“Eyes on this. Try,” Minho spun the ball up once, then passed it to Jonghyun to set before he jumped for a powerful spike across the court. The elementary-school students gasped at the sound, knowing far too well just how painful it’d feel against their skin if they failed to accept or dodge the attack. “That’s how you need to do it.”

“But hyung, the net is so high,” one of them complained as he gestured at the top of his head. “I’m short. Would I manage?”

“Well…” 

Minho’s gaze travelled to his libero—who was already mouthing insulting remarks behind his hand—and flashed a sinister grin. A thousand and one jokes flitted across his mind about the topic, but he chose to pay it no mind for now and squatted in front of the curious boy.

“What position do you play?” he asked.

“Setter…?”

“What’s with the uncertainty?” Minho chuckled and raised a hand to ruffle the boy’s hair. “Listen now. Heights don’t matter as long as you have the skills. If you cannot bring yourself to jump high, then you can always contribute to other aspects of the court. That hyung—right there, Jonghyun, come here.”

Jonghyun obliged, stepping close and wrapping an arm around the disheartened boy’s shoulder. The captain continued, “This hyung is only 1.71 m, but he has been awarded the best libero several times.”

The 5th grader gaped in fascination and stared up at the addressed man, teetering between believing and denying such a truth. Doubts existed in a child so pure and lacking experience, and they didn’t blame them for that, but the glimmer of hope in his eyes didn’t lie.

“You see, the power is not stored in how tall the player is but in this,” Minho landed an intentional slap on Jonghyun’s forearms and smiled wide when he feigned hurt. “The strength here, the core, and the legs. You should ask him more about it if you’re keen to become a libero.”

“Yes, one class is equivalent to some icy treats,” Jonghyun nodded affirmatively.

“But there could be a growth spurt or something, you know? And in cases where you’d love to become a setter….” Minho trailed off while observing the whole arena. “Our setter isn’t here yet. Go and practise with your friends first, and I’ll get back to you when he has arrived.”

“Ay-ay, captain!” The boy saluted and dashed off, making both older men laugh in gusto.

It was another common weekend for the Ace Dragons in the sports complex. They were not made to teach, educate, or inspire. They could, on occasion, but it was not part of their responsibility if not for the elementary kids who had been showing an unabated passion for the team. 

Still, they could’ve used this time to practise to vie for a place in the finals round. Minho was just too fond of the kids to let them down, even if he had to face another team in the same place.

“Have you seen Jin? Where is he?” Minho combed his hair back, clearing his fringes from his eyesight to observe the kids jumping near the net. “He knows we’re going to practise after this, yeah?”

“Yeah. He did mention about running a tad later,” Jonghyun shrugged. Suddenly, the main door opened, and both men turned around to welcome the latecomer. “Speaking of the devil, here he comes.”

Except that there was only one (1) devil there: Lee Jinki. 

The other two that trailed meekly behind him were…. well, one could pass as a devil too—though Jonghyun would politely beg to differ, already gushing over how pretty the beret looked on him—but the last person would definitely be an angel.

Yes, he must be an angel.

“Oi!” Jonghyun yelled and looked at his invisible wristwatch. It worked like magic to annoy Jinki. “Rise and shine!”

Yeah, no. It was almost noon. The kids were supposed to finish their practice a while ago, but they were keen to meet the setter, so Minho prolonged their session and promised that the man was always perpetually late. It wasn’t his intention. Just habitually so.

“Bugger off, Jjong,” Jinki hissed, not daunting enough to make the younger man crumple before he faced Minho, eyes already squinting judgingly. “And capt, watch where you are looking, please.”

“What?” Minho asked, his tone guiltless as his head followed the movement of the guy in the oversized lilac sweater all the way to the vacant seat. He knew the other was looking, but to the hell with it. “What were you saying?”

Jinki narrowed his eyes even more, “I’ll poke your eyes, and maybe then you’d know how to behave, Choi Minho.”

Maybe, Minho thought. No promises when Jinki’s younger brother was just right there, looking all petite, docile and pretty. He was peart and happy. Minho’s eyes were not to blame for a beautiful sight like that.

“You haven’t told me his name,” was Minho’s shameless reply after a long pause, shooting a wink to the bewildered setter and taking repeated steps back to run towards the main court where the kids gathered. “You guys waited for this tardy old man, did you not? Lee Jinki, come here!”

Jinki glanced back at his younger brother and swore he saw a tiny bashful smile on those plump lips directed towards the coaching captain, so he faced front again with an exaggerated sigh. Of course. Minho was Taemin’s style, after all.

“Yes, Capt!”

—

The tricks worked.

Taemin knew his brother’s heart was made of gold, maybe a bit of tofu as well, considering how soft he could get over little inane gestures. For that reason, he’d woken up early today and whipped up some excellent breakfast of butter toast and milk tea to tempt his older brother, so long as he got to follow him to the court.

His act welcomed all kinds of suspicion, for sure. Jinki didn’t give away so easily, too. Not until he realised it was futile to fight against Taemin’s requests (that boy was too good at making excuses) did he agree, conditioning Kibum’s presence for it to take place.

No problem. Easy task. He had more than enough information to fish Kibum anyway.

“I’m here now,” Kibum announced and stretched mightily, his legs extended. “So, tell me. What’s his name?”

Taemin had his chin prop atop his palm, attention zeroed in on the captain who was otherwise too busy with debriefing. He barely heard Kibum, nor did he attempt to, but he knew exactly what the latter wanted to know. 

“Jonghyun,” he muttered against his fingers, feeling relieved all of a sudden for not being misconstrued by Jinki the other night. “The name of the libero. It’s Jonghyun.”

“Jonghyun?” Kibum took a moment to judge and repeated the name a few times. “Sounds hot. It suits him.”

That didn’t surprise Taemin. He’d gone all night asking questions about Jonghyun, so it would only be appropriate for him to gawk at the man as he punched the ball back and forth on the court. 

“Excuse me?”

Taemin’s head whipped with a painstakingly slow speed. Deep inside, he refused to tear his gaze away from the crosscourt monster, but when the greeting came twice, he had to surrender. 

“Yes?” his tone inflected towards a question rather than a cordial reply. 

The guy who stood a few feet away from him pulled up a smile, “Sorry. Was I interrupting? I just thought of int