zie

#1 yappatron + indecisive AF

[cheezbawls]

i'm zie ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ (08) seasian

⋮ ⌗ ┆entp 𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼 aquarius ──★ bi

𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 🧀 ／ ⋆ ۪

— ults: cortis, illit, zb1, meovv

— currently writing for cortis!

— smau / fanfics / hcs / brain dumps / reqs open

— might be slowresp cz i need to LOCK IN for uni apps 💔

— hmu to be oomfs :3

♯rules

no nsfw, js don't be a weirdo and be a normal person

ㅤ♡ masterlist

[cheezbawls]

Might drop some martin content soon 🤭

[cheezbawls]

heyyy cutieeee how are uuu where u beennn

you’ve been mia whatchu been up 2222?? 🥹🥹🥹

OMFG HIIII ive been focusing sm on my ib exams 😵‍💫😵‍💫I WILL BE FREE!! SOON!!! and ill hop back on here I MISS WRITING I MISS U I MISS TUMBLR AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[cheezbawls]

Guess whos NOT seeing cortis bc yhe ticket wars r happening 10 minutes before her finals 🫩🫩

[cheezbawls]

hi!!! as a long time lurker (oops) of your account bc my blog is 67 years old AND a senior going thru college season too, i js wanted to tell u that everything is absolutely gonna work out.

i also got rejected and waitlisted from my top options (ivy day was roughhhh lol) but i have faith that everything will work out for us! this is a little random but i love your blog and your writing, and im 100% certain that despite all this stress everything is gonna be totally okie! keep ur head up twin xoxo baiiiiii

WHOEVER THIS IS I LOVE YOUUU PLS KISSES MUAH MUAH (currently working on my korean apps ill be back as soon as im done I SWAEER)

[cheezbawls]

oomf

oomf might js be my favorite word ever sorry...

[cheezbawls]

rejections and waitlists from ivys bye guys ur gna see me disappear again i fear

[cheezbawls]

upenn if u can hear my pleas.....

[cheezbawls]

IVY DAY IS IN A FEW FUCKING DAYS

[torturedpoetism]

Get To Know Your Mutuals

ty for tagging me @devoutbutatwhatcost ♥️

currently reading: the bog wife by kay chronister

currently watching: white lotus s3 🪷

currently craving: pepperoncini’s 😋

last song: pushing it down and praying by lizzy mcalpine

no pressure tags —

@aparalleliwouldlaymylifeon @jilycat @yuunarii-arii @leather-bound-fantasies @nottendo @puddlesoffrogs @rafesbabygirlx

[yuunarii-arii]

get to know your mutuals ✨️

thank you for the tag @torturedpoetism 💞

currently reading. Nightshade by Autumn Woods

currently watching. A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms

currently craving. soda

last song. Sunflower by Post Malone and Swae Lee

npt : @nottendo @killa-mermaid @pearlescenthoney @puddlesoffrogs @viperify @dhazefawn @govnder @coffeelovingreader @eternalbuckley @essielouwho @elenasdelusions @nottsnymph

[pearlescenthoney]

thank you for the tagggg ❤️❤️❤️❤️

currently reading: boring articles for my thesis

currently watching: jjk season 3 (gotta catch up)

currently craving: chocolate brownie

last song: the doll people by sofia isella

npt: @uninterestedseductress, @puddlesoffrogs, @viperify, @leeny-leens, @luthienoflemuria, @ytmkiz, @someonestopsoren, @txtworlddom and anyone else who wants to join!

[someonestopsoren]

thanks for tagging me!! :>

currently reading: The Invisible Life Adeline LaRue by V. E. Schwab

currently watching: jacksepticeyes resident evil requiem playthrough

currently craving: something sweet

last song: imposter syndrome by Sidney Gish

no pressure tags: @txtworlddom @jellyelle @im-0-0 @mrsqins @dissociativewriter @erenophilic @3rdslide2heaven @stoopywalnut @xiayuriz

[mrsqins]

KYAA thanks for the tag !!

currently reading: i haven't started it but. twisted wonderland anthology manga..

currently watching: alpharad mario party videos 😭

currently craving: chocolate..

last song: EPIC III OG HADESTOWN CAST AIAUAUAU

no pressure tags <3 @dragondelulu @dandy-lads @hirayalia @violube @luvzayne @moonlightindeepspace

[vushiguro]

meyoww thank you for the tag amia baby ><

currently reading: wuthering heights

currently watching: saiki k, 3rd rewatch on brokeback mountain, supernatural

currently craving: sinigang & turon

last song: Sana by Shamrock

no pressure tags: @txtworlddom @snowyfishes @snowypi @zayora @thewrldx @cherryscript @yizhoufy @bruisedheaven @kamieow

— @violasepals sideblog ><

[txtworlddom]

tytyty for the tags viola and soren and honey <33

currently reading: textbooks 🫩 (but i just finished hamlet !!)

currently watching: ohshc, saiki k, can this love be translated? (already planning my rewatch of sinners) (yes ik i just watched it for the first time last night)

currently craving: red velvet cake 🤤

last song: rocky road to dublin from the sinners soundtrack

npt: @luvinbloom @pink-caktus @urigyeoul @overtheggum @theghostofgyu @itwasmegan03 @snowyfishes @snowypi + everyone else !!

[overtheggum]

thank you for the tag !!!!

currently reading: omniscient reader's viewpoint (both light novel and manhwa) and killer peter (manhwa); i dont have enough time to read anymore

currently watching: vigilante, the art of sarah, rewatching bloodhounds to get ready for season 2 !!!

currently craving: chocolate moose and strawberries

last song: am i your type by hanuel

npt: @lusayyawnn @page-yerin @theynchapter @flytomyro0m (anyone else who is interested)

[lusayyawnn]

ty for the tag ><

currently reading: the radium girls by kate moore

currently watching: err does youtube count...if so then zb1 latest 1n2d

currently craving: green grapes and shaved ice

last song: all i did was dream of you by beabadoobee ft. the marias

tags : @page-yerin @tanghuyuj @coerbnz @ivehan @yesongi @lovuimuse

[ivehan]

ty for the tag lucy baeee

currently reading: the chrysalids by john wyndham (class novel study 😭😭😭)

currently watching: weak hero and hxh and i need to finish them both and i wanna start watching gachiakuta too

last song: i don’t love you by mcr

tagging: @gentiliana @chocosan44 @myungmyng @hollyoongs @coerbnz @flowerstaesan @moesthinking @taestulipss @beomtomie and anyone else who wants to join!

[beomtomie]

TY FOR THE TAG FAERIWINKLE!

currently reading: titan's curse ......... still....

currently watching: i forgot but i just watched mamma mia ✌️

last song: panic by beomgyu <3

tagging: @mykaneptune @niiqv @nichozzystuffs @kwnnies @ziziforsan @chocosan44 @mirouie @sa1nt-kitty + anyone else

[mykaneptune]

TY FOR THE TAG TOMIE✌️

currently reading: Percy Jackson: Chalice of The Gods currently watching: honestly dont remember 😭 havent been watching any shows at all last song: Talk To You - Yeonjun

tagging - @ourannesia @amorassz @chxrrylixight @realseanshady

[reallyseanshady]

HI MYKA BBY TYSM FOR THE TAG THIS IS SUCH A CUTIE IDEA!!! i lowkey want to start getting into percy jackson too!!🤭🤭🤭

currently reading: Normal People by Sally Rooney (still 💔💔) currently watching: Abbott Elementary (my fav) 🩷🩷 last song: Squabble Up by Kendrick Lamar (one of my fav after school songs) 😻

no pressure tags!!! (pls lmk if you dont want to get tagged in these things, im always worried about that 😭😭) @saevss @aftermoontea @faseanz @yeppiz @ramenoil anddd anyone else who wants to join!! 🤗

[yeppiz]

thank u 4 tagging me cutest!!🫶 I luv things like this!!

currently reading: skip and loafer by misaki takamatsu currently watching: true beauty currently craving: crab & pasta last song: 10 minutes by lee hyori

@pinkmonchichi @eohyeons @j4eyxn @unakbb @niszarra @bambcie @1800hf @ anyone else who wants 2’

[niszarra]

ooo another tag by the queen liuu 🥹🥹

currently reading: none! random fics on blr 😭

currently watching: friendly rivalry

currently craving: crab rangoons & sushi 🤤

last song: Joyride by cortis!!

@bambcie @coergene @dearhyeons @eohyeons @hiimarri @jellywichu @j4eyxn @lovhyeonss @minho4luv @nizshinari @pinkmonchichi @snowselle @slut4riki @saevss @tateholic @winterlico @yeuvio (+ anyone else who wants to be added!)

[snowselle]

wait I actually need to think about this

currently reading: nothing rn i'm too busy sadly

currently watching: when the phone rings

currently craving: sushi and cookies

last song: tweak by girlset

@fshiwore @cheezbawls @tateholic @eohyeons

[cheezbawls]

currently reading: my psych textbook... 🥀🥀

currently watching: Sore: A Wife from the Future

currently craving: salmon nigiri and buldak noodles

last song: tweak by girlset

WAIT @snowselle WE KINDA TWINNING 😛

@zhaoyufineshyt @meeoowchi @usernamesomerandomnumbers

[cheezbawls]

cortis is coming to indo DONT PLAY W ME NOW...

[cheezbawls]

been ia 💔

oomfs r u still here

[cheezbawls]

IM BACK

#FINALLY ON BREAK I FUCKING HATE SENIOR YEAR

[cheezbawls]

Tides and Gravity

00.00.02 | rotations

zies note. im so sry for the late update beforehand... literally stacked w tests i keep on falling asleep while trying to write 😶😶😶 word count. 3.8k series masterlist | previous chapt | next chapt creds to echanthings on tumblr for the divider <3

By only the 3rd day of the intensified training cycle, the entire student body has practically agreed that it’s not just the sore muscles but also the heaviness behind their eyes, how morning feels like it comes faster, and how even sitting feels like it needs effort. Y/N feels it during Literature. The classroom is bright with late morning sun, the blinds only half-drawn. Desks are arranged in tight rows, textbooks stacked neatly. The board reads: Modern Korean Poetry –Symbolism & Structure.

Y/N underlines a stanza carefully, pen gliding in straight, precise strokes. She prides herself on neat margins, organized notes with neon highlighters (pastel ones if she’s overstimulated). But today the words blur just slightly – she blinks, refocuses, blinks, refocuses. Across the room, Keonho is slouched in his chair in a way that looks lazy but is actually calculated – balanced just enough to avoid tipping. His textbook is open but whether he’s reading it is questionable. The teacher pauses mid-discussion. “Keonho. What’s the recurring image in the second stanza?” He exhales softly through his nose, glances down once, then answers, “Water. But not calm water. It’s described as unsettled.”

The teacher nods. “And what might that suggest?” He shrugs lightly. “Emotional instability? Or maybe anticipation.” A few students murmur in agreement and Y/N finally glances over. Tired eyes – he’s staring at the page like it annoyed him. 

After class, the hallway hums with low-energy chatter. Even the basketball players aren’t as loud as usual. Training season has bled into everything, the air feels denser. Narin catches up to Y/N near the lockers. “I almost wrote my name wrong on the quiz.” Y/N snorts softly. “That’s concerning.” “I know. I stared at it for five seconds like, ‘Hold up is that really how I spell it?’”

They round the corner toward the main atrium – and that’s when the noise changes. It’s subtle at first. A ripple, conversations dipping. Footsteps slow down and a cluster of students gathers near the digital board mounted beside the trophy case. The academy only updates that board for three reasons: schedule changes, injury reports or… rankings.

At the top of the screen, bold white letters cut through the dim hallway lighting:

INTERNAL PERFORMANCE RANKINGS — SELECTION CYCLE 1

Below it, departments are separated by sport. Times, scores, averages, progress deltas from the previous term. All measured details displayed publicly and unapologetically. Narin inhales beside her. “Already?” “They said rolling updates,” Y/N replies, though her voice is steadier than her pulse.

Gymnastics then scrolls into view, showing scores and data of the different events – vault averages, floor consistency index, bars execution percentage. Her eyes find her name automatically.

Number three.

She doesn’t blink. Last term, she was ranked first. There’s a ▼ 0.5 beside her name. For a moment, the world narrows to white text and red arrows as the decimals glow like they’re louder than the hallway. Number three isn’t bad. But number three is dangerous; two automatic consideration spots, everything below that becomes subjective. “Y/N…” Narin’s voice is soft, careful. Narin is ranked second. Same position, but a small ▲ 0.2 beside her name.

“It’s just the first cycle,” Narin adds quickly. “They’re weighing floor heavier right now. You’re still strong in beam and bars.” Y/N nods, her expression still stiff, “Yeah,” she says evenly. “It’s early. Everyone fluctuates every now and then.” Except she’s already replaying yesterday's floor routine in her head. The micro-step on her landing, half a second of hesitation before her multi-layout phase. Half a second.

Across the atrium, swim rankings cycle onto the board – freestyle times, split improvements, turn efficiency metrics. Keonho steps closer and sees that he’s ranked first in his event group, a ▲ 0.3 next to his name. There’s a small murmur of approval from the swim cluster but he doesn’t smile nor show any reactions and continues to study the numbers like he’s filing them away. Then, almost absently, his gaze shifts across the open space and lands on Y/N – Her shoulders are straight, hands loosely at her sides, she looked confident which was probably the complete opposite of how she’s feeling deep inside. 

“You’re heading back to the dorms, right?” Narin asks in the changing room as Y/N is already packing her things up. “Gym,” she says simply. “Huh? More afterhours gymnastics practice?” “No, the gym gym– weight room.” Narin stares at her like she’s officially lost it, “You just had bars for three hours,” Narin says slowly, “AND conditioning.”

“I’m aware.”

“Y/N.”

“You’re not behind,” Narin continues quietly. “It’s one cycle. You don’t need to–” “I’m not spiraling,” Y/N cuts in, calm. Too calm. “I just want to train.” Y/N zips her bag and adjusts the strap on her shoulder, “See you tonight” she runs before Narin comments and further. 

The main conditioning gym sits at the edge of campus – glass walls, rubber flooring, rows of treadmills facing the darkening sky. The space smells like metal and effort. Dumbbells rest in perfect gradients from light to brutal. When she walks in, it’s not empty, of course it isn’t. The volleyball team was taking turns hitting heavy weights, some members of the tennis team were on their 2nd HIIT circuit, and the swim team’s dryland schedule overlapped late evenings. 

Keonho is at the far end of the room, resistance cords looped around a column, pulling through high-rep shoulder rotations. His earbuds are in, movements clean and controlled. Y/N doesn’t look at him. She drops her bag near the racks and heads straight for the treadmill. She keys in her usual sprint interval numbers and increases the incline by two with no warm-up walk (not advisable, btw). The belt starts moving and she runs harder than usual, angry in some sense even. Her strides are tight, precise, arms controlled, breathing regulated through her nose, out through her mouth. Yet, she watches her pace the way she watches the ranking board – memorizing decimals, chest heavy.

Across the room, Keonho finishes his set and glances over while unhooking the cords. He notices the incline first, then the pace, then the fact that she skipped mobility. He pulls one earbud out, hearing the sound of the treadmill whirring steadily, rubber slapping in rhythmic repetition. After her second interval, she steps off only long enough to increase the speed again and that’s when he walks closer – not directly in front of her, but near enough to be heard over the machine. “You’re going to fry your calves before tomorrow.” Her eyes stay forward. “I didn’t ask.”

“I know.”

She increases the incline again. He watches for a second longer. “You drop?” he asks casually, seeing her jaw tightening for a fraction of a second. “Yes.” “How much?” “Half a point.” He nods once, stepping back and returns to his pull-up bar, “You don’t need to panic-train, you know!” he calls.

 “I’m not panicking!”

Music cuts through the gym, Y/N is already mid-run – round-off, back handspring, block. Her body snaps upward into a double twist – tight, fast, slightly ahead of itself. She lands with a small shift forward, heel adjusting against the spring floor. She felt the same mistake in her landing but didn't pause as she extended her arms into choreography, fingers slicing the air with precision. The movements are sharp, controlled but it looked as though it was almost too controlled. Her shoulders are tight and her breath doesn’t quite match the music.

During her second round, her movements accelerates into the music. Round-off, back handspring, two and a half. She over-rotates and her foot slides half an inch on impact. She continues through the routine anyway,with a neutral expression and intact performance. When the final pose hits, her chest rises too fast.

The music dies and silence stretches across the floor. 

“Again.” Coach Yeo’s voice is calm. Flat and unmoved, even. She nods once and resets at the corner. She runs harder, her block is aggressive as she chases height instead of lift. Two and a half twist again but this time, she opens too late. Her left foot hits the floor first instead of both feet together and it lands slightly turned inward. Her weight isn’t centered, ankle rolling outward sharply – the joint visibly buckling to the side before her body catches up. There’s an audible scuff of skin against the mat as her foot skids half an inch. Her knee locks to compensate, the rest of her body jerks to stay upright.

A flicker of pain shoots up the outside of her ankle – sharp, hot, immediate. She keeps moving because stopping would mean admitting it. She finishes the choreography, pushes into her final transition, and completes the routine. The last pose hits and the music cuts again. “Join the vault rotation,” Yeo points. She turns toward the corner and that’s when the difference shows – her left step is shorter and for a second she looked stiff. “You rolled it,” Narin says under her breath as she understood immediately what her posture meant. “I’m fine,” “You literally folded.” Y/N ignores her, adjusting the tape around her ankle with quick, efficient movements, like she’s just fixing loose fabric instead of holding something together. The swelling hasn’t fully bloomed yet, but it’s there. A quiet throb, pulsing under the skin. She rolls her foot once, testing it, feeling nothing but heat crawling up. Across the floor, the vault runway gleams under the lights. “Join the vault rotation,” her coach repeats, sharper this time. Y/N nods. Narin stares at her, “You’re not actually going to–” Y/N shrugs, already stepping away. “It’s fine.”

The first sprint down the runway feels wrong immediately. Vault is explosive. It requires commitment from the first step on full acceleration, full trust in your body. Her left foot hits the springboard, pain detonates. Her block off the table is half a beat late. She twists, but there’s hesitation in it and she lands heavily. Her left ankle collapses inward on impact. 

The mat thuds under her weight. The gym goes quiet in that specific way students know that the coaches are not satisfied. Her coach’s voice slices through it. “Again. Stick your landing this time.” Y/N swallows and walks back to the start of the runway.

The second sprint is worse. She’s compensating now, shifting weight to the right, overstriding to protect the left. The imbalance makes her block uneven and she lands again with a hop. “Control your landing!” her coach snaps. “I am,” she answers automatically, breath thin. On the third attempt, the pain spikes before she even hits the board, as if her ankle doesn’t trust her anymore. She hits the table slightly off-center.

“Stop.” Another coach– Coach Hwan– cuts in firmly, “Stop the rotation.” He steps forward from the side, shaking his head. “You’re favoring your left, I’m not dumb.” Y/N frowns, “It’s minor. I just need to–” “You rolled it on floor,” Hwan’s tone hardens. “You put yourself on vault with a bad foot and you won’t have a season.”

Y/N stands at the end of the runway, chest rising and falling too fast. The adrenaline is still in her veins, buzzing, making it hard to tell where the pain ends and pride begins. “I can do it,” she says, her left foot shifting unconsciously. Hwan crosses his arms. “You’re done with vault.” Y/N’s jaw tightens. “It doesn’t even hurt that bad.”

“Your landings say otherwise.”

‘“Why didn’t you say anything?” Yeo exhales through her nose, “Ice it. Matter of fact you’re done for the day. Narin, take her to the infirmary.”

— 

The infirmary and recovery room sit side by side at the end of the corridor – a shared medical wing the school prides itself on, because athletes mean trophies, and trophies mean funding. As they round the corner, Narin slows slightly. The recovery room door is open and innside, a row of padded treatment tables line the walls. Foam rollers stacked in the corner. Resistance bands hanging from hooks. The low mechanical hum of a muscle stim machine fills the space. On the second table from the window was Keonho. He’s sitting upright, one leg extended, ice wrapped around his knee while the athletic trainer adjusts the straps of a compression sleeve, his hair is damp at the edges, probably from practice.  He looks up at the sound of footsteps. There’s a flicker of confusion first – then recognition.

“No vault, no floor for a few days. Bars and beam only if pain-free, no dismounts, flips, or landings – literally just focus on your upper body. Ice twice tonight.” The nurse finishes later, taping Y/N’s ankle with efficient hands, the elastic wrap snug and unforgiving. From the doorway, Keonho tilts his head, “so dramatic,” he says lightly. “All that for a little twist?” Narin’s head snaps toward him. “Not now, chlorine boy.”

“I do not smell like chlorine, I smell like victory.”

“You smell like a public swimming pool.” Narin shoots back. Y/N would laugh if her ankle wasn’t throbbing in rhythm with her pulse. Instead, she just gives him a flat look. “Why are you here?” Narin smirks, “Oh no. The nation’s breaststroker is mortal.” “Backstroker,” he corrects automatically, “and freestyler,” like he’s offended she’d get that wrong.

“Whatever. You splash in water.”

He ignores her and focuses back on Y/N, eyes dragging down to her taped ankle. “You really tried vaulting after rolling it?” “I was fine, like why were you even eavesdropping on the nurse.”

“You were limping.”

“I was adjusting.”

He huffs a quiet laugh. “Adjusting? You probably looked like you were glitching.” Narin claps once, delighted. “Thank you. That’s asically what I said.” Y/N glares at both of them. “Can I not be double-teamed in the infirmary?” Keonho pushes off the doorframe and steps fully inside now, slow and casual, like he has every right to be there. The recovery room hum spills faintly down the hallway behind him. “I just think it’s impressive,” he continues, mock-serious. “You nearly eat it on floor and your first instinct is, ‘Yes, let’s launch myself over a table at full speed.’” “It’s called discipline.” Keonho smiles, “Yeah no, it’s called bad decision-making.”

Y/N folds her arms, which would look more intimidating if she weren’t sitting on crinkly exam paper with her ankle elevated on a pillow. “Shouldn’t you be icing your knee and reflecting on your own poor life choices?” “I was,” he says. “Then I saw you hobbling past like a wounded gazelle.” Narin gasps, “he did not just call you that.” Y/N stares at him. “I will throw this ice pack at you.”

“You can’t. You need it.”

There’s a quiet second and then annoyingly, she laughs. Just once, under her breath– it slips out before she can stop it. Keonho’s smile softens slightly, like he wasn’t entirely joking for sport. “You don’t have to act like it didn’t hurt,” he says, still light, but not sharp. “It’s selection season. Everyone’s pretending they’re made of titanium.” Narin nods immediately. “Exactly.” Y/N rolls her eyes, but the edge in her posture eases a fraction. “I’m not pretending.” “Sure,” Keonho says. “You only tried to vault on a compromised ankle.”

“Keyword: tried.”

“Keyword: compromised.”

“Chlorine boy,” Narin cuts in, pointing toward the hallway. “Recovery room. Now. Before I tell your trainer you abandoned your icing session.” He raises his hands in surrender but doesn’t move right away. His gaze lingers on Y/N one more second– quick, assessing, something quieter underneath the teasing. “Don’t do anything stupid,” he says. Y/N arches a brow. “That’s rich coming from you.” He grins. “I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

They hold eye contact for half a second too long and Narin makes a dramatic gagging noise– which is exactly what made Keonho finally step backward into the hallway. “Rest it,” he calls casually. “Mind your knee,” Y/N shoots back.

“Always do.”

He disappears toward the recovery room, and the hallway feels strangely less noisy without him. Narin looks at Y/N slowly.

“…What.”

—

That night, their dorm room smells faintly like muscle balm and fabric softener. The lights are dimmed, desk lamps casting warm circles across textbooks that no one is currently reading. Y/N sits cross-legged on her bed, her ankle propped up on a folded hoodie, an ice pack melting steadily into the towel wrapped around it. Across from her, Narin lies on her stomach, chin in her hands, staring. Just staring. Ella is on the floor near her own bed, one leg extended while she slowly massages her calf with practiced pressure, her movements calm and methodical. 

The silence stretches.

Y/N doesn’t look up. “If you’re going to say it, just say it.” Narin’s lips curve slowly. “Soooo.” Y/N closes her eyes. “No.” “No what?” Ella asks mildly, still kneading her leg. She doesn’t even look up. “She hasn’t asked anything yet.”

“She’s about to.”

Narin rolls onto her back dramatically. “What’s up with you and fishboy?” Y/N’s eyes snap open. “Fishboy?” “Chlorine boy, fishboy, aquatic menace– pick your favorite.” Ella finally glances up, “the swimmer?” “Yes – Ahn Keonho– the swimmer,” Narin says, “the one who was hovering in the infirmary like he was personally responsible for her ankle.”

Y/N scoffs. “He was not hovering.” Ella straightens a little and turns towards Y/N. “You didn’t tell me you saw him there.” Y/N turns her head very slowly toward Narin. “You said you weren’t going to make it a thing.”

“I’m not making it a thing,” Narin defends quickly. “I’m just.. recounting events.” Ella folds her arms now, intrigued. “Recount.” “It wasn’t that deep,” Y/N says immediately. “Oh but it kinda is,” Narin corrects and Y/N glares. Narin ignores it. “He was in the doorway pretending to joke but he kept looking at her ankle.” Ella’s eyebrows lift. “Kept looking?” “It was observational,” Y/N cuts in. “He’s competitive. He notices weaknesses.” Narin sits up abruptly. “That is not what that was.” “Oh?” Ella says. “He was hovering,” Narin insists.

“I was sitting.”

“He leaned in.”

“It’s a doorway.”

“It was intense.”

“No it wasn’t.”

Ella looks at Y/N carefully. “Did he tease you?” “Yes.”

“Did you tease back?”

“…Obviously because he pisses me o–”

Ella cuts her off, nodding. “And did you smile at some point?” That shuts her up. Narin gasps like she’s just won something. “She did!” “It was reflex!” Ella hums thoughtfully. “You don’t reflex-smile at people you dislike.”

“I don’t dislike him.”

“Oh?” Narin and Ella say at the same time. Y/N drops back onto her pillow with a frustrated exhale. “NOT LIKE THAT… He’s just always there.” Narin grins. “There?”

“He’s in my classes. In the cafeteria. Apparently in the infirmary.” Ella’s voice is calm but precise. “Does he feel… intrusive?” Y/N thinks about that. “…No,” she admits quietly before taking it back, “well sometimes..” Ella resumes massaging her leg. “Then what does he feel like?” Y/N stares at the ceiling. “…Annoying.” Narin waits, “and?” Y/N exhales, “Persistent.” Ella nods slowly. Narin smirks. “You like that.”

“I did not say that.”

“You didn’t deny it.”

Y/N throws her pillow at Narin. It hits her square in the face. “Go to sleep,” she mutters.

Keonho’s dorm door shuts with a dull click. He drops his bag beside his bed and sits down slowly, unwrapping the athletic tape from his knee. The room smells like detergent and leftover protein powder. Martin is at his desk, reviewing drills. Seonghyeon is half-lying across his mattress, scrolling on his phone. 

“You’re skipped dinner,” Martin says without looking up. “Heard you were in the infirmary,” Seonghyeon glances over, “Anton said your knee was acting up.” Keonho nods, “Yeah I was icing.” “It’s fine”. Martin hums, “You still missed.” Keonho doesn’t answer immediately. “You know?” “Zero point three,” Seonghyeon adds, “Anton sounded pretty disappointed in dinner half the canteen probably heard.” The number sits heavy in the air. In swimming, 0.3 isn’t a rounding error. It’s a gap and a visible one. Keonho shrugs lightly, “It happens.” Both of them look at him. Seonghyeon lowers his phone. “It does not ‘happen’ to you.” “It’s early cycle,” Keonho says, reaching for the ice pack. Martin finally turns in his chair. “Your last 25 drifted.”

“I know.”

“You were late off the wall.”

“I said I know.”

Seonghyeon squints. “You’re weirdly calm.” Keonho straps the ice around his knee and leans back on his palms. “What do you want me to do lowkey? Cry?” “Yes,” Seonghyeon says flatly. “A little.” Martin nods once, “You miss by 0.1 and you sulk. You miss by 0.3 you should be acting like someone forgot to salt your fries.” Keonho exhales through his nose, “It’s one practice.” “It was your benchmark set,” Martin replies evenly.

Silence sits between them. Because that’s true.

Seonghyeon tilts his head. “Anton looked more annoyed than you.” Keonho almost smiles at that. “He sent you to the infirmary fast,” Seonghyeon continues. “Like he didn’t want you touching the pool deck.”

“My knee was tight.”

“Mm.”

Martin studies him carefully. “You’re not rewatching footage.”

“I will tomorrow.”

“You’re not pacing,” Seonghyeon adds.

“I don’t pace.”

“You absolutely pace.”

Keonho rolls his eyes. “You two are dramatic.” “Zero point three,” Martin repeats calmly. That number again. It should be echoing in his head and it usually would be. Instead all he remembers is the way Y/N brushing him off. He blinks.

Seonghyeon narrows his eyes. “…You saw her, didn’t you?” Keonho looks over slowly. “What?” “In the infirmary,” Seonghyeon says. “Anton mentioned you texted him about some ‘gymnastics situation.’” Keonho clicks his tongue. “He talks too much.” Martin’s gaze sharpens slightly. “Was she hurt or something?”

“Minor.”

“You checked?” Seonghyeon presses. “I noticed,” Keonho rebutted. “Same thing.” Keonho looks down at his knee again. “She rolled her ankle and still tried to vault.” Martin winces. “That’s risky.” “Exactly,” Keonho snaps a finger. Seonghyeon sits up a little. “So you miss your target by 0.3… and instead of obsessing over it, you’re thinking about her ankle?”

“I’m not thinking about her ankle.”

“You just described it,” Martin says quietly. Well technically, they weren’t wrong so Keonho stayed silent. Seonghyeon smirks. “You’re awfully okay for someone who missed by 0.3.” Keonho frowns slightly. “I’m not okay.” “You’re not bothered enough,” Martin corrects. That lands closer because he should be replaying the split in his head right now. Instead, he’s replaying “Don’t do anything stupid”.

Seonghyeon watches the shift in his expression and grins slowly. “Oh. It is because you saw her.” “It’s not.” “You forgot about the time, didn’t you?” Seonghyeon pushes. Keonho presses the ice pack tighter against his knee. “It was a bad set. I’ll fix it tomorrow.” 

tag list. @louiscoree @wonnotes @lillseann @megumidefender @idontknowwhatiwanmythingtobe @jenniebyrubies @pxronbeat1 @simpqueen2025

comment or dm to be added to the taglisttt <3

[mcf1urries]

[cheezbawls]

Tides and Gravity

00.00.02 | rotations

zies note. im so sry for the late update beforehand... literally stacked w tests i keep on falling asleep while trying to write 😶😶😶 word count. 3.8k series masterlist | previous chapt | next chapt creds to echanthings on tumblr for the divider <3

By only the 3rd day of the intensified training cycle, the entire student body has practically agreed that it’s not just the sore muscles but also the heaviness behind their eyes, how morning feels like it comes faster, and how even sitting feels like it needs effort. Y/N feels it during Literature. The classroom is bright with late morning sun, the blinds only half-drawn. Desks are arranged in tight rows, textbooks stacked neatly. The board reads: Modern Korean Poetry –Symbolism & Structure.

Y/N underlines a stanza carefully, pen gliding in straight, precise strokes. She prides herself on neat margins, organized notes with neon highlighters (pastel ones if she’s overstimulated). But today the words blur just slightly – she blinks, refocuses, blinks, refocuses. Across the room, Keonho is slouched in his chair in a way that looks lazy but is actually calculated – balanced just enough to avoid tipping. His textbook is open but whether he’s reading it is questionable. The teacher pauses mid-discussion. “Keonho. What’s the recurring image in the second stanza?” He exhales softly through his nose, glances down once, then answers, “Water. But not calm water. It’s described as unsettled.”

The teacher nods. “And what might that suggest?” He shrugs lightly. “Emotional instability? Or maybe anticipation.” A few students murmur in agreement and Y/N finally glances over. Tired eyes – he’s staring at the page like it annoyed him. 

After class, the hallway hums with low-energy chatter. Even the basketball players aren’t as loud as usual. Training season has bled into everything, the air feels denser. Narin catches up to Y/N near the lockers. “I almost wrote my name wrong on the quiz.” Y/N snorts softly. “That’s concerning.” “I know. I stared at it for five seconds like, ‘Hold up is that really how I spell it?’”

They round the corner toward the main atrium – and that’s when the noise changes. It’s subtle at first. A ripple, conversations dipping. Footsteps slow down and a cluster of students gathers near the digital board mounted beside the trophy case. The academy only updates that board for three reasons: schedule changes, injury reports or… rankings.

At the top of the screen, bold white letters cut through the dim hallway lighting:

INTERNAL PERFORMANCE RANKINGS — SELECTION CYCLE 1

Below it, departments are separated by sport. Times, scores, averages, progress deltas from the previous term. All measured details displayed publicly and unapologetically. Narin inhales beside her. “Already?” “They said rolling updates,” Y/N replies, though her voice is steadier than her pulse.

Gymnastics then scrolls into view, showing scores and data of the different events – vault averages, floor consistency index, bars execution percentage. Her eyes find her name automatically.

Number three.

She doesn’t blink. Last term, she was ranked first. There’s a ▼ 0.5 beside her name. For a moment, the world narrows to white text and red arrows as the decimals glow like they’re louder than the hallway. Number three isn’t bad. But number three is dangerous; two automatic consideration spots, everything below that becomes subjective. “Y/N…” Narin’s voice is soft, careful. Narin is ranked second. Same position, but a small ▲ 0.2 beside her name.

“It’s just the first cycle,” Narin adds quickly. “They’re weighing floor heavier right now. You’re still strong in beam and bars.” Y/N nods, her expression still stiff, “Yeah,” she says evenly. “It’s early. Everyone fluctuates every now and then.” Except she’s already replaying yesterday's floor routine in her head. The micro-step on her landing, half a second of hesitation before her multi-layout phase. Half a second.

Across the atrium, swim rankings cycle onto the board – freestyle times, split improvements, turn efficiency metrics. Keonho steps closer and sees that he’s ranked first in his event group, a ▲ 0.3 next to his name. There’s a small murmur of approval from the swim cluster but he doesn’t smile nor show any reactions and continues to study the numbers like he’s filing them away. Then, almost absently, his gaze shifts across the open space and lands on Y/N – Her shoulders are straight, hands loosely at her sides, she looked confident which was probably the complete opposite of how she’s feeling deep inside. 

“You’re heading back to the dorms, right?” Narin asks in the changing room as Y/N is already packing her things up. “Gym,” she says simply. “Huh? More afterhours gymnastics practice?” “No, the gym gym– weight room.” Narin stares at her like she’s officially lost it, “You just had bars for three hours,” Narin says slowly, “AND conditioning.”

“I’m aware.”

“Y/N.”

“You’re not behind,” Narin continues quietly. “It’s one cycle. You don’t need to–” “I’m not spiraling,” Y/N cuts in, calm. Too calm. “I just want to train.” Y/N zips her bag and adjusts the strap on her shoulder, “See you tonight” she runs before Narin comments and further. 

The main conditioning gym sits at the edge of campus – glass walls, rubber flooring, rows of treadmills facing the darkening sky. The space smells like metal and effort. Dumbbells rest in perfect gradients from light to brutal. When she walks in, it’s not empty, of course it isn’t. The volleyball team was taking turns hitting heavy weights, some members of the tennis team were on their 2nd HIIT circuit, and the swim team’s dryland schedule overlapped late evenings. 

Keonho is at the far end of the room, resistance cords looped around a column, pulling through high-rep shoulder rotations. His earbuds are in, movements clean and controlled. Y/N doesn’t look at him. She drops her bag near the racks and heads straight for the treadmill. She keys in her usual sprint interval numbers and increases the incline by two with no warm-up walk (not advisable, btw). The belt starts moving and she runs harder than usual, angry in some sense even. Her strides are tight, precise, arms controlled, breathing regulated through her nose, out through her mouth. Yet, she watches her pace the way she watches the ranking board – memorizing decimals, chest heavy.

Across the room, Keonho finishes his set and glances over while unhooking the cords. He notices the incline first, then the pace, then the fact that she skipped mobility. He pulls one earbud out, hearing the sound of the treadmill whirring steadily, rubber slapping in rhythmic repetition. After her second interval, she steps off only long enough to increase the speed again and that’s when he walks closer – not directly in front of her, but near enough to be heard over the machine. “You’re going to fry your calves before tomorrow.” Her eyes stay forward. “I didn’t ask.”

“I know.”

She increases the incline again. He watches for a second longer. “You drop?” he asks casually, seeing her jaw tightening for a fraction of a second. “Yes.” “How much?” “Half a point.” He nods once, stepping back and returns to his pull-up bar, “You don’t need to panic-train, you know!” he calls.

 “I’m not panicking!”

Music cuts through the gym, Y/N is already mid-run – round-off, back handspring, block. Her body snaps upward into a double twist – tight, fast, slightly ahead of itself. She lands with a small shift forward, heel adjusting against the spring floor. She felt the same mistake in her landing but didn't pause as she extended her arms into choreography, fingers slicing the air with precision. The movements are sharp, controlled but it looked as though it was almost too controlled. Her shoulders are tight and her breath doesn’t quite match the music.

During her second round, her movements accelerates into the music. Round-off, back handspring, two and a half. She over-rotates and her foot slides half an inch on impact. She continues through the routine anyway,with a neutral expression and intact performance. When the final pose hits, her chest rises too fast.

The music dies and silence stretches across the floor. 

“Again.” Coach Yeo’s voice is calm. Flat and unmoved, even. She nods once and resets at the corner. She runs harder, her block is aggressive as she chases height instead of lift. Two and a half twist again but this time, she opens too late. Her left foot hits the floor first instead of both feet together and it lands slightly turned inward. Her weight isn’t centered, ankle rolling outward sharply – the joint visibly buckling to the side before her body catches up. There’s an audible scuff of skin against the mat as her foot skids half an inch. Her knee locks to compensate, the rest of her body jerks to stay upright.

A flicker of pain shoots up the outside of her ankle – sharp, hot, immediate. She keeps moving because stopping would mean admitting it. She finishes the choreography, pushes into her final transition, and completes the routine. The last pose hits and the music cuts again. “Join the vault rotation,” Yeo points. She turns toward the corner and that’s when the difference shows – her left step is shorter and for a second she looked stiff. “You rolled it,” Narin says under her breath as she understood immediately what her posture meant. “I’m fine,” “You literally folded.” Y/N ignores her, adjusting the tape around her ankle with quick, efficient movements, like she’s just fixing loose fabric instead of holding something together. The swelling hasn’t fully bloomed yet, but it’s there. A quiet throb, pulsing under the skin. She rolls her foot once, testing it, feeling nothing but heat crawling up. Across the floor, the vault runway gleams under the lights. “Join the vault rotation,” her coach repeats, sharper this time. Y/N nods. Narin stares at her, “You’re not actually going to–” Y/N shrugs, already stepping away. “It’s fine.”

The first sprint down the runway feels wrong immediately. Vault is explosive. It requires commitment from the first step on full acceleration, full trust in your body. Her left foot hits the springboard, pain detonates. Her block off the table is half a beat late. She twists, but there’s hesitation in it and she lands heavily. Her left ankle collapses inward on impact. 

The mat thuds under her weight. The gym goes quiet in that specific way students know that the coaches are not satisfied. Her coach’s voice slices through it. “Again. Stick your landing this time.” Y/N swallows and walks back to the start of the runway.

The second sprint is worse. She’s compensating now, shifting weight to the right, overstriding to protect the left. The imbalance makes her block uneven and she lands again with a hop. “Control your landing!” her coach snaps. “I am,” she answers automatically, breath thin. On the third attempt, the pain spikes before she even hits the board, as if her ankle doesn’t trust her anymore. She hits the table slightly off-center.

“Stop.” Another coach– Coach Hwan– cuts in firmly, “Stop the rotation.” He steps forward from the side, shaking his head. “You’re favoring your left, I’m not dumb.” Y/N frowns, “It’s minor. I just need to–” “You rolled it on floor,” Hwan’s tone hardens. “You put yourself on vault with a bad foot and you won’t have a season.”

Y/N stands at the end of the runway, chest rising and falling too fast. The adrenaline is still in her veins, buzzing, making it hard to tell where the pain ends and pride begins. “I can do it,” she says, her left foot shifting unconsciously. Hwan crosses his arms. “You’re done with vault.” Y/N’s jaw tightens. “It doesn’t even hurt that bad.”

“Your landings say otherwise.”

‘“Why didn’t you say anything?” Yeo exhales through her nose, “Ice it. Matter of fact you’re done for the day. Narin, take her to the infirmary.”

— 

The infirmary and recovery room sit side by side at the end of the corridor – a shared medical wing the school prides itself on, because athletes mean trophies, and trophies mean funding. As they round the corner, Narin slows slightly. The recovery room door is open and innside, a row of padded treatment tables line the walls. Foam rollers stacked in the corner. Resistance bands hanging from hooks. The low mechanical hum of a muscle stim machine fills the space. On the second table from the window was Keonho. He’s sitting upright, one leg extended, ice wrapped around his knee while the athletic trainer adjusts the straps of a compression sleeve, his hair is damp at the edges, probably from practice.  He looks up at the sound of footsteps. There’s a flicker of confusion first – then recognition.

“No vault, no floor for a few days. Bars and beam only if pain-free, no dismounts, flips, or landings – literally just focus on your upper body. Ice twice tonight.” The nurse finishes later, taping Y/N’s ankle with efficient hands, the elastic wrap snug and unforgiving. From the doorway, Keonho tilts his head, “so dramatic,” he says lightly. “All that for a little twist?” Narin’s head snaps toward him. “Not now, chlorine boy.”

“I do not smell like chlorine, I smell like victory.”

“You smell like a public swimming pool.” Narin shoots back. Y/N would laugh if her ankle wasn’t throbbing in rhythm with her pulse. Instead, she just gives him a flat look. “Why are you here?” Narin smirks, “Oh no. The nation’s breaststroker is mortal.” “Backstroker,” he corrects automatically, “and freestyler,” like he’s offended she’d get that wrong.

“Whatever. You splash in water.”

He ignores her and focuses back on Y/N, eyes dragging down to her taped ankle. “You really tried vaulting after rolling it?” “I was fine, like why were you even eavesdropping on the nurse.”

“You were limping.”

“I was adjusting.”

He huffs a quiet laugh. “Adjusting? You probably looked like you were glitching.” Narin claps once, delighted. “Thank you. That’s asically what I said.” Y/N glares at both of them. “Can I not be double-teamed in the infirmary?” Keonho pushes off the doorframe and steps fully inside now, slow and casual, like he has every right to be there. The recovery room hum spills faintly down the hallway behind him. “I just think it’s impressive,” he continues, mock-serious. “You nearly eat it on floor and your first instinct is, ‘Yes, let’s launch myself over a table at full speed.’” “It’s called discipline.” Keonho smiles, “Yeah no, it’s called bad decision-making.”

Y/N folds her arms, which would look more intimidating if she weren’t sitting on crinkly exam paper with her ankle elevated on a pillow. “Shouldn’t you be icing your knee and reflecting on your own poor life choices?” “I was,” he says. “Then I saw you hobbling past like a wounded gazelle.” Narin gasps, “he did not just call you that.” Y/N stares at him. “I will throw this ice pack at you.”

“You can’t. You need it.”

There’s a quiet second and then annoyingly, she laughs. Just once, under her breath– it slips out before she can stop it. Keonho’s smile softens slightly, like he wasn’t entirely joking for sport. “You don’t have to act like it didn’t hurt,” he says, still light, but not sharp. “It’s selection season. Everyone’s pretending they’re made of titanium.” Narin nods immediately. “Exactly.” Y/N rolls her eyes, but the edge in her posture eases a fraction. “I’m not pretending.” “Sure,” Keonho says. “You only tried to vault on a compromised ankle.”

“Keyword: tried.”

“Keyword: compromised.”

“Chlorine boy,” Narin cuts in, pointing toward the hallway. “Recovery room. Now. Before I tell your trainer you abandoned your icing session.” He raises his hands in surrender but doesn’t move right away. His gaze lingers on Y/N one more second– quick, assessing, something quieter underneath the teasing. “Don’t do anything stupid,” he says. Y/N arches a brow. “That’s rich coming from you.” He grins. “I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

They hold eye contact for half a second too long and Narin makes a dramatic gagging noise– which is exactly what made Keonho finally step backward into the hallway. “Rest it,” he calls casually. “Mind your knee,” Y/N shoots back.

“Always do.”

He disappears toward the recovery room, and the hallway feels strangely less noisy without him. Narin looks at Y/N slowly.

“…What.”

—

That night, their dorm room smells faintly like muscle balm and fabric softener. The lights are dimmed, desk lamps casting warm circles across textbooks that no one is currently reading. Y/N sits cross-legged on her bed, her ankle propped up on a folded hoodie, an ice pack melting steadily into the towel wrapped around it. Across from her, Narin lies on her stomach, chin in her hands, staring. Just staring. Ella is on the floor near her own bed, one leg extended while she slowly massages her calf with practiced pressure, her movements calm and methodical. 

The silence stretches.

Y/N doesn’t look up. “If you’re going to say it, just say it.” Narin’s lips curve slowly. “Soooo.” Y/N closes her eyes. “No.” “No what?” Ella asks mildly, still kneading her leg. She doesn’t even look up. “She hasn’t asked anything yet.”

“She’s about to.”

Narin rolls onto her back dramatically. “What’s up with you and fishboy?” Y/N’s eyes snap open. “Fishboy?” “Chlorine boy, fishboy, aquatic menace– pick your favorite.” Ella finally glances up, “the swimmer?” “Yes – Ahn Keonho– the swimmer,” Narin says, “the one who was hovering in the infirmary like he was personally responsible for her ankle.”

Y/N scoffs. “He was not hovering.” Ella straightens a little and turns towards Y/N. “You didn’t tell me you saw him there.” Y/N turns her head very slowly toward Narin. “You said you weren’t going to make it a thing.”

“I’m not making it a thing,” Narin defends quickly. “I’m just.. recounting events.” Ella folds her arms now, intrigued. “Recount.” “It wasn’t that deep,” Y/N says immediately. “Oh but it kinda is,” Narin corrects and Y/N glares. Narin ignores it. “He was in the doorway pretending to joke but he kept looking at her ankle.” Ella’s eyebrows lift. “Kept looking?” “It was observational,” Y/N cuts in. “He’s competitive. He notices weaknesses.” Narin sits up abruptly. “That is not what that was.” “Oh?” Ella says. “He was hovering,” Narin insists.

“I was sitting.”

“He leaned in.”

“It’s a doorway.”

“It was intense.”

“No it wasn’t.”

Ella looks at Y/N carefully. “Did he tease you?” “Yes.”

“Did you tease back?”

“…Obviously because he pisses me o–”

Ella cuts her off, nodding. “And did you smile at some point?” That shuts her up. Narin gasps like she’s just won something. “She did!” “It was reflex!” Ella hums thoughtfully. “You don’t reflex-smile at people you dislike.”

“I don’t dislike him.”

“Oh?” Narin and Ella say at the same time. Y/N drops back onto her pillow with a frustrated exhale. “NOT LIKE THAT… He’s just always there.” Narin grins. “There?”

“He’s in my classes. In the cafeteria. Apparently in the infirmary.” Ella’s voice is calm but precise. “Does he feel… intrusive?” Y/N thinks about that. “…No,” she admits quietly before taking it back, “well sometimes..” Ella resumes massaging her leg. “Then what does he feel like?” Y/N stares at the ceiling. “…Annoying.” Narin waits, “and?” Y/N exhales, “Persistent.” Ella nods slowly. Narin smirks. “You like that.”

“I did not say that.”

“You didn’t deny it.”

Y/N throws her pillow at Narin. It hits her square in the face. “Go to sleep,” she mutters.

Keonho’s dorm door shuts with a dull click. He drops his bag beside his bed and sits down slowly, unwrapping the athletic tape from his knee. The room smells like detergent and leftover protein powder. Martin is at his desk, reviewing drills. Seonghyeon is half-lying across his mattress, scrolling on his phone. 

“You’re skipped dinner,” Martin says without looking up. “Heard you were in the infirmary,” Seonghyeon glances over, “Anton said your knee was acting up.” Keonho nods, “Yeah I was icing.” “It’s fine”. Martin hums, “You still missed.” Keonho doesn’t answer immediately. “You know?” “Zero point three,” Seonghyeon adds, “Anton sounded pretty disappointed in dinner half the canteen probably heard.” The number sits heavy in the air. In swimming, 0.3 isn’t a rounding error. It’s a gap and a visible one. Keonho shrugs lightly, “It happens.” Both of them look at him. Seonghyeon lowers his phone. “It does not ‘happen’ to you.” “It’s early cycle,” Keonho says, reaching for the ice pack. Martin finally turns in his chair. “Your last 25 drifted.”

“I know.”

“You were late off the wall.”

“I said I know.”

Seonghyeon squints. “You’re weirdly calm.” Keonho straps the ice around his knee and leans back on his palms. “What do you want me to do lowkey? Cry?” “Yes,” Seonghyeon says flatly. “A little.” Martin nods once, “You miss by 0.1 and you sulk. You miss by 0.3 you should be acting like someone forgot to salt your fries.” Keonho exhales through his nose, “It’s one practice.” “It was your benchmark set,” Martin replies evenly.

Silence sits between them. Because that’s true.

Seonghyeon tilts his head. “Anton looked more annoyed than you.” Keonho almost smiles at that. “He sent you to the infirmary fast,” Seonghyeon continues. “Like he didn’t want you touching the pool deck.”

“My knee was tight.”

“Mm.”

Martin studies him carefully. “You’re not rewatching footage.”

“I will tomorrow.”

“You’re not pacing,” Seonghyeon adds.

“I don’t pace.”

“You absolutely pace.”

Keonho rolls his eyes. “You two are dramatic.” “Zero point three,” Martin repeats calmly. That number again. It should be echoing in his head and it usually would be. Instead all he remembers is the way Y/N brushing him off. He blinks.

Seonghyeon narrows his eyes. “…You saw her, didn’t you?” Keonho looks over slowly. “What?” “In the infirmary,” Seonghyeon says. “Anton mentioned you texted him about some ‘gymnastics situation.’” Keonho clicks his tongue. “He talks too much.” Martin’s gaze sharpens slightly. “Was she hurt or something?”

“Minor.”

“You checked?” Seonghyeon presses. “I noticed,” Keonho rebutted. “Same thing.” Keonho looks down at his knee again. “She rolled her ankle and still tried to vault.” Martin winces. “That’s risky.” “Exactly,” Keonho snaps a finger. Seonghyeon sits up a little. “So you miss your target by 0.3… and instead of obsessing over it, you’re thinking about her ankle?”

“I’m not thinking about her ankle.”

“You just described it,” Martin says quietly. Well technically, they weren’t wrong so Keonho stayed silent. Seonghyeon smirks. “You’re awfully okay for someone who missed by 0.3.” Keonho frowns slightly. “I’m not okay.” “You’re not bothered enough,” Martin corrects. That lands closer because he should be replaying the split in his head right now. Instead, he’s replaying “Don’t do anything stupid”.

Seonghyeon watches the shift in his expression and grins slowly. “Oh. It is because you saw her.” “It’s not.” “You forgot about the time, didn’t you?” Seonghyeon pushes. Keonho presses the ice pack tighter against his knee. “It was a bad set. I’ll fix it tomorrow.” 

tag list. @louiscoree @wonnotes @lillseann @megumidefender @idontknowwhatiwanmythingtobe @jenniebyrubies @pxronbeat1 @simpqueen2025

comment or dm to be added to the taglisttt <3

[cheezbawls]

on god i have the biggest respect for authors who can write like 10k+ words for a oneshot/chapter of a series like HOW DO YOU DO THAT