The first time they met wasn’t really even a proper meeting. It was the first conditioning day in the summer before his freshmen year of high school, and he was one of a good two dozen other boys. He had always enjoyed playing soccer, but seeing the other boys around him didn’t quite make him very confident in his abilities.

The coach was a middle aged man that looked nice enough but by the sound of his voice Minho was beginning to believe that he wasn’t. “By this time next week half of you will be gone. The week after that another 4th, until there are only 8 of you remaining. Today we will start off easy, see what you can do. “

"Who’s that?" He heard someone whisper somewhere over to his right. Another whisper, another question, and he was looking around over the heads of the other boys looking for whoever they were referring to.

The coach hollered, “Start jogging!”

Minho had to pause in his searching because the boys were pushing past him to follow the coach’s orders. He followed suit, shaking his head and pushing off the grass. He quickly dodged the slower boys, and even the quicker ones, before he was easily leading the pack. The whole search for whoever the other boys were referring to was forgotten as he focused on controlling his breathing and the sound of his feet hitting against the ground.

He didn’t stop until he heard the shrill sound of the coach’s whistle. He slowed down to a jog and then to a stop as he leaned over to place his hands on his knees. He was gasping for breath when he felt a hand on his back and a soft voice saying, “If you stand straight with your hands on the back of your head you’ll catch your breath a lot quicker.”

Minho took a couple big breaths before straightening, turning a little to his left to try and see who had spoke to him, but all he found was a hunch over boy trying to catch his breath. He blinked for a moment before doing exactly as the voice had told him. He looked around him to see all the other boys hunched over and as his eyes moved around the field he landed on the coach. There was a man next to him, and he could swear that the man was looking at him when he smiled. Then he was turning back to the coach, discussing something Minho couldn’t hear.

                                                              ———

"We’ve split you up into two groups. When I say your name you will follow Jinki, " The man next to the coach smiled as he waved, "And he will lead your exercises. The rest will be with me."

Minho attentively listened for his name, but his eyes were on the man he now knew to be named Jinki. He looked young, small eyes and hooked nose, but by the way he interacted with the coach Minho knew that he couldn’t be that young. Not to mention he was supposed to be running a group’s exercises, so he had to be older than the boys before him.

He heard his name called and he really couldn’t place the feeling in his chest when he realized it would be with Jinki and not the coach. After the names were called he moved over toward his group. There were about 13 of them in the group spread out in front of the man.

The man smiled. “As you may have heard my name is Jinki. If you make the team I’ll be your Captain and your goalie.” The voice. He had been the one to tell him to stand straight. There was a ball wedged between the man’s arm and hip. He dropped it to the ground and stopped it with his heel. “I have no idea who you are, what you can do, or your name. I plan on at least learning the last one. How about we play a little introducing game? Step forward say your name, how long you’ve played or your age. Both if you wish. And the position you plan on going for. Who wants to go first?”

No one stepped forward, but there was a voice from somewhere in the back. “Why don’t you go first?”

The man chuckled and rolled the ball back and forth for a moment before smiling, “Fair enough. My name’s Lee Jinki. I’m 16, I’ve played since I was four, and I’m the only goalie we have. Well Jonghyun thinks he’s one, but not really.” Minho caught himself thinking in disbelief He’s 16?. “So who’s next?”

A boy stepped up with a raised hand. Jinki smiled and motioned for him to continue. “I’m Kim Kibum, but I go by Key. I’m 14, I’ve only been playing for a couple years and I plan on going out for Wing-Back.”

"You have to be rather quick for that." Jinki commented.

The boy smirked. “I can do it.”

The ball was gently lofted up at the boy, who caught it. “I hope you don’t do that in the game. That’s kind of my job ya know.” Key blushed slightly before tossing the ball onto the ground. Jinki’s chuckles were soft and not a bit malice. “Next?”

One by one the group stepped forward and answered what they were supposed to. Before Minho knew it he was the only one left and Jinki’s eyes were focused in on him. There was a soft smile on his face as he said, “And your name?”

Minho blinked for a moment and rubbed the back of his neck. He flipped his longer hair out of his face, the stupid strands that always fell out of his pony tail, before clearing his throat and beginning. The only thought in his head really was the hope he didn’t sound as pathetic as he felt. “My name’s Choi Minho. I’m 14 and I’ve played since I probably could walk. I’d like to be a Offensive Midfielder, but I’ll probably try out for Center Back.”

Jinki was still smiling at him, and Minho thought that maybe he really should be looking away once more but the older boy just began speaking as he seemed to take in every line of his face. “We could either do dribbling drills, or have some fun and see who can make a shot on me.” There were shouts for either of them, but the goalie just smirked. “All for Dribbling?” Maybe 6 hands shot up, “I guess the rest want to make me work?” When the sounds of agreement were heard Jinki chuckled. “Alrighty. Go line up at the penalty line.”

The rest of the boys rushed to be first, probably to try and show off, but Minho had a feeling that none of them would make a shot. He had been to a high school game before, his father was scouting the seniors that were about to graduate, and he had seen the goalie. At the time he hadn’t known his name, but by the pony tail that was low on the back of Jinki’s head Minho had a feeling that it had been Jinki. Only one ball had gone past him, and it had only been by a hair.

Minho watched as Jinki skillfully kicked the ball between his feet as he reached behind him and pulled two gloves from his back pocket. The older boy pulled them onto his hands and went to his position. He turned and ran a hand over his hair with the ball firmly stopped with his foot before smiling. “I’ll kick it to you okay? You can stop it if you wish and then shoot, or shoot it right back. If you make it step to the left of the line and start another. If you miss go back to the end and you’ll get another try. Understood?”

The first boy in line nodded. Jinki had this look on his face that Minho didn’t know if it was a smirk or what, but he knew that the feeling in his stomach wasn’t nervousness at that moment. He didn’t know what it was exactly, but he didn’t necessarily not like it.

The ball was carefully kicked over to the first boy, who probably wanted to look cool and just went to shoot it. It was a nice shot to the far left of the goal, but it seemed like Jinki had predicted that because the ball was caught easily and spun on his palm as he smiled. The boy, as well as most of the group, was shocked. “How.. no one ever blocks that!”

"Nice shot." Jinki shrugged as he tossed the ball between his hands softly, "Next?"

Minho’s heart fluttered a little when the goalie flashed a bright smile. He didn’t know what love felt like, or what having a crush felt like either, but whatever was causing his heart to beat a little quicker and his nervousness to be caused by something other than going for the team he found he couldn’t really dislike it.