2013.

The Past — Jongin .

It was never meant to be a race between the pair of brothers as to who would be able to accomplish more in their life or who would make their parents prouder. After all, one’s journey to nature’s finishing line should not be set in the context of how one’s life fares in comparison to others. Right? To each his own.

Although three years apart, Jongin and Jongdae enjoyed the closest of relationships between siblings. Even in their growing years, they got along well with little to no discord between them, largely because they pursued different interests.

Jongdae took after their father and tried his hand at several sports from a young age, while Jongin shared his beloved mother’s love for dance, in particular, contemporary and ballet.

They ran on parallel tracks and they conquered .

Jongin used to pretend he was reaching for the stars hanging from the dance studio’s ceiling at every leap and pirouette — his dreams achievable.

“Did you smile today, my baby?” His mother used to ask him the same question whenever she came to pick him up at four o’clock on the dot in the late afternoon, when the ten-year old would be waiting for her by the dance academy’s front porch to fetch him to the rink for his beginner figure skating class. His younger self would always be exhausted, sweaty, but undeniably happy after dancing.

Without fail, he would nod and pat himself on the back. “I earned another feather today, mommy.” He would grin up at her before standing on his tiptoes to kiss her cheek. Just a couple of years more and he would match her height easily. His mother had always been a frail and petite woman.

“My angel Jongin would take to the skies soon then!” she would always reply with, adjusting the scarf tied around her head before she grabbed onto his hand tightly, as if she wanted to say more, but eventually leading him away without saying anything. “You’re growing up so fast. Mommy will always be there with my baby. Even when you spread your wings and fly, Jongin, when you stand on the big stage next time, mommy will always be with you. Look for me in the stars okay?”

“Okay. Promise?” His naivety had allowed him to see past her sunken cheeks and the tired lines drawn across her face. Instead, Jongin would convince himself she spoke the truth because of the twinkles in her eyes — like the stars in the dance studio, they are entrancing. With her encouragement, he felt like he could grow up to do anything.

It is one day, several months later, that he derived the conclusion that his mother had lied to him when the watch strapped on his wrist showed the time 4:30pm and she was still nowhere to be found. He was late for his figure skating lessons now. They were going to learn basic jumps today and he was really looking forward to it because they reminded him of pirouettes in dance class and he always does such a great job with those.

Jongdae would tell him later that their mommy had been suffering from cancer for a long time, and that she is much happier where she is now. Whatever that meant, he does not understand. 

It was that day that Jongin understood happiness could be a deceptive word.

The day he buried his mother, he had stayed up late at night staring out of his window. He had looked up to the sky and noted that even the distance between him and the clearest, nearest star he saw put to shame the distance between him and say the streetlight found down the road.

By the streetlight, right at the start of the alley, is a famous bathhouse their family frequents. Jongin remembered he used to complain whenever his parents dragged him and Jongdae there to get a body scrub after a day out playing under the hot sun because it was a long and uphill walk. The distance no longer seemed far to him in comparison to the star he cannot reach, and he had eventually let the muffled cries he heard from his parents’ bedroom lull him to sleep.

His dreams were not so attainable anymore after his mother passed away.

It had hurt too much for Jongin’s father to send him back to learn ballet, and his figure-skating lessons had eventually stopped as well. Jongin was in the house when Ms Song, one of the academy’s instructors, had called to check why he had been missing his lessons, and what he saw scared him immensely. For someone Jongin and his brother look up to for being strong, charismatic and dependable, his father’s broken and forlorn figure throughout the duration of the call contradicted everything he knew and was used to — he looked a figure of someone who had lost everything and was on the verge of giving up.

Even in the painful silence that had followed the dropped call and the dull notes echoing in the living room, Jongin was afraid to call attention to himself hiding behind the counter because he knew that just his face could trigger a breakdown on his father’s part. Besides his strong physical resemblance to his mother, everything he stood for reminded the family so much of their loss, and in the early days of her passing, they needed a temporary fix to patch the hole in their hearts.

Jongin was not prepared to lose his father too, so it was to no one’s surprise that he next found himself gearing up and stepping onto the ice with a different pair of skates and a hockey stick in his hand when finally they tried to make a feeble attempt at restarting their daily lives some months of grieving later.

“Ice hockey is fun, Jongin. You’re a boy, you should love this more than dancing and figure-skating—” his father would choke up at the memory of his late wife before sending Jongin onto the ice with a rough shove at his shoulder. “Just don’t look back anymore. This is all we have left.”

Ice hockey was the only thing his family was left with that tied them all together so no one would be missed ever again. Soon, months rolled into years and he no longer remembered which compartment of his drawers did he hide away his ballet flats.

Jongin does not admit he still thinks about leaps and stars occasionally. He misses them both. 

He misses dance, but more so, he misses his mother.

~

“You need to pick up the pace going into the boards behind the goal to draw the defenseman to you, Jongin. Go, try again! Time your run properly, Woobin. Remember, you only have one shot at this in a real game situation before the big man in goal has his far post covered. Go, go. Let’s go!” Coach Kim blows the whistle hanging around his neck, and the shrill noise forces Jongin to push off the ice and sprint after his line mates at once.

He can barely hear from under his helmet. His exhausted pants are all he can focus on, and the furious sound of his blades cutting through the ice at top speed, of course.

“Not fast enough. Didn’t you see how Jongdae did it just now? Your line’s chemistry isn’t working. Sort it out before I break up this ing line!” 

Jongin sighs and shakes his head in despondence. That comparison with the elder again. He was going as fast as he could, for goodness sake. The years he has played the sport competitively has cultivated an unhealthy strain in the relationship between him and his brother. He knows Jongdae has no fault for it is often the coaching staff who compares their abilities, but it does not mean it hurts any less because he knows he can only wish to be half the forward Jongdae is.

Jongin is good, but his older brother has always been better. That is just the way it is. Being second best and constantly being called out for it in front of the entire team and coaching staff has crippled his confidence and planted seeds of doubt in his mind.

“Switch in position,” he calls out to his line mate before he abandons his spot shielding the goalie up top and darts behind the goal. He feels the hard stare to the side of his face and imagines the ready frown on the Coach’s face, judging his decision. Jongin knows it before he even sees it play out — their timing is off again. Woobin is a fraction of a second too late sliding into the empty hole between the two defensemen in front of the goal and that upsets the whole balance of the play.

Oh boy, this is going to hurt. Jongin controls the puck with his stick and bites down on his mouth guard, watching as a senior player bears down on him. He has no one to pass to for the defense has executed their play to a t.  me. He braces himself.

Even in training, they go all out, and Jongin’s body is slammed unforgivingly against the glass wall. The sound of a shrill whistle pierces the air as he stays crouched, winded from the impact.

“Line 3, get out of my sight!” Coach Kim yells and hurls his clipboard to the ground. He is frustrated, understandably so. They have a major competition coming up in just a couple of months and the team is still far from prepared. Or perhaps it was just Jongin’s line not living up to the standards of the first two.

Jongin picks himself up and skates over to the players’ bench, his thick shoulder pads doing nothing to hide how deflated he feels. He is upset with himself and he cannot kill the thought blossoming in his mind that he is a disappointment to his family and his father.

There were occasions when he doubted his self-worth, when some of his new teammates threw him questioning glances when he messed up a play. He knows what they might have thought — were we wrong about him? Maybe he is not as good as we thought — but he assumed his years of hard work would have already proven that he deserved a place in the team.

Perhaps, they could see his heart was not in it as time went by. He himself knows his heart is gradually losing faith.

“You okay?” Jongdae shoots him a worried glance when he passes by, to which Jongin replies him with a grunt before the former’s attention is taken by the start of a new drill.

Jongin plants himself on the bench and takes in a big gulp of Gatorade.

“I’m really sorry, Jongin. I promise I’ll work harder!” Woobin comes up to him and settles down on the adjacent row. The other has little experience but he had impressed when they held tryouts to find replacements for some of the veterans in the team who had retired from international competitions last year, one of whom was Jongin’s former partner. Naturally, they were paired together because they were about the same age.

“It’s not your fault. Don’t worry about it,” he reassures Woobin. The other is even younger than him. He will learn. “I’m just more used to playing alongside Shinhyun hyung. I’ll match your speed across the ice from now on,” Jongin says.

He receives a grateful pat on the shoulder from Woobin next, before the latter walks off. He pops the lock at the side of his helmet and runs his fingers through his messy bed of hair. With a dismissal like that from the Coach, it is unlikely that he will need to take to the ice again. Also, they have what five minutes left for practice?

“Bad day?” A gentle voice interrupts his thoughts and Jongin tears his eyes away from Jongdae’s form to look behind him. He must have been really out of it if he had not noticed the man making his way down the steps and settling down behind him.

“Minseok hyung,” he nods in greeting. “More tired than anything,” he admits.

“Are you tired in the physical sense because you’ve just spent the past few hours training, or… do you mean to say you are tired of all these hockey business?” Minseok his head and gives him a knowing look.

In an instant, Jongin goes slack-jaw. He did not know his feelings were that transparent. He thought he had kept a good lid over it.

Minseok must see the panic flashing by in his eyes. “Sometimes you forget how long I’ve been with your brother,” the other sighs and trains his eyes on the ice, but Jongin continues to stare at his side profile. “I’ve known you from when you were a kid, Jongin. I mean, you’re practically still a kid now… I’ve seen you at your practices over the past months. You’re easy to read.”

“I don’t know what you’re insinuating, hyung.”

“Oh, I think you do,” Minseok places his hand on Jongin’s knee and smiles at him.

It takes a good couple of minutes before he hangs his head in submission. Perhaps speaking to someone else about his worries would help, and Minseok is one of the most level-headed people he knows. If anyone can give fair advice, it will be him.

“I thought I liked hockey, hyung,” Jongin swallows hard. “Or more accurately, I thought I would grow to like it. But nowadays, I just feel so overwhelmed by it all that it feels a distant wish to be as good as Jongdae or as our father ever was.” He looks over at Minseok who sends him an encouraging nod in reply. He cannot say how grateful he is for the other’s calm reaction. He has never spoken about his worries to anyone, and now that he has let someone in, he feels slight relief from having kept the weight on himself all these while.

“At times, the pressure just gets to me and I don’t really know what to do. What should I do, hyung?”

Minseok clears his throat and looks to the ice uneasily. “Well, your brother is probably going to murder me for even suggesting this at this busy juncture, but I wil say… you sound like you need a break, Jongin.”

He frowns.

“Take a step back to find your passion because it seems to me that your heart is not really convinced of your path,” the elder opines. “You’re 17, Jongin. And I know I’m no expert, but it seems like you’re going to suffer burnout at this rate, even before you hit the peak of your professional career.”

“B-But I cannot just stop playing, my father will flip. Even Jongdae will have something to say, I reckon.” Jongin exclaims. “I don’t think my condition is that bad—” He could already imagine the chaos if his father and brother were to hear of his worries, and even though he has thought about quitting hockey, the truth is he remains scared.

Also, what will I have left if I give up ice hockey? Will his family turn their backs on him then? 

“Hey, it’s just my opinion.” Minseok interjects and holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Maybe a break is what will heal you, Jongin. Don’t live life by someone else’s expectations, take ownership of your future. Just a short rest, and who knows, maybe you will eventually find your passion for this sport.”

“And what if I don’t?” Jongin whispers. “What if I don’t want to come back to hockey?”

“You move on.” Minseok pats him on the knee. “I care about your well-being, and I know your family does too. They will understand your choice.”

But will they, really?

Jongin opens his mouth to rebut, but he is interrupted by the Coach’s whistle. He looks over helplessly.

“Okay, gather round. Let us wrap up for today,” Coach Kim yells.

Minseok takes it as his cue to pop up off the bench and help Jongin to his feet. “If it comes down to that, I know it’s going to be hard and it will take plenty of courage, but you need to do the right thing, Jongin — you move on. Just think about this, will you?” the elder jerks his head to the side and nudges him to go join his teammates.

Jongin’s mind is still distracted when he comes to stand beside his brother.

“I saw you with Minseok,” Jongdae pokes him on his side, but he does well to hold in his squeak. “What were you planning with my boyfriend?” the other takes the opportunity to whisper to him when the Coach addresses the goalies standing to the front of the group. There is a suspicious look on Jongdae’s face, although he perks up when he sees Minseok giving him a short wave from the bench.

“Nothing,” Jongin replies innocently with a small shrug of his shoulders. He knows his brother does not buy it one second from the way he narrows his eyes at him. “For goodness sake, I’m not trying to steal him away from you if that’s what you’re thinking,” he groans.

“Oh,” Jongdae hums before a smirk makes its way onto his face. “Yeah, that will be impossible because why would he trade fabulous me for you?” He leans on his hockey stick in an attempt to pose coolly, only to almost fall as it slides away. It makes Jongin snort.

“Minseok hyung was just asking me about how training went, and I told him how horrible I’ve been. That’s about it. Are you guys hanging out later?”

“Oh come off it. You’re just in a slump currently, your form will pick up again,” his brother comforts him. Luckily, it seems Jongin’s words have dispelled whatever doubt the other had as to what he was speaking to Minseok about. “I wanted to catch a movie with Minseok later, but we know the Four Continents Skating Championships is also on at the Olympic Hall in the late afternoon so we’re planning to go cheer on a junior of ours instead. We couldn’t go yesterday because training ended late. He’s an old friend. Do you want to come with us? I’m sure it isn’t too late for Minseok to get a spare ticket for you.”

A blank look settles on Jongin’s face.

“The Four what skating championships?” he asks.

“Four Continents, it’s figure skating.” Jongdae replies so matter-of-factly it catches Jongin by surprise. “A close friend of ours from Hanhwa is competing. Come watch! It’s going to be so exciting. He is a superstar.” Jongdae looks so proud of his social circle the way he flaunts it. Jongin rolls his eyes. Last he knew, his brother only had one friend, who also happened to be his boyfriend — Minseok. Sad, really.

He is familiar with the name of the sports university his brother attends. In fact, he himself would be enrolled there come summer. But as for the sport… He draws a blank.

“Since when were you into figure skating? Also, I know next to nothing about it… maybe you should count me out,” Jongin says hesitantly. After all, he has long given that interest up. He knows the name Kim Yuna, he knows a friend who skates and the names of some spins from random videos he chanced upon in between studying hockey videos on YouTube, but that is all.

“Oh come on , just join us! Take it as an eye-opener or something,” Jongdae nudges his shoulder. “To be honest, I was expecting more of a reaction from you because didn’t you used to dance and skate when you were little? You were always so happy after classes.”

“Yeah…” Jongin mumbles, “but that was a really long time ago and I never went past learning the basics for figure skating.”

Why is Jongdae bringing this up now? He frowns, confusion marring his features temporarily.

“Moving on to the attacking plays.” Coach Kim raises his voice and looks in the direction of the forwards. Jongin feels his brother stand a little bit straighter, while he himself freezes, but not because of the piercing eyes that greet him, rather his mind keeps replaying what Jongdae had said earlier.

Didn’t you used to dance and skate when you were little? You were always so happy after classes.

“Yes, I did…” he mutters to himself. The answer to Jongdae’s question was a definite yes. Jongin skated and danced when he was little. It was all he did when he was younger, before his mother left, that is.

He cannot believe he forgot how happy he used to be attending classes.

Something stirs from the depth of his heart and mind, almost as if an invisible line he had tried to stay away from all these while has just been crossed. Jongin has not been reminded of his childhood memories in a really long time, and he had been doing well forgetting.

Well, apparently, not anymore. 

“It was a good piece of improvisation when you dummied Jongmin earlier, Captain,” Coach Kim commends Jongdae. “Might be hard to replicate the play in a real game situation, but Jongin, Minhyuk, see if you can practice the turn Jongdae did while Woobin blocks off their offense.”

Jongin snaps out of his reverie at the mention of his name, and the Coach must see his reaction and takes it for something else for he adds on some words of encouragement.

“Don’t be disheartened by your mistakes, Jongin and Woobin.” Jongin swallows hard and schools his expression. “I know an important game is coming up in a few months, and that has put some pressure on you youngsters. But don’t let it knock you off your strides. Stay focused, alright? I need my team to be sharp.”

“Yes, sir!” the team replies with equal fervor and they are soon dismissed for the day.

This timely reminder of the upcoming game is another reason why he finds it hard to accept Minseok’s advice to take a break from the sport to find himself. He forces himself to drop the thoughts of his past. 

“We’re heading out, Coach.” Jongdae wraps his arm around Jongin’s shoulder and steers them toward the said man.

“Don’t have too much fun. Remember we still have fitness training at 7am tomorrow,” the elder acknowledges them with a noncommittal grunt before he pauses in jotting down notes on his clipboard and glances up. “Although— shouldn’t you be staying back to work on your stick work, Jongin? I expect you to be more diligent, and to match your brother’s standard of play,” the Coach fixes him a stern look.

The words cut Jongin deeper than any fall on ice will cut him, and he takes an involuntary step away from Jongdae.

“I’m sorry,” he hangs his head. “I’ll get right back to work on—”

“Oh come on! Let Jongin live a little,” his brother cuts him off with a laugh and links their arms together this time around. “We’ll just come in an hour earlier tomorrow if that makes you happy. Bye now.” He tries not to budge when Jongdae tugs at his arm to leave, but the latter is not but persistent, finally getting his way and forcing him off the ice.

Jongin glances back worriedly, but Coach Kim has already turned his back on them and was making his way up the stairs towards his small office on the second floor.

“Don’t think too much about it, Jongin. He has always been hard on you. Wash up, and I will see you down in the lobby in roughly ten minutes.” Jongdae pats him on the back and gives him a wide smile before disappearing down the tunnel to the changing room. But Jongin cannot find it in himself to return the other’s smile and his jovial mood. He frowns and stares after his brother’s back.

In fact, he is a little put off by how Jongdae is taking this matter so lightly — that the other did not deny the Coach’s criticism of him and how he had so casually brushed away the insecurities Jongin has harboured for so long, those of him not being good enough.

He has worked hard all these years, but every time someone says something along these lines and chip away at his confidence, he wonders if it is worth it to persevere on this path. He blinks away the tears of injustice that had sprung to his eyes and makes his way down the tunnel.

The road ahead is dimmed by the narrow walls and sparse lighting. If not for the years he has walked down the same tunnel to the locker room, it almost seems like there is no light at the end of it at all.

~

“I cannot believe you’ve never heard of Doh Kyungsoo, Jongin!” Jongdae shakes his head disappointedly. “The whole country is talking about him!” he says from the front passenger seat.

“Is he a good skater? I’m only familiar with the name Kim Yuna,” Jongin yawns and props his head against the window of Jongdae’s Volkswagen. The late afternoons after training are the worst because his body aches will start to settle in and sleep will beckon. He is starting to regret tagging along with his brother and his boyfriend to watch a skating competition. The comfort of his warm bed is very tempting now, and he thinks he much prefers that and the silence of his room over the noisy fans in the Olympic hall later.

“Is he a good skater?” Jongdae mimics his words, but in typical troll fashion, face contorting in an exaggerated manner as he draws the words out. “Can you believe the words coming out of his mouth right now,” he turns to Minseok, who was driving them to the venue, to complain.

“Jongin has never had a break outside of hockey and high school, so cut him some slack for not knowing,” the other chastises his boyfriend. Jongin meets Minseok’s eyes in the rear-view mirror. He did catch the underlying hook beneath the other’s words so he gives him a warning look. This is not a topic he wants discussed right under Jongdae’s nose.

Thankfully, Minseok decides not to pursue it. “Given that many expect Kim Yuna to retire after the Winter Olympics next year, you can say Kyungsoo is our up and coming national hero,” he says instead.

Jongin widens his eyes and lets out a sound to show he is impressed. So, that good huh? He wonders why he has not heard about this Kyungsoo guy if he is all that great.

“Your brother also swears by his biggest fan,” Minseok rolls his eyes.

“I just love him so much,” Jongdae gushes and turns around in his seat to tell him with a proud smile. But at the raise of his eyebrows, his brother quickly clarifies. “But not in that way! Minnie—”

Jongin retches when Jongdae clings onto his boyfriend’s arm and rubs his face against it. “You know I still love you the most, right?” Used to Jongdae’s antics, Minseok merely grunts and tries to shake off the weight on his arm so he can drive properly.

Watching this from the backseat, Jongin cannot help but smile at the sight. The couple has been together for years now, probably since when he was in elementary school and they in middle, and he has never witnessed them fighting. It is clear their love and understanding for each other runs deep. He really admires their relationship and he feels envious sometimes because he is reminded that he has no one to call his own.

“Just don’t blurt out how much you love Kyungsoo in front of him again.”

“Excuse you—” From the dash of red on Jongdae’s cheeks, Jongin figures his brother must be feeling embarrassed, so he leans forward in his seat to hear better. Typical sibling behaviour, really — to pounce on any potential blackmail material. “That was one time!” Jongdae pulls away from Minseok and slaps the other on the shoulder weakly. “And I was just trying to make him feel better after his silver medal,” he mumbles this, and Jongin is unconvinced that is the truth.

“You practically shouted Oh my god, I love you so much! in his face,” Minseok continues to tease. “He’s our friend but I swear I wanted to punch him right there and then in his cute, perfect face… that was until I was reminded of his boyfriend, who is honestly the best guy ever , so I felt better because why will Kyungsoo settle for someone like you right?”

Jongdae grumbles under his breath and sinks deeper into his seat, not even rebutting, and Jongin joins Minseok in laughing at him. The latter means the subtle diss as a mere joke, and Jongdae must know this because Jongin watches his brother squeeze Minseok’s hand back when the latter reaches over to hold his — a mark of reassurance.

It is a sweet moment, but Jongin also values his life and reckons it is unsafe for Minseok to be driving with only one hand so he raises his concerns (only to get shut down pretty quickly by Jongdae stuffing his hand in his mouth). In the end, he can only settle back in the backseat with a pout on his face.  He should really have gone home when he had the chance.

They arrive at the Olympic hall shortly after a brief spell of traffic and quickly join the crowd heading in.

“How is Junmyeon going to pass you our tickets when he’s probably preparing Kyungsoo right now?” Jongdae asks Minseok when the latter pulls them aside near the ticketing booth.

Jongin tunes out the pair’s conversation and looks around, amazed at what he sees. Somehow, he feels more awake than before now. It is his first time entering the Olympic hall, not as a player but as a member of the public watching from the stands, and there is certainly a different buzz in the atmosphere that gets him excited too, even though he is not a follower of the sport.

Just the grandeur of it all draws him in.

He affords several members of the public who recognise him shy smiles and slight bows. The National Ice Hockey Team is not particularly famous in their country yet; not as hyped as some of the other sports like football, taekwondo and figure skating. But they do still have some loyal fans who follow them to overseas competitions for support.

Feeling awkward as he watches people in the crowd glance over at the three guys loitering by the ticketing booth, he quickly turns back to Jongdae and Minseok. “Are we heading in soon? It seems like the competition is about to start,” he says.

“Yeah, we’re just waiting on—” Jongdae is interrupted by a shout of his and Minseok’s names, and they all turn around collectively.

The man who comes to a stop in front of them is tall and very handsome. Apparently, he is also extremely friendly because after greeting Jongdae and Minseok with big hugs, he shakes Jongin’s hand and draws him into one too despite this being the first time they are meeting.

“Jongin, Chanyeol. Chanyeol, this is Jongin, my baby brother,” Jongdae introduces them to each other.

He smiles shyly and greets the other with a soft, “nice to meet you,” to which, Chanyeol beams back and starts leading them to the VIP entrance of the hall.

“How is Kyungsoo feeling?” Minseok asks.

Chanyeol snorts and glances back at him. “After what happened during the short programme yesterday, I can say he’s absolutely flying right now. He’s going last today so that’s why I have some time to bring you guys around now.”

“I saw his skate yesterday and it was phenomenal!” Jongdae gushes and sidles up to Chanyeol. “I was so upset I couldn’t make time to come watch yesterday.” Walking behind the pair, Minseok glances over at Jongin and makes a face. Jongin laughs. “He deserved the world record for his short programme. The judges robbed him, seriously— Oh, there he is!” Jongdae pauses his ramble and points up at the huge individual banners of the skaters hanging from the high ceiling outside the hall.

Jongin can finally put a face to the name Doh Kyungsoo , and he finds himself staring at wide eyes, thick eyebrows and lips to die for — thick and quirked at the edges, resembling a smirk. The young man is handsome, he admits.

He also looks confident, like he is here to win. The gaze in his eyes practically screaming determination. He will probably win , Jongin thinks. He sees so many fans heading into the hall carrying placards with the skater’s name and face — something they do not quite see in ice hockey matches. The most fan support he ever got at one of the ice hockey team’s games was a young girl holding up an A4 paper, with the words Jongin Oopa Oppa Marry Me scribbled in crayon one time, and that was it. He was actually quite flattered by it really.

But this is something else altogether.

“There he is,” Chanyeol nods and smiles up at the blown-up picture with a fond look in his eyes before continuing down the hallway, past banners of other top skaters from across the world. “And there is Baek.” At the blank look on Jongin’s face, the other laughs and adds. “Baekhyun is Kyungsoo’s training partner and best friend,” he explains.

Oh… Jongin nods and looks up at the other’s banner. This Baekhyun guy is handsome too, he finds. His brother and Minseok also seem to know who this is as well. Perhaps another junior of theirs from Hanhwa?

“Are they the only two Koreans in today’s competition?” Jongin asks, and when he receives three nods and a resounding “yes!” from Jongdae, he smiles. He knows who to cheer for then — Koreans, they are as patriotic as one can get.

They clear security easily with Chanyeol’s help and an usher quickly leads them to their seats. Apparently, the warm-ups are over and the first skater will have to take to the ice soon. The walk around the circumference of the rink really emphasises how massive the place is. 

“I need to go now,” Chanyeol parts with them when they finally settle in their seats — good ones too for they are in a little booth of their own, a little separated from the rest of the general public, but yet they still have a good central view of the entire rink. “See you guys at the after party?” He winks and waves at them before rushing away, only raising a thumbs-up in the air in response to Jongdae who had yelled after him to convey his “good luck!” to Kyungsoo and Baekhyun.

“Baekhyun is going fourth last,” Jongdae points out the order on the huge digital board overhead shortly after. “If only he didn’t touch the ice on his last quad yesterday, he would have come into today’s free skate in the top three,” he tells Minseok who hums and pats his head when he leaned it against his shoulders.

Jongin raises his eyebrows. He feels a little weirded out that his brother seems to know so much about figure skating because how and when did this happen? He has no clue. “Where’s Chanyeol going?” he blurts out, because he feels a little left out now that he is left alone with the couple .

“To Kyungsoo,” Minseok states matter-of-factly. “He’s not really coaching staff, but he’s still allowed in the skater’s holding room because each skater is allowed the company of two others. Kyungsoo only has his Coach, Junmyeon, so…” the other shrugs and claps when the first skater is introduced. “Chanyeol always gives the excuse that he’s there to accompany Junmyeon, but we all know he’s really there to calm Kyungsoo down.”

Oh. Jongin does not know why he only draws the connection now that Chanyeol must be the boyfriend of Kyungsoo they were previously talking about.

“They’re good for each other,” Minseok adds. “A great pair.”

That statement catches the attention of Jongdae. “But not as great a couple as us, Minnie. Right?” Jongin retches again when his brother wraps his arms around Minseok’s shoulder and leans in to kiss the other on his cheek. “Right?” Jongdae whines when Minseok struggles to get out of his reach.

Jongin sighs and scoots as far away as he possibly can from the public display s of affection before paying attention to the first skater as music starts to fill the hall. He does not know what to expect really, having not sat through a full figure skating programme before.

What he does know is that his life after today would never be the same again after watching the Russian athlete execute his first jump. It was magnificent, and he finds himself on the edge of his seat by the end of the performance, eyes shining with the hope of endless possibilities and heart beating as passionately as it once did a long, long time ago.

~