rio is hot.

it take his team all of five minutes in the country for them to realize this and act accordingly — which is to say that after the opening ceremony, not a single one of them has stepped foot outside of the building unnecessarily. although, it’s easy to see that being trapped indoors is beginning to drive donghae a little stir crazy.

hyukjae watches as donghae vibrates in his seat, his leg bouncing up and down, his fingers twitching. he resists the urge to snap at the other man.

“donghae,” hyukjae says slowly. “please stop.” donghae looks up at him.

“oh,” he says. he stills. it lasts for several seconds before donghae begins to jitter again.

“oh my god donghae, come on,” hyukjae says, getting up from his arm chair, pulling donghae up with him. “we’re going to the pool.”

donghae blinks at him but lets hyukjae drag him down the hall.

“hyung, i don’t have a swimsuit,” he says.

“we can buy one or whatever, being stuck here is going to drive me insane,” hyukjae says. “the hotel lobby has shops.”

twenty minutes later, hyukjae finds himself lounging on the deck of the pool, with donghae swimming slow laps in front of him.

hyukjae doesn’t mind — it’s a way to get all the pent-up nervous energy out of donghae. after about half an hour of constant swimming, donghae pulls himself out of the pool, stands up, and makes his way over to hyukjae. hyukjae can’t help but admire the way the water drips down donghae’s bare torso, his ples skin glistening in the sunlight.

after a moment, hyukjae catches himself and looks away quickly, clearing his throat. donghae drops into the lounge chair next to him, his hair dripping with water. hyukjae catches the mischievous look in the man’s eyes and glares.

“don’t you dare,” he says. donghae grins at him.

“i wasn’t going to do anything,” he says and swings his legs so he’s resting on the chair as well. hyukjae can’t help but notice that donghae’s body is so close to his he can feel the heat radiating off the other man’s body.

several minutes pass. donghae begins fidgeting again. hyukjae closes his eyes for a second before opening them.

“donghae, are you physically incapable of sitting still for five minute?”

donghae looks up at him, eyes wide and guilty. hyukjae rolls his eyes and pulls the man closer. donghae squirms for a second before he settles, his attention caught elsewhere. suddenly, donghae’s hand shoots out, tracing the scar that runs along the length of his upper right leg.

“does it still hurt?” donghae asks quietly. hyukjae glances down at donghae, who is looking back at him with solemn eyes.

“not really,” he says. “not when i walk. not anymore. only when i jump or run long distances. ...sometimes in the mornings.”

“i’m glad,” donghae says, smiling softly. “that it doesn’t hurt you that much anymore. and for everything else, i’ll play for you.”

—

donghae doesn’t play for the first several matches. they still trashed the preliminary competition. hyukjae didn’t expect anything less.

hyukjae watches the matches from the bench, listening to the cheers of the crowd with donghae sat next to him.

donghae has yet to take off his jacket. he sits through each match, cheering their team on, content in watching. hyukjae knows, that beneath the jacket, is the number seventeen, large and proud. just waiting to be revealed to the public.

and when the team scores their winning point of the quarterfinals, hyukjae cheers his heart out and knows, that it is donghae’s time to shine.

—

“i can do this,” donghae says, staring hyukjae dead in the eye as they prepare for their semifinal game. hyukjae stares right back at donghae.

“yes,” he says. “yes, you can.” donghae nods at him. hyukjae reaches out, tracing the number seventeen on the red material of donghae's olympic jersey. hyukjae's old jersey is resting in donghae's bag. donghae's hand rests over hyukjae's far a second.

"thank you, hyung," he whispers. hyukjae smiles softly, pulling donghae into a hug, his hand running through donghae's hair.

"destroy them, donghae," he says softly. "do your best."

"i will, hyung," donghae responds. they remain still for a second before donghae pulls back. he gives hyukjae one last look before turning, making his way to the bench. hyukjae follows several seconds later, trailing behind donghae.

it doesn’t take long for the crowd to take note of donghae’s number. the crowd rumbles with excitement.

when the game starts, donghae is still on the bench, but three points in the coach signals  for a player change.

thirty-four for seventeen.

the crowd goes wild.

donghae does not disappoint. hyukjae knows that the other team is prepared for donghae’s vertical, but it is one thing to know and another to see. hyukjae basks in the other team’s awe.

two games are a win, each one hard fought, but beautiful. donghae flies, his attacks careful and precise. hyukjae feels like he is breathing for the first time in months — like he is flying with donghae.

they fly together.

and when donghae scores their final winning point, five points ahead of the other team, donghae lands and runs off the court into his arms.

donghae’s head rests on his shoulders.

“we’re so close, hyung,” he says softly, right into hyukjae’s ear. “so close.”

—

their final game of the olympics has hyukjae buzzing with adrenaline. his team buzzes with the same energy, bouncing on the spot as they wait for their final game.

they’re tied one win each.

it seems that the other team has managed to figure out how to counter donghae’s techniques, countering many of donghae’s attacks. donghae’s moves are ever clever, but the reflexes of the players of their opposing team are impressive, to say the least.

hyukjae takes his intended seat on the bench, watching the game intensely