“At some point, you’re going to have to hit open shots, Moonbyul. If you can’t shoot, tell me you can’t shoot and we’ll adjust the game plan accordingly. If you’re getting too comfortable with your position, if you need a challenge, let me know. We can arrange that.”

Coach Ok had been riding her all practice. Granted, Moonbyul was having an off day, but this was something else entirely. It had been a little over three weeks since official practices started. Everyone else had been making mistakes here and there, but their indiscretions barely got focused on. The one day that she wasn’t at her best, though, Coach decided to call her out nonstop. In front of everyone.

Attempting to make the most out of their one-minute break, Moonbyul languidly headed to the scorer’s table and grabbed her labeled Gatorade water bottle. She used her already drenched undershirt to wipe off the beads of sweat that were currently trickling down her face. The shirt was saturated and was barely effective in clearing her face, but any little bit helped, she guessed. As she squirted some water into , she incidentally made eye contact with their graduate manager, Ji Yooin, who was at the table. She helped keep time and score during practices, in addition to assisting the coaches in facilitating drills. Yooin was a former basketball player, and was now in her second year of the Global Sport Management master’s program and second year as the team’s graduate manager. She and Moonbyul had grown relatively close, close enough for her to now be carefully watching the junior, trying to gauge how she was doing with all of Coach’s criticism.

“You good?” she asked, the care and concern evident in her voice. Moonbyul reluctantly nodded her head in response as she swallowed more water before speaking out loud.

“It’s whatever. I’m fine,” she added tersely.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no,’” Yooin laughed. Moonbyul had to laugh, too. Her tone of voice was so completely opposite of the words she had actually uttered.

“I’m mad you made me laugh.”

“That’s my job, isn’t it?”

“Oh yeah? I thought your job involved bigger responsibilities than that. I was today years old when I learned that you’re just a glorified clown.”

“We glorified clowns prefer the term ‘jester.’ Please respect that. Besides,” Yooin continued as she stopped the game clock before it hit zero, “keeping the star’s spirits up is a major responsibility. They pay me the big bucks for this.” Byulyi aggressively rolled her eyes.

“I’m not the star.”

“Mmm,” Yooin distractedly replied. She was setting the clock for the next set of drills—15 minutes. “You claim you’re not the star, yet Coach is treating you like the star.”

“She’s been calling me out the entire practice.” Moonbyul’s tone was a bit sharp. She had no idea what Yooin was on, but getting embarrassed in front of the entire team and staff was not usually how stars got treated.

“Stop ing. She expects more from you. The first game of the season is a little over one week away, and her starting point guard is missing wide-open layups. I can see why she’d be a bit frustrated.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

“Everyone’s gathering. Water break is over. Better join the group before she calls you out again.”

“Will do.”

*

“We’re going to split up and do some position-specific drills, then we’ll end on a scrimmage. The 1s, 2s, and 3s, go with Coach Do. Coach Kim will take 4s and 5s. Heeyeon, you’ll bounce between both; start with Coach Kim. Byulyi, come with me.”

It took every fiber of self-control in her body to not let out a groan. As everyone split up, Moonbyul followed Coach Ok. Their practice facility had two full-sized courts laid next to each other. The head coach stood in the strip of hardwood that separated the two, allowing her to view both courts simultaneously, which she did. She watched as the assistant coaches started their respective drills before acknowledging Byulyi.

“Why do you think I called you to talk with me?” Her focus was on the group of players with Coach Do, but Moonbyul knew she was paying attention to her, waiting for her response.

“Because I today?” The usually stoic coach allowed her lips to turn up a bit.

“You have today, yes. There’s no way around that. How many days until our first game?”

“Nine.”

“Nine days until our first game. Four practices left. We need you this season,” at this, she turned to give Moonbyul her undivided attention. “You’re not a captain this year, but you’re a leader. As the point guard, you’re the coach on the floor. You have to be on all the time, and that may seem unfair, but that’s the burden that comes with being the starting point guard of a team that was a few seconds away from a championship last year. The goal this year is what?”

“A championship.”

“Correct. Which means we have to practice every day like we are a championship team, and that starts with the leaders buying into that and behaving accordingly.” As if she could sense Moonbyul’s defenses rising, she attempted to reassure her starting guard. “I’m not saying that you’re not behaving properly. You do a great job of leading by example. I know you spent almost every free second this past year either watching film or training. You’ve improved a lot, which is saying something because you were phenomenal beforehand. But there is more pressure this year, Byulyi. Teams have an entire year’s worth of film on you playing in this system. They’ve had a year to prepare to stop you. Your role on this team is bigger this year. You have to be more poised and more mentally strong. You have to be ready at any point to make the right decision and execute. We need you to execute this year.”

“It’s impossible to make every shot.”

“Maybe. But it’s not impossible to make wide-open shots, especially those within the three-point line. You may think I’m being harsh, but if you can’t make open shots in practice, how are you going to make shots in games with defenders draped all over you?” The earnest look of contemplation on Byulyi’s face signaled to her that she got across the point she had intended to. “You’re an excellent basketball player. We all expect as much as we do from you because we know for a fact that you’re capable of delivering. You’re capable of greatness. So be great. Grab Heeyeon and the both of you go join Coach Do’s group.”

It was championship or bust this season. Given how close they had come to a championship the previous season, Moonbyul figured this would be the case. Still, there was a difference between thinking you’d play a role in your team winning a championship and finding out you’d play the main role in your team winning a championship. This was a level of pressure that she wasn’t fully sure she was ready for.

*

“Good practice today. No practice tomorrow,” Coach Ok was cut off by the cheers from the team. She waited until they had calmed down enough to her liking before continuing. “No practice tomorrow and Midnight Madness is happening on Friday. All of us coaches hope that you enjoy that and have fun, but know that once practice starts on Monday, it’s back to business. We’ll have four practices next week before the season-opener against Yonsei. They’re a strong team, so be ready. Heeyeon, take us home.”

The team was congregated around the center circle, practice finally ending. Heeyeon made her way to center, pulling everyone in. She raised a fist in the air, all other coaches and players following suit, making sure all of their hands were touching.

“You all heard Coach. Let’s have fun on Friday and be ready to go on Monday. We have a championship to win this season, ladies! SNU on three. One, two, three.”

“SNU!!!”

“Have fun but be safe, please,” Coach Do added as an afterthought.

The team members dispersed, some getting the extra energy in their systems out by letting out some hoots and hollers. Moonbyul was not one of those people. She usually stayed after practice to get a few extra shots up, but not today. Never on Wednesdays. She couldn’t be more grateful to have an excuse to get out of this gym and away from everything basketball-related.

The blonde gathered her things and made a beeline for the locker room. Moments after entering and getting ready to take a shower, she heard a few more people enter the locker room before a familiar voice called out to her.

“Byul-ah. You in here?”

“Yeah, Heeyeon. About to shower.” The senior entered the locker space then, catching Moonbyul in her towel and shower slippers.

“That has got to be the fastest you’ve ever undressed.”

“Wanting to get the hell out of somewhere does wonders, huh?” Heeyeon sighed before crossing the room to her own locker.

“What did she say when she pulled you aside?”

“That even though I’m not a captain, I’m still a leader and that she expects a lot from me and that if we’re going to win, I have to be great.”

“Well, I heard no lies.” Byulyi grabbed her soap and shampoo and walked to the shower area’s entrance.

“Honestly, I’m not even mad that she was getting on me. I’m more upset with myself. I played like in practice today. All that training and lifting and everything for what? To miss wide-open shots and turn the ball over? It’s pathetic.” By now, Heeyeon had also disrobed and wrapped herself in her towel. She joined Moonbyul by the entrance to the shower room, the two of them heading in together, finding separate stalls. They put their conversation on pause for a few minutes as they washed up. Moonbyul got out first and returned to the locker room. Heeyeon found her there some minutes later after she had finally finished her own shower.

They got dressed in silence as more of their teammates now populated the space. Heeyeon rushed to get dressed and get her things in order. She needed to finish their conversation before Moonbyul left. The heavens were on her side. She was finishing buttoning her coat just as she saw her roommate leaving.

“Wait!” Moonbyul was halfway down the hall leading to the exit when she heard Heeyeon calling after her.

“What?”

“I’ll walk with you,” she responded, slightly out of breath from running.

“I’m not going home.”

“I know.” Moonbyul sighed before turning and continuing to walk, Heeyeon in tow.

“About what you said earlier,” she cautiously eased into their earlier conversation, “it’s not pathetic. Everyone has a few rough practices. You’ve been killing it, Byul. Give yourself some credit.”

“Mm.”

“I hate when you do that. You’re always so hard on yourself. Yes, you hold yourself to high standards, that’s understandable. You absolutely should. But kicking yourself over one practice? Sorry, that’s dumb as hell. You think anyone on the team or on the coaching staff suddenly doesn’t believe in you because you had your first ty practice this season? We’ve been practicing for three weeks, Byulyi. Some of the team still doesn’t know the damn playbook. You’re fine.”

“Whatever.”

Heeyeon absolutely, without question, loved Moon Byulyi to death. She also absolutely, without question, hated the negative side of Byulyi. And that side was strong. In her time knowing Moonbyul, Heeyeon witnessed how loving and caring she was with other people. So encouraging. So sweet. So positive. She rarely ever afforded herself that same amount of love. Frankly, it pissed Heeyeon off. Even worse, there was no talking to her about it. When Moonbyul wanted to be negative and pessimistic, she was locked in. Nothing could get her out of that state of mind until she decided to let herself out of it. This was one of the reasons that she was so grateful for Kim Yongsun. Moonbyul listened to everything Yongsun said and Heeyeon hoped she’d be able to get through to Byulyi when she was down like this. Yes, she teased Moonbyul about the graduate student. Often. That had more to do with Moonbyul’s strong reactions to the jokes than anything else. Heeyeon did not believe that there was anything more than friendship between the two of them, in part because Moonbyul said so and she believed her, but mostly because she didn’t believe Yongsun would ever let that happen. The girl had sense.

“Don’t bring all this attitude and negativity to Yongsun-unnie. She’s already doing a big enough favor by being friends with you,” Heeyeon jested, gently bumping Byulyi’s shoulder.

“Shut up,” Byulyi replied, a small smile on her face.

“Is that a smile I see? Well then, my job here is done. I’m going to find something to eat then head home. See you later. Tell unnie I said ‘hi’.”

“Will do.”

*

The walk and talk with Heeyeon hadn’t taken long at all. Her walk on Wednesdays rarely did. A few minutes at most.

As she approached the building, she spotted Yongsun in the lobby, a smile on her face as she chatted it up with the student working security—a regular on Wednesdays—and a couple other familiar faces, one of whom was someone Moonbyul was never particularly excited to be around. Her steps slowed as she entered the building, the sliding doors immediately alerting the other three to her presence.

“Moonbyul-ssi! We were wondering when you were going to get here,” Kwon Seongjin exclaimed. He was a senior at SNU that worked part-time with campus security. A cool guy. She and Yongsun usually spent a few minutes chatting with him before heading off.

Ever since the Friday night at Moonbyul’s apartment, the two had started spending time on the weekends together, too. Sometimes they hung out with Wheein and Hyejin, other times they explored Seoul to find cool places to eat or do work. No matter what it was, the way things stood, they practically saw each other every day, and that wasn’t including the nonstop texts and phone calls.

Once basketball practices started, though, Moonbyul began picking Yongsun up from her class. Wednesdays were brutal for the graduate student. She had classes back-to-back from 9:00 am until 7:50 pm. For Byul, practice on that day ran from 6:00 pm to either 7:30 pm or 8:00 pm. Seeing as the building that Yongsun’s class was in wasn’t far at all from the athletic complex, it didn’t make sense to Byulyi for them to meet at the Commons. She insisted on picking Yongsun up so that they could walk together, so that’s what happened every week on Wednesday. Moonbyul quickly washed up after practice, picked Yongsun up, they’d spend some time talking to Seongjin, then they’d eat at the Commons and head home.

“Hey, Seongjin. Here I am. You don’t have to miss me anymore.” She walked up to Yongsun and gently placed her index finger under the brunette’s chin. “Hey, unnie.” Moonbyul was gifted with her favorite smile in return. Yongsun’s eyes had almost completely disappeared. She was smiling that brightly at the athlete’s presence.

“Hi, Byulyi.”

“Changsub-ssi, Chorong-ssi,” Byul dryly acknowledged Yongsun’s friends.

“Hi, Byulyi-ssi!” Changsub was always pleasant towards her.

“Moonbyul.” Chorong, though, addressed Moonbyul with the same lack of energy Byulyi addressed her with. “Yong, we’re going to get going. We’ll talk later, okay? Bye, Seongjin-ssi. It was a pleasure meeting you.”

“Bye, Chorong-ssi, Changsub-ssi!”

“Bye, you two.” After making their way out, Yongsun focused her attention on Moonbyul. “You okay?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Lie again.” Byulyi quirked an eyebrow at that.

“You’re stealing my phrases now?”

“Sorry. I didn’t know you invented the language.”

“Now you know,” Moonbyul sighed.

“Don’t try to change the subject.” She walked up to the junior and rested a hand on her stomach. “Are you really okay? You seem . . . down? I don’t know how to explain it.” Once again, Moonbyul sighed.

“Unnie. I am fine.”

“Okay,” she softly responded. “Where do you want to eat tonight?”

“Huh?” Byulyi’s confusion confused Yongsun.

“What do you mean?”

“Aren’t we going to the Commons?”

“It closed early today, remember? We were leaving last night and one of the workers told us.” Moonbyul’s subsequent outburst caught Yongsun by surprise. There was no way the athlete was reacting this strongly because of her love for food at the Commons. There had to be something deeper going on beneath the surface.

Shooting a quick glance at Seongjin, Yongsun saw that he was engrossed in something on his phone. Judging by the headphones in his ears, it was probably a video of some kind. She waved goodbye to him and saw him wave back before she pulled Moonbyul into the vestibule of the building. Now that there were less ears around, she could try to get to the bottom of everything.

“Byul-ah. Look at me. What’s going on?”

Yongsun’s gentle voice coupled with the soft hands she placed on Byulyi’s face and the affection in her eyes almost caused Moonbyul to break down. Despite her glossy eyes, she kept her composure.

“Unnie, where do you want to eat? Just pick somewhere. Please.” Yongsun dropped her hands as she appraised Moonbyul. By now, she could read her best friend. She could read her very well. She also knew her well enough to know that pressing the issue right now would do no good. Releasing a deep sigh, Yongsun let Byulyi have her way.

“We can go to my apartment and I can order us something. Would that be okay?”

Moonbyul felt like . Well, tier than she originally felt. Yongsun was bending over backwards to take care of her when she had had a long day of her own, and here she was, acting petulantly. She needed to get it together, she thought.

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

*

Yongsun’s apartment was exactly the same as hers but it felt so different. It was cozy. Comfortable. Calming. Moonbyul wasn’t sure what exactly made it so, but this was her first time in her friend’s apartment and she already felt at home.

The two were on the couch in the living room, the food they had agreed on had just arrived. A variety show on the television in front of them provided background noise. The open windows let in the fresh, crisp autumn air from outside.

Yongsun stood up to walk down one of the apartment’s halls. “Misuk, I ordered food. I’ll set some aside for you.”

“Thanks, unnie,” her roommate called from through her bedroom door. As she walked back, Moonbyul was curious.

“How come I never knew your roommate’s name?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because you never listen to me,” Yongsun jested.

“Oh please. I listen to everything you say.”

“Oh yeah,” Yongsun challenged.

“Yeah,” Moonbyul answered seriously. After a couple minutes of thinking about their time together today, the athlete decided to be honest with the brunette. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

“There’s no need to apologize,” Yongsun quickly dismissed.

“There is.” Her earnestness was on display as she turned to face Yongsun on the couch. “I was in a sour mood, but that still doesn’t excuse how snappy I was with you. You didn’t deserve that.” They maintained eye contact with one another for a few beats before any response from Yongsun came.

“Thank you for the apology.” Their voices were low, as if the honesty and sincerity of the moment would be scared away should the volume raise by even one decibel. “Do you want to talk about what put you in a bad mood?” She saw the struggle in Moonbyul’s eyes and decided to let the question hang in the air. She wasn’t going to push it.

“Can I lie down?”

“What am I, your therapist?” Yongsun asked this, yet she still positioned herself better—back against the couch, feet firmly on the floor—so that Moonbyul could lie down sideways and settle her head in her lap. The younger of the two felt content in that moment as she felt the older one’s fingers hesitantly running through her hair.

“That feels good, unnie,” she muttered, eyes closed. Wheein did this all the time to her, but if she were being honest with herself, Yongsun doing it felt much more intimate. It was an honest observation. Everything felt more intimate in this apartment though. The string lights created a soft, relaxed ambience. With the harsh kitchen lights off, the living room felt otherworldly. Comfortably cool and refreshing and healing. “And yeah, you are my therapist. Surprised you didn’t realize it sooner. Why do you think I call and text you so often?” The brunette giggled softly.

“You’re annoying.”

“You always say that, but you don’t mean it,” she mumbled, growing drowsy.

“Yah! Wake up. I’ll stop if you fall asleep. I’m serious.”

“It’s not my fault! You’re so comfortable. And I’m tired.”

“Then go sleep in your bed,” Yongsun moved to push Moonbyul off of her.

“Stop. Come on, man, what’s wrong with you?” She repositioned Yongsun and then made herself comfortable again.

Yongsun should have been annoyed, but the way Byulyi whined was too funny. She had to nerve to be irritated with Yongsun as if she was the one in the wrong. Yongsun rolled her eyes, but continued massaging her scalp.

“Your hair isn’t fully dry, especially at the roots.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

A comfortable silence overtook them.

“I had a bad practice.” She was so low, Yongsun almost didn’t hear her.

“That’s why you were so upset?” Moonbyul knew Yongsun didn’t mean it in a judgmental way. She was genuinely trying to understand. So she opened up.

“It wasn’t just bad, it was extremely ty. I couldn’t do anything right. And it was so frustrating, because I know I’m better than that, but today . . . nothing I did was working. Then Coach kept calling me out and she pulled me aside and basically told me if I don’t play well, the team won’t win. That pressure, I don’t know, unnie, it’s a lot. I wanted to play basketball because it was fun. I mean, it’s still fun, don’t get me wrong, but this is different. Sometimes I wonder if I can live up to it.”

This side of Moonbyul, Yongsun had never seen. It was vulnerable and raw, almost fragile. The two had conversations about somewhat serious things before, but the athlete was always composed, confident. This was . . . not that. She went to respond, her voice cracking a bit from having stayed quiet for so long.

“Why wouldn’t you be able to live up to it?”

“I’ve never been in anything like this before. It’s a lot, unnie. The amount of money that goes into all of this. The expectations. They have my face everywhere, on tickets, on posters. It’s a lot. This season is basically championship or bust. If we don’t win a championship, then we failed. And if we don’t win, that means I didn’t play well, so then that means that I failed. I’ve worked hard, y’know? I’ve been in the gym improving my skills. I’ve been in the weight room trying to bulk up and get stronger. Been working with all types of coaches to get faster and more agile and to improve my handles. Anything you can think of, I’ve done it. All for me to not be able to make open shots and layups in practice. How embarrassing is that? It’s like I’m a fraud.”

Moonbyul wasn’t sure why she was able to say all of this now, but she wasn’t going to question it. The doubts had been swimming in her head for some time now, and it felt good to finally say it out loud. She trusted Yongsun with this.

“From what I’ve heard,” Yongsun started, voice tentative, “you’re an amazing basketball player.” The blonde snorted, the first sign of mirth since she began speaking.

“You’ve never seen me play, unnie.”

“Yeah, but if everyone is saying it, there has to be some truth to it, no?”

“What if they’re just saying it because they think I’m cute?”

“Impossible. You’re not cute enough for that.” Moonbyul shrieked so loud, Yongsun’s roommate came to check on if everything was okay. Once she was assured that no one was hurt, she once again retreated to her bedroom.

“Wow. Unnie, look at my eyes,” she to her back so that Yongsun had a better look at her face. “There are tears in my eyes! Whoa, that was so funny. Oh my goodness. Wow. That was a good one, unnie.”

“You’re so full of yourself.”

“I’m not, but you know I’m attractive. Don’t even try it.”

“Mmm. If you say so.”

They got serious again.

“But yeah, I think about that a lot, too. People treat me a little like a celebrity on this campus. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, but I wonder how they’d be if I didn’t live up to their expectations. What if we didn’t win a single game this season? Or what if we get to the championship game again and lose? Are all those girls still going to approach me the way they do and try to get close?”

“Well, you’re part of the National Team, so, yeah, they probably still would.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do. You also know what I mean. If you lose in the championship game, you’re not a failure. If you lose before that and never get to the championship game, you’re not a failure.” Yongsun held on to Byulyi’s face to make sure the younger was paying attention to her next words. “Nothing can make you a failure because that isn’t decided by wins and losses, Byul-ah. It’s decided by how someone reacts to difficult situations. And you never give up, no matter what. You always push yourself to be better, because that’s who you are. You can never be a failure or a fraud, you hear me? Never. And I don’t want to ever hear you even think of those words when it comes to you. I’m serious. Okay?” Moonbyul took some time to process that before ultimately nodding.

Both stayed quiet. Minutes passed.

“Did you set food aside already for your roommate?” Yongsun didn’t quite understand where that question came from, but responded anyway.

“No. Why?”

“Wheein just texted me that she and Hyejin are coming over. Might want to do that before they come and vacuum all our food away.”

“All of you are just! Ugh!”

She eased Moonbyul off of her as she went to get some Tupperware.

“You love us, though.”

“Lie again.”

“Yah! Stop stealing my phrases!”

“Yah! Who are you talking to?! I’m older than you.”

Hyejin and Wheein arrived later and enjoyed not only the food, but also Yongsun and Moonbyul’s petty squabble. They could always count on their unnies to provide quality entertainment.

Note: Had a day off and decided to write, so here’s a chapter earlier than usual. Still hoping to get another chapter out this week! Feel like you all may be tired of hearing me say ‘thank you,’ but I am seriously so grateful. I read every comment and am happy to hear that so many of you find many of these characters cute. I’m also so excited to get into the messiness. In time, though.