Chapter Text
Seonghwa’s lungs burned as he sucked in the cold air. It didn’t matter how long he had spent on the ice; it always sent a shock through his system when he stepped out for the first time of the day. The rink was as familiar as the womb, but not as warm or forgiving.
The humidity caused a thin layer of fog to rise from the cold surface. It was too large of a room to completely fill it, but it still gave it a mystical quality that was wasted on Seonghwa. He wished it happened for the public skaters or the children who came for classes. It could fill them with wonder and inspire them to keep going when things grew difficult for them.
He was thankful to have some time to himself first thing in the morning. Keeping calm and collected wasn’t always his strongest virtue despite what the articles written about him said. Collected yes, but calm? That was a stretch.
His morning jog had warmed up his legs but after a heavy jumping session from the day before, his thighs quivered lightly as he stepped out on one foot. He raised his other foot up to slip his blade guard off as he curved back toward the boards so he could dump his belongings. No one ever took his spot from him; Wooyoung tried once just to see what would happen and found his things tossed over the bench, just barely out of reach for the inconvenience. He liked being closest to the music box, tucked into the corner so no one bothered his things.
The cord for their phones dangled freely, but he opted to keep his morning quiet and set his phone down next to it on the small counter space. He stroked leisurely around the ice, focusing on power and extension. When he grew tired of that, he started half-circle patterns with cross rolls. His leg swung forward and the edge cut deep into the fresh ice. The satisfying crunches cut through the silence and it made him hold the edges longer just to drag out the sound.
With no one around, he got to close his eyes. It felt like flying.
He was only allowed twenty minutes of peace before he heard a bellowing “Good morning!” echo throughout the rink. His arms dropped to the side as he slowly glided around to see Wooyoung at the door. He had his guards in one hand as he dramatically bowed before stepping onto the ice. His blades clicked against the fresh surface, the black metal reflecting with a sparkling shine.
“How was your weekend?” Seonghwa joined him at the benches while he set his things down.
“I slept almost all day yesterday.” Wooyoung dropped his silver guards next to his little caddy bag. It was messy, littered with old protein bar wrappers and several pairs of mismatching gloves. The chaos that surrounded Wooyoung was part of his charm. “How was yours?”
“I had pilates yesterday morning, but other than that nothing special.” Seonghwa gently tapped his toe in the ice. It wasn’t hard enough to gouge a hole, but his toe pick would leave a rigid line behind.
“Let me guess,” Wooyoung said as he turned on his heel to face him. “It was the one at six in the morning?” He arched a brow at him and it made Seonghwa frown.
“Yes?”
“It wouldn’t kill you to sleep in on your days off, you know.”
“I do sometimes. But if I do it too often it throws off my whole routine.” As he got older, he found it harder to bounce back from late nights and early mornings. He was only thirty-one, but his body had been worn hard and fast and it was catching up to him.
“Sure, grandpa.” Wooyoung smiled at him, a cheeky lift of his lips that made Seonghwa want to pinch his cheeks until it was off his face.
The heavy click of the door caught their attention.
“Good morning!” Jongho sang as he floated over to them from the farther entrance of the ice.
“Ooh, you look tired, little bear.” Wooyoung reached out to touch Jongho’s face, which was quickly swatted away with his black guards.
“We had several birthday parties on Saturday and two people called out.” He held up two gloved fingers for emphasis. “I was manning the rental window until they needed help at the snack bar. I’m going to have nightmares about the clusterfuck that was this weekend.”
“They’re really making you work for that free ice time.” Seonghwa slid over to make room for him.
“Just motivation to start winning I guess.” Jongho shrugged. “Maybe then I’ll actually start earning money.”
Wooyoung shot Seonghwa a look, one he received often. Jongho was still green, barely three years on the senior circuit and still paying his dues. He might have stood more of a chance if for once the skating scene in Seoul wasn’t saturated with talent, not to mention powerful skaters from other countries. Most major competitions would be out of his immediate reach, but not impossible. He had debuted early, which would give him the advantage of experience. Seonghwa had high hopes for him.
“Wooyoung, want to pick the warm up music today?” Seonghwa steered the conversation away before it got too serious.
“It’d be my honor.”
The three of them had the ice for a few hours since they were Hongjoong’s highest level skaters. There were plenty of junior and novice level skaters who were making it to Junior Worlds and Regionals, they were guided by other coaches then polished by Hongjoong. Occasionally, if he did group classes, he’d bring the three of them in to help “lead the pack” and motivate the lower levels. He didn’t fully believe in the separation of levels, but if someone was learning a double jump for the first time, the last thing they needed was to accidentally wobble in front of someone doing a quad. Hongjoong traded with other coaches if they needed it, or he’d invite them to join their ice time. More often than not, he opted to reschedule. Seonghwa knew it was because of him and his peculiarities about being watched by too many people, but he appreciated the effort.
The pairs and dancers had the second half of the day since they brought double the amount of skaters despite being fewer in numbers. Then, learn-to-skate classes and hockey. The rink was filled with life more often than not. The three of them were the first ones there, beating the rising sun and most salary workers.
Wooyoung put on his favorite R&B playlist, something upbeat to keep them moving but not so heavy that it would make their hearts crash out by trying to keep up with the rhythm. Each of them had their different routines. Since Seonghwa had already warmed up his legs, he focused on his jumps and spins in the center of the ice while Wooyoung and Jongho skated their laps around him.
They got through several songs before the heavy slam of the door announced someone new was entering the rink. Seonghwa was mid-spin when they stepped onto the ice, but Wooyoung’s loud “Good morning Yeosang!” let him know their choreographer was there. When he stepped out of his completed camel spin, he bee lined it for the boards to greet him. Wooyoung was on the bench, foot up as he fiddled with his boot.
Yeosang was close in age to Seonghwa; they had competed against each other a few times in a short period. While Yeosang was a beautiful skater, he had lacked high enough component scores to truly make him any kind of “threat.” He had been a fan favorite because of his graceful choreography, but as long as skaters like Seonghwa existed, it was a losing battle to ever hope for true recognition. Beauty could only get you so far in a sport that was steadily growing an obsession with power over elegance.
He finished ninth in his last World Championships, the highest he had ever placed and decided to retire. At the time, he hadn’t decided on what came after skating since it had been his entire life since he was four. But in a final interview, an off-handed comment sparked an idea.
“Your choreography is so beautiful, have you ever thought of choreographing for other skaters?”
With no experience, he asked for a favor from Seonghwa, of all people: let him choreograph his short program for the upcoming year. Yeosang had everything to prove, and Seonghwa had everything to lose.
After its debut, Seonghwa was the number one trending athlete in several countries.
“Morning.” Seonghwa snatched a tissue from the box and wiped the snot that threatened to drip from his nose. “Where’s Hongjoong?”
“Oh, he said he was coming a little bit later this morning. We have a new skater starting with us so he was going to show him around a little bit before getting on the ice,” Yeosang said without looking at them. He was too focused on watching Jongho in the middle of the ice, still sipping on his coffee.
Seonghwa accidently blew a little too hard when the shock hit him. “A new skater? One of the juniors?” He made sure he didn’t make his nose bleed before he threw the tissue away.
“No, he’s completely new to the rink.” Wooyoung had been readjusting his laces for almost ten minutes, clearly avoiding being on the ice for whatever reason. “He’s coming back after some accident. He was training in Japan until now.”
“He’s Korean?” Seonghwa turned his attention to Wooyoung. Why did he know of all people? He was a bank of information, he had a likeable face and had a personality that compelled people to spill their secrets if he just smiled at them.
“Mmhmm.” Wooyoung smirked like he knew more, but he kept his mouth shut. “Jongho isn’t going to be the only baby anymore.”
“Speaking of, he’s floundering his step-sequence. I better go help him.” Yeosang left them in a brief silence before Wooyoung spoke up again.
“You haven’t skated against him, in case you were wondering.” Wooyoung unplugged his phone, the static from the speakers grating on all of their ears until he turned the sound system off.
“I wasn’t.”
“You were, I can tell. You’re dying to know who your new competition is.” Wooyoung slid his arms along the board, opening up his chest like a woman vying for attention in a black and white movie. “I’m stale to you, old news now that we’ve competed against each other for so long.”
Seonghwa would never deny that Wooyoung was an amazing skater. Stimulating and bewitching, his skating was full of electricity and life. He was an artist determined to tell a story with every program. Sometimes, he got too caught up in it and would miss cues, then worst of all, would enter jumps at the wrong time and end up falling. He had yet to score higher than Seonghwa when they competed against each other. The only way to earn a medal above him was in a competition where Seonghwa wasn’t present.
They were equals in Seonghwa’s eyes, but there always seemed to be this leftover bitterness on Wooyoung’s tongue when competition season rolled around. It wasn’t personal—not to Seonghwa, at least. It kept the competition healthy, it gave something Wooyoung to strive for. It wasn’t impossible to beat Seonghwa, the ISU loved to remind the public of that when they spun the same tale of a made up American rivalry.
“If you have time to lay on the boards, you have time to practice your triple loop, Wooyoung-ssi.”
Wooyoung rolled to face Hongjoong, looking unphased by the passive-aggressive threat. “Jongho was doing his step-sequence, I didn’t want to get in the way again.” He set his foot on the ground, laces redone and tight.
Hongjoong waddled into the hockey box with his thermos of coffee and stylish puffer jacket. He slipped his guards on, and with every step, they rattled with a desperate need to have the springs adjusted. Jongho once joked that he kept them loose in case he needed to easily kick it off to throw at someone. He hadn’t done it, yet.
He was considered a “new school” coach. Being young came with a new perspective which wasn’t always the most welcome in their sport. He didn’t believe in the old school methods of “do whatever it takes” to get his students to medal and understood longevity in a sport that was far from kind to him.
Seonghwa had missed competing with Hongjoong by a thin margin. His career was tumultuous, to put it lightly: a world champion by seventeen, an Olympian by twenty-one, a father by twenty-three, and divorced by twenty-six. As a young skater, Seonghwa had always looked up to him. Hongjoong had helped put Korean skaters on the map during a period that was being dominated by American skaters.
His messy divorce had thrown him to the vicious rumor mills after his life had been picked apart like a science experiment. Despite her anger and broken heart, his wife had remained silent on the reason, a last act of love for a man she had known for over ten years. They never publicly announced why they had split, but it was common knowledge that it was his fault it had failed. He loved his wife, he loved his daughter, but it was a lie he could no longer live with.
The closet had become suffocating.
Despite several attempts to bury him, he managed to earn several world titles before retiring. It set him up for coaching for those brave enough to be associated with him. Seonghwa’s parents had discouraged him from going under his wing, but Seonghwa saw an opportunity with his hero, and he refused to miss it.
Once others saw the results coming through, they flocked to him. Parents were convinced he could make their children into champions like Seonghwa, offering lavish gifts of entire salaries and life savings, name brand clothes and watches, investments. He stayed true to his integrity, which was a hard thing to find in athletics sometimes, and only took on a handful of students.
“Jongho! Yeosang!” The two turned their heads toward Hongjoong when he called. “Come here please!” He beckoned them over with a single wave of his hand.
Jongho’s cheeks were rosy and his hair clung to his forehead from sweat. He was laughing at something Yeosang said when they came over, showing off his little teeth and pink gums. Seonghwa always enjoyed the younger man’s presence at the rink. While he took the sport seriously, he didn’t take it so seriously that it killed his joy for it. Yet. Seonghwa had been like that at one point, too. Jongho was a welcome balance they clearly needed.
Wooyoung was the type of skater that skating federations worried about. He was flamboyant and defiant, but got away with a lot because of his skills. Between him and Seonghwa, there was Jongho. He hadn’t had much of a chance to show the world who he was. To the public, he was still young and innocent. They had yet to see how mischievous he was once he was out of the public eye. Seonghwa suspected at the end of the day he’d be a rule follower, but that he would find a way to carve his name into the history books.
“Alright everyone, we have a new skater joining us today. He’s been absent from the competition circuit for a while due to some personal reasons, but he’s ready to be back.”
Seonghwa shared a glance with Wooyoung, who looked quite smug as their coach continued to speak.
“I expect you guys to treat him well. I know how…territorial you all can get.” Hongjoong shot a pointed look toward Seonghwa, who looked away like he had no idea what he was talking about. If he brought someone new on, he normally had spoken about it to Seonghwa, but not this time. Hongjoong was free to take on whomever he wanted, Seonghwa didn’t rule his life. But they shared a mutual understanding because neither would be where they were if they didn’t have each other.
“Ah, there he is.”
The new skater took the first step on the ice and glided on one foot while he removed his other guard. His legs looked like they were ten miles long and the tight fitting joggers he wore made them look even longer. Despite just getting onto the ice, his nose was already red from the cold. His fluffy brownish-black hair looked freshly washed and it made it seem like he had just woken up. He looked like a skater in his black trainer turtleneck and thin down jacket that would probably be shed once he warmed up. But most importantly, he was handsome. His cheeks still held a little bit of baby fat, which gave him a boyish charm and his downcast eyes made him look shy.
When he looked up, there was a level of mischief in his smile.
“Good morning everyone. I’m Jeong Yunho, I’ll be in your care from now on.” He gave a flourished bow, twirling his hand in the air before crossing it over himself to stop the things cradled in his elbow from falling.
Wooyoung twinkled his fingers at him and winked. Jongho and Yeosang bowed their heads, Yeosang offered a smile, but Jongho’s face remained neutral. Yunho glanced in Seonghwa’s direction, but didn’t linger long, almost as if he had seen a flash of light and moved on instinct.
“I’m going to work with Yunho for a little while first. In the meantime, Wooyoung-ssi, start practicing your quad Lutz and slowly warm up to it. Do a few triples then start on it,” Hongjoong said, sternly. “Yeosang, if you don’t mind, please keep working with Jongho.” He paused when his eyes fell on Seonghwa. “You know what to do.”
All of them pushed from the boards and went to their assignments. Seonghwa had gotten his new choreography in late spring, a full several months before everyone else. It gave him a slight advantage to have it worked out sooner than the other skaters at his rink. Yeosang working so closely with Jongho on his footwork meant that his was probably coming along, and more than likely Wooyoung would be coming with his own ideas to show Hongjoong within a few weeks.
Seonghwa had glided away from the boards with the intention to start his practice, but got caught up watching Yunho. His legs wobbled a bit, either because he was nervous or because his legs were still stiff. It was new ice, with new people, and who knew what kind of condition his skates were in. Seonghwa could tell they were Edas from the ergonomic design, a little scrapped up but not visibly bad.
Hongjoong skated back to him, circling around as if he was trying to break his focus, but gave up and quickly turned, floating backward until he tapped the wall. “You should be practicing.”
“Where did you find him?” Seonghwa watched Yunho’s warm up routine closely. He started off with slow strokes, stretching out his long legs behind him as he pushed off on an angle. In four strokes, he cleared one side of the rink. It looked like he was practicing for an early Moves in the Field test.
“He found me.”
“And you said yes?” Seonghwa’s eyes flicked down when he heard Yunho’s toe pick catch on a cross over. He wobbled, but he quickly corrected himself, then glanced toward them to check if they were watching.
“He needs a second chance.” Hongjoong set a hand on his hip. “You really have no idea who he is, do you?”
“Should I?” The pool of South Korean skaters was small; it wasn’t uncommon for them to all know each other despite age and skill differences.
“Do you remember that rink that burned down a few years ago?” Hongjoong paused to allow him to search his memory. When Seonghwa nodded, he continued. “Surprisingly, there were only two casualties. One was the Zamboni driver who unfortunately was pinned by the collapsing roof and passed away. The other was a young skater who darted back inside to save a young girl trapped in the bathroom.” His gaze drifted back to Yunho.
He had switched to deep edged slaloms that cut deep grooves into the ice. His right inside ones were better than his left, and he looked down at his feet too much but he was clearly fascinated by something.
“Was he injured?”
“His left side was what took most of the damage.” That explained it then. “He spent a lot of time in the hospital then rehab. He didn’t skate for over a year and a half.”
“If that’s the case he looks good. Wooyoung said he was in Japan skating. But has he competed?”
“He debuted on the senior circuit only for the fire to happen a few months later. But he was a consistent medalist in most of his junior comps.”
“So, basically he’s having to start over.”
“Not completely, but in some areas he is.” Hongjoong thumped his fist against the top of the board. “He’ll be living with me and Mingi for a bit.”
“Seriously?” Seonghwa raised a judgmental eyebrow, but quickly realized and relaxed his face.
“We have an extra room, and it’s just while he gets established.” Hongjoong gave him a sharp look.
“That’s very charitable of you.” Seonghwa settled under Hongjoong’s scolding eye.
“In case you forgot, you lived with us for a bit too.”
He hadn’t. It was when his parents had become so suffocating that it was either get out or fish his body out of the river. Hongjoong’s daughter was still small and was excited at the idea of Seonghwa coming to stay with them. On the nights she heard him sniffling, she crawled out of her bed and pulled herself into Seonghwa’s bed so he could squeeze her like a teddy bear.
“Is Chaemin gonna be okay with him?”
“She’s going to spend some time with her mom until school starts again. I guess Hyejin’s father isn’t doing well, so she wants to spend some time as a family unit together. She also thinks the summer in the countryside will be good for her.”
“Does she realize Chaemin isn’t a little kid anymore?” Seonghwa chuckled. “A teenager in the middle of nowhere is going to be incredibly bored.”
“I think that’s the point. She’s always travelled with us, always to big cities with lots to do. This will teach her how to be bored for once.”
“You’re becoming so wise in your old age.” Seonghwa stared down at the grey hairs that streaked through Hongjoong’s black hair. When asked if he’d ever dye it, he brushed it off by saying he earned it with the stress his skaters put him through.
Hongjoong shoved his shoulder. “Go practice. Stop standing here like you own the place.”
“My name is above the door.” Seonghwa pointed to the plaques above the door that lead out to the lobby. His name, along with a few others, were listed alongside their Olympic achievements. He didn’t own the place, but he certainly helped pay the bills.
“Just for that go do ten laps.”
Seonghwa chuckled as he pushed away from him with a sharp pump of his right foot. Ten laps was nothing, he knew that and Hongjoong knew that, but Hongjoong jumped back and forth over the line between friend and coach so easily that ten laps was a simple way to slip back into character.
He was plenty warmed up, but staying still had started to stiffen his muscles. Hongjoong said he wanted ten laps, but he didn’t say how to take those ten laps. Instead of going from one end of the rink to the other, he used a skill drill to propel him in a zigzag pattern down the ice. Going backward, he stretched his left leg back, curving on a half-circle. Then, he set his foot down for a little S-step, playfully kicking his right foot forward until he returned to a backward position. He did one singular power-pull, which put him on the correct edge for a seamless crossover.
His speed had startled Yunho as he passed by him enough to disrupt his warm-up. Yunho came to a glide as he watched Seonghwa pass around the edge of the rink, only to start the pattern again once he curved on the large hockey circle. Seonghwa felt his eyes on him until he was out of a range where it wouldn’t be obvious to watch him. Wooyoung had been waiting for Seonghwa to pass when he shouted “show off!”
Seonghwa ignored him and continued around. After his third lap, he realized that he hadn’t seen Yunho again. When he was able to, he quickly glanced at the boards to see if he had stopped, only to see Hongjoong watching somewhere down the rink. Seonghwa reached the end of the rink and decided to use the moment to search for him, only to be surprised that he had been a few paces behind him, copying his skill pattern.
Every movement looked more exaggerated because of his long limbs but also because he was showing off. Was he making fun of Seonghwa? Or was he showing that he could keep up despite being the new kid?
Seonghwa followed through with finishing his laps, his chest heaving by the time he was done. He stopped suddenly, creating a small wave of snow to fly into the air as he turned to face Yunho. The abrupt change made Yunho wobble on his one leg, which he swung down to help brace himself as he stopped. Seonghwa was wound tight like a cobra, ready to strike the second Yunho got in range.
“Yunho-ssi! Over here!” Hongjoong knew Seonghwa well enough to know when he was about to explode, so giving him some distance was always the best option.
There was a brief hesitation before Yunho spun on his heel and skated off to the other side of the rink. He was safe, for now.
“I can’t believe how you’re flirting so openly.” Wooyoung teased as he cruised by. His jacket had come off, leaving him in his skin tight compression shirt. It showed off his well-built pecs and slim waist, though it didn’t distract from how hard his nipples were under the fabric. He had to show off somehow, because he certainly wasn’t doing it by two-footing his jump landings.
“I’m not flirting.” Seonghwa elbowed him with a silent encouragement to keep quiet.
Wooyoung let out an annoyed grumble, one that resembled a cat hiss more than anything else. “Oh, please. That’s the only way you know how to flirt.” Wooyoung swatted at his elbow. His black gloves made it look like he had cat paws.
Seonghwa didn’t know if he should be offended or not. Wooyoung was far more promiscuous, not that Seonghwa could blame him. He had a unique beauty to him and if skating ever failed him, modeling could have been an easy back up career. They both had done sponsorship ads, promoting everything from laundry detergent to sporting brands. Because of his high rankings, Seonghwa was in demand a bit more, but Wooyoung was so easy to get along with that brands sought him out regardless.
“It wasn’t flirting.” Seonghwa stayed stern in his stance.
Wooyoung narrowed his eyes to assert his skepticism, but shrugged it off. “Well, if you’re not going to try, I will.”
“Sleeping with teammates is messy.”
“It’s only messy if you let it be, hyung.”
Hongjoong had Yunho start with forward crossovers in the center circle, bending at the waist to watch his blades on the ice. The silence of the rink would help him catch any mistakes if there were any.
Jongho had even abandoned his footwork with Yeosang, who had joined Hongjoong at the center. He met the other skaters at the boards but reached for his water bottle so he at least looked productive. “He’s better than I thought he would be for taking so much time off.”
“He didn’t lose a limb,” Seonghwa chided.
“I remember when I had to take three months off for my hip,” Jongho retorted. “When I got back on it felt like learning how to walk again.”
“Some people just take to it naturally,” Wooyoung hummed.
“I heard the wounds were nasty,” Jongho continued.
“Did you ever compete against him?” Seonghwa didn’t take his eyes off Yunho, but he did tilt his head in Jongho’s direction.
Wooyoung snorted. “Business as usual.”
“I did.” Jongho nodded. “We were in different skating clubs, and we talked a few times but we weren’t really friends or anything.”
“How was he?”
Jongho blinked, innocently. He was always blunt, but he tried to be kind about it. “He kicked my ass.”
Hongjoong rolled his eyes when he looked back and saw all his students standing at the boards. He pushed lazily with his toe to glide toward them, but he still raised his voice. “He’s not a zoo exhibit, guys.”
“It’s okay,” Yunho said with a reassuring smile. “I would be doing the same. They can watch.”
With the way Hongjoong’s lips pursed together, it looked like he was going to disagree, but he sighed and let it go. “Fine. Let’s do some spins. Back scratch, go.”
“Oh, that’s mean.” Jongho shook his head.
Yunho went into it with a powerful counter turn of his leg, which allowed him to effortlessly turn on the ball of his foot, directly into the spin. He held his long leg out to the side for two rotations before bringing it in to slowly lower down alongside his other leg. He lifted his arms above his head as he gained speed, looking like a windchime caught in a storm. When it reached the end, he lifted his leg out and dropped his arms into a landing position, cutting an edge into the ice in a beautiful landing position. Though, his face showed his surprise at actually pulling it off.
“Would you look at that?” Wooyoung tapped his toe pick into the ice before pushing off with it.
A back scratch spin didn’t mark the level of a professional, but it definitely made him look like one. It made him look accidentally good instead of like an athlete that had trained himself for years to pull something off so flawlessly.
A sigh escaped Seonghwa’s tight lungs. His legs were starting to get a little cold so he knew it was time to start moving again. He put one of his bluetooth headphones in, just so he could hear both his music and if someone were coming toward him. Most of the short program had already been stored away in his memory, but he was still working on getting his body to remember it. His jump passes would be fine, it was just everything in between. The music had a Spanish flair to it, which he’d have to embody in order to get not only the judges on board, but also the audience. Picking music from a beloved game like Ocarina of Time was certainly going to surprise some people, and he couldn’t wait to see their excitement flooding the internet.
He managed to stay on the opposite side of the ice from Yunho and Hongjoong. It wasn’t entirely intentional, but it did allow him to focus a bit more than if they were skating on top of each other. Though, his frustration had been steadily rising after forgetting a sequence for the third time. Before he gouged too many holes in the ice Seonghwa was at the boards, elbows resting on the wall with his phone between his fingers as he watched the guide video for his choreography. He heard the glide of blades but hadn’t bothered to look up until he saw the stretch of an arm in his peripheral view.
“Well damn, you already got your programs?” Yunho leaned on his elbows as well, close enough that their shoulders touched. From an unknown view, it wouldn’t have looked like they had met for the first time just a few hours ago. His gloved hands struggled to find a grip on his water bottle as he tried to twist the top open.
Seonghwa paused the video and stiffened his back. “I always get my programs first.”
“Figures for the number one skater in the world.” Yunho winked. Up close, the light freckles under his eyes were more visible. His lashes were dark and feathery, though not as long as Hongjoong’s.
“Have you picked out music for yours yet?” There was some heat in Seonghwa’s cheeks.
Yunho took a long drink before answering. His Adam’s apple bobbed with every swallow. “Angels and Demons for my short, The Phantom of the Opera for my long.”
“Phantom,” Seonghwa tutted. “Original.”
“You did Phantom when you were, what, eighteen? Got bronze with your debut of it?”
Seonghwa blinked in surprise.
“Bet I can get higher.”
The challenge was like a slap in the face, sudden and sharp. It stung more than when he was copying him on the ice. His arrogance was softened by his sweet face but that just made Seonghwa angrier.
“Of course you can, that was ten years ago. Scoring is different.”
Yunho’s smirk cut across his face. “I’m sure.”
Seonghwa didn’t want to be cruel. He knew all too well how meeting heroes could sometimes kill motivation. A star’s light took so long to reach its beholder that sometimes, if reached too soon, all that was found was an empty husk of something that once was amazing.
His nostrils flared with every breath as he tried to talk himself down.
“Seonghwa! I’ll take you after the freestyle!” That was Hongjoong’s subtle way of telling him to get off the ice. Eat, jog, yoga; do anything other than be there.
He chose to go to the off-ice room, which really was just a gym with equipment that catered to skaters. Working on rotations off-ice was just as important for him to work on as on-ice rotations. His triple axel had been solid for years, but with the looming threat of a quad axel over everyone’s heads as the next big feat, he couldn’t help but push himself toward it.
After what felt like an eternity, he decided it was time for a protein shake. It still was far away from his time with Hongjoong. If he went back out on the ice, Hongjoong would grumble about it, but probably would allow it. When he glanced out the window to the ice below, he saw him working with Wooyoung, who seemed to be struggling once more with his jumps. His heel kept catching on his landings, which sent him hip first into the ice. Seonghwa cringed and decided it was best to not watch in case his bad luck was contagious.
The girl at the snack bar, Sooah, smiled brightly when Seonghwa came up to order from her. She never made it right, not like when Jongho was working, but it wasn’t bad. It didn’t have as much flavor, and what he could taste was primarily the protein powder itself. He knew to order a smaller size when she was around. Still, he thanked her with a large smile and made sure to drink it all.
He glanced back at the rink-side wall. It was lined with floor to ceiling windows, designed so onlookers could easily gawk at the skaters below. Sometimes, Seonghwa would look up and people had gathered to watch him and the others like they were a fish endlessly circling in an aquarium. Young skaters looking up to their heroes, sponsors looking to see who was worth spending their money on. Or, like Seonghwa, sizing up his competition.
Curiosity got the best of him and he stepped closer to see that Hongjoong had moved on to another student.
“Now, who is that?”
The gentle tap on his shoulder made him turn to see San sipping on a cup of coffee from the snack bar. Seonghwa didn’t know how he stomached it; it was too watery and way overpriced. Not that his protein shake was much better.
“Jeong Yunho. He’s a new skater Hongjoong has taken in.”
“You make him sound like a stray.” San chuckled, his cheeks dimpling.
“Well…”
San was the closest to Seonghwa in age, though there were still a few years between them. He was a pairs skater with his partner Yeji, and they were South Korea’s sweethearts. They were an inspiration to couples everywhere. San treated her like a princess, both in public and in private. It was tragically ironic that he was as limp-wristed as they came.
When they were a bit younger, and a little dumber, Seonghwa thought that indulging his crush on San was worthwhile. But it distracted him. In those six months of staying in the shadows, he sustained several injuries and some of the lowest scores of his career. It ended amicably and Seonghwa had found a friend in San.
“He’s that skater that got injured in a fire a few years ago, apparently.” Seonghwa shrugged.
“That’s him?” San’s interest grew and he stepped closer to the glass.
“You know him?”
“I’ve never met him, but Yeji’s little sister had just entered the junior’s circuit that year, so it’s all anyone could talk about since he had just debuted as a senior.” When Yunho landed a triple flip with no difficulty, San whistled. “He’s looking good.”
“You can’t win with triples now.” Seonghwa shifted his weight onto his left hip after his right started to feel like it was pinching. He needed a massage something fierce.
“Oh, don’t be bitter.” When San smiled, it was hard to be upset. “You’ll need to pass the torch eventually. Let others stand a chance.”
“They can have a chance when I retire.”
“Still, the ISU is going to flaunt his story left and right. You better start coming up with a media-ready answer, ‘cause you know they’ll ask you.” San’s voice still kept some of its lightness, but when he looked at Seonghwa, he could see the serious implication in his eyes.
Seonghwa and San had both been clever with keeping up their public appearances. San was the man everyone wanted as their son. Despite skating’s colorful reputation, San had managed to hold on to his chivalrous nature, a soft masculinity that won the hearts of domestic and internal fans alike. Meanwhile, Seonghwa’s more feminine attributes and tendency for solitude earned him a reputation of being a diva. Every interview he had to smile larger, every speech more grateful, just to combat his mixed characterization. Still, his fans adored him. But they knew all too well how adoration came with a price and how a slippery slope was easy to fall down.
“It’s his story to tell, not mine.”
Yunho’s heel caught a hole in the ice and it knocked him onto his ass, legs up in the air. It looked silly, but San still hissed at the impact. Yeosang and Hongjoong both rushed to him like parents who witnessed their baby fall for the first time. But when Yunho sat up, he was laughing.
“I miss being able to laugh at a fall like that.” San’s shoulders released their tension and dropped. “Anyways, I need to go find Yeji. We have off-ice training here in a bit.”
“Good luck.” Seonghwa didn’t move, even as San kissed the top of his head. The small affections were given safely within the walls of their rink, with only the eyes of who they trusted to see.
The day carried on like normal. During his break he had tried to keep his mind busy by listening to an audiobook while sketching out his ideas for his costume. It did fuck all when all he could hear were whispers about the mysterious new skater who appeared. He decided to go on a quick jog to warm up once again before his private ice with Hongjoong.
During that hour was a freestyle ice dedicated to the other figure skaters of the rink. Seonghwa had joined it on occasion, but it was often busy and he found it hard to focus. If he felt like socializing he’d join because it often meant the young skaters vied for his attention so they could ask for help. He didn’t want to step on any of the coaches’ toes, but no one seemed to mind the advice of an Olympian.
He was about to head back to the locker rooms when he spotted Yunho towering over a group of some of the skating moms. The tip of his nose and ears were still red, though Seonghwa wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or from being flustered. If he kept up the innocent boy act, they’d be bringing him homemade lunches in no time.
Seonghwa cast his eyes down to the padded floor. Wet lines were scattered over the matte surface from the melted slush on peoples’ blades. It reminded him of the nonsensical patterns of bird prints in snow. He turned away without another glance.
Once he was back on the ice with Hongjoong, his mind calmed. Yeosang had him rehearse the step sequence for his short program, which they drilled for nearly the entire hour. Hongjoong recorded a few sequences and left him with a few notes of ways to elevate it or ways to change it to make it smoother. They still had time, so Seonghwa wasn’t worried, but he was eager to shape the new program.
He was sent home with achy legs and a sore lower back. On the train he booked a deep tissue massage from his favorite place and debated what to do for dinner. He had some fish he needed to cook but the thought of standing on his feet for any long made him want to scream.
The first thing he did when got home—after dumping his things at the door—was head straight for the freezer. He yanked out the multiple trays of ice and carried them into the bathroom where his trusty soak bucket waited for him like a faithful hound. In order to get the cubes out, he had to twist them out of the plastic mold. It echoed in his empty bathroom, stinging his tired ears.
He made sure the water was set to freezing as he took the nozzle and set it into the bucket. As he waited for it to fill, he hyped himself up for the pain he knew was coming. He shifted from foot to foot; it was a habit he had from doing ballet, but it was easy to check how sore his arches were.
Once the bucket was full, he rolled up his pants and ditched his socks. His feet were still red and indented from his skates, toenails cut down as much as possible yet still cracked. His big toes turned in from years of jamming them into tight skates. Blisters peeled on the back of his heels and his calluses looked irritatingly dry despite his best efforts.
He sat on the toilet lid and took a deep breath before plunging his feet into the ice water. A yelp escaped him and he quickly bit his lip to stop any more from coming out. His joints screamed in pain and it took all of his willpower to keep his feet submerged. He knew that it only took a few seconds to adjust and then it would be fine, but nothing ever prepared him for the initial shock.
Regrettably he left his phone in his bag at the front, so he was forced to be alone with his thoughts. Good thing he only lasted about five minutes before he yanked himself out of the water like it had offended him. His feet were red and his joints ached, but he knew once he warmed up it would be fine.
His evening went as all other evenings went. The TV in the background was his only company, some variety show with idols as the hosts that he ignored because he found it hard to relate to them. If it was competition season, he would watch replays of whatever was happening that week, but it was too early for that.
He made a boring dinner with mackerel and a heaping serving of steamed vegetables. The TV was in direct line of his tiny dining table, so he decided to sit there instead of hunched over on his couch. His cooking wasn’t nearly as good as his grandmother’s, but at least it was enjoyable to eat since he normally ate the same thing over and over. Thinking of her made him miss her yakgwa. He hadn’t had it in years, but his tongue watered at the thought. She had taught his sister at one point, but he doubted she had made many batches since.
His nostalgia got the better of him. He dumped his dishes in the sink, abandoning them for later so he could head to the couch instead. While he pulled up his sister’s contact info, he flicked the TV off and hit the call button.
“Morning,” Ryujin answered with a yawn.
“Morning?” Seonghwa repeated. “It’s eight in the evening?”
“Well I’m still on Netherlands time, thank you very much.”
“Oh, right. How was the training camp?”
“It was fine.” Something shifted in the background, like the phone had rubbed against the sheets on accident. She always loved to make a cocoon out of her blankets. “It was less intensive than I thought it would be but I got to go to some museums and eat good food.”
“I’m glad you had a good time.” He let silence drift into the conversation, not even realizing that she hadn’t said anything until she let out a long, exaggerated sigh.
“What do you want to talk about?”
“Can’t I just call my little sister to see how she is?”
“You text for that. What happened?”
He could have argued with her, but it would only delay the inevitable. However, that didn’t stop him from rolling his eyes. “We had a new skater join us today. He’s training with Hongjoong now.”
“Is he hot?”
He thought back to Yunho’s youthful face and charming smile. “He’s not…unattractive?”
“So you do think he’s hot.”
“How did you get that from what I said?”
“Because you would have just called him ugly. You don’t mince your words, oppa.”
“He’s annoying. He hasn’t even competed in a full senior circuit yet and he’s telling me can beat the scores I had around his age.”
“How old is this kid?!”
“He’s nineteen or twenty.” His ears flushed with embarrassment. “He had an accident a few years back and he’s just now coming back.”
“Ooooh, the comeback kid. That’ll make for a great headline.”
“You and San both, oh my god.”
“Yeji says he’s normally right.”
“You two still talk?”
“Of course we do? Why wouldn’t we?”
“I just thought things were awkward now.” Had he misremembered? When he had dissolved his “relationship” with San, they couldn’t speak for almost a year, and they had been sleeping together. Ryujin hadn’t even kissed Yeji, just pined from afar since they were children until she couldn’t take it anymore. Yeji had been a constant name on Ryujin’s mouth until her confession, then, it stopped.
“Well, it was for a bit, but we’re fine now.”
He wished he could see her face, then he could know if she was telling the truth. “Speaking of still communicating, have you talked to Mom or Dad lately?”
“I spoke to Mom yesterday. They’re busy getting everything for the competition year.” She sounded bored at the thought. “I’m surprised they haven’t called to hound you about your program yet.”
“They’re probably saving that for our monthly dinner since it’s coming up soon.”
“Seonghwa, don’t you pick modern music like these other kids tainting the integrity of the sport.” Ryujin intimidated their father’s voice and Seonghwa burst out laughing.
“I know he means Wooyoung when he says that, I don’t know why he just won’t own up to it!”
“‘Cause Wooyoung-oppa can skate circles around him, that’s why.”
“A toddler could out-skate him now, let’s be real. That knee replacement wouldn’t let him do a crossover now.” Regardless of the karma, it was still Seonghwa’s worst nightmare. He was afraid that if he spoke about it too loudly, it would find him next. “You’ll just have to distract them with stories about your training camp.”
“Please, that’ll keep them interested for about five minutes before they switch the subject,” she grumbled. There was another rustle in the background, a wrapper of some kind. Protein bar? “They haven’t cared about my competitions since I was fourteen.”
“What do you mean? You’re the favorite.”
Ryujin snorted so hard she choked. “You’re funny.”
“You are, though.”
“Never in a million years would I be the favorite. You’re the firstborn son and a two-time Olympic figure skater. I’m just a lesbian speed skater.”
“You’re an Olympian too.”
“You know there’s a difference between winning a medal at the Olympics and simply going right?”
“Doesn’t matter to me.”
“Yeah, because you have several medals. You can afford to think that way.”
Seonghwa glanced at the medals hanging in their protective cases. They were the only things on his living room walls. If he ever had people over, they could be conversation starters. But no one new had stepped into his apartment in over five years. The only people he entertained were his fellow skaters and even then they’d rather go out to eat or crash Hongjoong’s apartment because he had the space or Wooyoung’s because he knew how to cook. When he and Ryujin met up, he liked to go to her apartment because it felt lived in. With a cat and a warm meal on the stove, it was unlike what he was used to.
“Well, I’ll always think of you like that.” His tight lips curled into a smile. “Getting to stand with you and represent our country together was one of the proudest moments of my life.”
“Ew, don’t be sappy with me. I’m too jet lagged for it.” Her voice muffled like she was speaking from behind her hand, like she normally did when she was embarrassed.
“Fine, fine. I’ll let you go. But don’t go back to sleep, it’ll mess with your training schedule.”
“Alright, Mom.”
Seonghwa gagged at the comparison, but wished her a good night regardless. He hung up the phone and rolled his head against the back of the couch. He had forgotten to close the curtains, because even though he lived on the thirteenth floor and the office building across the street was far enough that anyone who tried to look in would need binoculars, he still liked the privacy.
There were no clouds in the sky, but he couldn’t see a single star.
⛸️
The weeks went on the same. Yunho found a new way to challenge Seonghwa nearly everyday, a fresh pile of kindling on the growing fire of agitation. Seonghwa tried to snap but anytime he criticized something, Yunho would answer with, “Oh, you’re right.” He took everything as constructive and not as the sharp jab Seonghwa wanted it to be.
Yunho got along well with Jongho. As the two youngest, there was something similar in the way they spoke. Similar vocabulary and mannerisms like they had grown up on the same things, but had been molded by them in different colors. Having a small history allowed them to easily fall into familiarity with each other. Wooyoung liked him too, and not only in his normal flirty way. They seemed genuine in forming their small trio. They sat together at the tables in front of the snackbar and passed earbuds between them to share their favorite songs. Yunho offered them snacks from his backpack, something small but sugary to keep up their spirits. Wooyoung often declined, but Seonghwa watched how his eyes fell onto Yunho’s lips every time there was chocolate or sugar left behind on them.
Seonghwa wasn’t privy to his personal stories, but he felt like he had gotten to know him all the same through his skating. His favorite jump was a Salchow and he struggled on his flying camel spin. He chose Revolution blades, not because he thought they were any better, but he liked that the metal arches looked like art nouveau and they looked prettier on the ice.
He also learned that no matter what, he always wore a glove on his left hand.
They were normally the average cotton ones most wore to the ice rink, but sometimes, when he was leaving for the day, he’d change into a leather pair or ones that were a breathable workout material.
He never got changed in the locker room with them, only joined to put his skates on after he arrived with Hongjoong. Even when flushed with heat and damp with sweat, he always wore long sleeves underneath multiple layers that had been shed throughout practice.
Seonghwa hadn’t had a true moment alone with him since he joined. Not until one morning he came to the rink early as he normally did, and found that Yunho had beaten him there. There hadn’t been any signs that someone had made it in before him: the lobby lights hadn’t been turned on all the way, and he had to steal the spare key to the locker room since he was the first there. It wasn’t until he heard the thumping of music against the walls that he realized he was “late.”
He forgot about his warm up and threw on his skates immediately so he could rush out to the ice. In the rush, he hadn’t even put his jackets on, and instead, let them dangle off his arm as he walked into the cold rink.
The band was unrecognizable to him. A heavy voice over a gentle piano and orchestral arrangement. The speakers were better than most rink’s, but his ears still took a moment to catch the lyrics.
Have you been waiting long? For me?
It was desperate and pained, matching Yunho’s face as he skated across the ice. Seonghwa tried to breathe, but his lungs seized as if the air was stolen out of his lungs. There were no jumps, no fancy tricks to woo a crowd. It was curved figures on the ice’s reflective surface, extensions of his long limbs as he reached out for something he couldn’t grasp.
The song picked up, changing into more aggression but still keeping its gentleness despite the obvious tenderness it was trying to hold onto. His skating grew harsher, his edges cut deeper into the ice and were almost as loud as the song itself. If he had noticed Seonghwa, he didn’t give any sign of it. To an untrained eye, his movements might have looked sloppy and careless, but Seonghwa recognized the rawness of an open wound. If stabbed, Yunho would flood the arena with his pain.
Yunho kicked into a layback spin, his leg up in the air and bent as if he was about to be carried like he was the prodigal son taken from the cross. He held it until his momentum started to slow, at which point he straightened into a simple one foot spin with his free leg crossed behind the other. His arm stretched over his head, elongating himself like the funnel touching down from a tornado.
His spin lost speed right as the music began to fade. He stopped himself by releasing his leg and driving his toe into the ice. There was no audience to pose for except Seonghwa, who he was facing. He was breathing hard enough for both of them through his parted lips. Red splotches covered his cheeks and his eyes sparkled with moisture. A few blinks erased it, perhaps like he was hoping to erase Seonghwa.
It took a moment for Seonghwa to fall back into his body, but he brought his hands up to clap a few times. “That was beautiful.”
Yunho’s arms dropped to his sides and squared his shoulders. For a moment, it looked as if he was about to charge. Seonghwa stepped back on one foot, ready to get out of the way just in case it happened.
Instead, Yunho muttered, “Thank you.”
“Are you going to use that for an exhibition?” Seonghwa took his guards off and stepped onto the ice.
“You’re assuming I’ll make it to a podium.” Yunho pumped backwards as Seonghwa went to set his things down.
“I like to think positively.”
“You gave more realist vibes.” Yunho did a counter turn for what looked like no other reason but to keep moving. Like a kid who couldn’t sit still.
“Can’t I be both?” Only when Seonghwa leaned up to look at him did Yunho stop swirling around him. He dragged the heel of his blade against the ice, slowing the small amount of momentum he had until they were standing face to face.
“From what I hear about you, I don’t think you can be.” Under Yunho’s eye were two freckles. They sat perfectly under his lashes and were fanned with the lop lashes every time he blinked.
“What do you hear about me?”
Yunho looked away, his eyes scanning the empty rink. If they were seen together, it wouldn’t be a big deal to anyone other than Wooyoung. But if he had heard things, that must have meant he had been asking. It made Seonghwa oddly giddy.
“I don’t know if I want to tell you.”
“That bad, huh?” A bitter snort left Seonghwa’s nose.
“I just want to see if it becomes true or not. And if I tell you, it might be a self-fulfilling prophecy.” Yunho tapped on the board with a gloved fist. They fit him well, almost like they were made for him. They hugged his slim fingers and the wrist was tight over his sleeve, careful to not show any skin.
Something possessed Seonghwa to reach out and take his hand. Yunho flinched, but stilled as if Seonghwa had sunk his teeth into his throat. Seonghwa glanced up at him, trying to read his face. He was holding Yunho’s secret in his hand, nothing but soft cotton keeping him from discovering it.
“Is it really that bad?”
Yunho swallowed. “Do you know how it feels to be ugly?”
They were all ugly, in some capacity. Some flaws could be overlooked if they didn’t cross too far into being unattractive. But at their core, when their vanity was stripped away, they were nothing but blood and organs. Tubes and networks of viscera and nerves, clusters of fat and tissues that would make anyone unnerved if exposed. Some found it beautiful, innocent and simple. As athletes, there was a stronger appreciation for what their bodies could achieve. Constantly pushed past their limitations for spectacle and glory.
Seonghwa twisted his joints and bruised his bones then covered them with sequins in hopes that no one would notice the rotting corpse underneath.
“Yes,” Seonghwa answered plainly. “But I don’t think we mean it in the same way.”
Yunho smiled, bitter but understanding. He dropped his head and gazed at their hands. His fingers shook gently, like someone who had too much caffeine. “Perhaps we understand each other more than most would think.” He pulled apart, slow, like a band aid. “You should warm up.”
He pushed off his heel, speeding down the ice, leaving Seonghwa to chase the lines he left behind.
⛸️
Seonghwa knew the door code would be the same from when he had lived there. Chaemin’s birthday was the easiest option for everyone to remember since anytime Mingi and Hongjoong were asked what their anniversary was they’d trip over themselves with a lengthy explanation since there technically wasn’t an official date. It felt rude to walk into a home that hadn’t been his for nearly eight years, so instead, he rang the obnoxious doorbell.
There was a quick thumping of feet before the door sprang open.
“Oh, Seonghwa-hyung!” Yunho smiled brightly. “You’re the first one!” He stepped aside and let Seonghwa through.
“I normally am.” Seonghwa smiled as he toed off his shoes.
At the end of the hallway, Mingi’s head appeared from around the corner. “What’re you ringin’ the doorbell for?”
“It’s the polite thing to do,” Seonghwa deadpanned.
“Since when have you cared about that?” His eyes fell onto the bottle in Seonghwa’s hands. “What’d you bring?”
“You know, I don’t know if you deserve it now.”
“Then you don't get any of the braised pork belly I made.”
“Thank you for inviting me into your beautiful home.” Seonghwa shoved the wine bottle into Mingi’s chest.
“Hi, hyung.” Wooyoung waved from the kitchen, a denim apron secured fashionably around his wait.
“Hi. Where’s Jongho?”
“Finishing up his shift at the rink,” Hongjoong answered as he took the bottle of wine from Mingi as he passed by. “Sooah called in so he said he’d help out for a bit. But I pulled the coach card and made sure he’d get off so he could be here.” He hummed happily after reading the label and twirled to find the corkscrew.
“Really? She seemed fine this morning.” Seonghwa hovered behind Wooyoung to see what he was making, only to be threatened with a sauce spoon.
“Cramps, the poor thing.” Yunho gave Hongjoong a helping hand and pulled out wine glasses for everyone.
Seonghwa turned to look at him with a confused brow raise. Why would she tell him that? She was an open book, sure. Seonghwa knew more details about her than he cared to, given over to him in innocence, but not to that level.
Wooyoung took two bowls to the table, having to side-step Seonghwa who was uselessly standing in the kitchen until the door rang again. Mingi went to the door to retrieve who they assumed was Jongho.
“Yunho, can you grab me the big serving bowl? It’s the metal one in the farthest cabinet on the top shelf because someone keeps forgetting not all of us in this house aren’t giants.” Hongjoong called out over his shoulder.
“Sure, hyung.”
“I’m right here,” Seonghwa offered. He turned toward the mentioned cabinet and opened it to spot the bowl at the top. He placed one hand on the counter then pressed up to his toes to reach. He wasn’t as tall as Mingi, but he could manage.
But when he felt a warm body press against his back, he froze.
“I got it, hyung.” Yunho’s long arms reached over his head.
Up close, Seonghwa could smell his deodorant. Fresh and sharp, with a hint of powdery body lotion. He wanted to move out of the way, but Yunho was fumbling with the bowl despite not having any obstacles. It felt like it took him forever to finally pull it down onto the counter, and even when he did, he stayed still.
“Sorry,” he whispered against Seonghwa’s ear, his breath tickling the sensitive skin. “I didn’t want you to get hurt.”
Seonghwa twisted at the waist so he could look back at him. “I’m not that delicate.”
“Of course not.” Yunho’s gaze dropped to Seonghwa’s lips for a brief moment before flicking back up to meet his eyes.
It was like being naked in a crowd. Not that Seonghwa would know, but feeling such a strong intensity from Yunho made him believe that’s what it was like. If he pushed back, he could grind against Yunho’s crotch, feel what he struggled to hide in his joggers while on the ice. He would be able to feel the warmth that steamed off his body during cold morning warm ups. Fuck, it had been a long time since he had been touched.
Someone cleared his throat and Yunho stepped away with the bowl over his head like nothing had happened. He passed by Wooyoung but made a point to ignore him, leaving Seonghwa to deal with the wicked smirk.
“Shut up,” Seonghwa grounded as he pushed back from the counter.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Your face is saying enough.”
“Can’t help that.” Wooyoung winked and clicked his tongue at him.
Seonghwa pushed past and went to greet Jongho. After they hugged, Hongjoong insisted that everyone take a seat at their long dining table. Family dinners were always important to him, both as a father and a coach. When Seonghwa lived there, he insisted they eat together every night as long as their schedules allowed. Mingi often hadn’t been able to join them since hockey tended to run late into the evenings, but he made an effort on his off days. Over the years, the table evolved as the number of his students grew. Seonghwa had seen at least two changes in the decade that they had known each other.
“Wasn’t Yeosang supposed to be here too?” Yunho asked after tucking himself in against the table.
“He was, but there was something that came up with that junior skater, Sunhee? I guess they have to completely change her program music cause there’s some scandal with the artist they chose. So, they’re having to redo a few parts of the choreography,” Jongho answered. “They had been at it for over an hour when I left.”
“That poor girl.” Mingi sat closer to the head of the table, off to the right from Hongjoong.
“It’s a shame that all that effort is going into it and she’s not going to even score very high.” Everyone turned to look at Seonghwa who just shrugged. “Her mother is convinced that if she pumps enough money into her it’ll make her into something special. She’s going to end up in dance or pairs before her senior debut, or god forbid synchro. Just watch.”
“I’m going to tell San you said that,” Wooyoung threatened with a smirk.
“By all means, go ahead.”
Hongjoong let out a frustrated sigh as he joined them at the table. “You know, Chaemin bickers less than you two do.”
“She doesn’t have a sibling.”
“Thank God,” Mingi muttered into his wine glass. He let out a sudden yelp and he quickly placed his glass down so he could reach for his leg under the table.
After a pointed look Hongjoong waved to the food that was spread out across their long table. “Please start eating so I don’t have to hear any more of you.”
Besides the pork belly, they had prepared cold noodles and hobak mari, spicy cucumber salad and plenty of kimchi. Wooyoung had brought kkaennip jeon that he served with three dipping sauces. It made Seonghwa feel a little guilty that all he brought was a singular bottle of wine, but the second the delicious food hit his tongue, the guilt flew out the window.
They focused on eating to the point there were only happy slurps and compliments to the chefs that were said between bites. Seonghwa noticed Hongjoong had stopped eating. Instead he was smiling over everyone with a look that was normally reserved for his daughter. Mingi must have caught it as well because he reached out and gently placed a hand on top of Hongjoong’s wrist. There was concern in Mingi’s round eyes, but a smile from Hongjoong seemed to quell it.
He didn’t wait a minute longer after he assumed everyone was finished eating to speak his mind.
“So, I know we’re excited for Grand Prix announcements coming up soon, but I thought we should talk about the challenger series real quick.” When everyone tensed up and the air grew thick, Hongjoong chuckled. “Relax, don’t act like I’m sending you to rough it in the mountains for a week.”
“You’ve done it before,” Wooyoung commented before taking a sip of his wine.
“Because you were out of control, that’s why.” Hongjoong tapped his fingers on the table impatiently. “Anyway, I don’t want to burn you out before the Grand Prix circuit comes up, but I think it’ll be good for you to do at least one. That way we can get new season jitters out of the way, and we can work out any program kinks early. This year isn’t an Olympic season, but next year is, so it’s important that we set a foundation for that now.”
Seonghwa’s attention drifted to the photo of Hongjoong and Chaemin that hung on the wall across from him. She was wearing her first pair of pink and white skates while Hongjoong held her steady with his arms under her armpits. Her giant puffer jacket looked thick enough to prevent her from putting her arms down, not that she would have let go of her father. Hongjoong had a wide smile, showing off every pretty tooth while Chaemin’s cheeks were red and sticky with tears.
“This year, Jongho is invited to two Grand Prix events.”
Before he could react, Wooyoung shot up from his seat and screamed. He took a shocked Jongho by the shoulders and shook him. “That’s my baby bear!”
His excitement was contagious and it brought Seonghwa back to the moment. He clapped for Jongho silently as he worked through his surprise.
Hongjoong let them have their moment before he continued. “Seonghwa of course has two slots.” No one was surprised so he didn’t receive the same level of excitement. Mingi clapped for him but Hongjoong quickly moved to his next piece of information. “Yunho has also been invited for two slots.”
Yunho dropped his chopsticks onto his plate at the same time Seonghwa spouted, “What?” before he could stop himself. Hongjoong shot him a warning look.
“Holy shit.” Yunho covered his mouth, either to make up for cursing, or to stop anymore from falling out of his mouth.
“That’s great news!” It was unclear if Mingi could sense the tension that had flooded the room again, but his booming excitement made everyone force a smile on their face.
“Congratulations, that’s great.” Jongho’s voice trembled.
There was a fine balance to keep when friends are also competitors. Jongho normally toed it very easily since he allowed things to roll off his back so easily. He had endured public criticisms for not fitting the perfect skater mold for years and had earned every opportunity given to him. Seonghwa understood the bitter sting of witnessing someone be handed something so easily. He had seen skater’s entire lives fall apart and they still needed to crawl out of the gutter to get a chance.
“I’ll be right back.” Hongjoong pushed away from the table. He held Seonghwa’s gaze for a moment before he departed down the hallway. It wasn’t an overt invitation, but Seonghwa took it anyway.
He muttered a small “excuse me,” before he too got up from the table. He stormed after Hongjoong down the hall and wasn’t surprised to find him waiting in his and Mingi’s bedroom.
“What criteria did they make their decisions on?” he hissed through his teeth.
“You know the ISU, Seonghwa. They don’t always make sense.” Hongjoong sighed as he reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose.
“He had one senior competition, what scores did they use to grandfather him in?!”
“You forget his scores during his junior comps! I’m sure the consistent medals played a factor. He’s making a comeback—”
“He doesn’t even qualify for the comeback rule, so how can we call it making a comeback!”
“I don’t know, Seonghwa. I’m not the ISU.”
“But they respect you. Did they talk to you about it?”
“Do you hear yourself right now?” Hongjoong let out a laugh in disbelief. The sharpness of his bottom teeth made him look maniacal. “You know I hate the bureaucracy of the ISU as much as you do. I could have easily gotten a position on the board, but I wanted to see the growth of the sport firsthand, and not from some stuffy boardroom with people who either have never touched the ice or haven’t touched it since before I was born.”
Seonghwa looked away, like a dog who knew getting into the garbage was bad, but did it anyway. “Do you think he’s the future?”
Hongjoong threw his arms up. “I don’t know! I want to give him a chance.”
“There are plenty of other skaters who have sob stories like him.” Tragedy was exploitable, almost as much as talent.
“Not all skaters are my responsibility. I want to give back to the sport that gave me my life, and this is how I want to do it.”
“It also tore your life apart.”
Hongjoong remained silent. His hands found his hips and his jaw clenched.
“What are you going to do, then?”
“For what?”
“When you retire and the one thing you’ve given your whole life to doesn’t want you because you’ve convinced yourself everyone is your enemy?”
It hit harder than any punch to the gut.
Despite being taller, Seonghwa felt small. Hongjoong’s disappointed look was on par with all the ones he had received from his parents. It was almost enough to bring him to his knees to beg him for forgiveness, to say whatever he wanted so he’d never be on the receiving end of it again. But the steel in his gut kept him standing.
Seonghwa’s fingers itched. It felt like something was missing and the anxiety of it made his tongue dry.
“Hyung.”
Yunho was leaning back against the wall across the open door, his legs casually crossed at the ankle while his hands were in his hoodie pocket. He wasn’t giving anything away if he had heard the conversation with Hongjoong, but it didn’t ease the cramp that had taken hold of Seonghwa’s stomach.
Seonghwa stepped into the doorway, but didn’t dare to step any closer. “How long have you been standing there?”
“You know I used to say I wanted to be you when I grew up.”
Yunho’s confession caught Seonghwa off guard hard enough that he knew he let it slip onto his face. The younger man’s eyes were innocent, but his smile was that of a snake.
“Did you know I even did one of your programs? I was younger, so I didn’t have all the same elements. Your Olympic Swan Lake short program really made waves. You became a hometown hero after that.” Yunho pushed off the wall and crossed the hallway in a singular long stride. Their chests were so close that if either of them inhaled too deeply, they would touch.
Seonghwa’s heart hammered against his ribs. The need to run was growing larger by the second. His eyes stayed on Yunho’s neck, on his soft skin that had a hint of blue veins beneath, skin that would look beautiful with raspberry jam bruises lining it. Something rattled in Yunho’s pocket when he removed his hand.
His breath caught in his throat when Yunho’s fingers curled under his chin. He wished he could feel them without the glove. Yunho coaxed him to tip his head back enough for their eyes to meet.
“I wanted your talent, your fame. Your beauty.” Yunho’s eyes fell just as his thumb grazed Seonghwa’s bottom lip. “But now that you’re here in front of me… All I want is to be better than you.”
Yunho stepped back and placed his hands back in his pockets. The same rattle from earlier disturbed the heavy silence between them, but Seonghwa couldn’t peel his gaze away from the look in Yunho’s eyes.
Hunger.
“We’re leaving!” Wooyoung called out as he passed the entryway to the hallway with his arm linked with Jongho.
Yunho’s face flipped like a switch. His eyes brightened even though he let out a whine. “Already?”
“Someone has all of us up early tomorrow.” Wooyoung rolled his head back as Hongjoong trailed behind them.
“It’s your normal time. I don’t know why you thought you got a free pass because of dinner tonight.”
“Thought you’d be sick of us.”
“I’m sick of you.”
Wooyoung stuck his tongue out, but then turned his attention to Seonghwa, who was still glued to his spot in the hallway. “Hyung? Are you staying?”
Seonghwa glanced at Yunho, but the sting of being ignored after their interaction was telling enough. “No, I’ll head home too.”
“Please be careful getting home,” Mingi said loudly as they all slipped their shoes on.
Jongho answered back with a “yes dad!” as he waved goodbye.
Hongjoong didn’t see them off. What could have been a simple meeting at the rink was turned into something more casual, but was tainted. Sometimes, his desire for normalcy clouded his view of reality.
Yunho stayed next to Mingi as they walked out. He didn’t offer much in terms of send offs, but he kept up his appearances which was a needed skill for a skater. It was good he learned early.
Seonghwa went home on autopilot. It wasn’t until he was two stops away from his station did he realize where he was. He didn’t remember what happened between leaving and then, but he was thankful to not have to backtrack.
It didn’t stop him from feeling sluggish as he made his way down the dark street up to his apartment. Luckily there was an elevator, otherwise, he might have collapsed on the stairs. Once inside, he set his lead-filled body on the couch, barely able to snatch up the remote with numb fingers. He hadn’t bothered to take his shoes off or set his things in their proper place. He pulled up YouTube and let autocorrect guide him through his search.
Jeong Yunho figure skating
He skipped over the news clips and went for the first competition video he could find.
Jeong Yunho stuns at Junior Worlds with stunning Swan Lake short program
Seonghwa hit play and curled in on himself. The music started and his muscles twitched with the desperate need to prove they still knew the program.
He covered his head with his hands, preparing for stones to shatter his glass walls.
⛸️
They gathered into one of the side rooms that was used for interviews or observations during larger competitions, sometimes a hangout spot for skaters if it wasn’t needed. A large TV was mounted on the wall, which showed the ISU website. Off to the side, Yeosang refreshed it ever so often just out of impatience.
Jongho’s guards clicked as he nervously bounced his heel on the padded floor. Seonghwa remembered being nervous like that when he was the same age. He wanted to offer him comfort, but he felt it would come off as disingenuous. Of course Seonghwa would think everything was fine. While nothing was ever set in stone, he knew his place had a much stronger foundation than most of the younger skaters at this point. He did offer him a pat on the back, however. Jongho looked up at him with a wilted smile.
“Did we miss it?!” The door flung open as Yunho ran inside with Hongjoong hot on his heels. His metal water bottle banged heavily against the door, making everyone jump.
“Not yet,” Wooyoung reassured him.
Yunho let out a relieved breath and leaned back against a table. Seonghwa got to admire his long legs as he stretched them out. There was still snow clinging to the blade, which had been pushed to the top of his red and black guards. He popped his water bottle open and removed something from his pants pocket. Seonghwa couldn’t see what he placed on his tongue and swallowed, but he assumed it was vitamins. All of them were on some kind of regimen.
“It’s up!”
Yeosang had refreshed the page, and with a shaking hand was trying to enlarge the announcement that had been posted not even fifteen seconds ago. The room was silent for a stretch of time as everyone read down the lists.
Skate Canada and Finlandia. He didn’t mind those assignments. Canada was in the middle of the circuit while Finlandia was right before the finals, which got everyone hyped up for who would be making the selections. Though, it would be a busy couple months since Finlandia was at the end of November, finals were in December if he made it (which he assumed he would) then Korean Nationals at the start of the new year. Some skaters might burn out with that schedule, but he’d be fine.
“Yes! I got Paris and NHK!” Wooyoung cheered while he threw his arms up in the air.
“Cup of China and Skate America? Ugh, the Americans are gonna eat me up,” Jongho groaned into his hands.
“You’re going to do great.” Yeosang placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder and smiled.
“They gave one of their spots to someone who constantly pops their jumps. And several of your quads are better than the other guy’s. You’ll do just fine.” Seonghwa’s reassurance wasn’t as soft as others sometimes, but Jongho’s smile showed he still appreciated it.
“Wait, this is crazy.”
Seonghwa turned back to look at Yunho who was staring intently at the screen.
He looked back at him with wide eyes, like he had just seen a ghost in a dark hall. “I got the same assignments as Seonghwa-hyung.”
“No way!” Wooyoung jumped up and rushed to the computer, nearly knocking Yeosang off the stool. “Oh man, someone in the federation is trying to stir some shit.”
When Seonghwa looked around the room, only Hongjoong was looking at him. It was similar to the night of their argument, but with more sadness than disappointment. They hadn’t spoken much outside of training since that night. Seonghwa wondered if he knew this was coming.
All the gusto that Yunho had seemed to have taken a back seat to his shock. There were plenty of opportunities to beat Seonghwa, but there were also plenty of opportunities to lose. A sick satisfaction bubbled in Seonghwa’s gut knowing Yunho was more talk than he was bite.
His fingers itched.
A presence appeared next to him, a cat trying to be discreet about wanting attention. “Did you put in for a preference this year?” Wooyoung asked, quietly.
Seonghwa shook his head. “No.” He looked back to the screen, his name feeling like it was now written in blood.
“They’re all the same, one way or another.”
⛸️