Chapter Text
He was ten years old when he had his first taste of victory.
The match ended at 2-1 with a dramatic finish at the 93rd minute. Hongjoong had sprinted up the pitch, dodged past three defenders, and launched the ball into the upper left corner from twenty yards out. The goalkeeper had no chance but to reach out in desperation and flail to the ground in defeat. For a second, time stopped. Then the screams of his teammates filled his ears as they toppled over him, ruffling his hair and shaking him with excitement. He lay on the pitch and looked up at the sky to memorize every detail. His best friend leaned over and pulled him to his feet.
“We did it,” Seonghwa said, hugging him tight. “You did it.”
From a distance, the referee blew the whistle, signaling the match was over. They were officially crowned the youth champions of the league all because of him.
Hongjoong scanned the crowd and found his father pointing at him, screaming “That’s my son” over and over to anyone who would listen. He'd never seen his father so joyful, only in old pictures of him lifting the trophy during his time as captain of the city’s top flight team, Cheongyang FC. He hadn't known the man in the photos could exist in real life.
Hongjoong jumped up, waving his arms and smiling back widely. He was next in line in his family to take on the captaincy. His father and his grandfather were decorated legends of the club before him, contributing to Cheongyang’s reign as the most successful team in the country. It had never really been a question, more a prophecy waiting to be fulfilled, a normal childhood be damned.
Hongjoong raised the trophy to a roar of cheers, vibrant confetti raining down and settling in his hair. Seonghwa appeared at his side and wrapped an arm around him. They looked at each other and broke into laughter, and in that moment, a promise was made. That they'd always win together.
--
Hongjoong would tell anyone he was not superstitious. He simply had a routine he had to carry out before each match - just in case there was some karmic soccer god out there who would punish him if he missed one step. It was always better to be safe than sorry. Not that he believed in any of that crazy junk.
His left boot always had to go on before the right one. The captain’s armband had to be put on by Seonghwa, who had been at his side on every team since the second grade. He had to close his eyes before stepping onto the pitch to honor his late grandfather. He’d then press two fingers to his lips, sending a kiss to the sky before running out. Totally not superstitious.
Except today, Seonghwa was nowhere to be found.
“Where the fuck is Seonghwa,” Hongjoong hissed at his vice-captain, Jeong Yunho, one of the two “Twin Tower” defenders on the team. Along with Song Mingi, Yunho was pivotal to their clean sheet record the previous year. They were two lions pouncing mercilessly to hunt down their target on the pitch, a complete 180 from their innocent demeanor in real life.
Yunho looked guilty, like he was hiding something. “No clue,” he said.
Hongjoong was starting to get pissed off. Today was the first league match of the season against their city rivals and fellow title contenders, Hala United, arguably one of the two most important matches of the year. The media spent all week dramatizing his match-up against Hala United’s new signing, Choi Jongho, a defensive midfielder who developed a reputation for his perfectly timed slide tackles and inability to give away possession. He was a bulldog in human form and he had already formed a strong partnership with Hala’s captain and center midfielder, Jung Wooyoung.
There were few people in the world Hongjoong hated more than Jung Wooyoung. Wooyoung was the type to loom over his shoulder and taunt him incessantly to rile him up. Even in pre-match press conferences Wooyoung turned on his sleazy charm to seduce the reporters and give them their tasty soundbites. As the media’s darling, his face with that slimy smirk bombarded him everywhere on the front pages of magazines and posters. Wooyoung, unfortunately, wasn’t just all talk. He was incredibly talented – swift on his feet and annoyingly clever, but Hongjoong didn’t need to boast about his own talent. He proved it on the pitch.
“Yunho. Where is Seonghwa,” Hongjoong repeated, his patience running thin.
“Hongjoong, don’t get mad. He’s running late,” Yunho confessed. He really never could tell a lie.
Hongjoong was ready to explode. “What do you mean he’s running late?”
Seonghwa had never been late in his life. He despised tardiness and often showed up to matches at least one hour before everyone else. Even in elementary school he’d arrive before the classroom lights turned on.
“He said he had to meet someone real quick,” Mingi quipped behind Yunho. Yunho punched Mingi in the shoulder and looked at him with wide eyes. “I mean, just kidding?”
Hongjoong’s body tensed, his temper ready to burst. Unfortunately, Yunho and Mingi were going to be on the receiving end of his fury. “Who the fuck could he possibly be meeting with right now. The match starts in thirty minutes. Find him. Now!”
Yunho and Mingi nodded and scurried away. Hongjoong would not be putting on his own armband today. Not today of all days. Fuck off Karmic Soccer God.
Five minutes before the teams lined up in the tunnel, Seonghwa showed up panting with his hair disheveled and one of his boots still untied. He snatched the armband from Hongjoong’s hands and haphazardly put it on his left arm. There was an obvious lack of care compared to the previous times.
“I’m so, so sorry,” Seonghwa said, out of breath. “I swear that will never happen again.”
“Where were you?”
“I had a cramp and was doing some exercises and lost track of time.”
Seonghwa losing track of time?
“Yunho and Mingi said you were meeting with someone.”
Seonghwa’s eye twitched and he let out a nervous laugh. “Oh, I mean, I did meet with the masseuse, that’s probably what they-"
“-Everyone, it's time to line up!" Manager Baek’s voice thundered in the locker room.
The players scrambled to get into their numbered position. Hongjoong, as the captain, would lead the line to walk the rest of the team out.
The door opened to the tunnels at the same time as the away team’s locker room door. Wooyoung stood in front in his red shirt with a toothy grin and winked at Hongjoong.
“Bastard,” Hongjoong muttered under his breath.
It was finally time. Hongjoong closed his eyes to remember his grandfather. Today he thought back to when he broke the news that he would be signing a professional contract with Cheongyang FC. He could still vividly recall the pure jubilation on his grandfather’s face and the pride he radiated knowing Hongjoong would be continuing the family legacy. His father, on the other hand, barely acknowledged him and only muttered “it was expected of him.” He wondered if the man he saw the day of the youth league win was a figment of his imagination.
Hongjoong opened his eyes and kissed his fingers, raising them to the sky as he walked out of the tunnel. He could sense Wooyoung staring at him and glared back.
“Cute,” Wooyoung said as he sprinted to the middle of the pitch, his ponytail bouncing.
Hongjoong caught up to the center as the referee held the coin in his hands. The coin flip between captains would determine which goal each team would attack.
“Heads or tails,” he asked the two captains.
“Doesn’t matter to me. We’ll win either way,” Wooyoung said smugly.
Hongjoong rolled his eyes. “Heads.”
The referee tossed the coin and looked at his palm. “It’s heads. Cheongyang, you get first pick.”
“Home advantage.”
Wooyoung nodded and held out his hand as it was customary to shake hands before the match, but Hongjoong kept his arms frozen by his side. Wooyoung withdrew his hand and smirked again, but this time the smugness was replaced with an animalistic hunger.
“Good luck. You’ll need it,” Wooyoung said.
The first half was a gridlock between both teams, each side a defensive fortress. Hongjoong had been chopped down by Choi Jongho countless times and it was near impossible to get any momentum going in the final third of the pitch. On the other side, the Twin Towers were playing well, preventing both of Hala’s forwards from gaining meaningful possession. There were zero shots on goal from both teams. A dire match to watch as a spectator.
Wooyoung was noticeably frustrated. His lips settled into a pout as he remained silent and focused. Usually, he would have invaded Hongjoong’s personal space and insulted him several times by now.
Something was seriously off with Seonghwa. It was strange to see Seonghwa out of position at the top of the pitch. They had practiced this formation infinite times. He was standing too close to the goalkeeper as if he was relying on Hongjoong to feed him long balls from the midfield to head in instead of their usual pass-and-play style. There were of course off days but today they were uncharacteristically out of sync.
Hongjoong grabbed Seonghwa in the locker room during halftime. “What are you doing? Every time I look up to pass, you’re standing a mile away.”
“I’m sorry, I’ll do better,” Seonghwa replied meekly.
“I’m getting bulldozed by Choi Jongho the second I get the ball. I need you to read my next move. I can’t do it all by myself.”
“I know, I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing. It’s fine. Just fix it,” he said, sighing. It was hard to stay mad at Seonghwa. He already had a tendency to torture himself over the smallest mistakes. Even Hongjoong sometimes had to remind Seonghwa to be kinder to himself.
The second half was equally awful. It was the Jongho vs. Yunho and Mingi show and frustration was eating away at Hongjoong as their strategy was getting torn apart by Hala. He toed the line with the referee and threw out an elbow or push here and there to try to throw the rivals off balance.
It was a ridiculous call by the referee that made Hongjoong lose his nerve and lash out at him for awarding a free kick for a dive by Hala’s right winger, Bang Chan. At least it looked like a dive. He didn’t get a good look but it didn’t matter. If he reacted loudly enough the referee might listen to him.
Wooyoung marched toward Hongjoong after his outburst and pushed his chest aggressively. He could hear the home fans behind him protest the confrontation.
“Yell at the ref all you want but don’t you dare accuse one of my players of diving,” Wooyoung spat.
Hongjoong laughed. It was amusing to see the roles reversed, with Wooyoung being the one all wound up. “Go home and watch the replay and you’ll see your team for what they really are. A bunch of cheats.”
Wooyoung inhaled sharply and shoved up against Hongjoong until he stood an inch from him, pointing his finger at his chest. Up close, he could see the physical exhaustion painted on Wooyoung’s face. He had been sprinting up and down the pitch nonstop with no backup plan to win this match. Sweat trailed down his face and onto the mole on his bottom lip. Was that always there?
“You’re the cheat. What, you think you need to get my guy sent off to win this match? Take a hard look at yourself. You wouldn’t have even been captain if your daddy didn’t suck off the manager.”
Hongjoong saw red. He knew he was one of the best players in the league and he had rightfully earned the captaincy, yet he couldn’t escape the incessant discussions around whether there was nepotism at play.
“You fucking asshole!” Hongjoong pushed Wooyoung even harder and swung his arm back, ready to punch until two large arms engulfed him, dragging him away.
“Don’t do something you’ll regret. He’s trying to get in your head,” Yunho whispered as Hongjoong attempted to wriggle out of his tight grip.
Hongjoong met eyes with Wooyoung, who stuck his tongue out at him and waved. The cheeky bastard.
He and Wooyoung both got away with a yellow card each by the referee for unsportsmanlike conduct. Now Hongjoong was determined to muster up every ounce of his energy to make Wooyoung’s life hell.
Hongjoong was everywhere on the pitch. Jongho was slowing down, becoming less precise with his tackles. He used that to his advantage to earn a free kick from thirty yards out at the 89th minute. Long range goals happened to be his specialty. This was going to be Hala’s goalkeeper, Choi San’s, first real test of the match.
The whistle blew and Hongjoong breathed in sharply before kicking the ball with his right foot, aiming the ball at the top left corner – the magic spot where it was near impossible for any goalkeeper to block if he was precise. Hongjoong practiced this exact kick for thirty minutes after each training session to perfect the skill.
The following events happened in slow motion.
San leaped to the left as if he read Hongjoong’s mind and blocked the shot, the ball falling right in front of him. San just had to grab the ball and crouch over it, but instead he made a nonsensical decision, punching the ball out so it landed at Seonghwa’s feet. Seonghwa had an open net, an impossible to miss opportunity. It would likely be their last chance to get a result and Seonghwa would be the local hero until the two teams met again.
“SHOOT! SEONGHWA! SHOOT!”
Hongjoong and the other teammates held their arms up in anticipation, ready to sprint toward Seonghwa and celebrate. He could feel Mingi squeezing his shoulder, jumping up and down.
And then Seonghwa hesitated. He hesitated and kicked with his nondominant right foot and the ball shot straight over goal into the crowd.
Hongjoong dropped to his knees in absolute disbelief. Mingi let go of his shoulder and screamed in frustration. The cacophony of groans from the crowd were going to be etched into Hongjoong’s brain for months.
The match ended in a dismal 0-0.
--
“Hongjoong, please, I don’t want to hear it.”
“I don’t get it. The ball was at your left foot and you just had to tap it in. Why would you switch to your right? I’m trying to make sense of it.”
Seonghwa scowled and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He had already been castigated by the manager in front of the entire team and the coaches implemented a strenuous training regimen to punish him. The tabloids ran a headline titled Worst Miss Ever? with a rare, unflattering photo of Seonghwa slumped to the floor with his head in his hands. Everyone in town was talking about the miss. Someone had even included the clip of Seonghwa in a video compilation of mortifying misses already. Hongjoong didn’t dare to share that piece of intel with him.
“Seonghwa, it’s me, you can tell me,” Hongjoong said, softening his voice. Seonghwa had a tendency to shut people out if he felt like he was being interrogated, so Hongjoong learned to walk a delicate line.
“I didn’t expect their goalkeeper to punch the ball, okay? It threw me off guard,” Seonghwa replied with annoyance. He unlocked his phone, staring at it as if he was impatiently waiting for a message. “It was a lapse in judgment and it won’t happen again.”
“It’s so unlike you,” Hongjoong pressed.
“I know. Can we please talk about literally anything else? It’s Wednesday and I’m here so we can order chicken and watch a mindless movie,” Seonghwa snapped.
Wednesday movie nights were a tradition ever since they were teenagers. With such a demanding regimen, they were usually granted one night a week to truly rest. Back then, Seonghwa had suggested a night where they could take their minds off the game, even though Hongjoong didn’t quite understand the need for it. Now, over thirteen years later, the tradition had been upheld and he looked forward to Wednesdays for designated hang out time with Seonghwa.
Seonghwa had implemented a strict no-phone policy during the movie, but tonight his own rule seemed forgotten. As his phone vibrated repeatedly, Seonghwa scrambled to grab it every time and his hands flew over his mouth to suppress his laughter when reading the messages.
If Seonghwa could break his own rule, Hongjoong had a free pass too.
He scrolled through the news and clicked on a video of Wooyoung’s latest conversation with the press, double-checking the captions were on and volume was muted.
“Wooyoung, Hala was a tough opponent for Cheongyang, probably tougher than they expected. Can you talk more about Hala’s strategy?”
“They definitely underestimated us. Our plan was to go out there and knock them off their high horse. Toward the end you can see they started throwing tantrums and playing pretty sloppily, so I think we did our job well.”
Wooyoung winked at the reporter and the reporter giggled obnoxiously. Another idiot falling for Wooyoung’s garish charm.
“Are you talking about the miss?”
“You said it not me." Wooyoung smirked and ran his hands through his long hair.“We had to give you guys a little drama at the end, didn’t we? I know the match wasn’t the most fun to watch. Believe me, it was even worse to play in it.”
More laughs. It was a masterclass in manipulation.
“What about your altercation with Kim Hongjoong? What words were exchanged there?”
Wooyoung licked his lips and smiled. “Ah, that’s nothing. It’s normal for players to try to provoke each other with some harmless name-calling. But if I have to be honest, I think he has a bit of an anger issue.”
“WHAT?!”
Seonghwa threw his phone aside, snapping his head toward Hongjoong. The sound of continuous, rapid punches from the Van Damme movie emanated from the TV speakers.
“What happened?” Seonghwa asked, his voice filled with concern.
“Fucking Jung Wooyoung is what happened. Did you see what he said about me? I’m going to kill him!” He slammed his fist on the arm of the sofa and a dull pain pulsed throughout his hand.
Seonghwa sighed heavily in exasperation and closed his eyes, rubbing his temples. He had heard this exact diatribe about Wooyoung a handful of times.
“Are you really surprised? He does this because he wants the attention.”
“It’s bullshit! He was the one who started it. He’s the one with the low blow. But no, the reporters believe everything he says. I feel like I’m surrounded by idiots,” Hongjoong protested, blood boiling to a level he didn’t know existed.
“Wooyoung is always going to say something controversial. That’s why the reporters keep interviewing him. It’s all mind games to get a rise out of you,” Seonghwa explained, unmoved. Seonghwa too often had to be the voice of reason. He rarely had a knee-jerk reaction to any situation which made the missed kick even more baffling.
Another vibration sounded and Seonghwa hastily snatched his phone from the far side of the couch and snickered at the message.
Hongjoong frowned. “Who are you texting?”
Seonghwa stilled. “It’s just my dad."
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s nothing, can we finish the movie?”
Hongjoong wasn’t convinced but decided to drop it, sensing Seonghwa was getting agitated and ready to give him the silent treatment.
He spent the remaining hour of the movie thinking of getting revenge on Jung Wooyoung while eyeing Seonghwa, the dim light from his phone flickering on his face as he received text after text.
--
Seonghwa had to be subbed out for the next two matches in a row. In the first match after the incident, he stayed on until the 80th minute, but the FC Gyeongju match the following week was disastrous for him. Seonghwa was taken off at halftime after flubbing two clear-cut chances on goal. He was run ragged by Gyeongju’s average defense and Hongjoong was increasingly aggravated after he passed a perfect ball to Seonghwa only for him to kick it out of bounds. The team eventually let out a huge sigh of relief when Mingi headed in a goal from Hongjoong’s corner to win them the match 1-0.
The manager called in Hongjoong after their training session.
Manager Baek had instilled his trust in Hongjoong since he offered him the captaincy over six years ago, making him the youngest Cheongyang FC captain ever at the age of twenty-two. It was the highest honor of his life, yet he sobbed in the locker room alone after wearing the armband for the first time, the overwhelming pressure to live up to his family name consuming him.
“Seonghwa is at risk of not starting the next match,” the manager explained. “I’ve never seen such a sharp decline in form this quickly. Do you know anything about this? Is there something going on in his personal life?”
Hongjoong shook his head. This was serious. Seonghwa had been part of every starting line up since their days in the youth league, barring the first half of one season when he suffered a hamstring injury. Even then, he practiced like a machine to fight for his spot back as the first choice forward.
“I’ll talk to him.”
“He gets one more chance to start, but if he slips up again, I have no choice.”
“I understand, sir.”
Hongjoong exited the manager’s office fuming and marched to the locker room to confront Seonghwa. No more kid gloves this time.
“He left,” Yunho said with a nervous look as he untied his boots.
“Where?”
“Said he had to take care of something at home.”
More vague excuses. It was like everyone was in on some secret that Hongjoong was deliberately left out of. Were they all turning against him as captain? Would Seonghwa betray him? Sure, he was strict with his teammates, upholding high expectations, but he thought they were all on the same page. Elevating the standard of play was crucial in defending the title.
Hongjoong drove to Seonghwa’s place, buzzing his doorbell and getting no response. His texts were also left on read. It wasn’t until late at night that Seonghwa texted him back as if nothing had happened, a hollow “What’s up?”
--
The following morning, Seonghwa arrived at Hongjoong’s apartment, waking Hongjoong up well before his alarm. In one hand he carried a neatly tied box of his favorite soboro bread from the local bakery and an iced Americano in the other.
Seonghwa’s hair stuck out in different directions and the bags under his eyes were a concerning shade of gray. He looked at Hongjoong with a shy smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes and said flatly, “Ta-da.”
“It’s 7 AM,” Hongjoong said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “We don’t have to be at training today until 10.”
“It’s a nice day out so I thought I’d get started early. It’s your favorite,” Seonghwa said sweetly.
Hongjoong moved aside and motioned for Seonghwa to come in.
“Why didn’t you buzz yourself in?”
“I wasn’t sure if you’d have someone over.” He sat on the metal kitchen island stool awkwardly. No one ever sat on those stools. They were purely for decoration purposes only.
Hongjoong scoffed. “Since when do I have people over?”
Seonghwa shrugged. Awkward silence filled the room as Seonghwa fidgeted with the ribbon on the bread box. Hongjoong stared at him, utterly confused by his presence.
“I need to tell you something,” Seonghwa finally said. He was still twirling the ribbon in his hands, avoiding eye contact.
“So say it.”
“I need you to sit down. Please.”
Hongjoong sat on the stool next to him. It was cold, uncomfortable, and angled in all the wrong ways. He made a mental note to call his assistant, Yeosang, to replace them immediately.
“Just don't react right away,” Seonghwa said, his voice quivering. “And let me finish before you say anything.”
“You’re freaking me out.”
Hongjoong gnawed at his thumb in nervous anticipation. The condensation from the iced Americano formed a ring on the kitchen island and he had a strong urge to move the cup on top of a coaster.
“So… I’ve been seeing someone.”
“Don’t tell me you got back with your ex,” Hongjoong retorted.
He didn’t mean for it to come out so hostile, but Seonghwa’s greatest flaw was his poor judgment in romantic partners. He was too trusting of others to a fault and fell into the same pattern of finding duds who would take advantage of him whether it be monetarily or to get closer to his high-profile connections. There were a couple Hongjoong fantasized about maiming, if only he wasn’t a public figure.
Seonghwa threw daggers at Hongjoong with his eyes. “No, of course not," he said with an edge in his voice. His expression then softened. "Remember the charity match over the summer? The one to raise money for the oncology wing of the children’s hospital?”
Hongjoong distinctly remembered declining the invitation last minute after hearing Wooyoung would be participating and Seonghwa graciously filled in on his behalf. Wooyoung didn’t end up appearing either so Hongjoong felt some residual guilt for letting his pettiness win over a good cause.
“We’ve been hanging out a lot. You probably noticed I’ve been kind of all over the place, but it’s because I’ve been in my head about how to navigate our relationship so I haven’t been sleeping well. Then it hit me yesterday that I had to get it off my chest and tell you,” Seonghwa said, the words tumbling from his mouth. “I know with a clear conscience I’ll be back to my usual self on the pitch and be a better friend to you too. But yeah, it’s been moving pretty fast. Almost too intense but in a good way.”
“Seonghwa, what are you trying to say?”
“We decided to make it official as of yesterday. Me and San.”
Hongjoong stared at him blankly. “I’m sorry, who?”
His mind raced through all the participants of the charity match. There was only one San who played in the match – Choi San of Hala United. That couldn’t be right. Seonghwa must have meant some staff member or one of the event organizers. But why would Seonghwa name drop him as if he knew who he was talking about?
“San. Choi San,” Seonghwa said softly. “We’re official.”
Hongjoong paused, then burst into laughter, a little too loud and a little too obnoxious. “Stop fucking around," he said, slapping Seonghwa’s shoulder.
Seonghwa didn’t react. Instead, he stared back at him, biting the insides of his cheek.
Hongjoong’s smile quickly disappeared, his eyes widening. “No.”
Seonghwa nodded. “Yes.”
“No. No fucking way.” Hongjoong stood up, shaking his head. He pinched his arm hoping this was a dream. “Seonghwa, no. The Choi San?”
Seonghwa straightened his posture and crossed his arms. “I’d like for you to come over on Sunday for a small get together to meet him officially. This is really important to me.”
“Is this a joke? Am I on a hidden camera show right now?”
“I’m being very serious right now.”
“You can’t,” Hongjoong protested.
This was impossible. A Cheongyang player dating a Hala player? They were supposed to despise each other, they were groomed as children to hate each other. There was even history dating back to the Japanese occupation of the animosity between the northern and southern part of town, now channeled through support for Cheongyang and Hala respectively. It wasn’t allowed.
He didn’t mean to say the last part out loud.
Seonghwa scoffed. “I’m allowed to date whoever I want. We’re both adults. We know it’s going to be controversial but it’s not like we can be public about this anyway.”
Hongjoong rubbed his face, holding his head in his hands, still coping with the incredulousness of it all. “Do you hear yourself? You could’ve had your pick from any other team but you pick Choi San?”
“That’s really not how it works.”
“So, he’s the reason you’ve been playing like shit?” Also didn’t mean to say that out loud.
Seonghwa stood up, nose flaring. It was a stab below the belt.
“No, I’m the reason I’ve been playing like shit. I acknowledge and take full responsibility for that but that’s all on me not San,” he said, his voice sharp with irritation. “Are you coming on Sunday or not?”
“To fraternize with the enemy?” Hongjoong’s voice squeaked.
“No, so my boyfriend and my best friend can get to know each other. Like every other normal couple.”
“You’re not a normal couple! Nothing about this is normal! This is so fucked!” He was hysterical now. There had to be something he could do or say to make Seonghwa understand the gravity of his decision.
“God, they all warned me you’d react like this, but I was stupidly optimistic,” Seonghwa muttered under his breath.
Hongjoong went rigid. “Who else on the team knows?”
“Yunho and Mingi,” Seonghwa said, and then lowered his voice. “And maybe Minho and Hyunjin.”
“WHAT?!” A wave of hysteria was brewing for the second time. He didn’t know if his heart could take any more twists and turns.
“Believe it or not, they were all very supportive, and they all agreed to come over on Sunday.”
It was like he had entered a different dimension. Yunho and Mingi shared his hatred of Hala, there was no possible way they were on board.
Seonghwa ran his hands through his hair, closing his eyes. It was the signal he was nearing the end of the conversation. He looked infinitely more fatigued than when he first arrived.
“Look, I need to go home and clean up before training. Take some time to take it all in and we can have a real conversation when you’re not so worked up. You know I never ask anything from you and it means everything to me that you come.”
Hongjoong wanted to protest but he knew it was fruitless. He'd have to organize his thoughts and convince Seonghwa with logic and not emotion, which was often quite the challenge for him.
One thing he knew for sure, there was absolutely, positively no way he would rub shoulders with any Hala player.