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return | 2013
Nayeon is feeling extra sorry for herself tonight, sitting on the bench with her ankle in its brand new brace as she watches her team tear through the track, skates and limbs flying and fumbling. Jihyo makes a particularly hard shove, edging Aisha, the Everthrow jammer, out of bounds and allowing Chaeyoung to race past her. Sana next to her is half as absorbed in the play as Nayeon is, too busy guzzling down a Pocari Sweat while wiping her forehead with an already-dirty bandana that says something granola like “Save Our Planet'' on it.
“That Chaeyoung’s rag?”
“I won’t tell if you won’t,” Sana replies, throwing it on the bench and capping the bottle. The jam ends as Chaeyoung taps her hips, having won the team 4 points, and she turns towards the bench just in time to narrow her eyes at Sana’s hands tossing her bandana. “Oh shit, think she saw me?”
“Um, yeah.”
Chaeyoung sinks down on the bench next to Nayeon with a sigh, picking up said bandana and snapping Sana on the thigh with it. “I’ll wipe my bodily fluids all over your stuff next time, see how you like it.”
“You’d be surprised at how much I might,” Sana calls, yanking the star off of Chaeyoung’s helmet to take her place in the next play. She settles into the jammer line, bumping fists with the new opposing jammer, Yiren, and winking to boot. Of course Sana would take this opportunity to flirt with the enemy. She can see Jihyo and Dahyun exchanging a look, the former rolling her eyes as she gets the pack into formation, waiting for the first whistle to sound.
Chaeyoung copies Jihyo, rolling her eyes as she drinks the Pocari Sweat that Sana left behind. “She’s so gross,” she says with a mouthful of liquid. Nayeon chooses not to comment on the irony.
Instead, Nayeon watches as Chaeyoung settles against the tiny back of the bench, letting her head loll back. Bits of sweat accumulate at the tips of her long, grown-out bangs. She watches one grow heavy, drop to the floor.
“How are you feeling?”
Chaeyoung’s question startles Nayeon out of her observation. “I’m fine.”
“Yeah, and I’m 180cm tall.”
Nayeon looks at the floor to hide the short person joke threatening to make its way out of her throat. “You’ll always be our baby, you know,” she says instead, patting Chaeyoung on the head while she makes a face, which brings some levity to the feeling in Nayeon’s chest. Chaeyoung says nothing back, like she knows Nayeon’s not done. And dammit, she really isn’t, is she?
“I’m feeling sorry for myself.” Any other time, Nayeon would spin her feelings into a joke, but there’s something about Chaeyoung tonight that makes her want to be honest.
There’s always been something about Chaeyoung.
If she’s surprised, Chaeyoung doesn’t show it. “It makes sense. I didn’t know if you were going to come tonight.” Nayeon wasn’t sure of it either until she had found herself at the door of the rink right on time, still carrying her crutches around despite her newfound cast-less leg.
It’s the first night that Nayeon has been free of the cast on her ankle from the past six weeks, broken in a tussle against Oh My Hurl just as long ago. She’s dissected the events of that game so much that the night has become a blur in her memory, her what-ifs and fantasies often fighting for consideration as truth in her mind. Sometimes she makes a misstep, stumbles over another leg, sometimes she’s been illegally pushed, sometimes she’s fallen completely randomly of her own accord. The only solid things she remembers are the concerned faces of her teammates crowding around her, Mina’s hand covering her mouth as they all looked down at her ankle, probably hanging at an unnatural angle.
The only person she remembers looking at her face is Chaeyoung, and then things get dark.
“I missed it too much not to come.” Nayeon had stayed away while she healed for the most part, too depressed by the sight of the track when the heavy cast on her leg seemed like it would weigh her down forever. But tonight she had to come. It wasn’t a huge match, just a friendly neighborhood battle before the season really kicked into semi final season, but Everthrow had been talking so much smack on social media that Nayeon had contemplated slipping a laxative into someone’s water bottle. Key word: contemplated.
“I know you did,” comes Chaeyoung’s reply. Nayeon zones back into their conversation, embarrassed that she’s drifted off several times within the span of their two minutes conversation. Chaeyoung doesn’t look like she minds. She’s smiling one of those mysterious smiles, the type that Nayeon only gets once in a blue moon at the most random of times. At a birthday party for one of Twice’s players, after a shower in the locker room. And now, as Nayeon sits sidelined for the first time since she’s known Chaeyoung, since Chaeyoung rolled into their rink with young eyes and an open heart.
“We missed you too,” Chaeyoung says after a beat. “We’re lost without our NaBangs.”
“Not when we’ve got our baby Strawberry Jam on the jammer line.”
Chaeyoung’s eyes crinkle at the corners, and Nayeon sees one dimple pop out at the compliment. But before the other one has its day in the overhead fluorescent lighting, Jihyo calls out.
“Chaeyoung, you’re in! Momo too!”
Chaeyoung gives Nayeon an apologetic smile before pushing off of the bench, rolling her ankles in a way that shouldn’t be taunting but feels like an attack. It has Nayeon feeling impish, so before she can overthink it, she reaches out and smacks Chaeyoung’s ass right as she stretches, earning her a reddened face and the second dimple making an appearance.
There’s no time for chastisement though, so it’s all Nayeon will get as Chaeyoung skates towards Sana coming back to the bench, sliding the star back on her helmet and getting back in formation next to Yiren. Momo takes Jeongyeon’s spot as well, who stalks towards the water machine.
Sana slides down next to Nayeon again, exhausted from pushing against the Everthrow blocker line for the entire two minutes to no avail as they listen to the announcer.
“And in for Twice, we have Barbie Bloodbath taking a spot as a blocker from Jem Vicious, and once again, Strawberry Jam back as a jammer facing off the real breakout star of Everthrow’s jamming strategy this season, Clitter Bomb! Hopefully she’ll have more luck than Booty Boop in the last jam. That was brutal.”
“Way to rub it in, Chan!” Sana yells at him, who pays no attention like a true professional.
Luckily, that takes most of the fight out of Sana as she sinks into a focused silence alongside Nayeon, eyes tight on the game. Chaeyoung deserves the Jam in her name. She has an ability to slip between tight formations like nobody’s business. It reminds Nayeon of… well, of herself. And Chaeyoung does it flawlessly right in front of them, breaking through the pack wobbling on one skate, just barely within bounds as she takes lead and flies around the track.
“She’s gotten good,” Sana says. They don’t need to specify. It’s obvious who everyone in the crowd tonight is watching, regardless of which team they’re supposed to be rooting for. Chaeyoung is just that on fire, whipping past Yiren like a wind up toy finally set loose after twenty turns, while Yiren has something like murder on her face, fists clenching and unclenching around air. In the background, she hears Chan make a joke about Clitter Bomb finally detonating.
It’s brilliant, watching Chaeyoung shine, but it makes Nayeon miss everything about derby all over again. The skating, the brutality, the afterparties. The women.
She must be sighing extra loud, as Sana takes her attention off of the game, now locked in a tight struggle between each opposing jammer and pack of blockers, and puts her hand on Nayeon’s knee.
“You going to be mopey all the way to the afterparty?”
“That’s the problem.” Chaeyoung has managed to break through and is now doing one last lap around the track, and Nayeon feels proud like a sister on top of her frustrations. “I haven’t been to one in weeks. I feel off my game. And god, I’m desperate to get laid finally.”
It’s not like she’d been completely celibate over the last six weeks, but Nayeon’s definitely lost her normal ways of picking people up. Normally, people would fly into her bed after seeing Nayeon fly and brawl around the track, stars in their eyes for just a taste of NaBangs, of the star jammer of Twice. Nayeon would hear giggly, ego-boosting whispers as she made her way back to her friends of how she fucked as good as she skated, of course she did, with a derby name like that.
Now Nayeon feels a bit adrift. She’s never been away from the rink for so long before, and an irrational part of her feels anxious that too much has changed in the short time.
Sana doesn’t respond, instead staring so intently at her crotch that Nayeon checks to see if her fly is down.
“What, you want a round two? After all this time?”
“Please,” Sana scoffs, finally tearing her eyes back up. “The first time was puh-lenty, thank you. And I’m just checking to see if your clit is damaged too, not your fucking ankle. Looks fine to me though.”
Nayeon elbows her, forgetting about Sana’s elbow pad which hits her funny bone in a very unfunny manner. “Not sure how you know, since last I checked you don’t have x-ray vision.”
“I just want to say your ankle is not stopping you from getting laid, your lack of creativity is.” Nayeon scrounges around for Chaeyoung's bandana, feeling like smacking Sana but it must have been put away, or fallen in the crevice behind the bench. Sana continues shamelessly. “Also, there are plenty of bangable people here if you want to stop complaining and do something about it.”
Nayeon scans the crowd, seeing the faces of friends and lovers gone by. It’s nostalgic, coming back to the track for a match, but she can’t see herself picking up any of her old flames tonight. She’s a bit tired of hooking up with someone new every night anyway, though she’d never admit it, lest it tarnish her reputation.
Sana misunderstands Nayeon’s look at the track and nods sagely. “Ah, I see. You’re struggling, just like everyone else here tonight, because everyone has finally realized how bangable a certain somebody is.”
“And who would that be?” Nayeon says, distracted by the cheers as Chaeyoung manages to pass four more blockers and finally ends the jam and the last half with four more points for Twice. The sound is deafening as people go crazy for Twice’s win, and Chaeyoung is in the middle of it all. Nayeon cheers as well, clapping her hands above her head like a stage mom.
“You tell me,” Sana says while getting up to go to their teammates, who are all pouring into the center of the track to lift Chaeyoung up on their shoulders. “You’re looking at her.”
Nayeon blinks back to Sana, then back at Chaeyoung, who is now pumping her fist to the crowd’s chanting of “Strawberry Jam! Strawberry Jam!”
“Woah, Chaeyoung’s practically an infant!” Nayeon thinks back to when she first met Chaeyoung, baby-faced, literally still in high school, with huge eyes in the lobby of the rink. It’s been three years since then, but she still means it when she says Chaeyoung will always be the baby of Twice. Even if Tzuyu is technically younger, it’s hard to baby someone that towers over everyone else.
Nayeon continues her line of thought while standing up a little too fast. Sana is there in an instant, dextrous even on eight wheels, offering a hand on the side of her tender, underused ankle.
“Chaeyoung! I mean, she’s way too young for me. God! How could I ever think about her as someone who’s...bangable?”
A roar interrupts their conversation. Sana and Nayeon watch as the crowd’s cheering overwhelms the rink, Chaeyoung eating it up as Jeongyeon and Tzuyu pitch her on their shoulders, screaming in glee. Everyone previously sitting on the Twice benches is in the center now, barring Sana and Nayeon, making their way slowly, the only way Nayeon can walk after weeks of healing. Despite her refusals, Nayeon’s eyes still lock on Chaeyoung above the cheering crowd. She looks like she’s exactly where she belongs, and Chaeyoung knows it.
“TWICE, TWICE, TWICE!” Chaeyoung chants, crossing her arms to grab at the hem of her shirt. Nayeon realizes where this is going too late, so she’s helpless to look away from Chaeyoung ripping her shirt off, revealing a smattering of tattoos and ripped abs crawling up to her sports bra.
Nayeon gulps. She tells herself she’s only staring because she’s never seen so many of Chaeyoung’s tattoos, so much of her pale skin on display before. It’s the newness of it all that has her jaw dropping, her hand gripping Sana’s arm a bit harder, and heat curling in her stomach. It’s the way Nayeon has looked at Chaeyoung for three years, instructing her on correct form, bandaging her bruises, cheering her own when she lands a complicated move, but this, right here right now, feels like it’s the first time Nayeon has really looked at Chaeyoung.
Chaeyoung isn't done. She soaks up the appreciative whoops from the team and the crowd, then whips her shirt over her head like a lasso and lets go after three turns, letting it fly over the team’s heads.
It lands, poetically, right on Nayeon’s bad ankle.
Nayeon can feel the worried gasps and looks of her team, who have gone mostly silent though the crowd continues to roar in the background. She manages a celebratory whoop for them, which assuages them for the most part, though Chaeyoung looks at her for a second longer than most, before turning a bashful smile to the crowd, waving at screaming fans in the bleachers.
Nayeon knows what her face must look like, and Sana raises one amused eyebrow.
“How about now?”
kickoff | 2010
Nayeon hears the conversation before she sees them, but she can already tell that these two are brand new to the rink just by the childish lilt of their voices. She’s catching her breath after a particularly enjoyable romp in the locker room showers with her current friend with many benefits, including sliding free pizza to her over the counter. Nayeon is 22 now, and she knows she should take better care of how she fuels her body, but she can’t resist the pizza offered to her so lovingly by someone she just thoroughly...loved.
She ducks behind a column, using the pizza in her hand as an excuse to listen in the conversation. Usually, people who come here aren’t complete newbies to roller derby, and sometimes they even gasp when they see Nayeon. Those are Nayeon’s favorites, and no amount of eye rolls from Jihyo will convince her to stop hamming it up in front of starstruck visitors to the rink.
“I just don’t get it,” the smaller one is saying. She has short brown hair, cropped to the nape of her neck, and she can’t seem to stop running her hands through the top of it. “What is it even supposed to mean?”
“I’m sure there’s a brochure or something that will tell us,” the taller one replies, eyes nervously glancing around the lobby of the roller rink as if a concierge might pop up.
“Does this look like the kind of place with brochures?” the smaller one says in affectionate exasperation.
“I don’t know! I’ve never been here either!”
The smaller one sighs, eyes soaking in the dark red carpet, the poster-plastered walls. “God, everything’s just so cool. The only thing I don’t get is Twice, you know?”
Nayeon freezes, her half-eaten pizza flopping where she stopped on the way to her mouth. She’s used to the fawning, the captive audience. She’s never heard anyone say that they didn’t get Twice.
“Like, sure Everthrow isn’t the most creative team name I’ve ever heard but it’s on theme at least! Rocket Punch, Cherry Bullet, Oh My Hurl are all team names that make sense, but Twice? Where’s the pun?” the smaller one says, shaking her head.
Nayeon lets out a breath, takes a calmer bite of her pizza. That she can explain. She pushes down the uncomfortable feeling of even thinking that her talent was being questioned and finally steps out from behind the column.
Wow, yeah, these kids are just as young as they sound. Up close the taller one has huge eyes and delicate features, and Nayeon scans her frame as she always does at new folks in the rink, trying to assess how lethal she might be on the track if she ever played. Her height is a definite advantage, and Nayeon sees the potential neatly packaged in the nervous girl. The other girl however… Nayeon almost feels sorry that she’s come all this way if she’s interested in actually playing. She’s just tiny, and Nayeon fears what might happen to her if she ever donned a pair of skates against even the most gentle of players. In Twice that would be Mina, though most people who came up against Brawlerina in a match wouldn’t exactly call her gentle by layman's terms.
“Hey kids,” Nayeon starts, fluttering her fingers with her non-pizza-holding hand. “You new to the rink?”
The girls stop like they’ve been caught doing something illegal. It’s comical, the way the smaller one sucks in a huge breath at the sight of Nayeon.
“Oh my god. It’s you!” she breathes, tugging on the taller girl’s sleeve. “Tzuyu! She was on the website!”
It’s cute enough that Nayeon flashes her most winning smile at them. “NaBangs at your service. You sticking around for the game?”
Both girls nod reverently. The short one is especially cute, like a baby, and Nayeon resists the urge to coo at her enthusiasm.
“Cute.” It slips out of her on accident really.
“I’m- I’m sorry if you heard our conversation,” the shorter one says. “I didn’t mean to question, you know, Twice, not when you all are so iconic.”
“No worries,” Nayeon says, seeing Jeongyeon waving at her from the bleachers. She’s got to get preparing. “It’s your first game. You’ll hear it, and then you’ll understand.”
“Hear what?” Tzuyu stage-whispers to the smaller girl.
“You’ll see. And,” Jeongyeon is gesturing even more frantically right now, and it takes everything in Nayeon to keep from throwing up a rude gesture in front of these zygotes. “And keep an eye out tonight for NaBangs won’t you?” She flashes another megawatt smile, the kind that’s earned her a spread in Babes and Brawls magazine, before skating away. She’s aiming for a cover next time, if she can pull Twice together enough to win at finals.
Nayeon hears the girls whispering to each other as she goes, resisting the urge to giggle. She knows she doesn’t need to ask for the attention. Everyone is going to be watching her, just like they always do. She’s been the star of these tracks since she laid her first four wheels on them, literally and figuratively.
They might have been brand new tonight, but Nayeon bets that those girls, especially the small one with short, floppy hair, aren’t going to forget the name NaBangs for a while.
She doesn’t forget them either, determined to put on a good show now that she knows there are newbies in the audience. She sees them take their seats in the upper half of the bleachers while watching Twice run drills before the match started, but loses track of their faces as the sea of people pile in for the game. Practice takes precedent too. Nayeon is good and she knows it, but she knows that you’re only as good as your last game, your last jam, your last win. She can’t afford to get cocky with disuse.
By the time the game is starting, every member of Twice is gathered in a huddle, all looking at Jihyo as she stage whispers the plays as one last reminder. Jihyo may be the mastermind, the leader of their plays, but she and everyone else turn to Nayeon for her favorite part. She feels the thrill run up her spine, like it does every game.
Loud enough to wake the dead, Nayeon starts.
“WHO are WE?”
“Twice, Twice, Twice!”
“We knock em OUT! Once with the?”
“LOOKS!”
“Once with the?”
“HOOKS!” At that, every member of Twice punches the air, hollering at the top of their lungs.
Nayeon scans the crowd quickly. She knows it’s foolish, knows that she won’t be able to find those two girls in the sea of spectators, but she still feels a pang that she couldn’t watch the realization on their faces about the Twice name.
“As, um, stirring as that chant always is, let me remind you all that any blocking done by hands or an elbow is considered illegal and will be penalized with 30 seconds in the penalty box!” Chan shouts nervously. A chorus of boos directs Nayeon’s attention to two folding chairs, with what looks like a child’s drawing spelling out “time-out” pasted on the bleachers above it.
Chan is the new announcer-slash-referee at the ring, a part-time college student who had the roller derby rule book almost memorized during the interview. He’s good so far, so good that Nayeon only grits her teeth whenever he fouls her for an illegal back shot in the name of fairness, all while his own hands are shaking.
After that, Nayeon gets her head in the game. It’s the beginning of the season, and most of these games are considered friendly practice across the league, so there’s quite a bit more smiling across the track and gentle jabs at the other team’s expense all in good fun.
Still, she’s NaBangs and they are Twice. When Nayeon sweeps through the outside of the opposing team’s pack in the last jam, extending their lead permanently, she allows herself a little victory dance. Maybe she’s playing it up a little. Maybe she’s always like this.
Nayeon has dried off by now, though she’s still half in her uniform, having slipped on an old championship t-shirt on top of her plaid miniskirt. The rest of Twice has gone to the diner for late-night waffles, and Nayeon is staying behind to pack up her things and catch her breath. Usually, she leads the pack on nights like this, but she feels like she needs some air to breathe tonight. She makes her way back through the lobby, and stops at the sight of the smaller girl from before, without her Amazonian friend beside her.
Nayeon is tired, but never tired enough to sprinkle a little charm to her fans. “Hi there,” she says gently, startling the girl out of her zoning out. There are few other people lingering in the stands, but in the lobby it’s just her and Nayeon.
“Oh, my god! Hi!” The girl doesn’t know what to do with her hands, with Nayeon standing so close to her all of a sudden.
“Did you enjoy the show?” Nayeon asks, sliding her hand across her duffle bag.
“You were amazing.”
Cute. Nayeon lets the smile stretch on her face. “I’m glad it was up to your expectations.”
“Oh, no!” The girl’s cheeks flame red. “I mean, I didn’t have any expectations, I just thought– I mean, wow. You were wow. And all of Twice was– just wow.” She looks up at Nayeon, earnest truth shining in her eyes.
“I think you’re my new hero.”
Nayeon’s heard all kinds of accolades, soaked up fan chants from all across the country, but something about this tiny teenager’s heartfelt words touch her heart. She beams at how cute the girl is, glad they’ve earned a steadfast new fan tonight. “Thank you so much…?”
“Chaeyoung.”
“Chaeyoung,” Nayeon finishes. The girl may be tiny, but she has appreciation for the sport for sure, and for that Nayeon will appreciate her at any other game she happens to see her at, even if she looks like she doesn’t have one brave bone in her body.
Nayeon looks towards the exit, knowing that her car is going to take ages to warm up, and smiles one last time at Chaeyoung while digging in her duffle for the keys. “It was lovely meeting you, I’ll see you around?”
“Actually…” Chaeyoung says, then stops, biting her lip. Nayeon pauses, smiles encouragingly at her. Sometimes people are nervous to ask for autographs, but she’d be more than happy to rifle around for a pen if needed.
“I wanted to ask you actually, um, if you’d like to go to dinner with me, sometime?”
Alright, maybe the girl has one brave bone in her body. Nayeon tries and mostly succeeds at not letting her surprise show on her face.
Maybe Nayeon’s been wrong about her. Before, she’d taken one look at the girl’s tiny frame and dismissed her outright as a player. But she hadn’t looked at her eyes, which are now shimmering with potential, hope, and determination.
No one could be as good as Nayeon, no one was the star more than Nayeon, but Chaeyoung might have potential on the team after all, counting by the pure grit Nayeon could see in her face.
Of course, after Nayeon lets her down as gently as possible. How old is she anyway?
“Oh, thank you, I’m flattered,” she says, lowering her voice as she watches Chaeyoung realize that she’s being rejected. “But, you’re far too young for me.” And delicate, Nayeon thinks, eyes trailing over her knobby knees, sticking out under her cutoff jeans. “But hey. Let me tell you something.” Nayeon leans in like she’s imparting a secret, and Chaeyoung is already drawn into her orbit as she leans in too.
“I think you’re very brave, and maybe even brave enough to put some skates on and be your own hero, hmm?”
Chaeyoung blinks at her. “You think I can…?”
Nayeon just winks. “Open call auditions are in a month. Do with that what you will. But I think you have it.” It’s up to Chaeyoung now what she’ll do with it, Nayeon thinks, as she walks to her car, keenly aware of Chaeyoung’s eyes on her back on the way to the door.
And when Nayeon makes eye contact with Chaeyoung and Tzuyu at open auditions a month later, Chaeyoung lacing up some old Barbie roller skates for crying out loud, she nods at her, letting her pride and expectations seep into her face. She can feel it. They’re going to be great.
awakening | 2013
The morning after the match is brutal for everyone. Most of the team had drunk themselves stupid, though Dahyun always seemed to pop up, fresh as a daisy, while everyone nursed their hangovers in frustration. And even though Nayeon had forgone the alcohol due to her continued cocktail of pain medication, she’d still spent the entire night drunk on the realization that Chaeyoung had somehow, right under her nose, gotten...hot.
In the morning, Nayeon realizes that it’s still true, it isn’t a fever dream. It feels like she’s been taking a multiple choice test, when suddenly her breath has revealed a fifth option to her, written in invisible ink. Invisible ink in the shape of Chaeyoung’s very visible ink, which has been slowly crawling over her body for the past year as she’s gotten tattoo after tattoo.
And now, here in the rink where the girls gather for a recap of the game, it seems like everyone else has suddenly noticed as well. Nayeon glares at Sana talking to Chaeyoung as they lace up their skates. In true Sana fashion, she sends an oblivious Chaeyoung these lip-biting glances, then trails a light hand over Chaeyoung’s jawline and flips her hair so it falls in the best possible light.
Nayeon knows that move because she fucking taught it to Sana, but watching her use it on the baby of the team– former baby, Nayeon isn’t sure anymore– sends something crawling in her stomach.
Nayeon also isn’t sure why she’s here in the first place as she sinks down as far away from Sana as possible, next to Mina who gives her a calming smile. Mina has always been able to read Nayeon’s moods a little too well, so the gentle pats she lays on Nayeon’s knee are appreciated even as Nayeon crosses her arms tightly on her chest.
Jihyo, ever the sap, lights up when she sees Nayeon. When Nayeon raises an eyebrow, Jihyo just sighs happily. “It’s just good, after all this time, to finally count nine people again.”
Well damn, Nayeon can’t be mad at that. Jeongyeon’s lip wobbles a little bit too, and before she knows it Jihyo is gathering them all up in a group hug centered around where Nayeon is sitting, her ankle propped up on a spare box as they crowd her shoulders with little “we missed you!” “welcome back!”s. Nayeon pretends like this isn’t the most touching thing she has ever experienced, and dramatically wipes away some fake tears before any real ones can take their place.
“I know you’ve all been bereft without me, but this is a little too much isn’t it?”
“It definitely is not!” Jihyo says as Tzuyu simultaneously says “I agree, it’s too much.”
Nayeon can always count on Tzuyu, and with one half-hearted swipe at the youngest member of the team, the weird ice is broken and replaced with the vibe Twice has always had: easy-going, playful, competitive when needed, an unspoken family.
Maybe that’s why the realization is so unsettling for Nayeon. She truly viewed Chaeyoung and Tzuyu as little sisters, who they brought into the fold a few years ago and made all of their lives better for it. Not only in their skills, with Chaeyoung’s speed and Tzuyu’s raw strength, standing like a mountain of a blocker against the other team’s jammer. But they made their team dynamic better as well, with Tzuyu’s deadpan humor and Chaeyoung’s fiery determination.
As Jihyo starts to drone on about plays, Nayeon zones out just like she usually does, except this time she can afford to, since she won’t be playing anytime soon. The doctors say three weeks might be enough to get her back on skates, so Nayeon doesn’t want to risk it, as impatient as her limbs feel to get moving again.
She occupies her mind instead with staring at Chaeyoung’s knee while she mulls over her internal panic. Chaeyoung...isn’t 17 anymore. Nayeon has graduated high school (barely, but she’s proud nonetheless), so she knows how the whole “passage of time” thing works. And somehow this has still managed to sneak up on her. It feels like whiplash, though it's been three years since Nayeon met that high schooler. That high schooler who's now an adult who has her own apartment and pays her own bills, probably mostly on time. Ostensibly, Chaeyoung is just as an adult as Nayeon is. And that’s the realization that knocks her over.
Nayeon thinks back to almost a year ago, when Chaeyoung had had her first “real” breakup. Nayeon had downplayed it the entire time the ordeal was happening, all while the other girls spent hours trying to console Chaeyoung, bribing her with cheesecake and tattoo parlour vouchers. What was the point, she’d thought. It was obvious that Chaeyoung was infatuated, not actually in love, too young to know what love really was. Nayeon had been in puppy love before too after all. So when Chaeyoung cried and cried and blubbered that she’d wanted to get married, maybe Nayeon had laughed.
Mina had called her cruel then, made a big enough stink about it that everyone felt bad after a while, even people like Tzuyu who hadn’t really had anything to do with it in the first place. So the team had hugged it out, and the issue disintegrated into a once funny, now uncomfortable memory for Nayeon to dwell on while tuning out game plays.
She had thought of Chaeyoung as a kid, but she’d been 19 at the time and apparently love-addled enough to consider marriage. Like, what the hell? Nayeon tries and fails to think of a time when she herself has thought about marriage, and stifles a laugh to Jihyo’s consternation. Everyone else smiles good naturedly at her, while she continues down the spiral her musings have led her on. It suddenly doesn't seem that bad when a vision of Chaeyoung skating around the track pops up in her mind, one foot behind her as she glides past Nayeon, who’s stuck to the floor, watching in awe and maybe envy.
When had Chaeyoung caught up to her? God, when had Chaeyoung maybe even surpassed her?
“Here.” Nayeon looks up at the voice, having been lost in her own grumpy musings from the dark of the bleachers, while the rest of Twice runs their regular practice drills. Chaeyoung is holding out her own Klean Kanteen, shaking it a little bit so Nayeon can hear the water inside.
“Do I look thirsty or something?” Nayeon attempts to joke, but it hits a little too close to home for her even as she says it when Chaeyoung laughs and sinks down on the bench next to her, all sweat-glowy and panting. She takes a sip from the offered water bottle, thinking about how Chaeyoung’s lips have touched that same place, probably hundreds of times. Chaeyoung is wearing a huge white t-shirt knotted at the bottom, and when she reaches up to brush her hair over her head, the sleeves reveal just a little more of her intricate sleeve tattoo.
Desperate to stop that line of thinking, Nayeon whips back around to watch the drills. Dahyun’s the only one who has managed to put on her practice jersey for today, a testament to how not-hungover she is, but even she looks a little worse for wear as Nayeon watches her skate, the words Crimes New Roman emblazoned on her back.
(Crimes New Roman is your derby name? Nayeon had asked, when she first met Dahyun. But it doesn’t really reveal anything about yourself. Dahyun had looked very pleased. Exactly.)
“Damn, even Dahyun looks sluggish today.”
Chaeyoung’s eyes glisten with mirth. Nayeon suddenly has the urge to freeze time, along with that look on her face, but it passes almost as soon as the thought comes and goes.
“Actually, I know for a fact she had a late night… and she wasn’t alone.”
“No way.”
Chaeyoung’s grin could melt icecaps. “Yeah way, in a very Taeyeon way.”
Nayeon forgets her internal crisis for a second to process that Dahyun has just hooked up with her own roller derby icon. Sure, Nayeon has managed to eke her way into many Babes and Brawls spreads, but Taeyeon’s made the cover twice. She pouts for a split second that Dahyun apparently pulls even better than her these days before slapping that thought away.
“No fucking way,” she says, anything to egg Chaeyoung on when she gets like this, all mischievous and giggly.
“No, I can guarantee there was fucking.”
“How can you guarantee that, unless were you there?” Nayeon pretends to be grossed out before splitting into a wide smile. “Wait, actually that’s kind of hot.”
Chaeyoung chokes out a laugh. “Ha ha, typical. You really haven’t changed a bit since you’ve been out.”
Nayeon feels like she should unpack that, so naturally she jokes: “There’s no time for self improvement in physical therapy, dude. I used up all my limited brainpower to make my atrophied muscles move a centimeter.”
Chaeyoung chuckles, then freezes. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have laughed.”
“Why now? I need someone to laugh at my jokes, now that Tzuyu is too cool for them.”
“Tzuyu has literally always been too cool for you. She came out of the womb too cool for you. She was too cool as an embyr–”
“Jesus, okay, now I feel bad, are you happy?” Nayeon says, not feeling bad in the slightest.
Chaeyoung frowns a little deeper. “I just– I don’t want you to feel bad.”
“I’m joking , you know I didn’t break my impeccable sense of humor.”
“That’s not what I mean.” Chaeyoung turns her face towards the rink. Jeongyeon and Momo have just collided against each other and are now pointing fingers at each other, gesticulating wildly while Jihyo holds her head in exasperation. Or due to her own hangover, who knows at this point. “I mean you’re– we all care about you.”
Nayeon waits for her to finish, and when she doesn’t, she blinks back at the rink as well. “And…?”
“Like, you don’t have to be here, you know right?” Chaeyoung’s eyes don’t leave the spot that she’s staring down.
A spike of some emotion lodges in her sternum. “I want to stay savvy on everything. I feel like I’ve missed enough.”
“We can always recap things for you later.” Chaeyoung’s voice has turned to gentleness, like she’s talking to a wounded rabbit. “I just don’t want you to sit here looking like this.”
“Like what?”
“All sad and mopey. Like we’re dangling the most delicious cake in front of you and you can’t even eat it.”
Nayeon could say many things, could make another joke, could lie and no, I’m not sad. But that emotion lodged in her chest overwhelms her senses. Her sadness crystalizes, sharpens into a point.
“I have to do something. Don’t you get it? Keep my mind sharp while my body fucking deteriorates.”
Chaeyoung lets out a long breath, like she expected something like this. “Okay.”
“That’s it? Just, okay?”
“What do you expect from me?”
“I don’t know, some kind of zen proverb about how there’s a time for everything, and now it’s my time to sit on the sidelines.”
“I didn’t take you for an Ecclesiastes fan.” A smile hints at Chaeyoung’s lips. “You’re right though. Rest is the opposite of deterioration.”
Nayeon can’t help the scoff that escapes her. It’s Chaeyoung, she knows that it’s just Chaeyoung, but she feels attacked on some level.
To her credit, Chaeyoung just gives her an even-keeled look. “I know that looking interior isn’t your thing, but I believe it. I think we’re all like a pendulum. You know? Swinging from one end to the other, back and forth.” Her face softens a little bit, and she places one hand on Nayeon’s knee. Weird, Nayeon hadn’t noticed that she’d been trembling until Chaeyoung touched her. “You can’t stay on one side too long, or it mires you in it. Burns you. Weighs you down. You’ve been burning for years. It’s time to reflect a little.” Chaeyoung smiles. “It won’t kill you.”
“Just might,” Nayeon says faintly. The combination of Chaeyoung’s wisdom and the hand on her knee has heat crawling up her neck, deer stamping in her heart. “When did you get so wise?”
Chaeyoung finally pulls her hand back. “Maybe I’ve always been like this.” The lights are only turned on around the track, so it’s hard for Nayeon to see Chaeyoung’s face as she says it.
“Maybe you’re just noticing now.”
interlude | 2011
Nayeon is angry, which is never a good sign. The stadium they’re playing in is decked out in Mace of Angels fans who are a little too aggressive when the Twice bus pulls into the away game parking lot. It’s freezing today, and she can hear Momo’s teeth chattering even as Sana pulls a blanket over their heads as they run into the stadium for warmth. By the time everyone is padded up and ready to play, even Jihyo is on edge as she goes over their plays while dodging a half-finished cup of slush aimed at her head.
It hasn’t been a good time for any member of Twice ever since they got to this game. Even Jihyo is starting to heat up, her face turning red at yet another bad call by the referee as Tzuyu rolls over to sit in the 30 second penalty box.
It’s almost no surprise to Nayeon when she gets fouled over and over again over questionable calls, a hand that clearly wasn’t doing any sort of grabbing, an errant elbow that was clearly an accident. And it’s only a bit more surprising when Nayeon fouls out of the semi-final game for the first time since she’s started playing, being sent to the bench like a junior player while glaring at the referee with all her might. Chan may be a nervous wreck, but he would never disrespect the rule book like this fool is.
Nayeon is forced to sit on the outskirts of the sidelines, away from where Jihyo is sliding her star over a nervous Chaeyoung’s helmet, giving her a hurried pep talk before patting her ass and sending her flying into the jammer line.
And Nayeon has to admit: Chaeyoung is good. It’s been a year since she rolled onto the rink with almost no upper body strength but enough speed and determination to catch up to the rest of Twice in a few months. Her hard work has really paid off, Nayeon muses, watching Chaeyoung take her place and stare down the pack of blockers from Mace of Angels, waiting for the second whistle to blow.
Once it sounds, Chaeyoung charges straight at them, before faking them out and juking to the inner loop. Nayeon knows what’s coming, but it doesn’t stop her smile when she sees the play in action.
Tzuyu is ready, skating on one leg with her other leg sticking out to the side, by the time Chaeyoung reaches her, having got in position so quick that Mace of Angels doesn’t know what’s coming. It happens so fast that Nayeon barely sees Chaeyoung grabbing Tzuyu’s leg and using it to whip herself past the pack to pick up lead jammer. They’ve been practicing that move for weeks, and some parental part of Nayeon cheers that it’s gone off without a hitch, in the semifinals no less.
Chaeyoung’s good, but it’s still the semifinals against Mace of Angels. The rest of the game is a mixed bag, with Sana, Chaeyoung, even Dahyun subbing in to jam with Nayeon sitting out. Even if Chaeyoung isn’t quite on her level, it’s still nice to watch her clever eyes from where Nayeon is sitting, watching the star on her helmet circle the track, watching her tiny fingers flexing into fists, watching her seeing an opening in a brutal mix of players on the opposing team and just going for it.
It’s the first time that Nayeon feels a potent mix of pride and jealousy swirling in her stomach, and she’s not quite sure what to do with it.
They lose, but it almost doesn’t matter. Nayeon pushes down the feelings in her chest and makes her way to the center where the rest of Twice is celebrating anyway. And when someone starts to chant “We’re number two! We’re number two!”, it's Chaeyoung who finds Nayeon in the crowd, eyes meeting hers in a silent question even as her mouth says something different.
impact | 2013
The lights blink on slowly, like they’re complaining about having to do their jobs, flickering to life and illuminating the once-dark rink in stark fluorescent spotlights. Nayeon tosses her key in the air, a little giddy at being cleared to try skating again after so long.
It’s been three weeks since the first match she watched back, and Nayeon hasn’t been back to the ring for reasons she can’t quite explain to herself, much less anyone else. She would never say it to Chaeyoung, but she had hit the nail on the head in her last psychoanalysis. It had really hurt to watch everyone play without her, which is why she’s come by at midnight, ready to do a few laps with no one watching and warm up her very well-rested ankle since she’s finally clear to skate again.
It’s indicative of how well Nayeon’s life has gone to plan recently when the locker room doors swing open, right in Nayeon’s line of view. She freezes as Chaeyoung saunters out, massaging her shoulder while slinging her duffel bag over the other shoulder. Chaeyoung hasn’t seen her yet, so Nayeon takes some time to look at her.
Chaeyoung looks the same as she always has. Her hair is up in these two little space buns, and it should be too childish for Nayeon to even have the thoughts that come next. But her arms and thighs are completely bare, her tank top cut low around the arm holes, and Nayeon is weak. She can see a hint of her back tattoo, not to mention everything printed on her arms. Chaeyoung takes a sip from her Klean Kanteen, and Nayeon watches her throat move with helpless eyes. She would crawl through the gravely skating rink parking lot on her bare knees right now just to lick up the side of Chaeyoung’s graceful neck.
Jesus Christ, Nayeon shakes her head, get a hold of yourself. There’s no way that Chaeyoung won’t see her at this point so she calls out softly, but loud enough to hear in the otherwise empty rink.
“Look who’s back.”
Chaeyoung jumps a little, looks up with a hand over her heart before breaking into a small smile. “Look who’s back indeed. Am I intruding?”
Of course she would ask. Nayeon searches herself for a brief second. Maybe the time she spent away from the rink has been good for her self-reflection, because she would normally snarl that she needs some time alone, throw in a joke about Chaeyoung stalking her while she’s at it. Now, Nayeon feels only calm at the thought of Chaeyoung being there, watching her wobbly legs pick back up what she was meant to do.
“Not at all.”
The calm remains even as Chaeyoung casually slides over to the bench where Nayeon is slowly, gingerly lacing up her skates again. It remains as Nayeon takes her first glides around the track, probably the slowest lap she’s ever done, and Chaeyoung just watches, eyes unreadable while her lips curl up into that mysterious smile. It remains when Chaeyoung finally stops treating Nayeon like glass as she gets into the swing of things again and playfully does loops around her, laughing at the play-glare on Nayeon’s face. It’s up until then that Nayeon feels calm, and then there’s a flash of emotion crawling in Nayeon’s stomach.
She feels the tears gathering at her eyelashes before she realizes what’s happening. Chaeyoung is still looping around the track, and Nayeon feels another pang, takes a shallow breath. It’s just, Chaeyoung is so good now, just like Nayeon, she’s just absolutely killing it, she may even be better now. And Nayeon is so, so proud of her and she’s achingly jealous and uncomfortably turned on by the way Chaeyoung is whipping her arms through the air.
It’s too much, so Nayeon deals with it how she normally does. She faces Chaeyoung who is hurtling towards her, holding out her arms to catch her and brings them both crashing down on the floor of the track with a bang.
And Chaeyoung has learned to give as much as she gets. She doesn’t even bat an eye, and they’re wrestling on the floor, elbows hitting the track, Nayeon turning her face away to wipe the single tear that’s escaped from her eyes. Chaeyoung is so caught up in it that she blessedly doesn’t notice, choosing to trap Nayeon’s legs between her bare thighs and hold her there.
“Your ankle?” comes a panted out question.
“It’s fine,” Nayeon groans, for more than one reason. “See, I can kick you in the shins as much as I want.”
“All of the illegal moves are coming out tonight hm?”
“Don’t tell Chan.”
Chaeyoung’s laugh is full of mirth as she flips Nayeon on her back, pinning her down with both elbows. “How about we don’t talk about Chan right now.”
And Chaeyoung is hovering over her, really looking at Nayeon now, eyes wide. Nayeon can’t help the sound that escapes her, or the way she loosens one hand from Chaeyoung’s grasp to tuck the wispy hair escaping from her space buns behind one ear.
“Wow,” Chaeyoung’s eyes are shining. “My hero.”
My hero. It pings something uncomfortable in Nayeon, and suddenly she’s looking back at the face of a younger Chaeyoung. I think you’re my new hero .
Nayeon sits up abruptly, face burning as Chaeyoung scrambles to adjust to essentially being in Nayeon’s lap now, skates digging uncomfortably into her legs. Maybe it’s the lighting, but when Chaeyoung leans in cautiously, Nayeon knows that she’s noticing the fresh tears welling up in her eyes now.
“Nayeon?” She says it like Nayeon is a wounded animal.
Nayeon can take the hardest of hits, can take being slammed to the ground repeatedly while brushing herself off and getting back up to skate again and again. But it’s the tenderness in Chaeyoung that has her breaking this time.
“I…” Nayeon trails off.
“Hey.” Chaeyoung grazes one hand against her cheek, catching the first tear as it falls. “You don’t have to tell me anything. But I want you to know you can. Tell me anything. You were doing good tonight. You’ll be back better than ever, I can feel it.”
Nayeon sniffles, and it comes out sounding more like a sob than she bargained for. “It’s easy for you to say. You’re so amazing now, and I know you learned from the best, but I’ve never felt so…”
Chaeyoung bites her lip. “I’m sor–”
“Don’t apologize for being good!” Nayeon surprises them both with her ferocity, and softens the next bit. “I’m so proud of you. I just need some time to get over myself. I guess I’ve never had to really share the limelight before.”
“I think you need to cut yourself some slack.” Chaeyoung adjusts her legs so that she sits a little closer now. Nayeon once again swallows, hoping that Chaeyoung will chalk up her reactions as sadness, rather than the weird mix of desire and envy that is battling it out in her mind. “It’s your first night back. Besides, I’m the way that I am only because of you.”
“You need to give yourself more credit,” Nayeon says, slowly bringing one hand to rest on Chaeyoung’s elbow. It’s grounding, feeling the heat of her body, the surprising softness of her skin. “God, you were such a baby when I first met you and look at you now. Biggest badass on the tracks with a heart of gold.”
Chaeyoung laughs half-heartedly and hits Nayeon in the shoulder. She really has been working out; it almost hurts.
“I don’t want to be better than you, Nayeon. I want us to do it together.” She pauses, chewing on her bottom lip while Nayeon tries not to zero in on the movement of her tongue. “I feel like you know me better than anyone. You taught me everything I know and I just want to know you too.” Another pause. “I’ve always wanted to know you,” Chaeyoung finishes, almost in a whisper.
Nayeon can almost taste the way the atmosphere has shifted. It’s so quiet, and Nayeon wonders if Chaeyoung can hear her heart beating.
“You don’t know me?” Nayeon finally asks.
“I’ve watched you. I’ve learned everything from you.” Chaeyoung picks at a string fraying on her shoelaces. “But do you really think you’ve let me in?”
“I’m trying to.” It’s as honest as Nayeon has ever been. “I don’t even know why, but I’ll tell you things I won’t even tell Jihyo. My oldest friend.”
Chaeyoung flicks her eyes up to Nayeon’s. “I know but… like you always call me a baby. It just makes me feel, like, I don’t know. Like you think I’m a child still. Like you don’t respect me.”
Nayeon winces. She’s not wrong. “I’m sorry.” She takes a deep breath. “It’s a dumb habit of mine, but I never asked if it bothered you. And trust me, I don’t see you that way, especially recently.” She wants to face-palm at the last part. God, Nayeon, shut your big mouth.
“I think you’re incredible. And I won’t call you baby ever again.”
She misses the way Chaeyoung’s breath hitches at that.
“Thank you,” Chaeyoung says after a pause. “I mean, I get it. I was young. I just felt like you understood me, that first time we met. Anyone else would have taken one look at me and dismissed me, but you knew what I was right when you saw me.”
Nayeon can’t help her smirk. “Not right when, but you were brave. You showed me you were brave.” She thinks back to that tiny high schooler, having the absolute gall to ask her out.
“I showed you… ?” Chaeyoung quirks her head to the side before realizing what Nayeon means. “Oh my god,” she splutters. “I thought– you never mentioned it again! I thought you forgot about it?”
“How could I?” How could she indeed, when Nayeon had lied awake for the past three weeks in bed, wondering what things might have been if the timing of things hadn’t been so bad. “You were a little young for me, but not too young for the track.”
There's a stillness in the air. Nayeon takes in the low hum of the air conditioning, the slight flicker of a bulb going out above their heads. She takes in Chaeyoung, looking so good just sitting there, half in each other's laps like they always have been, but it's different now. She wonders if Chaeyoung feels it too.
Chaeyoung whispers something, so quietly that Nayeon has to lean in closer and still doesn’t hear it. Her nose is almost touching Chaeyoung’s cheek now, and she could just lean in a little further and feel soft skin.
“What, Chaeyoung-ah?”
Chaeyoung turns her face so that they’re almost nose-to-nose. Nayeon can feel her hot breath against her lips.
“I said, am I still too young for you?”
The disco ball hanging above the rink could come crashing down right now, and Nayeon wouldn’t pay it any attention.
“No.” She whispers the word like a kiss. “Things have changed.”
Chaeyoung blinks. “Have they?”
“Yeah.” Nayeon can’t decide where to look, eyes darting between Chaeyoung’s eyes, her moles, her cheeks. Her lips. "I've... realized some things recently."
"Have you?"
"Yeah," Nayeon exhales. It's different now, so Nayeon can do something she she almost never does. “I, uh… I know it’s been three years, but is that dinner still on the table?”
“No.”
Oh. Nayeon blinks back, suddenly confused. She hasn’t been rejected in so long that she has no idea what to do.
“Things have changed,” Chaeyoung continues, face crinkling in mischief. “But I have a new offer for you.” Chaeyoung pauses for a second, watching Nayeon’s face as she becomes the human embodiment of the processing icon, before finally realizing what she’s saying.
“Whatever it is, I’ll say yes,” Nayeon breathes, barely getting the words out before Chaeyoung’s mouth is covering hers and all coherent thought goes flying out of bounds.
Along with it goes any notions of Chaeyoung being a baby. Nayeon sighs into the kiss, feeling Chaeyoung’s hands pull her closer at the waist until she’s settled in Chaeyoung’s lap instead, her hips flush with Chaeyoung, and everything is Chaeyoung right now, absolutely everything, so that when Chaeyoung pulls away for a second Nayeon chases her, whining for every second that Chaeyoung’s mouth isn’t doing sinful things to her own.
Chaeyoung chuckles, a low sound that does things to Nayeon on top of the arms and the tattoos and the stupid little space buns, before she leans back in, pressing her chest to Nayeon’s and wrapping one arm around her back.
Nayeon breaks the kiss this time, only to bite down on Chaeyoung’s earlobe and hear a little gasp. She smiles into Chaeyoung’s hair. She might have caught Nayeon off guard with kissing her first, but Nayeon doesn’t have her reputation for nothing. Chaeyoung practically yelps when she licks one long stripe up the side of her ear, and shivers when Nayeon blows on it.
“Christ, Nayeon… I wanted this for so long.”
“You have an ear fetish or something?” Nayeon deserves the half-hearted slap that Chaeyoung lays against her bicep at that.
“You, I wanted you, you idiot. I never thought you noticed me.”
“I’ve always noticed you.” Nayeon pushes back to brush more of Chaeyoung’s wispy bangs out of her face. “You’ve been amazing since day one, but I just didn’t notice in the way you wanted me to. It just took me a little extra time, ba–” Nayeon freezes mid-word. She literally just promised Chaeyoung to never call her baby again, and yet the impulse to do so is entirely different now.
Chaeyoung catches it, of course, but she flushes and hides her face. Interesting. “You know, I might not mind baby in a different context…”
“Okay, baby.” Nayeon watches Chaeyoung bite her lip at the nickname. “Is that okay?”
“More than okay.” Chaeyoung looks at her like she’s won the finals trophy. “This… this isn’t like a one time thing right?”
“Nah,” Nayeon says, the veneer of casualness slipping as she watches Chaeyoung smile. How one person can be so cute and hot at the same time, she’ll never know. “I’m tired of my old life anyway. Let’s kill it, and let’s do it together.”
“Yes ma’am.” Chaeyoung cups Nayeon’s face in her hand for a second, before leaning in again. Nayeon closes her eyes, but before she feels the already-addicting pressure of Chaeyoung’s lips, a hand pushes her shoulder down into the track. When she opens her eyes, Chaeyoung is on her feet already, one hand reaching out to her, smirk on her face.
“I’ll race you. Winner gets a kiss.”
“Logically, the loser will get one too,” Nayeon grumbles, but she gets into position behind the line anyway.
Chaeyoung ignores her. “Who cares about logic? Here, three, two… one!”
Nayeon’s body moves on its own accord. She feels the blood pumping through her limbs again, her nerves singing as she races around the track.
“I care, baby!” She calls to Chaeyoung. And if Chaeyoung chokes and falls behind at that, well, Nayeon is only using every tool at her disposal to win.
triumph | 2013
“Starting out on the Jam Line for Twice, we’ve got NaBangs facing off against Miss Fortune for Oh My Hurl. I mean, NaBangs has been a top performing jammer for Twice in any regular season, but as we all know this is her first game back after an ankle injury against this very same team that sidelined her. You know it, I know it, and Miss Fortune sure as hell knows it. Oh My Hurl will be counting on some returner’s nerves from NaBangs, and they haven’t gone easy on her with the pack this time around.”
“They absolutely haven’t, and facing off against that group of blockers including Bon Carnage is no easy feat. Luckily, NaBangs has some of the best blockers Twice has to offer on the track tonight. It’s going to be a tight game!”
A whistle sounds, interrupting the announcers. Up ahead of them, Nayeon can see Momo and YooA staring each other down as they struggle to form the best wall with the other blockers. She chances a glance at the other jammer next to her, at her deceptively innocent face underneath a starred helmet. Arin may be cute, but she sure as hell wasn't cute breaking Nayeon's ankle those months ago, accident or not. At the last second Arin looks back, and Nayeon sees a current of steel running through her face before the second whistle sounds. Thankfully, Arin’s attention on her has given Nayeon a precious extra second to rush the pack that Oh My Hurl has set up for her.
“Oh, NaBangs is wasting no time tonight, and it looks like she’s already taking the inside line and breaking through the pack! NaBangs picks up the lead but Miss Fortune isn’t far behind now!”
Nayeon can feel rather than see Arin, just like she can feel the cheers of the crowd filling up her energy for the night, building up her ego, making her limbs move on their own accord as she passes one, two, three and finally just ekes past YooA before frantically tapping her hips. Chan blows the whistle.
“And NaBangs lives up to her name tonight on the track, coming back with a BANG for Twice, getting past Bon Carnage there and picking up four points before calling the jam! It’s like she hasn’t missed a beat.”
“The track is lucky to have her back.”
Nayeon hears the announcers in theory, she sees the fans screaming and waves to them, but her heart is with the person who hasn’t taken her eyes off of her this whole jam. It’s her first game back, but right now she only has one person whose approval means everything. So when Chaeyoung smiles shyly, the rest of Twice sitting around her with shit-eating grins on their faces, that’s when Nayeon finally lets her face crack open in a victorious smile. NaBangs is back, and she's better than before.
And later, in the quiet of a locker room post-celebration, Chaeyoung is smiling at her still. Nayeon leans in. It’s not a bad place to kiss her baby.