room and Jongin seriously wonders how one person can possibly make so much noise.

Dumping a pair of brand new looking ice skates in Jongin's hands, Yixing beams triumphantly. "That'll be ten bucks," he says, facing Minseok, who backs away.

"First of all, you owe me twenty from last week's takeout," Minseok says, pinching the bridge of his nose while he watches the brunet remove the blade cover from the skates. "And second of all, you're being annoying, go sit down and fetch your helmet instead, training starts in like, three," he adds, smiling a little when Jongin finishes tying his skates, and he promptly walks over and holds the latter's hand so he won't topple over. "Easy now."

Trying his best to balance, Jongin is instantly surprised at how quickly he manages to steady himself. Not that he doesn't know how to stand on skates, but he figured he'd at least sway a little after standing up, and he blinks in both fascination and relief, desperately hoping standing on the ice in a few moments won't be any more difficult. He can practically feel the solid, slippery surface beneath his feet and all Jongin wants right now is to run out the door and enter the rink already.

Minseok watches Yixing stand up before he bends down and grabs his stick. "Ready?"

"Ready," Yixing mumbles, picking up his own stick and gripping it tightly. "Of course I am. When am I not?"

ping his stick bag, Jongin carefully pulls out his stick and inwardl shivers when he runs his palms over the hard, glossy surface. He's won many games with it, as the scratches and discoloring scattered across the entire tip would suggest, and Jongin's chest swells with pride the longer he holds it in his hands.

As cheesy as it sounds, Jongin almost feels like he's holding and cradling his own child in his arms, but he quickly diminishes the thought before it can get out of hand, because the thought of having a child reminds Jongin of relationships, which in turn reminds him of feelings, which in turn only reminds him of a certain person, and Jongin has to bite back the growl that threatens to escape his lips because training hasn't even started yet and he already feels like walking into the bathroom and shattering the mirror with his stick. Jongin quickly decides against it, (unfortunately), because not only does he want to save his energy the best he can, but he would never, ever, for the life of him be able to forgive himself for breaking the bathroom mirror (and thus possibly getting banned from entering the changing rooms for the rest of eternity) at the expense of his beloved hockey stick because of Sehun. Ever.

"Why's he doing that," Yixing mumbles, nudging Minseok, who only shrugs.

Walking forward, Minseok lightly taps Jongin's shoulder, barely managing to avoid getting decked in the face with the latter's stick when he apparently snaps out of his trance. "Jesus Christ, man."

Fixating his gaze on Minseok and Yixing, Jongin blinks repeatedly before clearing his throat. A sense of discomfort surges through his hands when he realizes that he's been gripping his stick so hard that both his knuckles have turned white. "Sorry," he mumbles sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck as he sends Yixing and Minseok an apologetic look. No more violent thoughts with a stick in hand.

"You could've broken his jaw, you numbskull," Yixing chuckles, although Minseok doesn't know how to feel about said remark since he doesn't sound apologetic in the very slightest. "You excited? I bet you are," he adds excitedly, throwing an arm over Jongin's shoulder, nearly making the latter stumble backwards.

Regaining his balance, Jongin nods a little too enthusiastically before he wobbles over to the bench and picks up his helmet, which feels incredibly lightweight. He instantly realizes that the helmet in his hands is a new one compared to the one he wore in sixth, seventh and eigth grade because he clearly remembers engraving his name on the inside with Lu Han's pocket knife the same day their coach handed out their equipment. Jongin hopes the new one will live up to his expectations. At least it's nice and shiny, he thinks before carefully putting it on his head, all noise promptly decreasing significantly when the edges of the helmet cover his ears.

Almost choreographically, Jongin makes sure the chin guard is touching his chin before proceeding to gently lower the cage, which is a perfect fit for his helmet. He hears the familiar voice of his coach yelling something on the other side of the door and Jongin feels his nerves tingle with excitement because it's actually happening. On a side note, Jongin seriously hopes that his coach has toned it down on the strictness since they last talked and saw each other.

"Lemme help you," Minseok mumbles before taking a step forward and grabbing the chin straps to Jongin's helmet. Despite the fact that the brunet's face is mostly hidden by the thick, white cage, Minseok doesn't even have to lean in and squint to know that Jongin's eyes are trembling with excitement and he hurries to fasten the straps before the latter has a chance to explode into a million pieces. "There we go," he says happily after tightening the last strap and he takes a step back.

Mumbling a barely audible (or coherent, but he blames it on the excited rush in his system which is preventing him from thinking straight) 'Thanks, Seok', Jongin swiftly turns on his heel (or to be precise, the back of his skate; rather flawlessly, much to Yixing's astonishment) before bending down. He hurries to gather his jeans and his shirt before practically throwing them both into the locker, closely followed by his jacket. Afterwards, Jongin makes sure to retreive the padlock he brought from home from his duffel bag before cramming the latter inside the locker, as well

"Well then," Minseok says boldly when Jongin turns to face him and Yixing again. "Are we ready?" He shoots Jongin a smile of both encouragement and proudness when Jongin nods so excitedly that his helmet almost slides off his head. He turns around and nods at Yixing in encouragement, as well, when the latter puts on his helmet. "You ready, too? Don't die now," he chuckles, gesturing at Yixing's right leg, the one that's missing a shin guard.

Tightening the straps to his helmet, Yixing adjusts his jersey before sending Minseok a thumbs up. "As ready as I'll ever be."

Gripping his stick tightly, it's not until Jongin sees Minseok putting on his own helmet that a burst of excitement, fear and anxiety shoots up his spine all at once, and he nearly drops his stick in surprise. He bites his lip as a wave of different emotions crash down on him, the cage effectively concealing his anxiety induced lip biting from Minseok and Yixing's view. It's really ing happening.

"We'll start easy if you want to, some simple warmup exercises," Minseok says, sensing Jongin's nervosity from his spot three feet away. Their coach's voice booms through the door and he thumps Jongin on the back in encouragement. "Now go get 'em, Tiger." 

At first, Jongin stands nailed to the floor, unable to move, as he stares, perplexed at the white door before him. On the other side, he hears the sounds of pucks being whacked in and from all directions, closely followed by loud cheering, and his heart beats a little quicker. It's almost like a voice is calling his name on the other side of the door and Jongin subconsciously grips his stick so tightly he nearly snaps it in half.

It's not until Yixing pokes him in the waist with his stick that Jongin is back into reality, and he takes a much needed breath before proceeding to walk forward, as if he were being pulled by the collar this time instead of being called. Jongin feels surprisingly sturdy despite wearing skates on each foot, and his arm seems to move of its own accord as he lifts it up and grabs the door handle before quickly swinging the door open without a second thought.

The freezing cold air engulfs him seconds later and the smell of ice and rubber enters his nose and, for the first time in a long, long time, Jongin feels a rush of genuine happiness settle in his chest.

~~~