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EIGHT COUNT (18+) 🥊

Boxer!Hoshi x Trainer!FemReader

Synopsis: Hoshi the Tiger Kwon, one of south korea’s best boxers from the 90s. Before that, he was just the annoying guy you trained.

Pairing: Boxer!Hoshi x Trainer!FemReader

Word Count: 24.4k

Genre: Action, Romance, Smut

Warnings: Slow burn, boxing lingo and fight scenes, misunderstanding, angst, Hoshi and reader can be really mean to each other :(, kissing, unprotected intercourse, panties for safe keeping lol

A/n: LONG TIME NO SEE! <3 thank you to @svthub for being a great resource and community, @nerdycheol, @facethesunflower and @shinysobi for being there during its writing process. Also @supi-wupi and @hanniehaeo for corrections and beta reading ^^

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“KWON ON THE ROPES, CAN HE DO A COMEBACK BEFORE THE END OF THESE 40 SECONDS?”

The stadium is a frenzy. Your ears ring as you look up through the ropes of the boxing ring. Your eyes focused on Soonyoung’s back, sweat shining on his taut muscles from the harsh lights, the sound of the rubber boxing gloves of his opponent colliding in dull hits to Soonyoung’s tight defense.

Heart beating, eyebrows furrowed as you grip onto the white towel in your hand. Stained with blood, his blood, from the earlier timeout.

“OH! — A COUNTER LANDS ON KWON’S RIGHT CHEEK!”

Your eyes widen as you watch Soonyoung’s mouth guard shoot out of his mouth, a mix of spit and blood splattering in the air as you see the outline of his face. His side profile crushed by the weight of the glove and force.

You hold your breath.

Your mind can’t help but hurl you back to your prior memories. The days, the months, the years, before all this.

When you were wiping down the worn ropes with a cloth. Face sour as you squeeze the handle of the Lysol, disinfectant spraying onto the leather ropes as you gently wipe it off. You don’t even blink an eye when the sound of the gym door opens, the familiar sound of loud men infiltrating your ears.

This gym was like a second home to you. Your father, an ex-professional boxer turned coach, used all his money to open a boxing gym while you were still learning how to walk on your own two feet.

It shouldn’t be surprising that one of your first words, well, according to your father, was weave! Weave! — Much to your late mother’s dismay.

As much as hanging out with friends was a pastime for most girls your age, yours was helping at your father’s gym. Cleaning the ring, sweeping the floor, and disinfecting the equipment. Anything really, so you could crane your neck to listen in on the practices. Like father, like son daughter, you were as interested in the sport as he was. His genes were, well, unfortunately, strong.

“Y/n, you still here?” Your dad chimes, curiosity in his low voice as he walks out of his office. Alerted by the sound of boxers falling in, from amateur ones practicing for their license, to the very few professional ones your father was training personally.

You look up, nodding with a sigh, “Yeah, well, the ring was looking rough.” You reply. Omitting the fact that you did have plans. A boy you were talking to asked you out last week, which you were incredibly giddy about. Until you heard through the grapevine that he was also talking to another girl.

Safe to say, he cancelled the plans after you threw a punch straight at his eye.

“Great! Because I need you to watch the new boy,” your father says lightly, hands on his hips as he walks up to you.

You raise your brow, putting the cleaning supplies down at your side as you face your father. “New boy? Thought you weren’t accepting any new fighters?” You remind him, throwing the rag into the bucket of supplies next to your feet.

Your father shrugs, “Seemed promising. Young, too. Your age, actually,” he says with a smile, “But I need to focus today on Seungcheol. His match is two weeks, so we have to —“

“Yeah, yeah, work on his slugging.” You say not skipping a beat. You were there when your father was going crazy in his office, trying to figure out strategies for Seungcheol’s next match. It ended up boiling down to something that matches the guy perfectly — just slugging it out.

Your father grins, “Hm, yeah. So you got this!”

You narrow your eyes.

Your father sighs, “Just give the kid a few exercises to go through,” he says, waving you off.

You nod, grabbing the bucket of cleaning supplies, as you greet all the fighters in the gym coming in.

It wasn’t long until Soonyoung came in, still baby-faced, skinny compared to everyone else. Huffing and puffing as he pushes the boxing gym door open, stumbling in. Probably running from whatever train station, as you checked the time on the clock. He was ten minutes late to what your father informed you he’d arrive by. And not to mention, his shoe laces were untied, dragging against the floor haphazardly.

You narrow your eyes, shaking your head. He definitely knew nothing about boxing, not yet, at least. Hell, what did your father see in this kid? He just looked like every guy at school.

“Hey!” You yell out, getting his attention. His head perking up like a dog being called, as he points to himself. You sigh, “Yes, you.”

He walks over to you, still surprised, catching his breath as he grips his bag. Clearing his throat, “Um, hi, I’m Kwon Soonyoung.” He introduces himself before glancing at the boxing ring in the middle of the gym. Your father in the middle of coaching Seungcheol.

He points with his thumb behind him, “I need to talk to uh, coach —“

You shake your head, “No need. He’s busy, I’ll be helping you today.” You say lightly, crossing your arms.

He turns back to you, brows raised, “You? I mean… you’re, uh, you’re a trainer or something?” He asks skeptically, eyeing you.

Your hair in a low ponytail, in a loose t-shirt, and grey sweatpants. Basically drowning in the clothes with your feminine figure, you looked like a sore thumb in the gym filled with muscular older men.

Before you can respond, your father yells out from the ring. “Oh, you finally showed up!” He muses, holding a hand up as a welcome. Taking the few seconds of Seungcheol emptying his water bottle to address Soonyoung.

“Listen to y/n, okay? She may seem unassuming, but she knows what she’s doing.” He says, before turning back to drag Seungcheol through more drills.

Soonyoung looks back at you, still hesitant, making you roll your eyes.

“Come on,” you say, heading to the shelf to grab some boxing mitts.

Soonyoung hastily follows after you, almost bumping into you when you turn back around. Making him stumble back in slight panic, before speaking.

“Uh, so you are a trainer? You look around, my age or something like that…” he starts, looking at you like a spectacle at the zoo. You roll your eyes, opening the mitts and sliding your hands in.

“I know enough to deal with you.” You respond back roughly, before glancing down at Soonyoung’s hands, realizing they aren’t even wrapped yet.

You huff, ripping the mitts off. This guy really knew nothing.

You gesture to the back, “Go to the locker room. Get dressed and wrapped.”

“Oh, okay!” He starts, nodding his head, eyebrows furrowed. “Uh, but what do you mean by wrapped?”

You can’t help but step down on one of his loose laces, making it stretch tight as he walks. “Oh what – hey!” The boy toppling over a bench and someone’s bag.

The first few weeks of training went like that.

Soonyoung knew absolutely nothing, yet when you asked, “Why are you still doing this?”

He’d catch his breath, barely keeping his legs from shaking with his hands, finally having a chance to breathe as you grace him with a minute of rest.

Your voice is stern, “Obviously, by now you can see boxing isn’t as simple as throwing a punch and winning. How haven’t you quit yet?”

Taking a deep inhale of needed air, he looks up at you. His eyes had a sparkle to them, despite how he’s starting to form bruises from training. You could see sweat seeping into his t-shirt from the cardio, yet he still had energy to waste. His eyes said so.

“I want to box! I love it!” He’d say with a tired grin, sweat dripping down his forehead, as you sigh.

“Huh, right.” You say a bit unnerved, eyeing him. What kid would still be smiling after 3 miles of running? “Enough sprints, let’s finish your roadwork with another mile.” You add on, already sitting back down on your bike, ready to ride right on top of his ankles.

He jogs next to you; maybe, deep down, his enthusiasm was making you just a teensy bit soft. Making your pace slower for him to catch up, maybe even his breath.

He pants, “You want to do this stuff too, huh?” He attempts to say as you pedal.

“You mean boxing?” You ask, glancing at his sweating frame.

He lets out a strangled mhm that you assume means yes.

You shrug, your hands letting go of the bicycle handles to grab the water bottle from the holder. You take a few sips, and watching makes Soonyoung's mouth drier than he thought was possible. “You think I’d be doing this if I didn’t?” You respond, as you let out a sigh. “I don’t know. Just focus on your breathing.”

“Ah — wait!” He pleads, when you increase the cadence of your bike, his footsteps getting heavier to catch up.

You can’t help but snicker, “Come on, Kwon! The faster we get this last mile done, the faster you can go home!” You yell out as he pushes further to run parallel with you.

“I don’t get it,” He breathes. Trying to keep his eyes open and his feet moving. “You love boxing, yet you always want it to end.”

You stop your bike.

It takes Soonyoung a second before he stills his momentum, stopping a few feet in front of you. Hands to his knees as he takes long, deep breaths.

“Hey, watch your mouth.” You say firmly, “I’m just trying to motivate you.”

He straightens up, hands on his hips as he takes a deep breath. “Yeah?” He starts, “Well, that's not motivating to me.” He says, turning to face you. Face covered in sweat, dripping down his jaw to his neck.

He was soaked, that was for sure. The way the setting sun beams on the running path, warming both your and Soonyoung’s skin, the light outlining his torso through the thin fabric of his sweat-soaked t-shirt.

“You say you love it, but you never have a smile on your face.” He points out, his eyes flickering across your features. You had a noticeable scowl, not liking his random prodding.

You straighten up on your bike, gripping the handlebars tightly. “I love boxing,” You say simply, “It doesn’t mean I like it. Especially when I have to watch someone as annoying as you.”

He furrows his eyebrows in confusion. “What the hell does that mean?”

“You’ll understand later.” You huff vaguely, putting your foot back on the pedal. “Now one more mile, so I don’t have to deal with you anymore.”

"Can I have some water at least?" He calls after you, dragging his heavy feet to follow after your bike.

"Nope!"

And then it was almost the end of high school, and surprisingly enough, Soonyoung was still going to the boxing gym basically every day. And he was shaping up, slowly but surely.

He had a talent for doing things over and over again until his form was perfect. Sharp, efficient, and fast enough that the other guy couldn't even see it coming.

You didn't spend the last few years idling around either. Honestly — in all those interviews in the future, you were credited in everything. Safe to say, you were the reason he consistently improved. You didn’t let your studies suffer while helping out at the gym. Impressively, you found a good balance.

While memorizing flashcards for your school final? You reviewed them while with Soonyoung, throwing a card at the back of Soonyoung's head when he would doze off during match tapes. When you had that science project about egg drops? You taped the excess eggs to the bottom of Soonyoung's feet. Forcing him to perfect his footwork without making a mess in the boxing ring, while also seeing what random contraptions could prevent shells breaking.

This wasn't against his will, by the way. You'll say that to the end of your days, because strangely, Soonyoung took everything like a champ.

Once, you even felt a little bad as you made him throw punches until he stopped telegraphing. Your father nudged you, throwing you out of that state of pity.

"You know, you might be even harsher than me." Your dad would chime, "Is it safe to say you think he has what it takes?"

You scoff, "After two years of training? He's okay – I think he’s getting restless though." You mutter, focusing on Soonyoung's form, as he begins another set of ones and twos.

You tilt your head. He was shaping nicely. Was he always this toned?

"Hmm, well, I don't disagree." He says, nodding. "Since we got his license just a bit ago, I think it’s time we put him in an amateur tournament. I think I'll have him and Seungcheol spar a bit while training. It'll be a good warm-up for Seungcheol too."

Your heart twists, so soon? Sure, Soonyoung was improving a lot. But a little part of you wanted him to be hidden just a bit longer. But you wouldn't say that out loud.

"Right, that'd be good. Soonyoung's stamina can help with Cheol oppa's training." You muse, "And then a good jab at Soonyoung's head will rattle him a bit. Remind him how the pros are."

"You really are more ruthless than me." Your father snickers, which you respond to with a playful sticking out of your tongue.

"Careful though," He starts, his usual playful tone dissipating as he pats your back. Firm, like you're one of his many boys. It only makes you stand up straighter.

"I appreciate you picking up Soonyoung's training, but don't forget to live your life, yeah?" He points out, as he starts rifling through his pocket. You turn to him as you watch your father take out some rumpled bills.

You snicker as you hold out your hand. "Buy a dress or something. Or like, I don't know, go out with your friends and have a meal." He suggests with a shrug, as he drops the money into your open palm.

"Thanks, appa. I'll buy a dress and eat." You respond dryly. "I'll go on a date too, since I'm at it."

"Nuh-uh! Just the dress then!" He grins, snatching away one of the bills as you gasp in protest. "Well, give the boy a break. Enough reps." He adds on, using his coach voice as he nudges your shoulder. You can't help but nod in obedience as your father walks away.

You look back at Soonyoung, eyeing his form once more. After another punch, you can tell he was getting cleaner.

"Kwon, that's enough." You yell out as he catches the punching bag, stilling it with heavy breaths.

"Really? Alright," He sighs, looking over his shoulder at you, sweat dripping down his face like he was just in a sauna. He immediately rips the boxing mitts off.

You grab his towel next to his bag — "Coach said you're gonna be doing the local amateur tournament next month." You break, "You okay with that?" Asking like he has a choice.

And it was like hours of boxing drills never happened, as his eyes widened. Mouth turning in a wide grin as his cheeks rounded out against his eyes. "Seriously? Holy shit!"

You roll your eyes, "Don't get too excited. You’ve only done informal spars." You push the towel into his chest roughly, "Also, if you fail, I'm killing you for embarrassing me.” You pipe. “Got it?" Smiling sharply, making him shut up immediately.

He grips the towel, letting you step back, as he nods hastily. "Got it, don't worry." The smile finding its way back on his face. "I won't let you down."

You knit your brows, "Yeah, don't." You emphasize, pushing his forehead back with your finger, making him laugh in response. Grabbing your hand in his face, as he wipes the sweat off his forehead with the towel in the other hand. His hand tightening around yours to keep it in place. Which only makes your heart skip a beat.

Wait — a beat?

He moves to hold your hand properly, squeezing it firmly. "Seriously, don't worry. I'm gonna win, and you don't need to go to jail for murder." He promises, nodding at you with that assured look on his face, brows knitted and lips pursed into a tight line.

You wrestle your grip out of his hand before you overthink. "Okay, I get it, Kwon." You respond warily, "Drink some water and rest up. I'll see you next week."

"Yeah, next week!" He chirps.

But it didn't take the whole weekend to see him again. Per your father's suggestion, you do take the money he gave you to visit the shopping district.

You weren't an avid shopper, unless it was to help with restocking boxing supplies at the gym. It's not like you didn't value a cute outfit — it's just there weren't many instances when you could show one off.

Should you have asked someone to come with you? Sure, maybe, if it wasn't for the fact that most of your friends decided to spend their last summer of school on vacation. Unlike you, they were all heading out to university, out of the country, or at least out of the town. Using their grad money and the last summer before college to enjoy life before the inevitable.

But you realized all these years, boxing was your destined life path. You weren't the one in the ring, but nothing had beaten analyzing boxing matches, watching your father celebrate with his fighters after winning matches and belts, and wanting to do the same.

You wouldn't say you wanted to do this in the first place. It was like fate pulled you into it, no matter what. Especially when Soonyoung fell into your hands at the beginning of junior year.

"Ah, y/n, is that you?"

Speaking of the devil.

You turn around to the sound of your name, seeing Soonyoung at the entrance of an arcade. Clad in baggy pants and a flashy t-shirt that almost made you squint your eyes from its loudness. God, did you just manifest him right now just thinking of him?

You raise your brows, "Kwon?" You respond, as he grins.

A loud sound rings through the arcade machine as Soonyoung whips his head back at the screen, eyes wide-eyed. His face illuminated by bright red, with the words GAME OVER on the screen. "Dammit!"

He groans, before looking over at you, walking over until he's in front of you. His hands stuffed in his unbelievably baggy jeans as he drags his feet against the pavement.

You can't help but eye them. "I'm sorry, but you're drowning in those." You can't help but comment. But he doesn't take offense, smiling as he turns so that you can see the bright graphic patched onto them. Even a small tiger plushie was attached to where his belt should be.

"Cool, right? They're JNCOs, they're from America, they're super popular right now." He says giddily, as you nod at the unfamiliar brand. Popular with who? Maybe with those American artists Soonyoung always begged to play on the boxing gym's stereo. Might as well nod along like you understand.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, looking down at you, eyeing you curiously. The way you're out of your normal sweats, in the typical 90s outfit most girls your age were wearing. You glance at the Hello Kitty wallet in your hand, holding the crumpled money your dad gave you.

"Uh, shopping." You respond as you stuff the wallet back into your pocket.

"Oh, cool, where’s your friends?" He adds on, making you wince.

"I’m by myself." You sigh as you look away. "Well, don't let me get in your way. Seems like you're playing games anyway." You respond, already taking a step back.

Soonyoung shakes his head, "Hm, no, it's alright." He smiles, "I can't even get past the first level." He admits holding his hands up, "You think boxing would help with video games somehow, but nooo. Can't seem to remember the combos one of my friends showed me." He mutters as he scratches the back of his head.

He clasps his hands, "You know what, what if I tagged along?" He suggests, "We've never really hung out outside of the gym before. It'd be nice, you know." He starts, before he sees the wary look on your face. His volume quiets down, "Y-you know, if you want to."

You sigh, should you? I mean, you weren't that confident in shopping by yourself, especially with how crowded it was, with friend groups all over reminding you of how lonely you really were.

"Yeah, I mean... sure." You agree reluctantly, "You probably know this place more than me anyway." You fall into step with him, letting him guide you through the busy streets.

"Are there any good clothing stores you know, Kwon?"

The answer was no.

Especially when you found yourself holding up a gaudy reflective dress to the mirror, your face pale.

Soonyoung nods, looking at the piece like it might actually be a choice for you. "That's good, it reminds me of like, Lee Hyori or something."

"Lee Hyori?" you deadpan, looking over your shoulder to glare at him. "Do I look like Lee Hyori to you?"

He blinks, looking over you like it wasn't crazy to compare you to the most popular female idol in South Korea. "You could?"

You frown, throwing the dress back into the pile of clothes Soonyoung picked out, "You know what," you sigh, bringing your hand to your temples to massage them. "Forget the shopping, I don't need new clothes anyways." You conclude as Soonyoung picks up the pile to put them back.

He peeks his head out to the side to look at you, "Really? What are you gonna do with the money then?" He asks.

Shrugging, you cross your arms. "I don't know, save it?"

"What?" He whines, throwing the pile of clothes on top of the return rack. "Coach gave you all that money and you're gonna save it? Have you ever done anything fun in your life?"

You glare at him, shocking him back into remembering you're the one in charge of his conditioning for the next month. Your eyes giving: I'll make you do drills that make your head spin.

"Uh, I mean, good on you." He nods hastily, "Very respectable. Responsible."

You sigh, as you pat the Hello Kitty wallet in your front pocket. Your dad did say to have fun, and shopping was just a suggestion.

"You know what," Clearing your throat, "Let's go get barbecue or something. On me."

Soonyoung's eyes light up. "I like that more. I know a place!"

Once again, you don't know why you keep trusting Soonyoung's recommendations, as you walk into a small barbecue place. It was hidden in a corner near the end of the shopping district, where you could easily miss it. It was quaint, a little run down, with the smell of sizzling pork belly and a musk only old buildings could have.

"This place? Why this place?" You ask, as you step in with him. Soonyoung careful with his pants, holding them up so they don't drag against the greasy floor.

"Ugh, are you serious?"

You look up to see a shorter guy, seeming around both your and Soonyoung's age. With pale skin and short stature, with a white band wrapped around his forehead to push his hair out of his eyes. A scowl present on his face as he eyes Soonyoung’s entrance.

Huh, you recognize that look. It’s a similar one you make when you see Soonyoung as well.

"Jihoon!" Soonyoung greets, as he gestures for you to come sit at an empty table. Kicking a plastic stool out for you to sit on, as he readily plops down on one across from it.

He clears his throat, holding out his hand to introduce the guy. "This is Jihoon. We went to the same school together." He beams, "Which means he won't ID us for beer –"

"God, you gonna bring every girl here? I'm gonna stop serving you if you keep –"

"Every girl?" you question, raising your brow. Was Soonyoung popular? To you, he only existed within the boundaries of the gym. Was he some sort of ladies' man or something? In that flashy t-shirt and gigantic pair of pants?

Soonyoung's cheeks flush slightly, his mouth agape as he tries to find words. "Nuh-uh!" He refutes, shaking his head, "Um, besides. This is y/n, she's not really a girl."

Your palm makes contact with the back of Soonyoung's head, not enough to injure him but to make him jolt forward in surprise. Besides, even if you did, you’re sure his skull was hard enough to withstand it.

Jihoon snickers, "Deserved."

You roll your eyes as you throw up two fingers. "Bulgogi and some bone-in beef rib, please."

Soonyoung whistles, "You're really splurging, huh?"

"Oh, she's paying for you too. You really are something, Soonyoung." Jihoon adds on dryly, which you can't help but snicker at. "I'll bring it out." He nods, as he heads to the kitchen.

"Oh! A bottle of soju, too, please!" Soonyoung calls out as you shake your head.

"You shouldn't be drinking. It's bad for your body," You reprimand, as you settle into the plastic stool. "I'm gonna order some more water, and more banchan as well." You state, pushing the small plates of Kimchi and other vegetable side dishes towards him.

He pouts, "Even now, all you think about is boxing." He sighs, taking it upon himself to shove some kimchi in his mouth. "This is supposed to be fun! I'm sure you know how to have fun, right?"

"Mhm, but your first tournament is soon." You add on, "I'm still working out the kinks of your conditioning schedule. I don't think you need to learn any new techniques, just focus on improving and maintaining your agility. There's also the possibility that some rookies could be a problem. I need to check the fighters registered and —“

You're silenced by a piece of fish cake in your mouth. Eyes wide in surprise as Soonyoung jabs his chopsticks in your mouth. "Yeah, I appreciate that. Also, aren't the side dishes good? I swear, they put magic in these." He responds lightly, going back to pick at the different side dishes, as if he didn't just feed you. You know, like it's a date.

Hold on, is this a date?

“Besides,” He clears his throat, “I’m not worried. You and coach have been training me. What’s there to be worried about?”

You don't have time to calm your heartbeat, as Jihoon comes by with the plates of beef, settling them down and also swirling a bottle of soju.

"Right, here you go," he sighs, freeing his arms of the food. He flickers his eyes to you, "Careful. If he drinks too much, you’ll have to drag him home."

"Thanks for the warning." You say, still distracted by Soonyoung’s affection. Sure, you knew the guy for the past two years. And you’ve had your fair share of bonding, but outside the gym? Eating a real meal together? This was a whole different ballpark.

You look back at Soonyoung, who’s already piling meat onto the grill, as Jihoon grumbles — hey! Let me turn on the grill first at least!

You go quiet for a moment before clearing your throat. Chill out. This was Soonyoung for god's sake.

And as you watch him stuff his cheeks with kimchi like a chipmunk, you can’t help but wince at the sight. Right, this was Kwon Soonyoung.

“Hey, don’t forget water. Don’t choke!” You warn, as you pour some water for him, pushing it into his face, which he gladly accepts.

“Also, what the hell are you doing? That’s not how you cook meat.” You grumble, prying the tongs from his hand, in favor of flipping and spacing out the meat yourself.

He pouts, “Jeez, you’re already paying. Can’t I at least take over cooking the meat?” He complains, slouching over as he watches the smoke rise.

You shake your head. This was your expertise. “No, it’s fine. I’ve been doing this forever,” You say, “Coach always takes fighters out after matches for barbecue. I always take over and cook while they pig out.” You recount absentmindedly, the tongs being second nature to you at this point. The way boxers inhale meat, you knew how to keep up.

Soonyoung raises his brows, “You live and breathe boxing.” He states, “I like that about you.”

Your cheeks burn.

“You like boxing too, everyone at the gym does.” You mutter, focused on flipping the pork belly.

Soonyoung shakes his head, “Yeah, but you’re on the sidelines. Most of us are just dudes who like to punch.” He explains, “Sure, some guys are more involved, with knowing more technical things. But you’re boxing. Does that make sense?”

You stare at him in confusion, straightening up as you put the tongs down. “I have no clue what you’re saying. Are you saying I’m the sport? Boxing?”

He smiles as he picks up a piece of pork belly, popping it into his mouth.

“Don’t worry, you’ll understand one day.” He chimes, like he just graced you with profound words. The words themselves feel like deja vu.

“That’s not even done cooking!”

Another month passes, and you realize Soonyoung basically became your summer. Training never seemed to end. One day, you found yourself rooting your feet down into the floor, looking at him with slight hesitation.

Asking something simple like: Hey, you want to get ice cream? You know — because you finished your roadwork!

And it wasn’t a surprise when Soonyoung dominated the amateur boxing tournament, while you watched from between the boxing ring’s ropes. As much as you and fellow boxers at the gym teased him, the hard work was finally pouring out of Soonyoung’s fists.

Throwing the final punch, your eyes widen as you watch Soonyoung throw his arms up in victory, a stupid grin on his face. The bell rings as his opponent fails to get up after the count, another KO for him.

You don’t fail to push yourself up onto the ring, slipping through the ropes to reach Soonyoung, your father following in suit. Your father laughing heartily as he pulls Soonyoung into a bear hug, Soonyoung wincing but straining a smile with the mouth guard threatening to pop out of his mouth.

“Okay, tiger! Winning your first tournament — food on me, eh?” Your dad boasts, patting Soonyoung’s back hard enough to make him stumble over a bit.

But you’re there to catch him. A small smile on your face as the referee hands Soonyoung a championship belt. An amateur one — but one of the many he was gonna collect in his career.

“Good job.” You breathe, as he forces his muscles to hold onto the belt.

And in that moment, he looks at you. Like really looks at you, sweat dripping down his face, wiping his bloody nose with one arm.

Hurting all over, already feeling the throbbing of his face, where a black eye and busted lip was inevitable. He felt like it took his whole body to take deep breaths to fill up his lungs. But in the haze, the bright lights, his eyes narrowed in on you, your face coming into focus.

And he couldn’t do anything but feel at ease.

Amateur tournament after another, Soonyoung was making a name for himself. KOs, WPs, Soonyoung was keeping up a winning streak. This followed into the next few years, where your father had him get his professional license, after making a name in the amateur tournaments.

And around your twenty-second birthday, your father clinks his beer with yours.

“You know, Soonyoung may be training under my name,” He starts gruffly, “But he’s basically yours. I’ll admit that.” He points out, taking a swig of his beer.

You shake your head, joining your father by taking a sip of your beer as well. “No, you come up with his strategies during matches and his training regime.”

“Yeah, and who holds him up to it?” He smiles, “Thanks, buddy.” He laughs, moving in to mess your hair up, and even with your dramatic, annoyed look, your heart swells inside.

He sighs, taking another sip as he leans his elbows on his knees. “I know I’ve been gone a lot. Seungcheol’s been moving up —“

“And for good reason.” You tack on. Choi Seungcheol, your father’s favorite fighter under him, was taking championships left and right, making his way up in the IBF, and became the current IBF middleweight belt holder. “Oppa’s basically my brother at this point, the way you’ve raised him.” You chime with a smile.

Your father doesn’t dispute it, “Yeah, and then we’re looking into the WBA too. After this title defense, I’ll bring it up to him. It seems like his dream of holding multiple belts isn’t so stupid anymore.”

The way your father talks about Seungcheol’s future was something else. The way his eyes light up, and how he doesn’t care for the beer spilling from swinging his arms around talking about it, you can’t help but laugh.

You shake your head, sipping on your own beer. Your head might as well be in the clouds, too.

Could Soonyoung do that? Be as successful as Seungcheol?

You can’t help but feel your heart beat with the possibility of it.

“We’ll be gone for a month.” Your father points out, “Little retreat to train. Think it’d be good for his head to travel a bit, do his thing other than here.” He glances over at you, pointing his beer bottle towards your face.

“I need you to look over Soonyoung —“ you make a move to say that’s what you always do, but your father cuts you off, “— ah! Ah! I know. Like always. But this is his first pro match.” He says, his tone turning stern.

You close your mouth with a sip of your beer. Right. After getting the pro license with your father’s approval, Soonyoung’s been bouncing off walls waiting for a real pro match. Waiting almost every day for your father’s approval for a real match, not another small-time tournament. And this time, he finally has one scheduled near the end of your father’s trip.

“I should be here,” He sighs, “But, honestly, something tells me he won’t miss me that much.”

You scoff, “You should still be here anyway, it’s an important match for him.” You point out, a little bummed about it. Sure, your father was always gonna focus on Seungcheol’s career. But Soonyoung was from his gym too.

You lean back against the wall, holding the beer to your chest as you look over at your dad. Staring at the back of his head, his hair was starting to resemble salt and pepper.

“I know buddy, I know.” He says as he takes another swig. He looks over his shoulder, flashing you a smile. “The kid has you. That’s more than enough for him.”

You scoff, bringing a knee to your chest. Shaking your head, “It’s not the same.” You mutter, but your face softens. “But you have nothing to worry about. I’ll keep him in check like always.”

“Thanks buddy.”

And you aim to follow through with that. But you feel your patience start to run thin, as you open your door to Soonyoung a couple of days later.

Swinging it open after incessant knocks, he stands outside with his baggy hoodie on. Hiding his face under the hood, only illuminated by the light peeking from your house.

You take a breath, ready to berate him for whatever the problem is. Until well… he shrugs the hood off.

“It’s late, why are you here? I have you scheduled to do your roadwork at —“

Your voice fails you when you look up at him.

Stripes of yellow, orange, and what — green? Decorate strands of Soonyoung’s hair, as he lulls it down in embarrassment.

“I wanted a new look,” He starts, a tinge of sadness in his voice. “You know, before the pro match and the magazine reporter coming in this week.”

“Right, and is this the new look you wanted?” You say wide-eyed, watching him peek through his stringy bangs. “You look like a melted box of crayons a kid leaves outside.”

He stands there for a moment. Not even bothering to fight back as he accepts it, “I thought doing my hair would be easier.”

You shake your head, “Yeah, with what?” You say in awe, as you move out of the way to let him in, not missing the chance to trip him slightly with your foot coming in. “Did you use battery acid?”

He stumbles, only huffing in discontentment. He needed your help after all, he was gonna hold back his tongue until he didn’t look like, well… this.

He slips his shoes off, used to visiting your family’s house, as he places them next to the shoe rack.

“Well, I just wanted my pro debut to be cool!” He starts off, turning to face you, where he’s met with your amused eyes. You had to flip the main room’s light switch on right now, just to see the full array of colors on his head.

He runs his hands through his stringy, damp hair, “My noona had a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, so I just, you know! Did it!” He starts to explain, following you through the house to the bathroom.

His footsteps pattering behind you, “I was reading the new Dragon Ball while I waited, and then it started burning randomly? Like, my scalp was on fire, so I washed it, and then it was uneven! So I did another round, but I accidentally fell asleep while cuddling with Latte, and when I woke up, it was stiff straight! and so I washed it…”

Of course.

You let out the most tired, not-surprised-but-disappointed sigh you could muster.

Thank god you knew where your father put everything, as you grab the clippers behind the cupboard. Taking out a few guards and throwing them in the sink.

“Come on,” You start, making Soonyoung sit on the toilet cover as you browse through the different clipper guards, trying to figure out what length Soonyoung should go for. You take a glance over your shoulder to reassess the damage, before you had to bite down on your lip not to laugh.

He had to go short, no question.

You pick up the 16 guard. “Why come to me?” You ask, clicking it into the clippers.

He blinks. “Who else?”

You pause for a moment, “I don’t know. Like, Jihoon? Hell, your mom?” You list out, just trying to find an answer as you focus on the clippers.

“Jihoon would shut the door in my face. And eomma is sleeping, I don’t wanna wake her.” He explains, as he shifts on the toilet cover. He winces, “Besides, I can’t touch my hair anymore.” Pouting, “I’m scared, you do it.”

You plug the clippers into the socket next to the mirror. “Right, lean your head forward.” You start, “Also, how would you know I wouldn’t shut the door in your face?” You ask, as you gingerly hold the side of Soonyoung’s head to steady him.

You start buzzing away at his hair, a slow stripe down on the side. “I was kind of scared you would, honestly.” He admits, “But I would knock again. You would’ve helped me no matter what.”

He watches as his hair falls to the tiled bathroom floor, nudging it with his foot.

You roll your eyes as you pull back the clippers to check the length. “Shut up. I just don’t want you to embarrass the gym with hair like this.”

But there was some truth to Soonyoung’s words. Have you gotten a little soft over the years? Sure, you will always run his training like the Navy. But when it came to outside the gym — maybe there was something different there.

You fold Soonyoung's ear slightly, getting the clippers as close as you can behind his ear. “By the way, you’re sweeping all your hair after.” You add on as more hair floats to the ground.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” He sighs, before a yawn follows. You push down Soonyoung’s head, getting to the nape of his neck.

You turn the clippers off, the buzzing returning the quiet silence of the room, as you put the device down on the edge of the counter.

It’s just your breathing and his, as you simply dust off his cut hair from his shoulders and the side of his neck. His eyes are on you as you make that familiar face of focus, cleaning him up. Only squinting when you brush stray hair out of his face. Fluttering his lashes as he avoids the shaved hair, but not fully closing them. He needed to look at you.

It was weird to him that you were quiet, all soft touches and careful checking of his new haircut. How you tilted his chin to make sure everything was cut off and at the right length. He liked that about you. Under the initial berating and disapproval, when it came to helping out, you always did genuinely.

“Do you think I can stay over?” He asks, looking up at you hopefully as you dust your hands against your pajama pants.

“Stay over? Why?” You question. It’s not the first time Soonyoung has crashed. Your father always invited his boxers to the house before, and offered them dinner and a night’s sleep. But he wasn’t here.

He shrugs, “It’s late now, and…” He yawns again, “I’m tired. I’ll sweep and everything and even make some instant ramen.”

You raise your brow, “You mean make instant ramen from my pantry?” You correct, gaining a sheepish grin from him.

Shaking your head, you grab the unplugged clippers. Returning them to the cupboard, shutting it closed. “No, we don’t need to risk your weigh-in soon. You can stay, but that just means the second you wake up, we’re starting your roadwork here all the way to the gym, alright?”

“Yes ma’am.” He muses, standing up with a stretch. “Let me get the broom.” He adds on, moving past you. Using the side of your waist to squeeze behind you, disappearing past the door frame. Already knowing where the dust pan and broom were located in the familiar home.

It’s like autopilot, as you set up the living room for Soonyoung. Pulling out the couch into a mattress, grabbing the blankets from the storage closet, as soft music plays from the old stereo on the coffee table.

It’s not long until Soonyoung comes shuffling in, putting the broom back after cleaning. You’ll check that bathroom in the morning to see if he properly cleaned it.

“It’s really a bummer coach isn’t here,” He mutters, running a hand through his now short hair.

“I know. Sorry about that,” You sigh, straightening up as you finish the sleeping arrangements. “We talked about it. It’s the only time right now in the schedule they can do their little trip.”

You look up at Soonyoung, a frown present on your face. “Does it bother you that much?”

He shakes his head, walking up closer to you, “No, no. It’s okay. Hyung was always his favorite. Besides — He’s doing crazy things. Like, reaching the top of his weight class in the IBF? Fuck, I wish.” He muses, calming your concern. He pushes your arm affectionately, “Besides, you’re here.”

“Yeah, lucky you.” You say dryly, not missing the chance to poke Soonyoung between the eyes.

He hums, “Yeah, lucky me.”

You don’t catch the way his eyes stay on you for a bit longer than normal. He flickers his gaze away, taking a sharp inhale. “I mean, what about you? Like,” He starts as he pushes his hands along his knees. “Seems like you want coach here pretty badly.”

You frown, “Yeah, well, this is important to you.”

He cracks a smile, “It is.” He nods. “But it’s important to you too, I think.”

You swallow down the uneasiness in your throat.

The last few weeks have been quite easy. Keeping Soonyoung on track with his regimen, you even kept the gym running smoothly with the help of other boxers who were between matches. Nothing was wildly out of place. But you guess, if anyone could tell you were on edge. It’d be Soonyoung.

You sigh, sitting down on the plush couch. Soonyoung follows, the cushions under him dipping from his weight next to you. “He should be here,” you state quietly, “For you, obviously. It’s your first pro match.” You tense, “But also, my first time handling such a big responsibility.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. ‘Like,” You start, tilting your chin down until your head is facing the floor, “Am I saying all the right things while he’s gone? Did I miss anything at all with your training? And if I’m good, if I did everything right –” you turn to Soonyoung, “— Shouldn’t he be here? To say good job?”

He’s a little wide-eyed when you turn to him for advice. Despite him asking you how you felt, a little bit of him is surprised you actually did confide in him. Just even a little bit.

You narrow your eyes, maybe you shouldn’t have told him — “Wait, wait, no, hold on.” He starts, holding up his hands in defense, before looking for your hands. Gripping them in his calloused ones. “You’re right, he should be here.” He nods, agreeing with you.

He squeezes your hands as he furrows his brows in concentration. “And you are doing a good job.” He claims, “I don’t know how you could do any better!”

“The whole gym trusts you. I trust you. Coach — your dad — trusts you.” He says, each person mentioned with a pull of your hands. “And you know what?” He clears his throat.

“What’s one winning match out of a million?” He points out, “I’ll win, and I’ll win the next one too. He’s not missing anything, right?”

You bite down on your lip. Yeah, he’s right. “So you’re confident then?” You question, looking up at Soonyoung.

He nods, brows knitted with his lower lip jutting out in a confident pout. “In winning? Of course, with your demon training, who wouldn’t be?” He reasons. “Your dad will be proud of you no matter what. I’ll make sure of that.”

And Soonyoung kept his promise, after a few mistakes and a break where you shook him by the shoulders in the corner — DO YOU WANT TO WIN OR NOT KWON? you screamed, as your stand-in cornerman dabbed his forehead — one well-placed punch to the chin knocks out Soonyoung’s opponent, resulting in a KO.

This was only the start of Soonyoung’s rise. When your father and Seungcheol returned, you got a simple pat on the back. But that was okay, you thought, as you watched Soonyoung grin at the reporter taking his interview.

“Kwon Soonyoung, rising talent in the Korean pro boxing scene,” He begins, writing down in his notepad. “From your fights, it seems like you have a good handling on stamina and technique. But there's the problem with your impulsivity and your flashy gimmicks.”

Your eye twitches just remembering how he tried to show off flashy footwork in the first round. His idiocy was rewarded with a straight jab to the nose just for playing around too much.

He laughs, “Heh, well. I can’t help it. That’s just how I am.” He grins, but stops immediately. Suddenly turning serious as he leans forward. “It’s the tiger inside me, you know?”

“Tiger?”

You couldn’t take it anymore. You turn on your heel, deciding to go bother Seungcheol, currently sitting on a bench. Retightening the gauze around his hands.

He glances up, flashing you a polite, casual smile, his dimples on display.

“Ah, Soonyoung’s getting another interview, huh?” He starts. You can’t help but nod, crossing your arms as you watch the older boxer (only by a few years!) get ready. “He’s been talking to a lot of interviewers and magazines lately.”

Sighing, you sit down next to Seungcheol. “Yeah, trying to get a tiger agenda out too.” You huff, “Coach promised Soonyoung tiger print shorts if he wins his next two bouts.” Seungcheol laughs heartily at that, shaking his head as he straightens up next to you.

“He’s got promise though,” Seungcheol shrugs. He nudges your shoulder lightly, “He always had it. That’s why coach even accepted him in the first place,” He admits, “But it’s mostly because of you.”

“Me?” You question, turning to look at Seungcheol.

He nods, raising his thick brows. “Mhm, you. You know how to manipulate that guy’s crazy amount of energy into something productive.” You guys both look up. Seeing Soonyoung pose, raising his hands into claws. Baring his teeth as the flash of the camera goes off.

“It’s good for you too.” He adds, “You unload all your stress on that guy. God, I still remember finding Soonyoung after you made him do laps around the neighborhood until you felt like it. It felt like I was returning a fish back into the water when I gave him something to drink.”

You smile at that. Right, you did that once.

Soonyoung does another pose, this time throwing an upside down peace sign at the camera with his chin tilted up. Flash. “Yeah,” You mutter. “I’m still uneasy though. His next match is in two months, against this really strong infighter. We’re gonna have to work on his counterpunches, this guy’s known for cutting off the ring. We’ll have to —”

Seungcheol pats your shoulder, “And it’ll be fine, y/n. I don’t think I’ve ever seen coach reject the schedules you make for Soonyoung.”

“Hoshi!” Soonyoung yells out, making both you and Seungcheol perk your heads up. “My name from now on – Hoshi. Horangi and Shiseon: Hoshi! Cool right?” He beams, announcing his new stage name to the reporter and to everyone else in the gym.

You stand up from the bench, “Yah! Now who said you can just decide that?!”

Unfortunately, the name plagued the next few posters across town and in the newspapers. Hoshi vs. whoever-was-unlucky-enough. And despite your worries about this fight, Soonyoung wins it with a KO in the 2nd round, after his opponent runs into a timed counter punch, that you swear, made his head spin 360 degrees.

He was making a name for himself with his flashy blonde hair, tiger shorts, and taunting. Sure, you knew this came with proboxing, the more matches Soonyoung won, the more the spotlight increased.

Brand deals? Suddenly, Soonyoung was the face of an energy drink brand that you don’t even permit him to drink. Being stopped in the street? That only happened once – but still, it was enough to inflate his head for a few weeks.

Not to mention the women as well. You saw many girls around the gym before, especially for Seungcheol. And it was starting to develop with Soonyoung as well.

You remember the first time it started to happen, as he walked into the gym with proud hickeys on his neck. Or when he offhandedly talked about a girl he was going on a date later. If there was one thing, Soonyoung was wielding this new attention well.

And while the money wasn’t that impressive yet, it grew the more matches were held. And in Soonyoung fashion, he would show up the next day in new jewelry. A pair of expensive dunks the next week, and skipping the line to exclusive places a month later. Like the club.

You sour, seeing Soonyoung begging on his knees as you spray clean the bench from god knows how many sweaty butts.

“Please – just one night. It’s to celebrate the match I just won last week!” He says, rubbing his hands together in a plead. “My black eye is basically gone, and my ribs feels better –”

“But, they won’t heal as fast if you get black out drunk, Soonyoung.” You say plainly. Soonyoung’s been partying and clubbing more, which you don’t bother bringing up. If he came back to practice on time the next day, you had nothing to complain about. At least, in a way that didn’t come off as personal. But this time it was different.

He took a bit of a beating in that last bout, Soonyoung taking a sharp punch in the ribs when he angled his initial dodge wrong. His diagnosis was to rest for a few weeks, which you wanted to honor.

He pouts, moving to bunch up the hem of the large jersey you were wearing in his hands. “Y/n, but listen! I’m just going to go dance. And not even that hard. Maybe just some fist pumping? And at most, a beer. What’s wrong with a beer?”

You warily look at him, observing his busted lip that was already healing with a small slit, the dotted brusing around his eyebrow. You push your fingers into the side of his torso.

“Ow! Shit – what the hell?!”

“You’re not going.” You say immediately, as he shoots his hand up to where you poked him. He definitely was still bruised bad if he flinched like that.

Soonyoung huffs, pushing himself back up onto his feet. “Please? I promised Jihoon. It’s his birthday,” He reasons, “I can’t leave my best friend to celebrate by himself. Who does that? Don’t you remember how many soju bottles he served us for free back then?” He complains, making you shake your head.

“The soju bottles only you drank?” You ask with raised brows, “Of course I do.” You sigh, as you push your hair back with one hand. “You need to be resting though, Kwon.”

He frowns, before stepping closer, daring to grab your shoulders. “Please?” He asks, “Ah – hold on,” He starts, eyes lighting up. “Come. You should come!”

“Absolutely not.” You shoot down immediately, that it makes Soonyoung wince from how straightforward you are.

“Why not? We can get free drinks, since I’m kinda famous now. Last time I was there, they got me a whole bottle on the house.” He claims, “And when was the last time you went out? Like, truly out?”

He leans closer, squeezing your shoulders. “We’re only twenty-four, what's your twenties without partying?” He asks, making you groan immediately.

There he goes again, reminding you of the inevitability of growing old.

You feel your blood boil a bit with annoyance, as Soonyoung continues to blabber pros of going, not letting go of your shoulders as he shakes you around. You stop him, grabbing onto the side of his arms.

“Okay, fine. Only because it’s Jihoon’s birthday.” You give in, “And I’m watching you. No crazy drinks or dancing. If I see you try and do a backflip like that one time — “

“Yay! We’re going to the club!” He beams, pulling you into a tight embrace, making you squeal as he lifts you off the ground.

“Put me down! Don’t strain yourself!” You scold, jumping out of his hold. A small pout on his lips, as he reluctantly lets go.

The club is as loud and dark as you remember, not bothering to dress up for it. All you did was change out of the normal athletic clothing you wore as a trainer (you were an official one now, thanks to your father’s acknowledgement), into a simple ringer tee and jeans, feeling a little awkward standing next to Soonyoung. Proudly wearing his designer shirt he spent too much of his money on.

You follow him, as he stops every few seconds to greet someone you don’t know. Laughing and shaking hands like they’re lifelong friends, navigating the nightlife like it was second nature to him on your way to the bar.

“Two waters please –”

“Make one a whiskey on rocks.” You chime in over Soonyoung, making him snap his head at you in betrayal.

“A whiskey on rocks?”

You shrug, “I said you couldn’t drink. Doesn’t mean I can’t.” You answer, cracking a smile at Soonyoung’s offended frown. You grab the glass of whiskey slid to you, as Soonyoung weakly takes a sip of his water.

In the club lights, you can’t help but study Soonyoung. He really was starting to change, the way his face isn’t as full as you remember as high schoolers.

His eyes were sharper now, with some eyeliner he stole from his noona, his bleached blond hair gelled up into tiny spikes. His ears were littered with ear piercings he got during the rest period he had last year. In a tight expensive brand top accentuating his muscles, and a golden chain decorating his neck, he wasn’t the fresh-faced boy you once knew.

He sets the cup down, looking over at you. “Can I have a sip though?”

You nod, “Yeah, fine. Here,” You relent, holding out the glass for a happy Soonyoung to take a sip.

Handing it back to you, he looks out across the crowd, his eyes dancing already with excitement at the moving bodies in the crowd.

You sip your drink leisurely, “Come on, I can’t wait anymore!” Soonyoung exclaims, “Jihoon can find us. Screw it!”

You have to knock your drink back to not waste a single sip as Soonyoung pulls you into the crowd, as you barely manage to throw the glass back onto the counter.

Finally in the middle of the lively crowd, you can’t help but cling to Soonyoung, the bodies around you warm and sticky with sweat. Music pounding hard, you feel the bass bumping in your legs from the vibrating floor.

“Come on! Dance!” You hear faintly, knowing it’s Soonyoung trying to yell over the loud music.

And you try to follow, nodding your head to the loud techno, still not ready from being pulled in so suddenly. You can only hear a groan from Soonyoung, before you feel him entwining his fingers with yours. “Come on, don’t worry. Follow!”

He holds your hands out, raising them with a grin, as he starts moving both of you to the beat. Jumping along, pumping your arms to the instrumental music with Soonyoung’s help. Until you felt comfortable enough, unhooking your hands from his, starting to follow the current music with the sway of your hips.

He nods in approval, smiling as he watches you get looser, following you by getting closer, his own body thumping and moving to the beat. He leans into your ear, “Not that bad, huh?”

You can’t help the small smile crawling onto your lips. Maybe it was how the whiskey was warming your body, or how the bass infiltrates your senses, but you could understand why. Why Soonyoung liked this. He notices, only smiling widely, as he dances with you. Keeping you close, as one hand moves to your waist to stay in his eyesight.

It feels intimate, despite the loud music and the many bodies around you, it was like the music was flowing through both of you. Turning into dull background noise as it quiets the more you stare into Soonyoung’s eyes. First, focused on yours, before you find them drifting to your lips.

You don’t even know how it escalates, feeling an invisible pull towards Soonyoung, his hand resting on the side of your waist as you come closer, before your noses brush.

Then you’re there. Lips against his, warm and soft, as he takes your top lip gently. It’s not long, the way you both pull back slightly. Feeling his warm breath against your lips as you lean forward to connect small chaste kisses before – wait —

Are you kissing Soonyoung?

You pull away, eyes wide. Soonyoung himself, fluttering his eyes open at the sudden disappearance of your lips.

Your mouth goes dry, the lingering feeling of his lips on yours making your cheeks burn bright in the dark club, as you swallow down your throat hard. “Y/n?” He questions, eyes widening as he sees you freeze up.

And you do freeze up. Taking a small step away from him, as he looks at you puzzled. Searching your face for an answer as he gingerly lets go of your side, giving you space.

“Um, sorry,” You say, shaking your head in an attempt to shake yourself out of it. “I just —“

You can’t be here right now.

“Say happy birthday to Jihoon for me.”

“What? Y/n —“

You follow your feet mindlessly, your mind overwhelmed by the loud sound of your pounding heart. Escaping Soonyoung’s questions as you weave through the crowd of drunk dancers until you find a semblance of peace around you.

You didn’t find that feeling of peace for a while.

Especially the next few weeks, as the energy between you and Soonyoung started to twist into something you can’t even describe.

He tried to talk to you the next day when it happened, but you stayed quiet all morning. Going through the normal routine of conditioning, as he stared at you like you had a third eye.

It wasn’t until you were putting your hands through the mitts for his padwork, that he finally spoke up again. “Y/n,” He begins softly, walking a few steps to stand in front of you. Your eyes focused on tightening the velcro around your wrist so they don’t slip off.

“We should talk, it seems like —“

“Kwon,” You start, jaw tense as you glance up at him. Fuck, why did he have to look like that? Like he cares about your wellbeing?

“It’s fine, seriously,” You shoot down, “Lets just get back to practice. We only have a week to sort out the kinks in the strategy, so lets focus on your combos.”

He frowns, “That again. Can you stop deflecting?” He asks, annoyance rising in his tone. “I’m trying to talk to you, and all you’re talking about is boxing.”

Scoffing, you cross your arms. “We’re in the middle of training, Kwon. I thought you wanted to box?”

“Not like this,” He says tightly, ripping his own gloves off, “Not when you’re being a bitch.”

Now wait a fucking second.

Even though everyone else practicing in the gym was minding their own business, doing their drills or talking amongst themselves, the sound of Soonyoung calling you a bitch rang loud enough to stop everyone. The thumping of punching bags die down, conversations stop, as everyone turns to the boxing ring you both currently were in.

Like a play on stage, everyone looks at both of you.

“Bitch?” You repeat, your voice low.

He swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing. “Yes, a bitch. You’re being a bitch.”

You could probably hear a pin drop if you tried. The loud boxers around not even bothering to make a sound to disturb this commotion.

The only one daring, was your father, who comes out of his office with no clue of the stand down. Closing the door behind him, before his eyes shoot up to the middle of the boxing ring. Already feeling the tension in the gym, like lightning cracking through.

You let out a loud, humourless laugh. Taking the punching mitts off without breaking eye contact with Soonyoung, throwing them to the floor. “You crazy, stupid idiot — “ You start, clenching your fists, eyes wide, “ — I’ll clean out your fucking mouth with soap!”

Thank god for the trained boxers at the gym, because the second you lunge for Soonyoung, everyone else immediately sprung into action. Fighters immediately pulling into the ring, an arm around your waist, another pulling your arm back, and two more holding your flailing legs.

Soonyoung is being held back too, despite everyone knowing he’d never lay a hand on you. But he’s willing to taunt, his eyes also wide with anger, as two people hold him back by his arms.

“Yeah? Try it I dare you! Might as well, since you’re acting like nothing happened — wheres your stupid can of Lysol?”Oh, so he’s even going after your favorite cleaning product? Unbelievable!

You scream, almost deafening everyone holding you back. “Fuck you Kwon Soonyoung! You spoiled piece of shit!” You screech, straining against many arms.

“Fuck you, Y/n! Hurry up and do it!” He yells back, jerking against the hold against him as well.

“Whoa, whoa!” Your father bellows loudly, coming between the both of you. His face tense and shocked by the display you and Soonyoung created.

His loud voices does still both of you, as you stop struggling against the boxers holding you back. Letting them carefully set you back down, as you rip your arms out of anyone’s grip.

Soonyoung is let go too, as he throws daggers at you with his stare, jaw tight.

“What is going on?” Your father demands sternly, his voice loud and low, as he glances at both of you. When you finally make eye contact with your father, you can’t help but shrink.

He was mad. Like, mad mad. Something you haven’t seen in a while, other than a couple years ago when one of the fighters at your gym confessed to cheating in a match once.

You take a deep breath, “He called me a bitch.” You spit out, your voice a little shaky with hurt.

Regret flashes through Soonyoung’s eyes at the tremble of your voice.

“Kwon Soonyoung, apologize.” He orders roughly, “Thats not how you speak to y/n, no matter what happened.” He says, walking up to Soonyoung, towering over him. “Go. Apologize.” He doubles down.

Soonyoung swallows his pride down, but listens anyways. “I’m sorry,”

Your father nods, but his face doesn’t soften. He looks towards you, “Y/n, what happened? Tell me.”

Your own mouth goes dry. You glance around, seeing the amount of people really invested in the current scene. Many boxers listening and watching intently, before your father realizes your discomfort.

He claps his hands, “Everyone! Get back to what you’re doing!” He yells out, his voice reaching every corner of the gym. People immediately turning around to continue their drills at the command.

He looks back at you, “Buddy, you gotta tell me.” He starts, “So I know what to do with both of you.”

You bite down on your tongue. How could you tell your dad, hey, I kissed Soonyoung at the club, got extremely freaked out and ditched him by himself without warning? Answer is — you can’t.

“Y/n, you have to tell —“

“It’s my fault.” Soonyoung speaks up, both you and your father looking over at him. He scoffs, running his hand through his short hair. “It’s my fault, I thought there was something, but there wasn’t. I’m the idiot, so it’s my fault.”

Your heart drops.

Your father creases his brows, a frown on his face as he hears Soonyoung’s explanation. “Okay,” He starts, “I have no clue what the hell that means.”

“Either way, your next match is in two weeks. No more fighting, or I’ll kill both of you.”

Soonyoung’s next match was still another win for him, not breaking his winning streak. But it was different from his past ones. The whole prep from the locker room to the match, Soonyoung ignored you. Only listening to your father’s insight, as you faded back as just a cornerman.

At first it was looking grim — the first round, Soonyoung took a few hard hits immediately. Only being able to defend as the opponent does an onslaught of combos, trying to find a crack in Soonyoung’s defense.

And he broke his block at one point, landing a hit on Soonyoung’s cheek. It was enough for you to grip the towel in your hand tightly until your knuckles turned white.

Even when you went to put ointment on a cut on Soonyoung’s face, he jerks his head away from your touch. Only challenging you with his sharp eyes, as you attempt to do it again. Focused on just smothering the open cut with the ointment.

“Don’t worry,” He breathes, “I’m winning again.” He says, and that softens the nerves just slightly in you. “So stop looking so scared.” He adds on coldly, shrugging you off as the bell rings.

And in the end, Soonyoung prevailed. His speed finding its foot and rhythm in the ring, as he dodged all major attacks, finding times to do quick sharp jabs. The multiple well aimed sharp jabs caused a quick KO, after a failed ten count.

It was this insufferable for the next few months. Sure, you were still in charge of his training, but any semblance of friendliness halted the day you made the mistake of going to the club with Soonyoung.

He’d work out, go through drills with you, and listened to your instructions during spars. But right after training ends, he was out the gym like it was an office job.

He started going out a lot more too, just from the sightings you see in the magazines. The famous Hoshi “Tiger” Kwon, out at clubs, partying with girls and rappers.

It didn’t help your resentment either, that when he would show up hangover, or late to training, he still did well in matches. Except now, instead of to make you happy, it was to spite you. To prove he could win any match now without your real help.

It was infuriating, and even more, you still couldn’t wrap your head around the jumbled feelings in your gut.

You’ve known Soonyoung for years now — and yet this was really the first time he truly felt far away. Out of reach, with his eyes focused on his career, you were just there.

After having 5 pro matches, your father deemed it was time. Time to test of Soonyoung had what it take to aim higher, as he finally entertained the many match invitations from other gyms.

HOSHI vs. JEON WONWOO

You stare at the poster glued haphazardly on the wall, stilling you on your walk as you stare at it. Soonyoung’s flashy pose with his rebellious looking persona, contrasting with the man next to him. Tall and calm, arms crossed as he pushes a pair of glasses up the bridge of his nose.

Jeon Wonwoo, you’ve heard of him. Who hasn’t? Anyone who kept up with the latest boxing magazines knew who he was, and even rumored to become one of the many candidates for the national olympic boxing team. It was definitely a high profile fight, one Soonyoung’s been chasing since forever.

And it stressed you out immensely. While your father was doing a lot to train Soonyoung this time, you can’t help but need to research. Hell, as much as you could kill Soonyoung with your bare hands, he needed to win this fight.

“I’m gonna go and —“

“Yeah, whatever.” Soonyoung cuts you off, as he throws a punch at the punching bag, drowning you out with thuds of his fists.

You tense your jaw, “Okay.” You sigh, “I’ll be back in an hour or so. Finish your drills by then.” You say tightly, before making sure your bag is securely under your arm. Stomping out the gym with a huff.

You had to take the train all the way to Jeon Wonwoo’s gym. It was a little farther away by transit, but this was important. And the transit time on the train gave you time to draw Soonyoung on the notepad you brought, letting out your frustration with shitty doodles of him being set on fire.

FUCK KWON SOONYOUNG !!! — you scribbled this until the ink started bleeding into the next sheet.

A boxing reporter you were acquainted with let you know that a practice spar was happening today. And they were right, as you step into the boxing gym. Attempting to blend in with other journalists as the practice spar is being set up, you hold your notepad timidly in your arms. Jeon Wonwoo in the corner as his coach speaks to him.

Looking at him, he didn’t seem much. He was tall with broad shoulders, with a calm face, as he takes his glasses off and hands them over to his coach. Seems like he doesn’t fight with them on. Not really note taking worthy information, but you write it down anyways.

While maybe outside of the ring he seemed normal, when he finally takes a step towards the middle to start, the room felt colder.

He was calm, calculated, as he readies his fists. Well-mannered as they begin the spar with a simple acknowledgment of boxing gloves tapping each other, before getting into stance. Just a regular orthodox stance so far.

What happens next makes your pen stop, as you watch the spar play out. Despite his tall frame, Wonwoo was light on his feet. His eyes calm and focused as he dodges and dances around his sparring partner.

There was also the fact that his reach was long. No matter how far you thought the opponent threw Wonwoo off, his glove always made contact no matter what.

And when the spar ends with Wonwoo’s obvious win, you can’t help but feel a sense of dread in your stomach. Jeon Wonwoo was gonna be a tough one for Soonyoung.

You sigh, deciding you’ve seen enough as Wonwoo leaves the ring to speak to some reporters. Ready to turn on your heel, you hear your name.

“L/n y/n, right?” A deep voice calls out, making you stiffen. You turn around in slight confusion, locking eyes with the sharp-eyed man.

Well, he knows who you are. Too late now.

You walk up to him and his coach, as he dries his sweat with one towel. But his eyes focused on you like a hawk, as you nod.

“Hi, nice to meet you. Surprised you can see that far without your glasses on.” You decide to say.

He waves his coach off, leaving you both alone in the conversation. He cracks a smile, as he wipes his glasses with the towel before putting them back on his slim nose. “Hm, yeah. Well, how could I not notice you?”

You narrow your eyes, “What do you mean?”

He shrugs as he throws the towel back onto the bench. Taking a step closer to you, his hands on his hips. “You’re from the Pledis Gym. Specifically, you train Kwon Soonyoung.” He explains, flickering his eyes around your face. “I’m a fan of your work.”

“Work?” You question.

“Your work.” He reiterates, as he glances at your notepad. He doesn’t even ask before he nabs it from your hand. “I heard you’ve been training Kwon Soonyoung since high school. It’s impressive.”

You blink, not even noticing the theft of your notepad, “What — hey!” You start, but he holds it away from you. Flipping through your notes. You shake your head, “He’s actually under Coach l/n,” You correct, “I’m just second —“

“Hm, no. You train Kwon Soonyoung.” Wonwoo interrupts plainly, looking you up and down. “No need for technicalities. He’s yours.”

Wonwoo continues, “I’ve studied Choi Seungcheol, and all the other fighters under your father. He has a specific style, Kwon Soonyoung doesn’t operate like that.” He points out.

That was true, your father tended to flock to certain boxing styles. Soonyoung’s style of boxing was a lot different than Seungcheol’s, or any other boxer he mainly trained himself.

Soonyoung’s skills were nurtured with your utmost attention, ever since you met in high school. You took what he was good at and amplified it. Engaging in strategies you built Soonyoung to adapt to easily, all tailored to fit him perfectly. Every match suited to destroy whoever he was going against with small different adjustments. When it came to your father, he trusted in the skill of his boxers. But you always took in account the opponent’s abilities.

“You’re good. Honestly, underutilized.” He admits, “You’re barely mentioned in interviews. I learned your name in a pretty old one.”

Yeah, because Soonyoung hates me now. You shake your head, “Thanks for the praise, but I don’t do anything special.”

He chuckles, “That’s what you believe? That you don’t do anything special?” He asks, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “These notes say otherwise.”

“I had no idea I had such a fan.” You say dryly, Wonwoo’s praises getting tiring. What was he getting at?

“Really? Anyone who cares about the current scene has talked about you.” He informs, making you even more perplexed. “Up and coming trainer, inheriting your talent from your dad. It’s admirable.“

“You’re pulling my leg.” You respond fast. You? Talked about? That was hard to wrap your head around.

As much as you threw yourself into the boxing gym, you never perceived your presence in it at all. You’ve been helping out at matches with your father since you graduated high school, being there during some Seungcheol matches, and all there for Soonyoung.

You always ignored reporters when they turn to you, always redirecting them back to Soonyoung. And you kept to yourself, only talking to the nearest people around you. When you think about it, you never really thought of your reputation now as an adult. You weren’t just a little girl following her dad anymore.

Wonwoo shakes his head, “No, I’m not.” He says matter-of-factly, “Maybe if you weren’t always hiding behind your father and Kwon Soonyoung’s shadow you’d see it.”

“Excuse me?”

Wonwoo smiles politely, shaking his head, “I don’t mean to insult you. I think, if you took your talents to another gym, your effort would stand out.”

“I mean,” Wonwoo sighs, taking a leisurely step towards you. Looking down from his tall frame. “When was the last time Kwon Soonyoung mentioned you in those magazine interviews?”

Ah, so he noticed.

He then chuckles at a page, before handing the notepad back to you. “Nice drawings by the way. Can you do one where he’s eaten by sharks?”

His words stuck with you when you get back to the gym.

Your bag heavy with Wonwoo’s question, and with notes of his skill during the spar. Soonyoung was done with his drills as you expected, as you walk in on him gulping down water.

He shakes his head, his sweat flinging into you as you grimace in disgust. “Kwon — what are you a dog?” You scold with annoyance, as he sets his water bottle down.

He doesn’t respond, just glancing at you up and down before looking away.

“Finished the drills.” He says simply, “What now?”

You sigh, rummaging through your bag as you take out the yellow notepad of hurried notes, settling it against your arm. Soonyoung leaning over to look at the notepad upside down. “Ugh, you write like its a doctors note.”

“Shut up, just listen.” You snap, shooing him away. “Your stamina training is shaping up, but we need to address some things.”

“Some things?”

“Yes,” You nod, as you shift some weight on one foot. “Jeon Wonwoo is a technique-based outfighter. He’s gonna do his best to tire you out, and his reach is no joke. It’s gonna be one where you’ll have to in-fight, cut off his reach so he doesn’t have so much power behind his punches.”

Soonyoung feels his eyes glaze over. Turning away from you as he pushes his tongue against his cheek in boredom.

“Are you listening?” You huff, putting your notepad down. Is this guy for real? Is he ignoring you?

“It’s six pm now, can we discuss this tomorrow?” He suggests, scratching the back of his head. Tomorrow? The old Soonyoung would stay hours after training, listening to you yap about strategies.

You blink, “What? Why? Do you have plans?” You ask perplexed.

He crosses his arms with a sigh, “Yeah, I do. There’s a party later, some guys —“

“Who cares?” You frown, “We need to talk about this. Jeon Wonwoo isn’t a normal opponent. He’s higher skilled than the boxers in your recent fights and I don’t say this lightly. I visited his gym to witness his spar —“

“Oh, so that’s where you were?” He huffs annoyed, “You don’t trust me enough to win, you have to visit the guy? I can’t believe you.”

You grit your teeth. “You’re getting cocky, Kwon.” You say lowly, walking closer as you poke the center of his toned chest hard. “I’m not gonna entertain this anymore. You have to listen to me, you didn’t just get here on pure luck —“

“Bite me.” He doesn’t let you finish your lecture, as he pushes your hand away. Looking at you like you’re just a buzzing fly around him. You’re starting to forget the last time he looked at you warmly.

You’re speechless for a moment at his disrespect. Your mind goes blank. God, you’ve been training this guy since you were both teenagers. Who does he think he is? With his finger in your face, looking down at you like you can’t tell him what to do.

You take his advice.

Soonyoung yelps, as you bite down on his shoulder, “Jesus! What the fuck! Y/n!”

You don’t let down as he tries to shake you off, before you finally let go when you hear the footsteps of other boxers in the gym drop what they’re doing.

Soonyoung is wide eyed, slinging his arm around to shake off the pain as he looks at the damage you caused. Your anger still boiling inside you, as you wipe your mouth.

Red-faced, “Are you CRAZY? Did you just bite me?”

You glance at the bite. It didn’t even break skin, just hard enough that the imprint of your teeth rounded out his shoulder, the skin around it red. If only you had fangs or something.

Forget being in your mid-twenties, the teenager in you can’t handle it anymore. The same girl who had Soonyoung wrapped around her finger — she couldn’t take it.

“LISTEN TO ME!” You yell out, pushing Soonyoung roughly at his chest, making him take a step back.

You bundle your hands into fists, your voice echoing through the gym.

“I DON’T CARE WHAT STUPID RAPPER OR GIRL IS WAITING FOR YOU AT SOME DINGY CLUB — YOU’RE GONNA FUCKING LISTEN TO ME WITHOUT INTERRUPTING, YOU GOT THAT?”

You lean forward, your wild eyes meeting Soonyoung’s scared shitless ones.

“I said,” You grit, “You got that Kwon?”

He nods timidly.

Seungcheol’s on the other side of the gym, chewing on his protein bar as he watches the scene from the sidelines. Lee Chan, a new kid checking out the boxing gym has his mouth agape in shock.

Seungcheol pats his shoulder, “Don’t worry, that’s normal.” He deadpans, “Welcome to Pledis gym, by the way.”

Your outburst seemed to work though. Soonyoung was a lot less bratty the next few weeks, still as cold but no longer challenging you. Were you really that scary? Either way, it was tolerable.

On your day off, you can’t even shake off the boxing mindset you were in. You spent all of the afternoon writing down possible ideas for Soonyoung’s training. You have confidence in his stamina, but with Jeon Wonwoo’s way of aggravating opponents, you could see Soonyoung burning through all his gas before the 3rd round. It was no good.

You decide to go and check out that amateur tournament happening tonight. While Soonyoung and Seungcheol were now in bigger leagues, you can’t help but gravitate towards the same tournaments that used to intimidate you earlier in your career.

The stadium was quite bare, as it was early in the bracket tournament. You couldn’t see much of an audience as you slip into a seat, looking down to watch the amateur bout.

You remember Soonyoung being in that ring. It was vivid, even to the detail of how he taps his feet at the corner, a habit he picked up to make sure his shoes were tightly on. A hard lesson he learned when his own shoes slipped off when he accidentally stepped on his laces during a match.

The memory makes your stomach warm. Back then, he’d smile sheepishly, causing a break in the middle of the round to tie them back up. Your father having to pull you off the ropes from jumping in and strangling him for being an idiot.

Those days seemed far now.

“L/n y/n?”

You perk your head up, turning to your left. To your surprise, it’s Jeon Wonwoo. Clad in a simple zipped up hoodie and jeans, pulling his hood back to reveal his face.

“Huh? Why are you here?” You question, as he walks through the aisle of seats to sit next to you. And he sits right next to you, knocking his knee against yours as he settles down in his tall frame.

He gestures at the ring, “That’s my junior. Wanted to show up and support,” He informs, “Besides. You never know what talent shows up in the amateur tournaments.”

You glance at the boxing ring, as the two men have already started the second round. “Your junior, huh?” You mutter, “He telegraphs his punches too much. It’s fortunate his opponent doesn’t notice.”

Wonwoo chuckles, “Right.”

You lean forward, leaning on your cheek. Analyzing the fight in front of you. “Not even just that, you can tell what's going through his head. But he has promise. While I can tell what he’s gonna do, it’s a good idea.” You continue, “The other guy is too slow. When he pulls back, he takes too long to shift on his feet, it's the perfect time to aim for his jaw. Throw him off balance.”

And as you say, a few seconds later Wonwoo’s junior attempts just that, but only grazing the opponent’s jaw slightly. But it’s enough for the guy to jump back to recuperate.

You bite down on your lip in concentration. “If he just practiced his form to be more tight —“

You turn your head to look at Wonwoo, your voice trailing off as you see his sharp eyes focused on you. Not on his junior, but you.

“You’re wasted on Kwon Soonyoung,” He says lowly, flickering his eyes around your face as you straighten up. “You’ve barely been watching for two rounds, and you already know what to do with Mingyu.”

You turn away, crossing your arms. “Anyone could, he’s like an open book.”

“Hmm,” He hums, “Either way, you’re right. Mingyu’s been trying to improve his technique for the past few weeks.”

You shake your head, “It’s also his stance.” You say, “He’s obviously left handed. Why is he boxing orthodox?”

“Left handed?” Wonwoo questions, as he glances back at the ring. He didn’t notice it until now, but when Mingyu hands his water bottle back to the cornerman with his left hand.

“Yeah, left handed. Thats why he’s telegraphing so hard, he’s too weak with his right jab.” You observe, your eyes dancing around the ring. Watching as Mingyu throws another punch. “There it is,” You mutter, when Mingyu’s opponent falls in Mingyu’s blind spot and Mingyu braces a hit to the side. “It’s awkward. He should switch to southpaw. A lot of amateur boxers aren’t trained to handle southpaws either, it’d be a better strategy for him.”

Wonwoo blinks, “Are you free after this?”

You don’t even know how you got here. Walking with Wonwoo alongside the river, a cup of fishcake in your hand as he goes to town on a skewer himself.

You blow on the steam from the cup, before taking a tentative sip of the broth.

“I can’t believe Mingyu never brought up he was left handed,” Wonwoo speaks up, “Or at least, the fact no one caught onto the fact he was. He really listened to our coach with no objections on anything.”

You shrug, “Yeah, you guys are… idiots.” You can’t even sugarcoat it.

Wonwoo snickers, biting off another piece of fish cake as he turns to look at you. “Why were you at the amateur tournament anyways? You don’t know any of the fighters, do you?”

You shake your head, “No, I don’t.” You admit, “I just found myself there.”

“On a Saturday night, you found yourself at a random amateur boxing tournament?” He clears his throat, throwing his empty skewer into his cup, “Even with rookies like Mingyu you pay attention so seriously. Is it safe to assume you do this often, watch matches no matter the boxer?”

You wilt. Might as well call you a crazy obsessed boxing lady — you basically grew into that. Maybe you should get a cat just to become a crazy cat lady instead.

Wonwoo notices you shrinking back, as a soft smile creeps onto his face. He looks forward at the sidewalk, “It’s not bad. It’s impressive, honestly.” He says, “We need passionate trainers, you know? Sometimes it feels like you’re throwing punches at the air, not knowing where to aim.”

You look up at him. “Getting caught in trivial things, like interviews and money. It’s nice to have someone to ground you and give you structure.”

“I don’t know about that,” you say, “There’s that, and then there’s having no life. All I think about is boxing.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Wonwoo asks, knitting his brows. “You like what you like. Just embrace it.”

Soonyoung flashes in your mind. If only it was that easy.

You both stop, as the familiar building of your boxing gym comes into focus. You take another sip of the warm broth, before looking up at Wonwoo.

“Thanks,” You start, “I’ll think about your advice.”

“Yeah of course,” He nods, “Whatever helps.”

“What advice?”

A familiar voice makes you snap your neck to the side to chase it. Seeing Soonyoung across from the both of you, in sweats and a hardened expression on his face.

Crap.

“What are you doing here?” You question, perplexed, taking a few steps forward. Your eyes dart from him to Wonwoo, who stays calm behind you.

Soonyoung holds up his hand, keys jingling in the glow of the streetlights. “Couldn’t sleep.” He says gruffly, “Wanted to grab some tapes from Coach’s office.”

His eyes shoot to Wonwoo, jaw tense. “Don’t think he’s here for the same thing.” He says tightly.

Wonwoo clears his throat, walking up to stand beside you. His face cool, nonchalant as he smiles at Soonyoung. It doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Kwon Soonyoung, right?” He says lowly, “Nice to meet you. Didn’t think we’d really see each other until the weigh-in.”

Soonyoung narrows his eyes, walking up closer. “Me either. Let alone seeing you with my trainer.”

You frown at the impersonal way he mentions you.

Wonwoo chuckles, scratching the back of his head. “Ah, y/n. We ended up running into each other.”

“Yeah, running into each other.” Soonyoung repeats dryly, as he eyes the food both of you are holding. His stare makes you hold the cup of fishcake lower to the ground.

“Wonwoo was walking me back,” You decide to add in, “I was gonna rewatch some tapes too.” This wasn’t a lie. After the amateur tournament, you were gonna rewatch some matches. Soonyoung’s matches to be specific, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to mention that. You just had to hope Soonyoung believed you.

“Wonwoo, huh?” He says, before letting out a dry chuckle, “First name basis. You guys must be close.” He smiles, but there's no friendliness behind his smile. Actually, this might be the first time Soonyoung has made an active chill run down your spine.

You turn to Wonwoo, an apologetic look on your face. “Uh, thanks for walking me back. And for the fishcake.” You say awkwardly, “Um, goodnight.”

Wonwoo turns to you, like Soonyoung isn’t watching you both with the intention to burn holes through your heads. “Yeah, goodnight.” He nods, “Think about it though. You’ve got a lot of potential.”

You stiffen. You can already feel Soonyoung’s confusion from that vague statement already. “Yeah, thanks. Goodnight.” You say quietly, as Wonwoo starts making his way back. But not until he locks eyes with Soonyoung.

Eyes sharp, focused like he wasn’t just looking at you so softly a moment ago. “See you in the ring, Kwon.” He says, words heavy, simple, but enough to remind you that you were galavanting with the enemy.

“It’s Hoshi!” Hoshi yells out, as Wonwoo walks away. “Fucking asshole.” He mutters, stomping towards the boxing gym door.

You catch up to Soonyoung as he fumbles with the keys. “It doesn’t turn that way —“

“I know!” He snaps at you, as he jams the key into the lock, wiggling it roughly until it clicks into place.

The door swings open with the swift kick of his foot, banging against the wall as Soonyoung walks in. Footsteps heavy. You can’t help but follow after him, closing the door.

“I thought you had plans tonight.” You say, as you follow the angry Soonyoung into your father’s office, the cup of fish cake in your hand feeling like a burden as you find a surface to rest it on. “I heard you were going out with some of the new boxers from Seungcheol —“

“Well, I didn’t go.” He interrupts, as he takes his hood off. Turning around to look at you, as you switch the light on. The blinding fluorescent light flickering on, as Soonyoung stares straight at you.

“Why not?” You dare to question, “It’s not like you to turn down a night out.”

He scoffs, ruffling his hair with one hand, dragging it down his face with a groan.

“Well,” He starts, as he turns his body to face you properly, his movements sharp and dramatic. “I wasn’t aware you’d be on a date with Jeon Wonwoo, the guy I’m fighting in two weeks. Guess we’re both wrong, huh?”

You clench your jaw. “It wasn’t a date, we met —“

“Bullshit!”

You step up to him until your finger jams into his chest. “What the fuck did I say about interrupting me?” You hiss, “I don’t care what shitty hissy fit you’re throwing. I wasn’t on a fucking date, first of all. You would know if you would just fucking listen —“

Soonyoung chest pushes into your finger, leaning his head forward into your personal space. Eyes challenging, “Oh yeah? And why should I listen to you?” He responds back with equal bite, “You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve! For someone who I thought —“

“Thought what?” You ask sharply, “Come on, tell me. Are you gonna call me a bitch again? Or something new?” You say angrily, tilting your chin up to stare into Soonyoung’s eyes as intensely as he looks into yours.

His adam’s apple bobs, gritting his teeth as he searches your eyes. “For someone who I thought only had time for boxing.” He replies, his voice steady. “This whole time, I thought I mistook your interest in me for just wanting to be a good trainer.”

He sneers, “Guess I’m just a fucking idiot. You’re capable of dating someone, it’s just not me.” He swallows hard, “That your type then? Tall annoying assholes with glasses being begged to be snapped in half?”

Your face drops. “That’s not true, you’re assuming things.” You say hastily.

Soonyoung laughs humorlessly, “Really? Don’t think I am.” He claims, shaking his head. “How long have we known each other? Fuck, like eight years?” He recounts.

He furrows his brows, “You know how many damn times I told myself to wait for you?” He begins, taking a step forward, making you take one back. “Every single match — I think about confessing to you every single time. Every win, the first thing I think about is you.”

“W-what?” You choke out.

“Why do you think I never lose?” He asks, “It’s so I wouldn’t fucking disappoint you. Shit, no matter how much I wish you would disappear, your face shows up when I feel like I can’t stand up anymore.” He says hurriedly, his voice quieting down.

You’re rendered speechless. Is he being serious? Sure, you knew you hurt his feelings after ditching him at the club a few months ago. But this came out of left field, at least for you.

His breath hitches. “Don’t look at me like that.” He says pained, “Like you actually care.”

“Soonyoung, of course I do. Of course I care, why would I not care?” You say in disbelief, eyes widening as he shakes his head. “I thought you loved boxing. You can’t just say you’re doing all of this for me.”

“You’re boxing!” He basically yells at you. He lets his hands fall to his side as he groans, pacing around your father’s office as he tries to controls his outburst. “You’re boxing, y/n!”

He rushes towards you, this time his finger poking into your chest roughly. “God, for some boxing genius you’re really clueless, you know that? You think I’d be here if I didn’t see how much you love boxing?” He asks.

He sighs frustrated, “I was just some kid when I met you. All I did was mess around, before finding the gym. Sure, Seungcheol hyung was cool — but you?” He lets out a scoff, “I was gonna do a few sessions at most. But the way you pushed me, I believed that I could actually be something. That boxing was something worthwhile.”

He shakes his head, “It doesn’t matter. I could knock out Ray Jones Jr in one round and you wouldn’t blink a damn eye.” He mutters.

Clarity flashes in Soonyoung’s eyes.

“After Jeon Wonwoo, I’m moving gyms.” He states, “I’m not gonna train under you. Not anymore.”

It felt like your heart was breaking into two, the way it beats against your chest in panic. Your eyes darting around his face as your body freezes up at his words.

“You don’t mean that.” You say, your voice cracking. “Soonyoung, you love this gym.”

“Not with you in it.” He says shaking his head, “I’ve dealt with enough. You and your mixed signals, I can’t take it anymore.”

Your anger spikes, as you push Soonyoung’s chest with both hands. “Fuck you,” You hiss, “You’re gonna throw away eight years because of this?” You ask in disbelief, “I can’t believe you!” You push him again, with more force. But it barely makes Soonyoung stumble.

“I thought you were more than this Soonyoung, but you’re worse than I thought.” You say lowly, as tears gather at the corner of your eyes. “You think this has been easy for me?”

You take a deep breath, as you shove Soonyoung again. This time hard enough that the back of his legs hit your father’s desk. The old furniture rattling.

“I’ve been dealing with your mood swings, your disrespect, your lack of focus for months. Giving you space, because I felt guilty.” You say, trying to get all your words out before your voice fails you. “You think you’re the only one performing?”

You hold your hand out, the slight tremor obvious as you slam your hand onto your father’s desk. “I feel like I can’t mess up either. Disappoint my father, give you or anyone else in the gym the wrong advice. I’ve been up every night thinking about what to do with you, hell, what to do with me.” You grit, “I don’t know the answer. That's why I ran away.”

Soonyoung furrows his brows, “You don’t always need to know the answer. You think I would’ve judged you if you just admitted you were confused?” He asks, making you return his words with your own humorless laugh.

“Right, like how you’re just gonna run away because of what's happened between us?” You point out. “I don’t know who you are. Not for a while now.”

Soonyoung clenches his jaw. “I don’t know who you are either.”

You take a step back, as you move towards the office door. Gripping the doorknob tightly. “Also, you’re not leaving the gym.” You say firmly.

Soonyoung narrows his eyes, “And why’s that?”

“Because I’m leaving first.” You announce, as you swing the door open. You raise your head up, eyes cold. “I’m taking Wonwoo’s advice. I’m not gonna hide under you or my father’s shadow. You can stay at Pledis gym, I’m the one moving.”

“What?! That’s crazy —“

You glance at your father’s desk. “If you’re watching the tapes still, watch the ones marked with the blue sharpie.” You say tightly, “I taped them specifically for you.”

Soonyoung blinks, “What? Can you just — hold on, y/n —“

You slam the door closed, not giving Soonyoung a chance to finish his sentence. Bolting out the damn boxing gym, only the glow of your father’s office serving as a guide as you leave.

The next two weeks go by fast. Mainly due to the fact that you were dissociating like your life depended on it.

Your mind is anywhere else but the gym. Even to the point where when you were helping Lee Chan with his pad work, he almost hit you with an uppercut. Your heart basically popping out of your chest as you narrowly avoided it, your father on the sidelines scolding you — y/n! Watch it, you want to die before Soonyoung’s bout?

And honestly? You wish you could. Soonyoung could barely look at you, and when you told your father he could handle everything up to the match from now on, he looked at you skeptically.

“I don’t know y/n, this is an important match. I think Soonyoung would want you around, no?” He says warily, as you focus on getting rid of some sort of mysterious stain on the floor.

You shake your head as you aggressively mop the spot, “No. I have nothing else to offer, anyways. He needs your advice on something so high profile. I’ll just get in the way.” You reason.

“That’s wrong. You’ve been helping out since forever, you always have something to say.” Your father disagrees, as he stops your mopping by grabbing the hilt of the mop. “And stop it, will you? That spot’s been there for years. Your obsessive mopping right now isn’t gonna wash it away you know.” He says gruffly, shaking his head.

“Either way,” He sighs, “You’re attending the weigh-in. Just as my second, you have to.”

And you do so begrudgingly. Despite the fact both you and Soonyoung treated each other like ghosts, you find yourself standing to the side as camera flashes blind you. All documenting the weigh-in, as both Wonwoo and Soonyoung are checked for the weight limit.

They both were under the limit fortunately. And as a final end to the meet, both boxers stand beside each other for photos. Another influx of camera flashes, as you and your father stand a few feet away.

You catch Wonwoo’s eye, as he nods at you. You don’t respond back, but it’s enough for Soonyoung to narrow his eyes further at Wonwoo.

“Hey, eyes on me.” Soonyoung says firmly, “You get this distracted in the ring too? That’s fine, just means I can finish it early.”

Wonwoo flickers his eyes back at Soonyoung, before his lips curl into a mocking smile. “Confident as ever. Guess we’ll see if you’re bluffing tomorrow.” He muses. “Give y/n my regards yeah? Looks like you’re really stressing her out, are you really your best right now Kwon?”

The simple taunt was enough for Soonyoung. The sound of your name was enough for him to black out for a moment, only to come back to the sound of surprised gasps and yelling.

Your arms wrap around his waist as your father and other officials pull Soonyoung away, as cameras flash wildly until you could only see white.

“OH — WHOA! HOSHI, THE TIGER KWON, STRUCK JEON WONWOO DURING WEIGH-IN! WHAT WILL HIS PENALTY BE?”

“You idiot!” You yell, as you help drag Soonyoung away. Your eyes darting to Wonwoo, who has a smug smirk on his face as he stretches his jaw from Soonyoung’s strike.

The paper is slammed straight onto your father’s desk, the photo and title making you wince.

HOSHI “TIGER” KWON STRIKES JEON WONWOO BEFORE FIGHT!

It feels like you’re in the principal’s office. Sitting timidly in the worn out metal chair, next to Soonyoung. Wait, why the hell are you sitting here? You didn’t even do anything.

Your father sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You know how much they’re charging us for that?” He asks, as he leans forward with his hands on the desk. Using one hand to press a finger right on the photo, onto Wonwoo’s face.

Both you and Soonyoung don’t respond.

“Four point five million won.” He states, emphasis on each number. “Four point five million won, because this idiot here can’t keep his hands to himself!”

Soonyoung grits his teeth, looking away as he slouches in the chair.

Your father lets out another deep sigh, “Soonyoung, no matter how much the other guy taunts, you settle it in the fucking ring.” He reiterates, “An amateur boxer knows that. Hell, a little kid knows that.”

Soonyoung starts to speak, but your father puts a hand up. “No, I don’t need an explanation.” He huffs, “Your match is in less than twenty-four hours. Focus on that.”

Your father checks the time on his watch, “Now I’m going home.”

Both of you start to stand, before your father holds his hand up again to stop you both.

“Not you two.” He says firmly, “You guys can focus on the match while mopping the floors.” He says roughly, “Then you can lock up the gym and leave.”

Your mouth drops agape. “Me? What did I do?” You ask in disbelief, as your father shakes his head, waving his hand.

“I don’t know, but I have a feeling this has something to do with you.” He adds on quickly. Soonyoung snickers.

“Don’t stay up too late.”

You mopped like your life depended on it. And maybe it did, since Soonyoung didn’t bother speaking to you the whole time. At most, he would gesture for a mop, or the bucket of water. And you would do so for the sake of wanting to bolt out the door.

But when you went to the bathroom after finishing the punishment, it felt like you were mopping up your own thoughts as you splash water against your face.

In the mirror, you saw the changes. The way your hair was longer, your face slimmed down with age, and the tired look in your eyes. You weren’t that teenage girl anymore, and yet, this whole fight with Soonyoung was making you feel like you were.

You bite down on your lip. This is ridiculous.

And you bring that energy when you walk back out into the gym, “Let’s lock up now.” You yell out, but you stop in your tracks when you hear the familiar grunts and squeaking from the boxing ring.

Looking up, Soonyoung throws a hook out, before jumping back and practicing some weaves. Considering the small beads of sweat on his forehead, he’s been shadowboxing since you went to the bathroom.

His fist snaps back with a crack of the wind, filling the empty gym as you take a step forward. “Take it easy, the match is tomorrow.”

Soonyoung stills after a few combos, eyes flickering to you. He takes a breath, “Like you care. You’re moving gyms anyways.”

You place your hands on the platform, pushing yourself up and slipping through the ropes. “Maybe, but you’re still under my watch. At least for now.”

“Lucky me.” He says dryly.

You walk up to him, stopping only a foot away. Folding your arms to your chest as you attempt your best to soften your eyes. You don’t want to fight. Soonyoung has enough fights to worry about.

“Why did you punch Wonwoo earlier?” You ask, “You’ve never started a skirmish before. You taunt, sure, but you never actually attack anyone.”

Soonyoung stiffens, “It’s called hyping up an audience, there’s more to boxing than —“

You roll your eyes, “Bullshit.”

He stills. Huffing, “You’re moving to Jeon Wonwoo’s gym aren’t you?”

You frown. What? Where did he get that from? “What? Says who?”

He scoffs, “Says him! It’s all over his face, poaching you like you’re some kind of prized animal. It’s stupid, it’s annoying — why him?”

“You don’t care about anything unless you have full control. Like, I’m just some sort of puppet to you. Everyone in the gym is.” He mutters as he takes a step forward, eyebrows furrowed as he stares into your eyes. “I despise it, I hate you.”

Oh, there it is. The three words you’ve never thought would come out Soonyoung’s mouth.

He expects you to say it back. Spit in his face, strike him across his cheek. Maybe knee him in the nuts.

But you don’t.

You’re quiet, still. Your face pensive, as you stare back up at him. Your silence is loud, filling up every corner of the gym, and every crevice in Soonyoung’s brain.

You finally speak up. “I don’t feel the same way.” You start, swallowing hard. “I could never hate you. No matter how insufferable you get,” You take a deep breath, “I can’t hate you. I never will.”

Soonyoung doesn’t know what to say, a look of confusion flashing on his face, his attitude faltering as he eyes you. “What?”

You sigh, unfolding your arms as you run your own hand through your hair. “If I hated you, I would never have dealt with you this long.” You say quietly, “So I can’t do it. I can’t play along and say I hate you too, because I don’t mean it.”

Soonyoung’s face contorts into a look of hurt, like your proclamation of being fond of him was more devastating than playing along. Why couldn’t you just say the same thing, dammit!

Soonyoung takes a deep breath, looking up as he collects his thoughts. “I just don’t understand you. You — you’re exhausting,” He says, his voice cracking. “You’re making me feel like a bad person. Hate me! Why can’t you hate me?”

You shrug, “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

He scoffs, “Don’t apologize, dammit. Fuck,” He groans, wiping at his face before grabbing onto your shoulders. He pulls you close, “Why do you make me feel this way?” He cries out.

“Same way for me.” You reply back, “I can’t explain it, how I feel about you.” Pained, you swallow back the nervousness threatening to escape through your throat. “It’s confusing and it’s scary. I know nothing about it, so that’s why I’ve pretended it doesn’t exist.”

“But you exist. And I can’t stop pretending you’re not in front of me.” You say firmly, “You’re loud, stupid, and the way you run through my head all the time makes me want to pull my hair out.”

Soonyoung searches your eyes, pulling you even closer to him. Until your breath fans his face, and his nose nudges yours. Eyes focused on yours as you speak.

“You understand, don’t you?” You say quietly, “I don’t hate you. I never felt hate towards you, in all these years.” The proximity of Soonyoung is intoxicating, like his presence is finally pulling out months of your jumbled thoughts.

You swallow hard. “I miss you.”

That’s all it took. Your own three words, and Soonyoung closes the distance roughly. Pulling you by the shoulders until your mouths collide.

At first, it doesn’t feel like a kiss. Could you count this as one? It was unlike the one at the club months ago under the hazy lights. This time, you could feel everything. The way his nose sits against your cheek, and how he pushes into your mouth. Forcing to fit his against yours, so impossibly close it felt like he was merging with you.

But then he’s warm. His mouth is, the way he kisses you back. His hand snaking up to hold the side of your face and gripping like you’ll slip out of his hands. And who says you won’t? To Soonyoung, it was a very real worry. You’ve done it before, and he’d die before letting you do it again.

His tongue pushing past your parted lips as you greet him with your own. Wrapping your arms around Soonyoung’s neck to deepen the kiss. He takes a deep breath through his nose, breathing in the scent of your skin as his hands move up to thread through your hair. Pads of his fingers against your scalp before pulling slightly.

Your head is pulled back by that, finally giving you a chance to breathe. Eyes fluttering open as you detach.

“If you run away now, I’ll chase you down and tie you to the corner post.”

Funny. “You have a way of ruining the moment, don’t you?” You reply with a narrow look of your eyes.

He nods, “Yeah, and I have a way of bringing it back too.”

He grips the back of your neck with one hand, pushing you back towards him until his mouth crashes against yours once more. It’s all encompassing, not giving you a chance to really think about how cheesy Soonyoung’s lines could be.

His other hand snakes its way around your waist, pulling you against him. Making your knees fold under you, Soonyoung follows the flow with no protest as he gently pulls you to the floor of the ring.

He cushions your head with the back of his hand, letting you down easily until his body weight rests against yours. Trapping you against the boxing ring floor.

You let Soonyoung guide you, following the curve of his mouth against yours, and deepening the kiss more with the push of your tongue against his. He groans into your mouth, before softly detaching himself from you.

“Where did you learn how to kiss like that?” He asks, flickering his eyes to your lips.

You shrug under him, “You weren’t the only one running around with girls all the time. You think I’ve been completely celibate the past few years?”

He frowns. “Stop, don’t say things like that. Especially when you’re under me.”

You take a deep breath through your nose as you both kiss once more, more hands moving to the sides of his face, caressing the short strands of hair near his ears.

He pulls away, taking your bottom lip into one more kiss before trailing down your jaw. Placing chaste kisses against your skin, before leaving an open mouthed one against the crook of your neck. You sigh in response, embracing Soonyoung’s soft touches as you tilt your head back against the canvas floor.

He grabs the zipper of your sports jacket, the pull of it making a sharp sound that fills the gym. You help shrug it off, revealing your tank top under it. He looks up at you with big eyes.

Ah, he wants permission.

You nod, your cheeks pinkening slightly, as you glance away flustered. As much as he wants to tease you, he doesn’t. In favor of pulling the hem of your tank top up, revealing your chest to him in the dim gym.

He sighs, grabbing your chest with both hands, supporting his body with his knees straddling you. A shaky breath leaving your lips when you feel his calloused thumbs rub gentle circles against your nipples. Hardening even more under the cold air conditioning, and Soonyoung’s touch.

“Pretty,” He mutters, “You’ve always been pretty.”

His lips graze against your breasts, goosebumps appearing against your skin from the gentle caress. Exploring across the valleys of your chest before circling his mouth around one of your nipples, lapping his tongue against the bud.

You gasp against his touch, arching your back to fill his mouth, and his other hand palming your neglected breast. It should be illegal how into your chest Soonyoung is. The way he massages them together, and sucks your nipple to make you twitch under him. You can even feel him smiling against your boobs.

You push him off, connecting your lips against his for a string of kisses, “What’s wrong with you? I swear, if I didn’t pull you off you would just be making out with my boobs forever.” You mutter against his mouth.

“Why can’t I?” He responds back, returning your kiss with a pucker. “What, you don’t like it?”

You roll your eyes, “I’d rather our first time being intimate be more than just about my boobs.”

“Well, that's just unfair. You know how long I’ve been wanting to do that?”

You shake your head, looking at him with surprise as you push yourself up, both you and Soonyoung changing your positions to sitting upright against the floor. “No, how long?” You ask, scooting closer to him, pulling his t-shirt off, tossing it to the side.

“Everytime you wear a sports bra,” He answers, “Or a tight top in general. Like when the ac was broken for a week that one time,” He answers, as you oggle Soonyoung’s abs in the dark room. Letting your hands be your eyes as you feel his warm chiseled abs under your fingers.

You blink, “W-what? You think about it that often?” You ask in confusion, feeling a bit flustered by his shamelessness.

He nods, “Yeah. I even broke the thermostat just to see you dress like that again.”

You still your hand, slapping Soonyoung’s arm. “That was you! Oh my god, we were trying to figure out how that happened!” You scold, but Soonyoung just grins smugly, no regrets in his eyes at all.

You shake your head disapprovingly, leaning forward to land a short kiss against his lips. “You’re gross.” You huff, but there's no bite in that.

Soonyoung leans back against his elbows as you lean forward, deepening the kiss into another series of long ones, opening your mouth to press your tongue against his with a moan. His lips stutter against yours as your hand travels down, slipping into his shorts. Feeling his hardening erection against your hand.

You palm slightly, feeling his size. Oh thank god.

He pulls away from your lips, letting out a deep breath through his mouth, before biting down on his lip. “Is this heading where I think it is?” He asks, and you can’t help but feel your heart flutter the way his eyes look hopeful.

You nod, “It is, if you want to.” I say, “Do you want —“

“Yes,” He nods hastily, “Absolutely. No problem here.”

“Have a little humility, Soonyoung.” You scold lightly, as you move from palming him to gripping his shaft, dragging your fist up at a slow pace, feeling him in your hand.

He groans, “In this situation? No,” He shakes his head, “You’re getting all of me. And that includes my desperation for you.”

Your stomach flips. God, how embarrassing, the way Soonyoung being so unapologetic is soaking your panties to the point of discomfort.

You bite down on your lip, “Just stay still. I don’t want you overexerting yourself when your match is in less than twenty four hours.” You say softly, kissing his cheek despite his sulking pout.

“We’re gonna have sex for the first time, and you want me to stay still?” he asks exasperated.

You pinch his side, making him yelp. Oddly, you feel him twitch against your hand. Oh, so he likes stuff like that. Of course he does.

“Just listen to me,” you mutter, pushing his chest so that he lays down against the ring floor.

You shimmy yourself out of your pants, tossing them across the ring. You feel your confidence falter slightly when he eyes your polka dot panties.

“To be fair, I didn’t think this was gonna happen today.” You defend poorly, sliding them off hastily.

Soonyoung shakes his head with a small smile. “It’s cute.” He reassures, as you help him pull down his shorts further. Seeing the sliver of tiger print on his boxers — guess there really was no point to feel embarrassed.

You smile. Right, this was Kwon Soonyoung. There’s nothing to feel scared about.

Seeing Soonyoung’s dick was something else. The way it stands proudly, already begging you to do something about it. Especially the way the tip blushes pink, slightly angled to the side as he uses his hand to grab it and do some experimental strokes of his own. Small breaths escaping through his mouth as he smears his precum down to the sides.

You feel your stomach flutter in anticipation, warm from the idea of him inside you. You straddle him, your knees digging into the canvas floor as you hover your core over the tip of his dick.

He takes a sharp breath, “Fuck, you look so good.” He moans, not being able to restrict himself to grab your breasts. Almost like they’re his handlebars for a ride. (Well, that's one way to describe it!)

You lead the tip of his penis with your hand, gently letting it graze against your dripping folds before finally sinking down onto him. The air in your lungs escaping through your nose as you slowly stretch yourself out onto him.

Soonyoung wasn’t huge or thick like the AV stars on the tapes your friend once lent you, but it seems to be a blessing. Because the way Soonyoung slides into you, your walls hugging his shape as it angles into the gummy spot that immediately makes you bite down on your lip — he was made for you.

And you assume he feels the same way. Especially with how big his pupils dilate under his heavy lids, his mouth agape in awe. Palms finding themselves to the meat of your ass, squeezing in anticipation.

He bottoms out, your knees digging into the canvas floor as you breathe through your nose. “Fuck, if you don’t move I’m going to.”

You shoot Soonyoung a glare, this man never shuts up. Not even with his dick inside you.

You lean forward, placing your hands against Soonyoung’s chest. One of his hands coming up to squeeze your wrist and cover your hand in support.

You rock forward, a shaky breath escaping your mouth at the sensation. The way he rubs inside you at the angle you push, makes your eyes flutter close in pleasure.

For once, he’s listening to you. Letting you take reign as you establish your own pace. Slow at first — but inevitably you succumb to how your body reacts. And Soonyoung does as well.

He sits up, adjusting as he wraps his arms around your waist. Your eyes opening at the new position, Soonyoung sitting up as his forehead rests against yours. His breath is warm and heavy, fanning over your face as he starts pushing into you with focus. Your breath catching at your throat at how deep he’s pushing in. How malleable you feel, as you wrap your hands around his neck in support.

“Jesus — Soonyoung,” you gasp, as he takes control. A hand gripping your hip roughly, pushing you down onto him as he pistons up.

It’s rhythmic, the sound of skin slapping on skin, the combined moans and panting. Echoing across the empty gym. Who knew you would sacrilege the boxing ring you’ve trained Soonyoung in since day one?

“Y/n, baby, you feel so good.” He can’t help but praise, a hand wrapping around the side of your neck, supporting your head as his thumb presses into your mouth.

You respond easily, enveloping his thumb into your mouth. Sucking and circling his thumb with the tip of your tongue before you let go with a pop. A string of saliva to his thumb that he swipes across your lips.

He pulls you into a messy kiss. A stuttering one, as you feel Soonyoung’s pace becomes less consistent.

You feel it too, the way you’re starting to squirm, your own movements stuttering as moans fall from your mouth. You tighten your grip on his shoulders, staying in place as Soonyoung’s efforts become faster. Your mind melting at the pace, until you feel the familiar build up in your abdomen.

“Soonyoung! I’m going, I’m going to —“

Soonyoung doubles down as he favors sacrificing one hand to circle your swollen clit, spiking the incoming release you were basically hurling towards.

You gasp, white hot feeling flaring up in you, as you shiver and squirm. Your hands shooting up to Soonyoung’s hair, grabbing for any support.

“Fuck, so tight, Fuck —“ Soonyoung breathes. He pulls his cock out as he lifts you slightly off. A groan escaping his lips as his eyes zero in on the sight, his hips twitching forward as he releases on your stomach. Painting you quite messily. It takes you a second to recover, finally back when you feel the hasty wiping Soonyoung’s doing to your stomach with his poor t-shirt.

You look up at him, “Soonyoung.”

“Hm?” He questions, focused on cleaning you up. Rumpling up the t-shirt once finished, meeting your eyes.

Your eyes soften. Despite the intensity of just only a little earlier, You can’t help but finally let out a little bit of your feelings you had for him. You pull Soonyoung in gently to kiss his lips. It’s simple, but genuine, pulling away to see a soft smile on Soonyoung’s features.

“You know,” He whispers, “Didn’t think it would go this way.” He admits sheepishly, “Next time, I’ll promise a pillow at least.”

You chuckle, “Win tomorrow’s match first, and then we can talk logistics.”

He tosses you your clothes. But as he grabs your discarded panties off the canvas floor, he holds them up. Not to give them back to you, no, but to bundle it up and stuff it into the pocket of his sweatpants.

“For good luck.” He says smugly, making your cheeks run hot.

The air in the dressing room is static the next day.

It felt like any bristle of movement sent a chill down your spine, the room quiet as Soonyoung prepares for the bout. Your father repeating strategies to Soonyoung as you sit on the bench, wrapping his hand.

It’s all you can do for now, as you tighten the wrap around his knuckles, your hands shaking slightly from nervousness. He notices.

He squeezes your hand, making you shoot your head up.

“Calm down,” He eases, “Just checking if the wrap feels okay.” Liar. He was making sure you feel okay.

You let out a deep breath, “Is it?” Clenching your jaw, “Okay?”

“Yeah,” He says softly, “Don’t worry about it.”

And you tried. You really tried. Walking behind him and your father, the familiar hype music and cheers of the crowd turn into dull echoes as you watch Soonyoung’s back. Strong and confident like always, his head held up high, his gloves up as he greets the greedy crowd through the stadium.

The stadium is packed to the brim, people pressed up against each other as they try to get a good look at Soonyoung. But yet, the combined sweat and body heat in this room could barely rival the sweat beading down your forehead.

You can’t even register anything, just going through the motions of it all. Helping Soonyoung shrug off his robe, the loud announcement of the fighter intros, hell, even making eye contact with Wonwoo you stared through him like a ghost. You weren’t here.

Your father nudges you, “Come on buddy, leave the ring.” He reminds you, snapping you out of it as you realize the fight is about to begin.

Soonyoung bounces on his feet, turning to you as you head for the ropes. “Y/n!” He calls out as your feet hit the ground.

You glance up at him.

He doesn’t do much, taking a deep breath before mustering the biggest smile he can. The corners reach his eyes, curving into the crescent shape you know and love. Holding out his boxing glove, pointed straight at you.

“Y/n!” He calls out proudly, “Just sit pretty and watch!”

Ah.

Of course, you expected something else… but you can’t deny the way the simple words warm you. Just easing even the littlest amount of anxiety built up.

You smile softly, “If you lose I’ll knock your teeth out.” A sweet tone to your voice, contrasting the shameless threat.

Soonyoung probably should’ve expected that. He grins, nodding. “That’s definitely not happening!”

The bell rings, and both boxers start moving towards the middle of the ring. Soonyoung, his feet light, as they both circle around to size each other up.

From this angle Wonwoo’s height was more intimidating than you remember. When was the last time Soonyoung went up against someone at 6 feet? And the way his eyes are dead focused on Soonyoung, you can’t help but hold your breath.

Soonyoung tests, feigning attacks to gauge Wonwoo, the two going at it back and forth until a real swing comes. And it’s a straight jab from Soonyoung.

Wonwoo’s guard is quick, blocking Soonyoung’s exploratory straight jab. God, you hoped Soonyoung actually watched those tapes you recorded for him.

The first round ends as quickly as it started, the two using it to test each other despite the audience’s disatisfaction.

Punch him! Why are they just dancing? I thought Hoshi would be throwing hard combos by now!

You can’t help but clench your jaw. Take your time Soonyoung, you think, play it smart.

It finally starts heating up.

“OH, ELBOWS TIGHTLY IN. THIS IS A GOOD MOVE AGAINST HOSHI “THE TIGER” KWON, WHO WILL SURELY THROW BODY SHOTS!”

Wonwoo blocks smoothly at every punch Soonyoung throws. Soonyoung testing his blind spots and tolerance as the round continues, and yet Wonwoo doesn’t really break.

Soonyoung’s no easy opponent either. Dodging anything Wonwoo throws his way, maneuvering around the ring like some sort of dance routine. His feet light, and starting to get a feel of Wonwoo’s patterns the way Wonwoo’s punches slip off him like water.

But you can tell this can’t drag on longer than a few rounds. If Soonyoung wants to finish this match in a KO, he’s going to have to start making bigger moves.

“SEEMS LIKE THESE VOLUME PUNCHES ARE GETTING TO KWON HERE, WILL HE START PUSHING FORWARD?”

The fourth round, and you could tell Soonyoung’s patience was waning. Wonwoo was using his reach to throw multiple punches, none very powerful, but enough to tick him off.

He finally surges forward, making you grip tightly onto the clean towel in your hand. He pushes a punch through Wonwoo’s defense, opening up his guard to place a swift blow to his side.

“OH — A SIDE BLOW TO JEON, WILL THIS GIVE KWON THE RIGHT OPENING?”

Soonyoung manages that side blow, but Wonwoo leans forward and clinches, stopping any momentum. Goddammit.

Separated by the ref, the round continues. Both trying to wear each other down with their individual styles.

You can see both, sharp and focused in both gazes, but their bodies are starting to become a little more sluggish. After consecutive rounds of constant moving around the ring, you anticipated this.

Your father calls a timeout, giving Soonyoung a second to catch his breath. Your body moving instinctively as you join Soonyoung’s side at the corner.

“Okay tiger, not doing so bad. But you can do better.” Your father starts firmly, aware of the short timeout as he tries to hammer his words into Soonyoung’s head.

He’s breathing hard, as you wipe down sweat from his neck and face with the towel. You wipe some blood from a graze on his right cheek, from Wonwoo’s glove barely grazing him in an earlier round. Gently slathering ointment onto the small cut.

He nods at your fathers words, his eyes focused on Wonwoo in the other corner. The bell rings again.

It seems like an equal stalemate for another 20 seconds. That is, until your focus shoots forward, and you catch Wonwoo’s change in stance in slow motion.

You can barely widen your eyes as you watch Wonwoo counter Soonyoung’s heavy punch.

“OH! — THE COUNTER LANDS ON KWON’S RIGHT CHEEK!”

Your eyes widen as you watch Soonyoung’s mouth guard shoot out of his mouth, a mix of spit and blood splattering in the air as you see the outline of his face. His side profile crushed by the weight of the glove and force.

Soonyoung stumbles back, hitting the ropes as he tries to tighten his guard. Wonwoo uses it as a chance to throw a sequence of punches, each one feeling like he’s punching you instead.

The cheers and screams are deafening, the announcers voices boom with excitement as you watch the love of your life get pummeled.

When Wonwoo’s movements slug, the referee interferes immediately. Pushing him away from Soonyoung, as you and your father jump into the ring immediately.

“FOLKS, A SMALL TIME OUT TO CLEAN THE MOUTH GUARD!”

Your father drags Soonyoung to the corner, sitting him on the stool the minute you set it down. You run to grab the bloody mouthpiece off the canvas floor, ignoring your shaky hands as you retreat back. Wiping the blood and saliva off of it with your towel.

Soonyoung swishes water in his mouth, spitting out the blood into the bucket your father’s holding. His breath heavy, small grunts escaping him as he tries and blinks back the pain and shock of the rattling counter.

You can’t look scared now. If you were a trainer worth your salt, the last thing you should do is show this — that you’re scared for him.

You rinse the mouthguard with the leftover water, crouching down to Soonyoung as you smack the side of his cheek a couple times (not the one where he just got punched).

“Hey,” You start, steeling your voice. “Look at me.”

Soonyoung turns his head towards you, and you can see how wrecked he is already. The graze on his cheek from earlier, the swelling of one of his eyes, and the way his hair sticks to his forehead with sweat. It even takes some effort to focus his eyes on yours.

“Soonyoung,” You call out firmly, “Snap out of it. You hear me?” You say, holding his face. “I know you can do this. That fucker may have gotten a good counter, but he doesn’t know how hard your punches can hit.” You say hurriedly, eyes boring into his, trying to grab hold onto anything behind his eyes.

“Push forward, hit him with those sequences. You know the ones.” You instruct. He knows this. You spent half of your lives together training said combos.

And for a moment, he registers you, nodding clumsily, giving you the a-okay to shove the mouth guard back into his mouth. Your father patting his back as he rushes back out into the ring.

“He’s got it.” Your father gruffs, “You got through him.”

You hope so.

The bell rings once more, and despite your confident words to him, your legs felt like they could give out at any second.

Sure, everyone’s focused on Soonyoung’s state, but Wonwoo wasn’t perfect either. You could tell he was tired, and that if he could last the next few rounds, he could win with a points decision.

But fuck that, that’s not how your gym rolls. Especially you and Soonyoung.

Soonyoung moves forward, immediately going in to make contact first. Wonwoo anticipating it, as he jumps back.

But he can’t avoid the ropes forever, and after fifteen seconds of constant avoidance, Wonwoo’s back hits the ropes.

Finally Soonyoung’s fist collides into Wonwoo’s guard, splitting it open and throwing two jabs to his face. Before using the momentum to uppercut Wonwoo’s side.

It doubles him over, and Soonyoung throws his other fist to punch. But he slips — on his own sweat on the floor.

“OH! — AND THE TWO SLIP AND TAKE EACH OTHER DOWN!”

The room gasps for a second when Soonyoung grabs Wonwoo as they hit the canvas floor. The ref comes in to pull them apart, and because of the last few seconds, end the round. You curse to yourself.

Even in crucial moments like this, Soonyoung manages to baffle you.

“END OF ROUND FIVE, AND AN INJURY TIMEOUT! CHECKING TO SEE IF ANY OF THE FIGHTERS ARE OKAY AFTER THAT UNFORTUNATE SLIP!”

The referee asks and examines both of them, and from where you are you can only make out Soonyoung apologizing profusely, his ears red from embarrassment.

But with one glance at Wonwoo, you can tell something’s shifted.

Soonyoung’s last minute punch affected him. Did Soonyoung’s fist graze the back of Wonwoo’s head when they slipped? Either way, it shattered Wonwoo’s rhythm.

Soonyoung noticed it too. Because the brief time he has in the corner, his sharp eyes lock with yours. And whatever you saw in his eyes — confidence, willpower, or psychic foresight — you didn’t feel so worried anymore.

“ROUND SIX — FIGHT!”

Soonyoung doesn’t waste time, moving inward to get as close to Wonwoo as possible once more. Wonwoo doesn’t give up easily, throwing jabs to push him back.

He eats them like no problem, taking Wonwoo’s punches like nothing as he surges forward. Throwing a messily large left hook, following it up with an uppercut that connects.

Soonyoung doesn’t miss the chance, swinging his other fist as hard as he can at the awkward angle for another uppercut at Wonwoo’s doubling over body.

Wonwoo keeps stumbling back at each punch Soonyoung throws, his body back at the ropes.

“KWON THROWING A FLURRY OF COMBOS, BUT JEON IS STILL UP!”

After a few more seconds Soonyoung lets up at the sound of the refs whistle, clumsily stopping his combos, briefly using the ropes to stop his momentum before giving Wonwoo time to recover.

And you hold your breath.

“SEEMS LIKE JEON IS — WHOA!”

Wonwoo stands tall, as you mentally ready another round in your head. But he doesn’t give you both the time to strategize, as his once proud head lulls forward. His body following in suit as he crumbles to the ground.

“DOWN GOES JEON WONWOO! 6, 7, —“

Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!

The stadium erupts in screams, and at the count of eight, you’re up yourself, rushing towards the ring, your heart pounding in your ears.

“8! A KNOCKOUT! HOSHI “TIGER” KWON HAS THE FINAL BLOW!”

The stadium erupts in screams and cheers, Soonyoung himself surprised, eyes wide before snapping his head around. Not to the crowd, but to you.

He runs to the corner where you are, climbing onto the post as he holds his fists up to the crowd. His name chanted in synchronized voices that shake the very building.

You climb onto the ropes, and with a grin, he leans forward and hooks his arms around you, pulling you over them. Stumbling into his sweaty arms as he swings you around.

“Soonyoung! You did it!” You scream, as he lets you down onto the canvas floor of the ring. Your father laughing heartily in the back, as Soonyoung spits out the mouthguard onto the floor.

He runs his tongue against his teeth before responding, his voice raspy and breathy, “I told you, didn’t I?”

For the first time, you don’t have the bite in you to be defensive. Your smile widening across your face as you look at Soonyoung in awe, “You did.”

He grins back. His sore muscles, aching body and screaming lungs don’t matter. Because the smile on your face was a soothing balm that made it all feel trivial.

The cameras, the reporters, the hundreds of people in the arena were drowned out as you both exchanged looks of pride and awe. His victory was as much yours as his.

Soon his arm is grabbed, as the referee pulls him to the middle, showing off Soonyoung to the huge TV camera.

You take a step back, proudly.

You beam as you watch Soonyoung being praised, and Wonwoo respectfully shaking his hand even after the taxing match.

Your father himself patting your back, “So you finally know how it feels,” He starts.

You snap out of your trance, glancing at him, your dad. “Huh?”

“Nothing better than seeing the guy you spent your blood, sweat and tears on winning a major match.” He says with a proud smile, “And even better, seeing someone you love happy.”

“What?” You say baffled, not expecting him to add on the last part. He nudges your side, an amused chuckle escaping him.

“Congrats, buddy.” He says vaguely, before walking forward to congratulate Soonyoung loudly, shaking the beat up guy with rough affection.

“Barbecue and drinks — on me tonight!” Your father boasts with a laugh.

Which he probably regrets, when an hour later the impromptu congratulatory party is held at a familiar run down barbecue place after hours. Courtesy of Jihoon, Soonyoung’s friend. Claiming — only this one time! Because he won!

Beers and soju bottles litter the table, as your dad grumbles on a plastic chair. Already nursing his head from too many drinks.

“Lee Chan, go and run off and get some hangover cures.” Your father orders, despite Lee Chan not being quite sober either. Lee Chan blinks in confusion as he points to himself, Seungcheol reacts with laughter.

He snaps his fingers lazily, “Jihoon, another plate of pork belly. Need ta’ soak this alcohol up.”

Jihoon nods, knocking back a shot of soju himself before tiredly heading to the kitchen, “Right, on the way.”

When Jihoon disappears to the kitchen, Seungcheol pats Lee Chan’s back, “You heard the old man, I’ll come with you.” He teases, before the two leave on their little errand.

You, on the other hand, are outside. Sitting on the curb near the restaurant’s entrance. Your head turns when you hear the sound of the door, Seungcheol and Lee Chan walking out, their hoodies on.

Seungcheols greets you with a small smile, Lee Chan bowing clumsily as well. “Going to get some more drinks, want anything?” Seungcheol asks.

You shake your head, “It’s alright oppa, I’m good.” You say, nursing the half full beer in your hand.

Seungcheol nods, “Alright.” He says easily, before clearing his throat. Keeping the entrance door open with his foot as he yells out, “Kwon, she’s out here!”

And you can hear Soonyoung’s voice — What? I thought she was in the bathroom! Hold on!

Seungcheol glances back at you, “Hey, be nice to him. He won today's match.” Seungcheol aims at you, “Everything seems fine now, but if Chan and I come back and you guys are —“

“It’s fine.” You shut down, “I’ll be nice.” You reassure, cracking a smile.

Seungcheol raises his brows in intrigue, but decides not to question it. Just taking the tipsy Lee Chan with him to walk to the convenience store.

It’s not long until Soonyoung burst out the door. Freshly showered after the match, in baggy sweats and his wounds bandaged up.

“Hey,” He breathes, as he adjusts the beanie on his head. “I really thought you were in the bathroom.”

“Well, I’m not.” You shrug, “Just needed some fresh air.”

Soonyoung settles beside you on the curb, his thigh practically glued to yours as he knocks his own beer to yours. “God, my face is killing me.” He mutters, “Say what you want about that guy, his fist is deadly.”

“I warned you that already.” You chime in absentmindedly, your instinct to correct Soonyoung was just too strong.

He pouts, “Yeah, well, I was too busy being heartbroken at the time. Forgive me for not listening.” He says, before cracking a smile. He takes a swig of his beer.

“I just want to say,” He takes a breath, “Thanks. I really thought it was over around the third round.” He furrows his brows, “Or fourth? Fifth? I don’t know, at one point everything was blurry.”

You snicker, “I didn’t do anything, that was all you.”

He shakes his head, “Nope, wrong. If you didn’t snap me out of it and reminded me of the basics, I would’ve crumpled there and then.” He says strongly, “You were my rock tonight.”

Your face softens at that.

“And,” He takes another big deep breath, “I don’t want to just spring this on you, but, since we’re already on this wave,” He fiddles with his fingers before meeting your gaze.

“I want to ask you to be my girlfriend.” He asks, like it’s the scariest thing he ever has had to say. The same man who fights professional fighters in front of thousands — just simply a guy in love when he looks at you.

And for a second you see that, the awkward bumbling kid that ran into the gym late that one day.

You set down your beer on the pavement, “Your girlfriend, huh?”

“Well — you can say no. No pressure. Just because I won today doesn’t mean you have to say yes, or —“

“Soonyoung.” You stop his rambling, grabbing his hand, the same one you were wrapping only hours ago. “Yes. I’ll be your girlfriend.”

He doesn’t register your words for a moment, but when he does, he grins wide. His eyes full of affection as he looks at you, soft as he studies your face.

He clears his throat, “Great, awesome.” He replies, “And most importantly, finally.” He adds on with a breath of relief, making you elbow his side. “Hey — ow! Not too much!”

“Oh sorry!” You say immediately, your hands shooting to his side, leaning forward in worry. But he catches you, a smug grin on his face as he matches your distance.

He catches your lips into a kiss, nothing like the ones you shared in the gym the night before. But this time, soft and comforting. Savoring the moment between the both of you before pulling away, his nose grazing yours.

“By the way,” He starts quietly, his breath fanning against your skin, “Your panties are still in my bag.”

Your face heats up, leaning back as you ignore Soonyoung’s injuries to punch his shoulder. Again, he just had to make use of his talent of ruining the mood of things.

“What — hey! I said you were my rock! It’s good luck!” He defends with a couple laughs, your punch turning into punches.

The late night street hums with the sound of the street lights, cicadas, and the buzzing of the telephone wires of the crowded alleys. Laughter and music from the celebration spilling outside, disapproving comments leave your lips while Soonyoung’s laughter carries through the streets. This night is just one of the many you’ll share together.

But one thing's for sure — you’re making sure Soonyoung omits this “lucky charm” in his interviews.

💥 💥💥💥💥💥💥💥

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